The Invincible Young Master

As the soldiers marched along the path, they couldn't help but murmur among themselves, their voices low and filled with awe. The recent encounter with the elves had left them excited and curious.

"That was a real elf," one soldier whispered to his comrade, his voice barely more than a breath.

"I didn't know they were this tall," another responded, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Did you see their ears? Just like in the stories," added a third, gesturing with his hand to mimic the distinctive pointed shape.

Their whispers floated through the air, mingling with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant calls of forest creatures. For many soldiers, this was the first time they had seen an elf in person. The stories they had heard in their childhood—of graceful beings with sharp features and ethereal beauty—were now brought to life before their eyes.

The leader of the elf group, with his towering height and silver hair, had made a lasting impression. His presence was commanding yet elegant, and his eyes seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries. The soldiers had felt a mix of intimidation and fascination as he addressed them, standing as a living testament to the stories of the elven people.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the atmosphere began to change. The initial tension and the eerie, cold aura that had surrounded them started to lift, replaced by a sense of tranquility and subtle warmth. The forest seemed to embrace them, its vast canopy filtering the fading sunlight into a soft, golden glow.

It felt as if the very air was infused with magic, revitalizing their bodies and spirits with each step they took.

The trees grew even taller and broader, their trunks like ancient pillars holding up the sky. Their leaves rustled softly in the gentle breeze, creating a soothing symphony that accompanied their journey. The ground beneath their feet was carpeted with thick, soft moss, cushioning their steps and muffling their movements.

The soldiers couldn't help but steal glances at their surroundings, their earlier whispers giving way to silent admiration. Here and there, they caught glimpses of wildlife—colorful birds flitting between branches, small, nimble creatures darting through the underbrush.

Occasionally, a deer-like creature with delicate, silver antlers would appear at the edge of their vision, watching them with curious, luminous eyes before disappearing back into the foliage.

"I really don't like the smell of this forest," Spark said, wrinkling his nose in apparent disdain as he gazed around at the towering trees and the lush undergrowth. The earthy, rich aroma of the forest, intermingled with the fragrance of wildflowers and damp moss, seemed to offend his senses.

His casual remark about the forest's scent hung in the air, drawing curious glances from those around him. The soldiers were momentarily taken aback.

Princess Ling turned to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

"I think it's quite pleasant," Princess Ling countered, her voice calm but with an edge of curiosity. "The wildflowers, the smell of wet soil after the rain, the fresh, earthy scent... Why doesn't Lord Spark like the smell?"

Spark shrugged nonchalantly, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

"I'll become sick if I lived among these vegetarian people," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of playful exaggeration. "I prefer the smell of a good roast over wet leaves and flowers."

The soldiers looked slightly scandalized by Spark's bluntness. While the elves, above, who were guiding them through the forest maintained their serene composure, though one or two flicked their eyes toward Spark, their expressions inscrutable.

Princess Ling, however, didn't let his words slide so easily. She turned fully to face Spark, her expression a mixture of amusement and mild reproach.

"Lord Spark, it's said that the scent of a place reflects its spirit," she began, her tone thoughtful. "This forest is full of life and harmony, a balance that the elves have maintained for centuries. It's a sanctuary where nature and civilization coexist without conflict. To dismiss its fragrance is to dismiss its essence."

Spark chuckled softly, appreciating her poetic defense.

"I suppose we all have our preferences," Spark replied lightly. "But you have to admit, the aroma of a well-prepared feast can be just as enchanting as any flower."

Yuna, who had been quietly observing the exchange, decided to interject, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Young master has a point. But I'd argue that a good meal can be enjoyed anywhere, even amid these 'vegetarian' scents."

She gestured to the surrounding forest, a playful smile on her lips. "Besides, I think even the elves would agree that a delicious aroma can enhance any environment, whether it's the forest or a bustling city."

The elves, hearing their exchange, remained silent, their serene expressions betraying no hint of offense or irritation. Their calm demeanor suggested a deep well of patience, one not easily stirred by casual remarks or light-hearted banter. It was as if the forest itself absorbed and mellowed the conversation, wrapping it in its tranquil embrace.

Princess Ling, catching the subtle tension, could only offer a wry smile, tinged with apology, toward their elven guides. She knew that, while Spark's comments were made in jest, they teetered on the edge of testing elves' patience.

…

As they approached what seemed to be the edge of the forest's deepest reaches, the soldiers noticed a soft, ethereal light filtering through the trees ahead. The path began to widen, and the undergrowth gave way to a more open, welcoming space.

The soldiers, their earlier chatter now hushed in reverence, could sense that they were nearing something extraordinary. The air grew thicker with anticipation, each step carrying them closer to the fabled city of the elves.

As they rounded a bend in the path, the forest suddenly opened up before them, revealing a breathtaking sight. The city of Feyhaven lay ahead, its structures rising seamlessly from the forest floor and reaching toward the sky. The buildings were unlike anything the soldiers had ever seen—crafted from living trees and vines, their forms fluid and organic, blending perfectly with their surroundings.

Delicate bridges of woven branches spanned between towering trees, and platforms nestled among the treetops served as homes and gathering places. The entire city seemed to shimmer with a gentle, inner light as if it were illuminated by the very essence of nature itself.

For a moment, the group stood in stunned silence, taking in the beauty and harmony of Feyhaven. It was a city out of dreams, a place where the boundaries between nature and civilization had all but disappeared.

As they stood there, awestruck, an elf descended gracefully from one of the nearby trees. She was clad in garments made of leaves and delicate fabrics that flowed like water. Her eyes were bright and welcoming, and she extended a hand in greeting.

The soldiers couldn't help but be attracted by her beauty. Elven beauties weren't just rumors, their mind buzzed alike.

"Welcome to Feyhaven," she said, her voice melodic and warm.

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