Herbert’s expression flickered. For a moment, a trace of sadness washed over his face.

  His graying beard trembled slightly as he sighed. “Alas… I’ve already failed several times trying to break through. If I fail again, that’s it. My lifespan’s running thin. I won’t even get a chance at self-solution.”

  He wasn’t just envious of Drake’s doubled lifespan. What gnawed at him more was that Drake stood at the brink of ascension. If he truly couldn’t ascend, he could still self-detonate, disperse his soul, and reincarnate as a new human in the next life.

  But Herbert? When his time was up, that was it—his body would fade into dust, his soul scattered beyond retrieval.

  Drake’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Is your greatest wish simply to reach Mahayana, to secure a chance at self-solution?”

  Herbert blinked at him, caught off guard.

  “Well… not exactly,” he said after a moment. “We cultivators aim to ascend, don’t we? But for centuries now, no one’s ascended. It’s like the heavens themselves sealed that path. We cultivate, we suffer, we fight… just to end up hoping for a cleaner death. What’s the point? If I didn’t cultivate, I’d still die in a hundred years, maybe less. So why all this struggle?”

  He gave a bitter laugh, the kind that came from deep fatigue. “Sometimes, all those years of cultivation feel like a joke.”

  He paused, then chuckled again, softer this time. “Don’t laugh at me, Uncle. It’s not that my cultivation isn’t strong enough—I just can’t get past my inner demons. For years, I’ve been dreaming about something as ridiculous as getting married and having children…” He rubbed his face with a wide sleeve, half hiding his expression. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  Drake watched him quietly. “Are you smirking?”

  Herbert froze. “…Ahem. No. I’m not. Heaven and Earth can testify—I’ve always been a serious cultivator.”

  Drake’s gaze didn’t waver. “The path to Ascension isn’t severed,” he said evenly. “It’s only obscured.”

  Herbert frowned. “Huh?”

  “The closer you get to Ascension, the clearer it will become.”

  As he spoke, Drake leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table, his tone carrying a weight Herbert couldn’t quite describe.

  “You and I are fortunate,” Drake continued. “The one who broke through has already appeared. The path to ascension will soon open.”

  Herbert’s eyes went wide. “You mean—someone’s actually—? Are you serious?”

  “Indeed. But the path isn’t smooth. You and I may well become stepping stones along the way. Think carefully before you act.”

  Herbert straightened, his old eyes gleaming with sudden resolve. “At my age, what’s left to fear? Death’s the worst that could happen. If I can help pave the way for future generations, then my life won’t have been wasted.”

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  Drake nodded approvingly. “I’m glad you think that way. That Blood Qi Pill I gave you—it was for your own good.”

  Herbert’s expression froze again. His gratitude deflated instantly.

  What do you mean ‘gave’? I paid for the damn thing!

  He swallowed the complaint, forcing a wry smile. “Immortal Drake, tell me the truth—do you have some kind of special method for refining talismans?”

  He’d been wondering about this ever since the duel earlier.

  That little girl—Lauren, wasn’t it?—had been fighting by hurling talismans like bombs. That wasn’t normal. Not even close.

  Drake raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  Herbert leaned forward eagerly. “Don’t play dumb with me. That girl’s talisman power could blow half a mountain off its base. You really expect me to believe she’s just a Core Formation cultivator?”

  Drake’s lips curved faintly. “Then perhaps you should ask her yourself.”

  “Look,” Herbert began, his tone halfway between curiosity, “the last time she fought that worthless disciple of mine, she detonated ten fifth-grade Explosive Spirit Talismans—at the same damn time. And that potion she drank before the fight, I thought it was something incredible. I’m just… curious, all right? I just want to know.”

  Drake didn’t even look up from his desk. He merely raised an eyebrow, voice cool and unhurried. “There’s no point telling you. You’re stingy enough as it is. You have to fight Gerald just because of spending a few spirit stones on a pill. How many spirit stones are you even willing to spend on your own disciple?”

  Herbert: “…”

  Over ninety million spirit stones, and I’m stingy?

  He stared at Drake, utterly speechless.

  Drake added mildly, “Even if I told you, you couldn’t afford it.”

  Herbert swallowed hard. All right, fine. He’s got a point.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had left anyway, so why bother worrying about that now? And Drake was right about one thing—that potion did seem to work like Eternal Spirit Milk. If the price was anywhere near the same, he’d never use it on himself, let alone his disciple.

  And that girl had drunk the entire bottle in one go. No wonder Drake gave him two Blood Qi Pills but claimed it was just one.

  “Uncle Master,” Herbert said, trying to sound composed, “I’ll take my leave. I need to recuperate first. Once I’ve recovered, I’ll go into seclusion and make another attempt.”

  He and Gerald had fought earlier, and while he was technically the stronger cultivator, Gerald’s endless pile of treasures had tipped the balance. The result had been… humbling.

  Herbert clasped his hands behind his back and strode out of Starfell Hall, still muttering under his breath. Outside, he spotted Tarot and Lauren waiting.

  Both of them were draped in Spirit Treasures from head to toe.

  Tarot he could understand—the man had lived for centuries and had accumulated wealth over time. But Lauren? She’d only been Drake’s disciple for a few years, and she was practically glowing with luxury.

  Herbert’s eyebrow twitched. No wonder Drake’s been selling Blood Qi Pills left and right—he’s feeding two money-eating beasts.

  He ignored them entirely, walking away so fast his graying beard trembled with each breath.

  Lauren blinked. “Do you think he’ll come looking for trouble?”

  Tarot snorted. “No. He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Right… Hey, weren’t you looking for Master? Why aren’t you going in?”

  “Oh—yeah. Then I’ll go in now.”

  .....

  Inside Starfell Hall, Lauren found Drake waiting. She came to borrow the Ice Cave again, this time to attempt her breakthrough.

  Drake didn’t refuse. Instead, he handed her a small jade box.

  “Here,” he said. “A Soul-Soothing Pill. It’ll suppress the invasion of inner demons. It should make it easier for you to reach the Nascent Soul Stage.”

  Lauren’s chest tightened with gratitude. She’d wanted a Soul-Soothing Pill for years—she’d searched through sect markets and auction halls, but it was the kind of item that showed up only once in a lifetime, and never when you needed it.

  She hadn’t expected her master to already have one prepared.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  Drake waved his hand dismissively. “Go on then. Just remember—don’t overdo it.”

  Lauren froze. Uh… that sounded a little embarrassing.