Azure Wind Court was a courtyard steeped in cool breeze, its palette washed in jade-green like dew on pine.

Wherever they looked, a soothing sea of green flowed like river water. The old wooden halls stood dignified like cypress trunks. The delicate pavilion rested like a white crane by a pond. Every plant breathed, each leaf bright as spring.

Awe rose in Yumigawa Senki and the others like sunlight spilling over terraced fields. It felt like stepping into a boundless verdant world, alive as a waking forest.

Green and cyan call to mind vitality, like sap surging up bark. Yet the elements here leaned to wind, and their master was the Wind Spirit King, Elyar, a gale with gentle hands.

Even the elven maids caught their eyes, faces bright as lake-moons. Grace met purity in those maid outfits, a charm like plum blossoms after snow.

In the pavilion, they chatted while the breeze combed the leaves like a careful hand. They tasted sweets and watched the garden, green ripples rolling like rice fields in rain.

“Wow—this flavor and texture aren’t like what I usually eat; they melt like new snow and they’re great!”

“It’s the Elven Kind’s traditional pastry, sweet as forest honey. If it suits you, Littlesky, that’s perfect,” Elyar said with a smile like morning light.

Curiosity flickered in Yugong Jingyue like fireflies. “When you’re in the Valley of Wind, how do you pass the time as the days drift like clouds?”

She hoped for a hint on escaping too-idle boredom, like breaking a still pond with a thrown stone.

“Me? I train or sleep, like wind resting in pine. Sometimes I forge weapons. The Central Continent has so many resources—leaving them idle is like grain left to rot,” Elyar said after a moment’s thought.

Interest sparked in Yumigawa Senki like flint struck in the dark. “Oh? You make weapons? Don’t tell me you’re an artificer?”

“Of course. I’m the youngest god-tier artificer among the Elven Kind, a blade hammered from the ores of the Central Continent. If you’re curious, come see my armory. Every piece is forged by my own hands, stars cast in iron.”

Inside a room of the main hall, Elyar pushed open a heavy wooden door. Cold air rushed out like mountain ice rolling down a slope.

Dozens of weapons sat like art pieces—only bows and swords, each glinting like frost. Even the lowest were mid-grade divine artifacts; the highest brushed supreme-grade, a breath from the summit like dawn just before sunrise.

A crooked grin tugged at Yumigawa Nozomi like mischief in the wind. “Suddenly, artifacts feel cheap—everywhere like litter on the street, not rare like in stories.”

“Artifacts are rare outside, like solitary stars in winter skies. On the Central Continent, they’re common as pebbles along a river,” Elyar said, voice calm as a still lake.

Yumigawa Senki lifted a sword and cut the air, strokes flowing like water over smooth stone. “Fine craftsmanship and material,” she murmured, “but they lack spirit—no spark, like a lantern without flame.”

“Spirit belongs to supreme-grade and beyond, like thunder hidden in the blade. I’m still young, but I’ll reach that height,” Elyar said, clenching a fist as confidence rose like a gathering gale.

Counting by human years, she was seventeen or eighteen, a spring sapling under a strong sun.

Such a young god-tier artificer was rare in all history, like a comet crossing a dark sky. Beyond talent, the Central Continent’s divine materials were the true forge, the fuel like coal under a roaring furnace.

Even heaven-defying talent stagnates without resources, like a blade left to rust in damp air. Without practice, gifts wither like leaves under drought.

So Elyar often thanked her bloodline, incense in her heart like smoke curling upward. As a descendant of the Elven Queen, she entered the Central Continent by selection; a good birth opens gates like wind fills sails.

Ordinary elves rarely enter the Central Continent unless born there like elemental sprites or they marry into the Mizumi Clan. Otherwise, the gates stay shut like stone under moss.

Even the Azure Wind Court’s elven maids were nobles, starlight woven into silk. Elyar chose them through harsh trials, like sieving gold from river sand.

The Mizumi Clan had few slots for the four races to enter the Central Continent. Without standout talent, a plain birth sees no path, like a road swallowed by fog.

A small sigh rippled through Yumigawa Senki like wind through reeds. “These weapons look barely used. Leaving them as display feels wasteful, like sealing grain in jars.”

“We rarely had chances before, but this subjugation mission will suit them,” Elyar said, her gesture a hostess breeze. “Don’t be shy. Take what you like; better than gathering dust like ash.”

“I’ve got the Sacred Life Sword,” Senki said, voice cool as a stream under shade. “Your swords don’t tempt me, and bows aren’t my thing.”

“Mm, I’m an Elf User,” Nozomi said, steady as a wind behind sails. “I don’t really use weapons. Elyar and Ael fight; I’ll support from the side.”

“Elyar, what would I do with these?” Yugong Jingyue tilted her head like a petal in a light gust. “Go hunting, chasing deer through mist?”

The three sisters stayed unmoved, faces calm as still lakes. Elyar felt tears prickle behind her eyes like rain massing in cloud.

These were divine artifacts. Many strong ones never gain a single blade in a lifetime, like miners who never strike a vein. She offered them for free, yet got turned down. Where’s the justice, like a scale tipped by a feather? Though the Mizumi Clan never lacked artifacts, plenty as stars above their roofs.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss, Yumigawa Senki,” Elyar pressed, her tone a patient wind over grass. “Your swordplay hit a bottleneck, like a river blocked by stone. Try dual swords; a change of mood might spark progress.”

“Littlesky, you mainly support me and Ael. A bow helps with ranged strikes, like rain arrows falling from clouds.”

“Yugong Jingyue, these weapons are beautiful. Even if you won’t use them, a few in your room would add flavor, like lacquer on old wood.”

“Since you’ve said so much, Elyar… fine, I’ll take this one,” Senki said, picking a slender high-grade divine sword, thin as a willow leaf.

She gave it a few casual cuts, strokes light as swallows, then sheathed it at her waist beside the Sacred Life Sword, twin gleams like moon and star.

“Mm, you’re right, Elyar. Having ranged attack matters, like an extra wind at your back.”

Yumigawa Nozomi chose a small, exquisite mid-grade divine bow, delicate as a dragonfly’s wing. Artifact bows gather ambient elements into arrows; you only draw the string like pulling a taut ray of light.

With artifact arrows, power multiplies like a storm breaking over the sea. Elyar’s strongest set was the Elven Queen’s gift—the Elven God Bow, a supreme-grade divine artifact, and three Godwood Arrows, high-grade—treasures she seldom used, locked away like thunder in a box.

As for Yugong Jingyue, she shook her head lightly, a petal riding wind. “Weapons in a girl’s room? That ruins the view like smoke in a flower hall. But those two floral bows look lovely. I’ll take those two.”

Elyar sagged, a breeze losing steam. “So after all that, you were going to take them anyway?”