Lauren smiled. This match wasn’t fierce, but it was hands down the most entertaining so far.

  Spears against stone? Yeah, no contest.

  Nash flicked out a formation chess piece, waving his hand. The spearmen retreated, and in their place marched a line of soldiers hefting chisels.

  Stone cracked faster under chisel than spear, and soon they’d carved a wide gap.

  But Yanis wasn’t slacking. The moment the stone wall gave way, archers appeared in formation behind it. One volley—half the chisel soldiers dropped.

  Nash countered instantly, summoning shield-bearers to block, then catapults rolled into place.

  Yanis answered with engineers scrambling forward to patch the walls.

  More beans hit the ground, more formation pieces lit up, and the battlefield grew more chaotic by the second. Soldiers were dying so fast you couldn’t even make out their faces before they vanished.

  And still, both men remained calm, their hands precise as they moved their formation pieces, eyes locked on the tide of war.

  That’s when a low voice cut through the din.

  “From the stands, it looks like they’re just throwing soldiers around at random. But that’s not what’s happening.”

  Lauren turned her head sharply.

  …When the hell had Dante gotten here?

  “If either of them falters for even a breath, they’ll be crushed by the other,” Dante continued, his gaze steady on the stage. “Even the slightest lapse—one unit too slow—would cost them the entire match.”

  Lauren understood immediately. It was just like Plants vs. Zombies: if your potato wall got placed half a second late, the zombies walked straight through and ate your brains.

  “Thank you, Mr. Dante, for clearing up my confusion,” she said politely.

  He smiled faintly. “You’re welcome. Nash asked me to come over.”

  Lauren frowned. “Nash?”

  “Yes. He said you wanted to get to know me, and that I should give you a chance—for his sake.”

  Lauren: “…”

  She’d believed the first part, but the second gave him away.

  Why would Nash say something like that? He knew her identity. If Nash actually wanted to make an introduction, he would’ve asked her first.

  Lauren chuckled softly and shook her head. “Mr. Dante, don’t be ridiculous. Nash would never say something like that.”

  Dante blinked, taken aback. That was the first time anyone had dismissed him so directly.

  Normally, when he approached a junior sister, she was practically giddy with excitement.

  “Which peak are you from?” he pressed.

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  Lauren ignored the question. He’d tried to con her—let him stew.

  Instead, she changed the subject. “Will Nash win?”

  On stage, the formations had gotten so elaborate it didn’t even look like a fight anymore—it looked like a full-scale strategy game.

  Dante followed her gaze. “They’re evenly matched. Too close to call for now.”

  Not that his eyesight was as sharp as Nash’s.

  Lauren tilted her head. “How do formation masters fight when they’re not up against each other?”

  Dante gave her a sidelong smile. “A winner will always emerge between two of the same kind. The victor will then have to fight someone who isn’t a formation master. That’s when the difference really shows.”

  As the two were talking, Nash suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.

  In an instant, every soldier in front of him dissolved into dust.

  His opponent, Yanis, quickly waved his battle flag, withdrawing his troops.

  Nash staggered but managed to bow. “Yanis, you’re incredible. I admit defeat.”

  Yanis returned the bow. “Thank you.”

  Lauren blinked. Just like that, it was over. She hadn’t even seen the moment the balance tipped. Different trades might as well be different mountains—formation battles were still a mystery to her.

  “Nash!”

  “Are you alright?”

  Disciples from the crowd rushed over. Someone handed him a pill, and his color returned after swallowing it.

  “I’m fine. Thank you all.”

  His master, Elder Jade, stepped forward. Nash bowed again. “Master, I’m sorry. I lost.”

  Elder Jade’s voice was calm. “As long as you’re safe. Losing to Yanis is no disgrace. Honestly, I thought you’d only reach the top twenty. Making the top ten? That’s a pleasant surprise.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  Through the crowd, Nash spotted Lauren and waved faintly, signaling for her to use a sound transmission talisman.

  He was escorted away to rest, and moments later his voice echoed in Lauren’s mind: The top-five competition is tomorrow.

  Lauren sent back, Since it’s tomorrow, I’ll head out now. Rest well, Senior Brother.

  She mounted her flying sword and streaked back toward Starfell Summit—completely unaware of the figure tailing her in secret.

  Dante.

  He narrowed his eyes. Which peak was this junior sister from, to warrant such secrecy? But as soon as he followed her into Starfell Summit, it clicked.

  Last year, Grandmaster Drake himself had descended the mountain to take on a new disciple—an ice-root prodigy.

  So it was her.

  “Tch. And that boring Nash knew, but didn’t say a damn word?” Dante muttered.

  Then a voice, cold enough to freeze his marrow, cut through the air.

  “Who dares trespass on Starfell Summit?”

  The words slammed into him like thunder. His knees nearly buckled.

  Only then did Dante realize he’d already crossed into Starfell Summit’s domain. He froze, panic flooding him, and quickly bowed toward the empty air. “Disciple Dante! I meant no offense and disturbed Grandmaster’s retreat by accident. Please forgive me!”

  A frigid gale exploded outward. Dante was tossed like a leaf in a storm, sent flying miles before he could stabilize his footing.

  When the wind finally died, his robes were drenched in cold sweat.

  The only living Mahayana cultivator on the continent… Drake’s strength was unfathomable.

  .....

  “Master, I was careless. I didn’t realize someone was following me.”

  Drake’s voice was even. “It’s fine. Dante is currently the strongest of your generation. It’s natural you couldn’t detect him.”

  Lauren let out a breath of relief.

  Still, she’d been rattled. Watching Dante—someone she knew was terrifyingly strong—get flicked away by a casual sweep of her master’s sleeve drove home just how vast the gap was.

  If it had been her, she wouldn’t have stopped at the gate. She’d have been blasted halfway down the mountain.

  “I went to see the matches today, Master. Honestly, Dante and Sebastian’s opponents weren’t much of a challenge. They crushed them.”

  “At least their opponents could stand against them,” Drake said coldly. “If it had been you, you wouldn’t have even qualified to face them.”

  Lauren froze.

  He was right. Here she was, dismissing them as weak, when in truth, she wasn’t even strong enough to be their stepping stone.

  “…Master, I was wrong.” She lowered her head.

  “You have a year and a half to raise your cultivation.”

  Lauren blinked. “Isn’t the tournament in two years?”

  “The last six months are for consolidating your realm and honing your spells. If you persist with cultivation on the ice bed, a year and a half will be enough for you to reach the tenth level of Foundation Establishment.”

  Her heart lurched. That pace was insane. More like a death sentence.

  Drake extended his hand, and light glinted off something in his palm.

  “The bracelet you asked for. Take it.”

  Lauren’s breath caught. A flawless, crystal-clear bangle rested there, gleaming like it had been carved from purest ice or glass. In the sunlight, it was dazzling, otherworldly.

  She could only stare. It was beautiful beyond words.