When Lauren finally opened her sound transmission talisman, she found it crammed full of messages from Nash.

  The beauty of a sound transmission talisman was its versatility. If both parties were “online,” it worked like a phone—you could have a live conversation. If one party wasn’t, it automatically converted to voice messages. Handy as hell.

  Nash’s string of messages was almost comical.

  First: Where are you?

  Then: Did you get here yet?

  Finally: The match already started—did something happen?

  Lauren winced. She’d been so rattled by that damn four-legged freeloader that she hadn’t checked until now.

  Quickly, she sent a voice transmission back, claiming she’d gotten too absorbed in cultivation and lost track of time, only waking up after slipping into a trance.

  After a long pause, Nash replied dryly: You’re really talented.

  Lauren felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She quickly changed the subject. So, who took the top three?

  No surprises with first and second, Nash shot back. Dante and Sebastian, obviously. Third went to Westin—and of course he’s showing again. The outer disciples are over the moon. He’s practically a god to them now. I heard training enthusiasm in the Outer Sect has skyrocketed thanks to him.

  Lauren couldn’t help but agree. There was nothing shocking about a straight-A student taking the top spot in class. But when the “bad student” clawed their way to first place through sheer grit? Now that was inspiring.

  Another message from Nash: By the way, when are you leaving the mountain?

  Why?

  Dante came to me. Said he already knows who you are and wants to apologize for being reckless. I saw him standing by you during my match—did he say something that pissed you off?

  No.

  No? Come on. If he didn’t offend you, why would he need to apologize?

  He offended my master.

  On the other end, Nash fumbled so badly he literally dropped his talisman.

  Okay… yeah, I’m staying out of this one. I can’t help him there.

  Lauren thought a moment before sending: I’m not leaving the mountain anytime soon. Master wants me to reach the tenth level of Foundation Establishment within the next year and a half.

  There was a long silence—then the sound of Nash dropping his talisman again.

  When he’d last seen her, she’d barely been at the fifth level. From fifth to tenth in a year and a half? That was lunacy. Even someone with Dragon Roots couldn’t pull that off.

  And suddenly, Nash understood. He finally got why the disciples of Starfell Summit kept such a low profile, why they almost never left the mountain.

  He also understood why Lauren trained like her life depended on it—because, apparently, it did.

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  Holy shit, he thought. That’s brutal.

  Once upon a time, he’d envied her for getting accepted as Immortal Master Drake’s disciple. But now? That envy was gone. Completely gone.

  After a year and a half of grinding cultivation and downing every elixir she could get her hands on, Lauren finally did it. The once 1.5-meter block of ten-thousand-year-old ice in her cave had shrunk to barely 1.2 meters, but she’d reached the tenth level of Foundation Establishment—just as Drake required.

  The very moment she stepped out of the cave, Drake sensed her breakthrough. With his Shrinking the Earth technique, he appeared before her in an instant.

  “Master?” She nearly crashed into him.

  Drake gave her a long look, then nodded with satisfaction. “Well, you did it.”

  Lauren muttered inwardly, You set me the task—like I had a choice not to?

  Growing up an orphan, she had long since learned the hard way: you either completed what was asked of you, or you were discarded. Abandoned. The fear of being disliked had branded itself into her bones.

  “I’ve fulfilled the mission,” she said softly.

  Drake strode into the cave and took in the sight of the diminished block of black ice. The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Lauren held her breath, standing silently beside him like a perfectly obedient disciple.

  “You should rest for a day,” Drake said at last. “Tomorrow, Tarot will come to teach you what you need to know.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Bring out your weapon.”

  Lauren froze. Weapon?

  After a moment’s hesitation, she produced the butcher’s knife she’d been using. It wasn’t pretty, but it was a spiritual weapon—a decent one at that.

  Drake’s mouth twitched again. “This is your weapon?”

  She scratched her cheek awkwardly. “My family gave me a plain magical longsword, not very good. This knife was a gift from an elder. Since it’s a spiritual weapon, I thought it was pretty decent.”

  Only then did Drake realize—she had never been to the Sword Tomb. He’d forgotten. By the sect’s rules, every new disciple could choose a weapon from there, the grade depending on their status. As his direct disciple, Lauren had the right to select a Spirit Treasure as her very first weapon.

  Drake sighed inwardly. Age really is making me forgetful.

  He lifted a hand, and an icy silver longsword appeared in his grasp. Its size and shape were identical to the Ice Soul Sword given by the devourer—only the intricate patterns and faint sheen distinguished it.

  What did that mean?

  “This sword is called the Gintama Sword,” Drake said. “An innate Spirit Treasure. From today forward, it belongs to you.”

  Lauren accepted it with both hands, her heart pounding.

  An innate Spirit Treasure. One character that made all the difference.

  Ordinary Spirit Treasures were already rare across the Cultivation Realm; anything above them was practically mythical, held only by the three mysterious sects or the Divine Sword Sect. But a weapon with the “innate” designation? That was something else entirely.

  It wasn’t just powerful—it could grow with its master. Bound as a life weapon, it could ascend alongside its wielder. If the master achieved immortality, the sword could rise to immortality as well.

  Not that anyone had ascended in tens of thousands of years.

  “Thank you, Master, for the sword.”

  The next day, after resting in her courtyard, Lauren welcomed Tarot as promised.

  “Junior Sister, Master asked me to teach you. Are you ready?”

  Lauren raised the gleaming Gintama Sword. “I’m ready, Senior Brother. Let’s begin.”

  But Tarot only shook his head. “No, no. I won’t be teaching you swordsmanship. Master’s Mysterious Ice Technique already contains a sword manual—you can train with it on your own.”

  Lauren blinked. “Then… what will you be teaching me?”

  Tarot’s gaze turned serious. “The basics of talismans, alchemy, and formations. Concealment, assassination, and the darker sides of human nature. An introduction to the sects and factions of the Cultivation Realm. The uses of obscure artifacts. The dos and don’ts of seizing treasure. You must master all of this before you’re allowed down the mountain to gain experience.”

  Lauren stared at him, stunned.

  In all the cultivation novels she’d read in her previous life, the protagonists never seemed to struggle with this. They could hole up in their sects, focus only on cultivation, and yet—once they stepped outside—bam, they somehow knew everything. Talisman crafting, poison mixing, artifact lore, formation breaking—you name it.

  Back then, she’d never questioned it. But now? It felt absurd.

  Especially those “low-key” protagonists, the ones hiding endless secrets and barely talking to anyone. How the hell had they managed to learn it all?