Lauren pressed on, calm despite the chaos. She had no intention of hiding this secret forever. Ascension was a dream she could never reach alone. She would share the technique with the Thunder Sect’s talisman masters, let them reproduce it for the good of the sect.

  What she didn’t yet realize was just how rare this inheritance truly was. The Talisman Ancestor had only ever taken three disciples in his lifetime, his standards mercilessly high.

  Even if others learned the technique, without Lauren’s natural affinity and power, they would never achieve what she had just demonstrated.

  The three didn’t have time to stay shocked before diving back into the fight.

  The giant lizard wasn’t all that strong offensively, but its defenses were obscene. No matter what they threw at it, nothing cut through its hide—or even its throat.

  Nash’s earlier quip about blasting it with Armor-Breaking Talismans had only been half a joke, but there was no way he’d waste them. Its hide was worth more intact than destroyed.

  Dante and Nash pressed it head-on while Lauren kept its attacks off-balance, buying Westin time. His vines coiled and tightened until the beast was trussed up like some grotesque green dumpling.

  The lizard rolled and thrashed in the shallows, flinging waves of blood and corpses into the air. Half-chewed bullheads slammed against the walls, scattering like rotten meat. The stench alone was enough to make them gag.

  Westin gritted his teeth, forcing his vines tighter. The beast’s belly bulged grotesquely, like a balloon squeezed too hard.

  Lauren’s eyes sharpened. She saw her chance.

  With a flick of her wrist, she drove the Gintama Sword into its distended gut. Cold energy surged from the blade, freezing its insides solid in the blink of an eye.

  She didn’t stop there. One incantation later, the ice within exploded.

  The lizard convulsed violently, body swelling, then collapsed with a shuddering exhale of frigid mist. Finally, it stilled.

  Lauren withdrew the sword, its blade steaming with residual frost.

  The men regrouped, approaching the carcass cautiously. Dante and Nash pried open its maw. A biting chill spilled out, ice lining its throat like jagged glass.

  Dante’s eyes widened. “Shit. That explains it. Look at this—teeth, all the way down its throat.”

  What a fucking abomination.

  The thing’s organs were shredded beyond repair. Dante fished out its inner core and handed it to Lauren. Together, they worked to strip it down. The hide came away as a single, stubborn piece. Their tools barely made a dent, so they packed it and left it in Dante’s care until they could deal with it back at the Thunder Sect.

  Just as they were about to move on, Westin pointed at a recess in the rock.

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  “Hey. What’s that?”

  A delicate plant grew there, glowing faintly.

  Dante’s face hardened with recognition. “Changeling Grass. No wonder the lizard wouldn’t budge. If a beast eats it, it can sprout fruit that lets them take human form. The whole plant boosts their cultivation.”

  Lauren raised a brow. “It’s blooming. Still useful?”

  “Yes,” Dante said. “If it hasn’t eaten it yet, it must’ve been waiting for the fruit to ripen.”

  At that moment, Edmund stirred from his cultivation inside Lauren’s spirit sea, his voice pressing into her mind. I want to eat it.

  Lauren shoved his head back down with a mental shove, exasperated. “…You hide when we’re fighting, but the second there’s food, you’re all over it. Figures.”

  She shook her head. “Forget it. Let’s leave it. If fate wants it, one of those carp will find it.”

  They turned away, continuing their trek.

  As they walked, Lauren’s mind wandered. For all the power in the cultivation world, she’d rarely seen cultivators keep spirit beasts. Strictly speaking, there was no such thing as a true spirit-beast contract. At best, some formed loose partnerships with demon beasts, more companions than servants.

  But for most cultivators, beasts were nothing more than resources—blood, bones, hides, cores. And for the lower-ranked, untransformed demon beasts, life was nothing short of hell. Hunted by humans, slaughtered by higher demons… they were livestock in a world that saw them as little more than meat.

  Demonic beasts that gained intelligence—or better, learned to speak with humans, even to take human form—stood on a different rung of the ladder. Some of the stronger ones even lived alongside cultivators, trading spirit stones for goods like merchants instead of prey.

  Humans weren’t so different. The only real distinction was that the powerful didn’t devour the weak for flesh—they devoured them through control.

  Righteous sects, cloaked in virtue, used their authority to enslave weaker cultivators. Lesser clans pressed ordinary mortals without spiritual roots into service. It was the same damn pattern, over and over: big fish swallowing little fish, shrimp devoured at the bottom.

  Humans had escaped being eaten alive, only to find themselves “consumed” in other ways.

  Walking at the rear, Lauren plucked the strange grass and handed it to Edmund. She didn’t know how much strength he’d regain after devouring so many rare treasures, but any recovery would be useful in the fights ahead.

  After several more days of trudging, light appeared ahead. Not the bright blaze of the sun, but a cool, pale shimmer.

  “We’re almost out,” Dante called, quickening his stride.

  The tunnel broke open, revealing a moonlit sky spattered with stars.

  They stared up in disbelief.

  “We’re out—we’re finally out!”

  “Gods above, were we really trapped in there for a month?”

  “One month and three days,” Dante answered with a grin.

  Lauren didn’t bother asking how he knew, but if Dante said it, she believed him.

  The Weak Water raged beneath them, its currents snarling with whirlpools that twisted and spun in shifting patterns. The four gave it a wide berth, sticking to the bank.

  The terrain, however, was a nightmare—holes and craters pocked the ground, slowing their pace.

  “Forget this. Let’s use the flying boat,” Dante said, summoning it with a flick of his hand.

  Lauren lingered, glancing back at the cave. One month and three days, Dante had said. But the tunnels had forced them to crawl, dig, detour, and fight. At their pace, they couldn’t have traveled far—certainly not far enough to escape the desert that she remembered lay overhead.

  Something didn’t add up.

  “Wait,” she said sharply.

  The others stopped and turned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Lauren raised her eyes to the sky. “This isn’t the real world.”

  They blinked at her.

  “What do you mean, not the real world?”

  “Look at the moon,” she said quietly.

  At first glance, it seemed normal. But the longer they stared, the more the flaws showed. The moon was too large, its surface patterns wrong, its hue tainted with something unnatural.

  “Why the hell is it blue?” Dante muttered.

  The truth hit them like a punch.

  Lauren’s voice was steady as she spoke. “If we’d really gotten out in just a month, we’d be in the desert. We’re not. Which means this place isn’t real. It’s like the Hidden Mist Secret Realm—an independent world outside of our own.”

  The realization sank in.

  They hadn’t escaped the danger.

  They’d stumbled straight into a secret realm.