The valley was full of powerful figures, leaving Lauren with no say in the matter. Flower Wife told her to go home and wait.

  After a day and a night of discussion, no one knew exactly what they had talked about, but at last they all reached some kind of conclusion. Even Butcher, who’d spent years eyeing her like a cut of pork, came up to her with tears in his eyes.

  “Girl, looks like I’ll never get out of here. You’ve got to promise me something. When you escape, eat more meat. If we ever meet in a dream one day, you have to tell me what it tastes like.”

  Here, if you were unlucky, you could go a hundred years without tasting a single proper piece of meat.

  Butcher always bragged about eating meat every day, but most of the time it was just frogs, grasshoppers, mice—garbage. He’d long since forgotten the taste of real flesh.

  For the first time in three years, Lauren felt a flicker of sympathy for him.

  “Uncle Butcher,” she said softly, “I’ll give you something.”

  She pulled a small bag of beef jerky from her storage pouch—the snacks she had packed before leaving home. For three years she had been living on Flower Wife’s floral dew, and she hadn’t touched this.

  It wasn’t much, just a handful, but Butcher’s mouth watered the moment he saw it. He tore into it with trembling hands, chewing like a starving wolf, tears rolling down his face.

  “Delicious. Gods, it’s delicious.”

  When he finished, he fumbled something out of his robe. “Here. This is a butchering technique. Take it.”

  Lauren hesitated until he added, “Don’t worry. This is the method I used before I went mad. It won’t bring you any trouble.”

  She accepted it with both hands. “Thank you, Uncle Butcher.”

  Butcher turned his back, wiped his eyes in secret, and went back to gnawing his jerky.

  Tyler said nothing. He simply walked up, shoved a jade slip into her hands, and left without a word.

  Flower Wife snapped, “Hey! Can’t you be a little more generous? Why give her a scrap of jade instead of an elixir?”

  But Lauren pulled her aside, excitement in her eyes. “Grandma, this is the legacy of the Alchemy Sect.”

  Flower Wife blinked, then frowned. “With your spiritual roots? How could you refine elixirs? Unless… unless you manage to subdue a Strange Fire.”

  “If I ever get the chance, I’ll try.”

  “Remember,” Flower Wife warned, sighing, “Strange Fire only appears by fate. Even if you meet it, it’s deadly hard to control. Don’t throw your life away being stubborn.”

  “Yes, Grandma.”

  Lauren turned and bowed deeply in the direction Tyler had gone. For him to hand her the legacy of the Alchemy Sect—it was no different from taking her as a disciple.

  From the distance, Tyler’s voice drifted back. “Don’t thank me. I just don’t want it to vanish.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Jaxon and Cade came together and handed Lauren a circular disk etched with runes.

  “It’s a formation disk. Should be useful to you.”

  They spoke so casually that at first she thought it was nothing special. But the moment her fingertips brushed the carved patterns, an icy surge spread up her arm and through her body, making her breath catch. This was no simple trinket.

  Flower Wife’s eyes gleamed. “Well now, Jaxon, Cade, didn’t think you two would be so generous. So tell me—when will you gift me a time array, eh? Something to stop me from aging so fast?”

  Jaxon only shook his head. “An array can only trick the sun, moon, and stars. No matter how time flows inside it, you’ll still age.”

  Flower Wife: “…”

  The three reclusive men left as quickly as they had come, leaving behind their gifts without a single farewell.

  Devourer smiled faintly and handed Lauren a tiny ice-blue sword, no longer than a finger.

  “This sword is incomplete,” he said. “To unlock its full power, it must be repaired.”

  Flower Wife scowled. “Devourer, you’re too stingy. Giving my granddaughter a broken sword?”

  Devourer only smiled and said nothing more.

  Then Light stepped forward, smiling serenely. “Hold out your hand.”

  Lauren obeyed, and he pressed his palm against hers. A golden Buddhist sigil flared for an instant, then vanished without a trace.

  Flower Wife craned her neck to see, then sneered. “You bald bastard. That’s even stingier.”

  Viper shuffled up next, rubbing his smooth scalp, embarrassed. “My master stripped me bare years ago. I don’t even have a single hair left to offer. I’m sorry, little one. All I can give is a blessing: may you have a bright future.”

  Flower Wife spat. “So that’s where all the stinginess went.”

  Lauren still bowed politely. “Thank you.”

  Finally, it was Flower Wife’s turn. Her expression turned melancholy. “I’m of the Demonic Cult. I have many treasures, but none I can give you—they’d do you no good, and might even harm you.”

  She pulled out a storage pouch and pressed it into Lauren’s hands. “Inside are the floral dew I’ve brewed over the last ten years, some spirit stones, and a few trinkets from my youth. They’re simple, but useful anywhere. That’s all I can give you.”

  Lauren peeked inside—and her eyes widened. It was practically a treasure chest: spirit-concealing talismans, mist pills for escape, a flying boat, artifacts that could hide her cultivation.

  Dropping to her knees, she kowtowed. “Grandma, if I ever get the chance, I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

  Flower Wife’s face softened with relief as she helped her up. “Silly girl. How could you possibly save us? If you really want to do something for me, just go to this place and burn incense in my name.”

  She handed Lauren a jade slip engraved with an address, glowing faintly like a navigation charm.

  “Okay. I will.”

  Viper snorted. “You demonic witches even do burial rites now?”

  Flower Wife shot him a glare. “What’s it to you?”

  Light stepped forward. “Enough. It’s getting late. Little one, I’ll take you up.”

  No one knew what realm Master Light had truly reached, but he was undeniably the strongest of the eight. With a simple lift, Lauren was carried skyward.

  As the rift loomed above, a crushing pressure pressed down on her chest, choking her. She felt like a drowning bird, flapping desperately toward freedom. But just as she neared the crack, an invisible wall blocked her way.

  Panic surged. She braced to force her way through—when a calm voice rang in her ear.

  “Relax. Don’t resist. I’ll help you.”

  She turned. It was the great monk, Light.

  “Master…”

  Light closed his eyes and began chanting, his voice low and sonorous. A soft golden glow spread from his fingertips, wrapping around her like a cocoon. The light carried her upward, fusing her body with the rift until, at last, she vanished.

  Light dropped back down, his aura dimmed. Flower Wife rushed over. “How is she?”

  “She’s fine. She’s out.” He sighed. “But I discovered something—the rift only allows those below Foundation Establishment to pass.”

  Disappointment fell over the group like a heavy shroud. For them, to leave at Qi Condensation would be no different than walking into death.

  Flower Wife let out a long sigh.

  Three years ago, a little girl had appeared. Now she was gone. Sadness, relief, even envy twisted together in Flower Wife’s heart. She thought back to when she herself had been taken as a child. How wonderful it would have been if she, too, had found someone who could save her.

  “Is… anyone there?”

  A clear, girlish voice echoed through the valley. Everyone froze and turned.

  A ragged young girl stumbled forward, wide-eyed, her voice trembling. “Where are we?”

  “Who are you?”

  Flower Wife’s heart jolted. The girl’s face—so like the one she had just sent away.

  “What’s your name?”

  The girl blinked at them all. “My name is Indiana.”