Lauren asked casually, “Carter—he’s from the Sharpe family, right?”

  “Yes. Midnight’s Sharpe family is a well-known immortal clan. They’ve produced plenty of geniuses. For example, Warren, who joined the sect this year, has a single Fire Spiritual Root. And Ashenreach’s Peak Master, Senior Master Cornelius, is also from the Sharpe family. Carter’s dual spiritual roots are considered outstanding, but in the Sharpe family, he’s just average.”

  Lauren had really wanted to ask about Freya, the eldest brother—but Nash hadn’t mentioned him at all. If he didn’t even know Tarot, there was no way he’d know about Freya.

  “Let’s head to the third training ground,” Nash said. “Sebastian should be starting soon.”

  Lauren remembered Sebastian. He’d fought Timothy, the challenger, last year. He was definitely one of the ones with a ticket to the Hidden Mist Secret Realm.

  When they arrived, Sebastian had just stepped onto the training platform.

  The moment Nash saw his opponent, he chuckled.

  “No need to watch. Sebastian’s definitely going to win.”

  Lauren: “…”

  “Well, let’s just see—”

  She didn’t even finish the thought before Sebastian blurred forward, lightning-fast, and the fight was over in a blink.

  Lauren was speechless. “How is he so fast? Don’t tell me he has a Wind Spiritual Root?”

  “No,” Nash explained, “but his master gave him a blue bird feather. He’s already fused it into his body. So even without a Wind Spiritual Root, his speed rivals one.”

  Okay… that explains it.

  “Do you know when Dante’s match is?” she asked.

  Nash grinned. “You want to see Dante fight?”

  Lauren nodded quickly.

  “It’s not worth watching yet,” Nash said. “Wait another two or three days.”

  “Why? He can’t be scheduled earlier?”

  “No. For people like him—and Sebastian—their early matches are over almost as soon as they start. The real excitement is when it gets down to the top ten, then top five, then the final three. There are a lot of competitors this year, so you probably won’t see Dante fight seriously until three days from now.”

  Lauren understood—and instantly lost interest in watching any more of the current matches.

  “Then I’ll come back in three days. Nash, I’m leaving.”

  “Wait, why leave? Even if those are boring, the fights on this stage are still pretty exciting.”

  Lauren smiled. “No need. Goodbye, Nash.”

  Nash felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. He would be on stage himself soon and had been hoping to put on a good show for her. But she’d left before he even got the chance.

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  Never mind, he thought. I’ll just have to fight my way into the top ten.

  For the next three days, Lauren didn’t plan to shut herself away in seclusion. Instead, she practiced the spells from the Mysterious Ice Technique and checked in on Four Legs.

  A year had passed, and the creature’s appearance had changed noticeably.

  Once, he had looked like some strange cave salamander—scaleless, hornless, his toes nothing more than blunt stubs.

  Now, faint scales shimmered under the light, tiny horn-buds had sprouted from his head, and his toes were beginning to separate into claws.

  Looking at him now, he was starting to resemble—well, a dragon.

  “Hello, Four Legs.”

  Four Legs cracked open his eyes, gave her a single glance, then shut them again with a lazy huff.

  “Four Legs, got the energy to talk?”

  Nothing. He didn’t even bother opening his eyes this time.

  Yeah… still weak.

  Lauren pulled her spiritual sense back from checking his core, climbed out of bed—and immediately received a terse instruction from Drake.

  > “Come to the Ice Cave.”

  Ice Cave? Where the hell was the Ice Cave?

  Since coming to Starfell Summit, she’d only been to three places: her own quarters, Tarot’s courtyard, and her master’s hall.

  Not daring to bother Drake with such a dumb question, she slipped out a sound transmission talisman.

  Brother, help! Where’s the Ice Cave?

  Five miles north of Starfell Summit.

  Lauren: “…”

  That’s it? Still, she hurried to the spot. Sure enough, there was a cave there, the words Ice Cave carved boldly into the stone outside.

  Inside, Drake was seated on a massive, crystal-clear block of ice. He rose only once she stepped in.

  “This is a piece of ten-thousand-year-old ice, dug from the Deep South Sea. From now on, you’ll cultivate on it. It will double your results for half the effort.”

  Lauren’s heart gave a violent tremor. Her hands shook as she reached toward the slab of ice, the size of a double bed. Ten-thousand-year-old ice from the Deep South?

  She’d researched it once while looking into sword repairs. Every book had said the same: it was unimaginably rare, not available anywhere on the market, and practically impossible to obtain.

  And yet here was her master, casually sitting on a block the size of a bed.

  It was like stumbling across a flawless emerald large enough to fill a room—so dazzling she could hardly breathe.

  “Master,” she blurted before she could stop herself, “can I… maybe chip off a piece?”Repairing the sword.

  “What do you want to scrape it off for?”

  Lauren froze. She couldn’t tell him the truth—that she needed it to repair Freya’s sword, or worse, that it had anything to do with the Devourer and Sky-Covering Valley. In the righteous sects, those names alone were enough to earn someone a death sentence.

  “I just think it’s beautiful,” she said quickly. “I wanted to scrape off a piece and make a bracelet.”

  Drake’s brows lifted in mild surprise. Then, without a word, he walked to the massive ice bed, crouched down, and chipped off a chunk near the foot.

  Lauren blinked.

  “…Master?” She was stunned, touched, and a little guilty.

  “Hold out your hand,” he said.

  Swallowing down her emotions, she extended her arm. Drake measured her wrist with a glance, then picked up the shard of ten-thousand-year-old ice and walked away without another word.

  Lauren bit her lower lip as she watched his tall figure vanish into the swirling snow. He’s… he’s really going to make me a bracelet. Damn, that’s… actually touching.

  Wait.

  “Master, while you’re at it—” She wanted to ask for the leftover scraps. But by the time the words reached her lips, he was already gone.

  Her gaze slid back to the massive ice bed. If she could just sneak another piece for herself…

  But the moment she tried, she realized how hopeless it was. Drake had sliced through it like it was tofu. When she swung at it with the butcher’s knife she carried, the shock nearly knocked the blade out of her hand. Her palm went numb, and the ice didn’t even have a scratch.

  That single strike told her all she needed to know: she was laughably weak. Even if Drake had handed her scraps, she wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing with them.

  No wonder he gave me that look when I said I wanted to chip off a piece for jewelry. Cocky little newbie, aren’t you?

  Scowling at herself, she tried at least to use the ice bed for its intended purpose. Sitting cross-legged, she pressed down—only for a biting cold to shoot straight up from her ass.

  She yelped and jumped back to her feet in a single breath.

  Yep. Definitely an ice bed. Master wasn’t exaggerating about the “ten-thousand-year-old” part.