“Have you finished digesting those mermaid beast cores?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Then why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “Those low-level cores are drops in the ocean,” he replied coolly. “What I need is a haul of inner cores from seventh-tier monsters.”

  Lauren’s mouth twitched. One she might be able to manage—she could paint talismans, sell them at auction, maybe scrape together the funds.

  But a batch?

  Did he think seventh-tier beasts grew like cabbage in a farmer’s field?

  “Yeah, don’t hold your breath,” she muttered, stuffing him back into her sleeve just as Nash surfaced.

  “Hey, Ms. Lauren, look at this! Isn’t it beautiful?”

  Nash surfaced, holding up a massive piece of bright red coral.

  “Beautiful,” Lauren agreed.

  Grinning, Nash pressed it into her hands. “This is the finest coral we found. It’s yours.”

  “For me?”

  “Of course. We’ve all agreed—the most beautiful coral goes to Ms. Lauren, as our tribute.”

  Tribute? Lauren nearly choked. Well, at least he’d chosen his words carefully.

  She accepted it with a cough, and Nash dove back into the trench.

  Edmund chose that moment to crawl out again.

  “Yes. Right here,” he muttered.

  Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist so hard her skin turned red.

  “Easy!” Lauren hissed, prying him off and plopping him onto the coral instead.

  He climbed onto it, claws brushing its ridges. “All my flesh and blood fell here, and only then did this coral grow.”

  “...”

  Lauren, who had just been wondering where she should put the thing, froze. All his flesh and blood fell here?

  Edmund’s great head sagged to the side, unblinking eyes fixed on the coral. White mist hissed from his nostrils.

  She could see it—the helplessness, the simmering anger he wouldn’t voice.

  “Don’t ask me more,” he said hoarsely. “When you return, speak to your master. Learn the truth there.”

  His refusal only made Lauren’s curiosity burn hotter, but she swallowed it back. If Edmund didn’t want to say more, pressing him was useless.

  Not long after, Dante and the others returned with their haul, laying out heaps of coral for her to choose from.

  Lauren had already calmed herself. She smiled and pointed. “I’ll just take this one.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  For her, the single bright-red coral was enough—it was prized for refining fire-attributed elixirs, but she valued its beauty even more.

  The others nodded without argument. They packed away the rest and the immortal boat pressed on.

  Two days later, their journey ended abruptly when the vessel slammed into something unseen—an invisible wall barring the sea.

  “Dante, we’re blocked!”

  Dante hurried to the bow, frowning.

  Lauren darted forward as well, whispering to Edmund inside her sleeve, Is this the Boundary Force you mentioned?

  “Yes,” came the grim reply. “And the one holding it isn’t a seventh-tier beast, but an eighth-tier. As strong as your master.”

  Lauren stiffened. Shit. They couldn’t afford to provoke something like that.

  Up ahead, Dante and the others began discussing the use of a Boundary Breaking Talisman. Lauren immediately waved them off.

  “Don’t. Forcing it is suicide. A beast powerful enough to raise this barrier would crush us like ants.”

  “A beast?” Dante blinked in shock.

  Lauren nodded firmly. “Fall back first. I’ll look for another way.”

  The three men stared at her in disbelief, surprised at her calm reasoning.

  Then, inside her body, Edmund’s voice whispered slyly, Wrap me in a Boundary Breaking Talisman and throw me in.

  A moment later, the others watched Lauren rummaging in her sleeve. She pulled something out, wrapped it with a talisman, and hurled it into the barrier.

  They exchanged bewildered looks.

  Didn’t she just forbid us from using those?

  But since Ms. Lauren hadn’t explained, none dared ask.

  Lauren stood motionless on deck, eyes fixed ahead.

  Minutes dragged into half an hour.

  Nash finally leaned toward Dante and whispered, “Is she… negotiating with the beast?”

  Dante shook his head. “I don’t know. Quiet. Don’t disturb her.”

  Lauren: “...”

  Negotiating my ass. I have no clue what’s going on in there.

  At last, Edmund’s low whisper brushed her mind. All right. It’s agreed. Come through—but keep quiet. Don’t make noise.

  Lauren lit up and turned to the others. “It’s fine. The beast has granted passage. Just… keep it quiet.”

  The three men nearly gaped. Ms. Lauren was negotiating with a great beast? Incredible.

  Edmund slipped back inside her, smug.

  Lauren hurriedly asked in her thoughts, So what is it?

  “A scaly dragon,” Edmund replied, “on the verge of transforming.”

  Lauren froze. If it was a scaly dragon, then Edmund—an ancient dragon—must be its forebear.

  “Does he know who you are?” Lauren asked softly.

  Edmund was silent for a long moment before answering, “Yes. For a scaly dragon, transformation into a true dragon is like ascension for human cultivators. His failure to take that final step is like your master’s failure to ascend. He’s known it for a long time. This Boundary Force of his… it’s no different than your master shielding the sky.”

  The weight of his words made Lauren wonder—just how many mighty beings still lingered in this world, trapped on the cusp of ascension, yet unwilling or unable to take the leap.

  Edmund climbed onto her shoulder, gaze lifted toward the heavens.

  At first glance, the sky seemed unchanged. But if one looked closely, a transparent film stretched over everything, sealing the world like an invisible dome.

  Edmund blew a slow breath upward. It struck the unseen barrier and dispersed. He lowered his head against her shoulder, as if a great weight had slipped free.

  “Remember what I told you before? My flesh and blood sank beneath that coral.”

  Lauren glanced up at the sky, thinking, So it’s safe to talk here, under this cage.

  “My bones were sealed in the Sky-Covering Valley,” Edmund said quietly. “My flesh and blood—beneath that coral.”

  Lauren’s breath caught. Gods above… bones and flesh torn apart, sealed in two different prisons.

  She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Who did this to you? What did you do to deserve such a fate?”

  Edmund closed his eyes, dredging up memories that tasted of ash.

  “With the rise of human cultivators, conflict with the ancient protoss grew sharper, until it could no longer be reconciled. War was inevitable.”

  “You’re… one of the ancient protoss?” Lauren asked.

  “Yes.” His voice was weary. “But we lost. Humans are like fish in the sea—endless. The lower realms send them upward without cease. We ancient protoss are powerful, but too few. We couldn’t withstand their numbers.”

  Lauren’s pulse quickened. Powerful, yet sealed away like prisoners. And she—her own three lives, all cut short before their prime—was she one of those unfortunates caught inside a sealed world too?

  Edmund’s voice turned bitter. “We are immortal. That is why they sealed us. Each of us, locked away in some corner of existence.”

  Lauren thought of all the cultivators trapped in this world with them, unaware they were pawns in someone else’s war. How many innocents had been crushed underfoot for this so-called balance?