SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 1010: A Day of Farewell
Chapter 1010: A Day of Farewell
The morning sun climbed slowly over the spires of Red Silk City, casting golden rays over the ancient Lan family estate. Inside a secluded mansion surrounded by high courtyard walls and guarded gates, Manuka Lan stood before the heavy bronze doors of her locked chamber, her palms pressed against the cold surface.
She hadn’t asked for anything in years.
Not freedom.
Not rest.
Not love.
But today was different.
“Father,” she said softly, though she knew her voice would reach the ears beyond the door, “please open it. Just for today.”
The guards outside hesitated. Her tone wasn’t commanding or angry — it was calm, almost tender. That frightened them more than fury ever could.
From the central mansion, an elder rushed to the inner residence, where the Lan family head, Patriarch Lan Tian, was meditating.
“Young Miss is requesting release… she says she wants to spend the day with the family.”
Lan Tian opened his eyes slowly. He had kept his daughter secluded for three years, believing it was for her protection. Ever since the rumor of her entanglement with the so-called Kaban King—the rising threat named Kent—her movements had been restricted to prevent scandal and danger.
But this request…
It did not carry rebellion. It carried something deeper.
Sorrow.
He rose from the jade cushion and walked to the locked courtyard himself. As he reached, he saw her: standing in the light like a figure from a dream, her long hair unbraided, her eyes clear and without resistance.
He knew his daughter. And what he saw now wasn’t desperation. It was… resolution.
“You never once asked me to open these gates, Manuka,” he said quietly from the other side.
“Because I had no reason to,” she replied, her voice trembling faintly. “But I do now.”
“Why today?”
“Because I want to live once. Just for a day.”
A long silence followed. The guards looked nervously between the two. Finally, Lan Tian raised his hand and gave the signal.
CLACK.
The heavy bronze locks unlatched. The gates opened.
And Manuka Lan stepped out into her old world with a soft smile on her face.
The estate had not changed. The trees still whispered the same way in the wind, the koi pond still reflected the drifting clouds, and the breeze still carried the scent of lavender from the west gardens.
But Manuka Lan had changed.
She greeted each servant she passed by name. She walked barefoot through the grass and let the sun kiss her skin like a girl seeing the world anew.
She found her mother in the weaving hall, instructing the young maids.
When her mother looked up and saw her standing there, silent, smiling, without chains or guards — her loom shuddered, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Manuka…?” she asked, as though afraid the vision might vanish.
Manuka walked forward and embraced her mother for the first time in years.
“I missed you.”
Her mother broke down, tears running silently down her cheeks.
“You’re thinner,” she murmured. “You’ve been… so alone.”
“Not alone. Just quiet.”
She joined her family for breakfast — something she had not done in years. Her younger siblings, startled by her presence, didn’t know how to speak at first.
But Manuka eased them all. She laughed softly, told jokes from their childhood, and recited verses of old sword tales from when they used to gather at night.
At lunch, she helped in the kitchens. She even served wine to her uncles and the elders, bowing properly as a daughter of the Lan family should.
Everyone watched in stunned silence. They did not know it was the last time they would see her in this light.
She visited every corner of the estate — the pavilion where she once trained her first sword, the moon-well where she had made a wish as a child, the banyan tree under which she once buried her pet spirit rabbit.
She stood there the longest, beneath its thick canopy of leaves, and whispered,
“You were right, old friend. I did meet someone who made me forget about power.”
—
Afternoon…
Manuka Lan, stepped barefoot into the dew-covered grass of the southern garden. She wore a flowing robe of pearl blue, her long dark hair falling freely over her shoulders. There was peace in her eyes — not because she was at peace, but because she had already accepted her death.
Tonight, she would give Phillip the Heart-in-Sword Treasure.
And to awaken it… she had to die.
It was not some myth or condition made by men — this was a life-sealed treasure, created by her own lineage. Born from her soul, nurtured with years of love and pain, the treasure would only bloom when passed willingly… at the cost of the creator’s life.
Earlier that morning, for the first time in years, she had requested the locks of her courtyard be opened.
Her maids were shocked. Manuka had lived in quiet seclusion and self love. She rarely smiled. But today, she laughed, moved about freely, and even walked to the inner garden, where no one had seen her go in seasons.
“Is the lady… healed?” whispered one servant.
“She looks like she did in the early days. When Lord Phillip first arrived…”
But none knew the truth.
Today was the last page of her story.
Manuka wandered through the garden she had built with her own hands — every tree, vine, and bloom a memory. Under the tall Bloodvine Arbor, she paused, running her fingers across the old wooden railing.
“I will not be there to see you rise,” she whispered to the blossoms above her, “but I will be part of the sword that lifts you, Phillip.”
That evening, she dined with her family for the first time in months.
The elders were cautious, but respectful. She poured wine for her brother, shared a joke with her cousin, and even accepted a new hairpin from her youngest niece — a phoenix feather carved from white jade.
Everyone was surprised. Her laughter was music, her mood full of grace.
None could see the ghost in her smile.
Night fell, slow and starless.
In her chamber, she dismissed her guards early. The room glowed in amber candlelight, warm and fragrant with moonflower and burning sandalwood.
She stood before the mirror, wearing a sheer robe of midnight violet, embroidered with sword lilies. Her body glowed faintly with spiritual energy — a sign of her full awakening. She had prepared herself in silence, her mind empty of doubt.
A knock at the door.
Her breath caught.
—
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