The Abandoned Luna's Journey to Power Chapter 277: Give Lord Dross a Seat

Cindy's POV:

The sun went down, and a full round moon hung high above us—like the Goddess's eye watching every step we took.

The wedding procession arrived in force at the Grand Cathedral of the Moon Goddess.

This was the holiest place in the werewolves' faith. A vast dome of white jade soared overhead, ringed by 12 towering pillars carved with wolf heads. Outside, tens of thousands of people knelt with flowers in their hands, praying with unwavering devotion.

"We're here."

Adam swung down from his horse—clean, quick, and effortlessly graceful.

He walked to the carriage. This time, his hand didn't tremble. It was steady and sure.

"Cindy. Come."

I placed my hand in his palm and stepped down, letting his strength guide me.

A long red carpet stretched from beneath our feet all the way into the heart of the cathedral.

Royal guards on both sides raised silver halberds, forming a corridor of steel.

We walked shoulder to shoulder into the grand hall.

The cathedral was already filled with nobles and members of the royal family, seated to witness the ceremony.

King Ryken and Queen Isabella sat in full regalia at the central seats of honor.

And in the VIP section to the left, Dean Dross sat with Selvaryn, Reginald, and the academy's teachers and students—smiling at me like they'd already seen the ending and approved of it.

By royal tradition, before the vows, the couple first bowed to the elders seated in the places of honor—an oath of gratitude and loyalty made without words.

It was a shame my father and mother couldn't be here for my wedding.

The ceremonial announcer called out, loud and formal, "The newlyweds will step forward and pay respects to the elders!"

We moved as instructed.

And then Adam suddenly stopped.

He turned toward Dean Dross in the side seats and spoke clearly for the whole hall to hear. "Father. Mother. In my heart, Dean Dross is not only my uncle—he is also the teacher of both Cindy and me. He's like my father, too. Today, on my wedding day, I ask that the Dean be given a seat of honor and receive our respects alongside you."

The moment he said it, the entire hall erupted.

The old-guard nobles who worshiped rigid tradition immediately lost their minds.

"Unacceptable!"

A white-bearded count stood up. He was the minister of ceremony—and one of Princess Margaret's loyal men. "Your Highness, this is a royal wedding! Only elders of the direct bloodline may sit in the seats of honor to receive the bow! Dean Dross may carry the Ryken name, but he is a collateral branch—self-exiled long ago, not part of the royal core! If he sits in the seat of honor, you will disrupt the laws of blood!"

"Yeah! That's totally out of order!"

"How can a schoolteacher sit equal with the King?"

Whispers rose and fell in waves. Dean Dross looked a little awkward, but he only shrugged, as if titles and vanity had never impressed him in the first place.

But someone did care.

Clang—!

A sharp metallic strike cut through every voice at once.

Reginald—the discipline master in a silver ceremonial uniform, his face rigid as stone—suddenly drew the sword at his waist.

He didn't point it at anyone. Instead, he flipped his grip and drove that cold-glinting greatsword straight into the cathedral's marble floor.

Three inches into stone.

Chips of marble exploded outward. A few nobles closest to it stumbled back in alarm.

Reginald planted both hands on the hilt and swept the hall with eyes sharp as a hawk's. A suffocating pressure rolled off him.

It wasn't pheromones. It was the pure killing intent of a top-tier combat master.

"Rules?"

Reginald gave a cold laugh, his voice booming like a cathedral bell. "In the world of werewolves, since when did a pack of coin-counting cowards fattened on silk cushions get to dictate the rules?"

He pointed at me, arrogance blazing in his tone. "Under the law of the strong, a mentor who teaches survival and martial arts is as esteemed as a father! I'm Cindy's combat instructor. I taught her how to bleed, how to kill, and how to stay alive! Why shouldn't I receive her respect? Much less Dross!"

He turned, his gaze boring into the minister of ceremony. "You want to talk bloodline? The royal blood in Dross's veins is purer than anyone sitting here. By generation, he is King Ryken's cousin—Prince Adam's uncle. Letting your own uncle sit and receive respect—what part of that breaks 'rules'?

"Or is it..." Reginald narrowed his eyes and flicked the flat of the blade, making it hum with a trembling buzzing sound. "Do you think our academy's fists aren't hard enough to earn a seat here?"