Lauren stopped by the sect’s exchange hall first, trading in a few items for a fresh batch of Spirit Gathering Pills before returning to Starfell Summit.

  After drinking the flower dew, she settled in to cultivate.

  Just as she crossed her legs, a familiar figure broke the silence.

  Lauren opened one eye. “Hey. Done burning through all five hundred beast cores already?”

  “No. I just saw you wandering around earlier, so I thought I’d take a walk too.”

  “Then you’re late,” she said. “I’m back and about to start cultivating.”

  Edmund leaned casually against the wall, his tone light. “Nothing serious. I just happened to see you in Hyakka Valley. Didn’t expect you to be the sentimental type.”

  Lauren frowned. “I’m not sentimental. I just know how to repay kindness—and grudges, too. I remember both.”

  Her tone softened slightly. “Tamara helped me when I was down. Giving her a few flowers was nothing—it just squared the debt. If fate lets us cross paths again, great. If not, no strings attached.”

  She paused, thinking back. “We couldn’t find an inn. If Tamara hadn’t shared her room, we would’ve slept on the street. You have no idea how chaotic Hogwarts was back then. If I’d been careless…”

  She exhaled, her expression darkening. “I might’ve ended up robbed.”

  Edmund’s voice carried a teasing edge. “Robbed of what? Your Immortal Roots?”

  Lauren’s face went cold. The memory was one she’d spent years trying to bury—the searing pain, the terror of being pinned down, the knowledge that someone meant to carve her very essence out of her body without so much as a numbing spell. Even now, the thought made her stomach twist.

  It wasn’t until her master gave her that enchanted vest that she’d finally been able to sleep without waking in panic.

  Her voice came out sharp. “If my Immortal Roots were destroyed, you’d be fucked too.”

  .......

  This time, Lauren didn’t rush her cultivation. She took it slow—steady, deliberate, balancing rest and practice.

  Two months later, she began forming her Core.

  Core Formation wasn’t like Foundation Establishment; it couldn’t be done in a few days. But thanks to her Immortal Roots and vast spiritual reserves, the process went far faster than it had for Dante or the others.

  After just a month, the signs appeared.

  Drake, deep in meditation, opened his eyes. His expression flickered—then he rose, stepped outside, and looked toward Lauren’s courtyard.

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  A dark cloud shot upward from his hand, spreading across the sky like ink in water. Moments later, a transparent barrier descended, sealing her courtyard in silence.

  Lauren, deep in meditation, noticed none of it.

  Tarot did. He frowned, rolled out of bed, and went straight to Starfell Hall.

  “Master,” he asked cautiously, “why are you blocking Junior Sister’s Core Formation? Without the spiritual resonance, there won’t be any heavenly signs. Isn’t that… a waste of a miracle?”

  Drake’s tone was calm, almost dismissive. “That little gain isn’t worth mentioning.”

  Tarot blinked. Not worth mentioning? Spiritual rain alone could boost an entire sect’s cultivation for months.

  He swallowed hard. Master, what do you even consider a ‘gain’?

  .....

  Lauren remained unaware of the shield or her master’s interference. She simply sank deeper into focus, refining her essence, stabilizing her spirit, smoothing the flow of energy around her forming Core.

  Her body—tempered by years of fasting, pure flower dew, and high-grade pills—was cleaner than most cultivators could dream of. Her foundation was flawless.

  To aid the process, she swallowed ten Dust-Reducing Pills in one breath.

  The result was perfection.

  When the final pulse of energy settled and the golden sphere solidified within her dantian, Lauren opened her eyes. A faint smile touched her lips. Her Golden Core was nearly flawless.

  In her past life, Indiana had always been a step ahead—better, brighter, stronger.

  In this one, Lauren didn’t need to outshine the world. She just wanted to surpass her.

  “Hm?” She blinked and looked up at the ceiling. Something felt… off.

  “I’ve formed the Core, but… shouldn’t there be something? A heavenly sign?”

  Edmund’s voice drifted through her consciousness. “You mean the visions—the auspicious clouds, the spiritual rain?”

  “Yes. Every record says a true Core Formation triggers heavenly phenomena. The more spectacular, the stronger the cultivator. I’ve got nothing. Not even a drizzle.”

  She frowned. Did I mess up somehow?

  “No,” Edmund said. “Your Core is perfect. Better than most. The missing spectacle? That’s your master’s doing.”

  Lauren froze. “My master?”

  “Yes. Look up.”

  She climbed to the window and peered at the sky. Above the summit, a thick, unmoving cloud loomed—dense and unnatural, swallowing every trace of starlight.

  Edmund’s voice was dry. “Told you before. He’s shielding the heavens’ gaze. Probably doesn’t want whatever’s up there to notice you forming your Core.”

  Lauren stared at the dark sky, stunned. “...He’s hiding me from the heavens?”

  “Seems like it.”

  For a long moment, she said nothing.

  Then she smiled faintly. “Figures. That’s just like him.”

  Lauren’s heart raced. A strange, indescribable feeling welled up inside her.

  She wasn’t fighting against the will of heaven alone—her master knew. He knew.

  He understood what lingered in the skies above. It wasn’t her imagination, not some paranoid delusion born of too much cultivation pressure.

  Her master had seen it too.

  Maybe he’d known all along. Maybe that was why he’d been suppressing his own ascension—holding himself back, quietly bearing it.

  Lauren stumbled a little as the realization hit her. “That’s… a huge problem. Who exactly is my master, if even he doesn’t dare make a move? Edmund, I wonder how long you’ll stay sealed like this.”

  “It’s too early to talk about that,” Edmund replied, his tone lazy. “You’re still too weak.”

  Lauren’s gaze drifted down to him—half of his dragon head poking out from her sleeve. She reached out and flicked one of his horns with a finger.

  “Tell me the truth,” she murmured. “Am I… special in this world?”

  Edmund tilted his head. “Special in what way?”

  “The thing up there wants me dead,” Lauren said quietly. “Why? I’m just a girl. Why would the heavens care enough to try and crush me? Unless…” Her voice softened. “Unless I have something it’s afraid of. Something that could break the deadlock.”

  A faint smile curved Edmund’s lips. “You’re a clever one. You’ve probably guessed it for a while now.”

  Lauren didn’t deny it. “So that’s why you chose me?”

  “That’s right.”

  She huffed a quiet laugh. Good boy. We were using each other, then—saving each other.

  “Then I’d better go tell my master the good news,” Lauren said, standing up.

  “I know.”

  She left the room, her heart still unsettled, and made her way toward Drake’s hall.