A few days later, Lauren received a message from the Mission Hall: all her listed tasks were complete. The items had already been counted and packed; all she needed to do was exchange spirit stones for them.

  The elder on duty was the same one as last time. Tasks like this were usually handled by Inner Sect elders in the Nascent Soul stage, each taking a one-year rotation to keep things fair and impartial.

  Lauren purchased a few basic materials. She’d been thinking of trying her hand at alchemy—just to experiment. The supplies weren’t expensive, costing only a little over eight mid-grade spirit stones. She paid without fuss.

  “By the way, Ms.Lauren,” the elder added, “someone has accepted your letter delivery request. They’re heading into that area for training.”

  Lauren perked up. “How many spirit stones?”

  “No rush. I’ll let you know when the letter actually arrives.”

  “Alright. Thank you.”

  She left the Mission Hall and returned to the library to check on the ritual method for binding artifacts.

  It turned out to be simple—almost laughably so. To consecrate an artifact and make it recognize its master, all one had to do was follow a specific sequence while infusing it with spiritual energy and a drop of blood.

  What caught her attention, though, was a line about professional refiners. Skilled smiths could forge spiritual weapons, spiritual treasures, even immortal artifacts. More impressively, they could refine weapons through successive rituals, nurturing them so they grew alongside the cultivator.

  The endless grind of cultivation could be dull. Picking up a craft or two didn’t sound like a bad idea. She made a mental note to dig deeper into that later.

  As Lauren stepped out of the library, she stopped short—she’d nearly walked right past someone familiar.

  “Tamara?”

  The girl blinked at her in surprise. Recognition dawned. It was Lauren—the girl she’d once shared a utility room with, back before the spiritual root tests.

  “Lauren, it really is you! I was lucky during the entrance exam—I managed to get into the Inner Sect, though I haven’t become an official disciple yet. And you—I haven’t seen you since that day. How have you been?”

  “Not bad,” Lauren said with a smile. “I rarely come down the mountain. You look good, too.”

  Tamara laughed softly. “The Inner Sect’s alright. Not as messy as the Outer Sect.”

  Before Lauren could reply, someone’s voice rang out across the courtyard.

  “Tamara! Hurry up! Do you still want to go to the second floor of the library?”

  “I’m coming!” Tamara called back, then quickly slipped Lauren a folded slip of paper—a low-grade sound transmission note. “We’ll talk later,” she whispered.

  “Alright.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Tamara turned and jogged after her companion.

  The other girl glanced over her shoulder, frowning. “Tamara, who was that? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before.”

  “Oh, her?” Tamara waved it off. “Just someone I knew before I joined the sect. We hadn’t run into each other since. Today was a coincidence.”

  “Before you joined?” So… an Outer Sect disciple?

  Tamara didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

  With her excellent dual spiritual roots and strong performance in the entrance exam, Tamara had secured her place in the Inner Sect. If she placed well in the annual competition, there was no doubt an elder would take her as a direct disciple.

  As for that Outer Sect girl? Best not to waste breath remembering her.

  “Tamara, the gap between you and her will only grow wider. It’ll be like two worlds apart. Best if you stop contacting her now. Being friends with someone like that is pointless—a waste of time.”

  Tamara glanced back, but Lauren was already gone.

  A world of difference?

  Yes, Lauren had rare ice spirit roots. Who knew which immortal master had taken her in? Meanwhile, Tamara was just an ordinary Inner Sect disciple. Between them, the gulf really was as vast as two different worlds.

  .......

  Cultivators in Qi Training still needed to eat daily unless they relied on fasting pills. Once they reached Foundation Establishment, meals became optional—they only needed to eat once every three days—but even then, fasting pills were required.

  The sect gave Lauren a monthly allowance of fasting pills, but she sold them all.

  She never touched them. Instead, she drank the flower dew gifted by Flower Wife. The dew left her body pure, free of erysipelas and impurities, an enormous boost to her cultivation.

  A year slipped by in the blink of an eye. Lauren noticed she had grown taller.

  The Spirit-Repelling Silkworm Garment clung to her body like a second skin, casting a translucent veil over her snow-pale figure. The treasure adjusted itself perfectly, expanding and contracting with her body, always snug but never uncomfortable.

  It was unmistakably designed for a woman.

  That day, Senior Brother Tarot came to deliver her monthly resources along with a new sect uniform. He had meant to leave them at the door and go, but hearing movement inside, he knocked.

  “Lauren?”

  Lauren opened the door. “Brother?”

  Tarot smiled. “I’ve been the one collecting your things each month. It’s rare to see you out of seclusion. It’s been a year now. How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good,” Lauren said with a faint smile. “I’m already at the fifth level of Foundation Establishment. I think I’ll be able to qualify for the Hidden Mist Secret Realm in two years.”

  “Don’t get cocky. The first five levels are easy. After that, the climb only gets steeper.”

  Lauren scratched her cheek, embarrassed. “You’re right, Brother. I was being overconfident.”

  Tarot’s smile stiffened. “I’ll be blunt, and I hope you don’t mind—your speed is already the fastest I’ve ever seen. What treasure did Master give you that lets you cultivate so quickly?”

  Lauren only smiled and said nothing.

  Everyone’s cultivation path was their own secret. Tarot hadn’t expected an answer anyway—just asked on instinct.

  “Alright, alright,” he chuckled, waving it off. “Master told me to support your cultivation however I can, so I won’t press. Here are this month’s resources. And this—” he handed her folded clothes, “—your uniform. You’re a year older now. The old set might be too small, so I got you a bigger one.”

  “Thank you, Senior Brother.”

  The uniforms of righteous sects were all identical. Inner, outer, or direct disciple—it made no difference. Only those above Core Formation could dispense with them.

  But the plain robes were more than just clothing. The woven patterns were miniature formations, linked directly to the sect’s mountain-guarding stones.

  If a disciple died outside, their soul would be drawn back to the stone, preventing it from being scattered by hostile forces. Then the sect elders could perform a ritual to guide the soul into reincarnation.

  This safeguard only applied to those below Core Formation, of course. Cultivators who had broken through that stage had already stepped beyond the cycle of reincarnation.

  The robes also had minor enchantments, like keeping the wearer dry in the rain. Lauren had tested this herself—it kept the clothes dry, at least, though not her hair or skin.

  After Tarot left, Lauren quickly tried on the new uniform. Then she checked her sound transmission slips.

  A flood of messages lit up before her eyes. Every single one was from Nash.

  You’re still in seclusion?

  Seriously, why are you working so damn hard?