Whether or not they believed her, they didn’t have much choice.

  After what felt like forever, Westin suddenly stopped and pointed ahead.

  “Hey… is that a tree?”

  “Don’t tell me I’m hallucinating,” Nash said, squinting against the glare.

  Lauren smiled. “No, you’re not imagining it. That’s a tree.”

  “Holy shit, really?!” Nash whooped, practically bouncing in place. “We made it! That’s a tree—an actual tree!”

  He turned back to the others, his grin wide and ridiculous. “Hey, is that a Weak Tree? Tell me that’s a Weak Tree!”

  Of the four of them, Nash was easily the loudest. While Dante, Westin, and Lauren carried a sort of quiet steadiness, Nash was pure noise and energy—a husky in human form. But right now, none of them minded. The sight of green after endless sand made even Dante’s lips twitch in relief.

  Lauren compared what she saw to the library’s records. The bark’s pale sheen, the faint shimmer of mist rising around the roots—it matched perfectly.

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “That’s a Weak Tree.”

  But when she looked closer, her expression shifted.

  The forest stretched far ahead—dozens, maybe hundreds of Weak Trees swaying gently under the desert sun.

  “Edmund,” she whispered inwardly, “why are there so many?”

  “Hmm?” His voice was lazy, distracted.

  “What do you mean, ‘hmm’? The records said there’s only one sacred tree!”

  “There are many sacred trees,” Edmund said. “But only one has the heart of it. You’ll have to find that one yourself.”

  Before she could respond, Nash’s shout echoed through the grove.

  “Hey! There’s water here! Is this the sacred water?”

  They hurried over and found crystal-clear water bubbling up from the roots of the trees, trickling into a small stream that flowed toward the shimmering ribbon of the Weak Water River.

  Lauren knelt and stared, awestruck. So that’s what it meant. The records were right—the Weak Trees really were the source of Weak Water.

  As she was marveling, she turned and nearly laughed out loud.

  The other three had already latched onto different roots, gulping water like half-dead travelers.

  The heat had been brutal, and they’d been holding out for hours without complaint. Now that they’d found water, all pretense of composure vanished.

  Lauren shook her head, half amused, half exasperated. She drew her sword, made a small cut in one of the roots, and took a sip.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Cool sweetness flooded her mouth, spreading through her body in a wave of relief. The heat and fatigue melted away, leaving her clear-headed again.

  After drinking his fill, Westin circled one of the trees thoughtfully.

  “So… what do we do now? Dig one up and take it back? Or just break off a branch?”

  “Take the whole thing,” Nash said, already rolling up his sleeves. “After everything we went through, I’m not leaving empty-handed.”

  “I’ll take one too,” Dante added matter-of-factly, drawing his sword.

  None of them actually knew what purpose the Weak Tree served, only that it was sacred—and extremely rare. But since they’d risked their necks getting here, taking one back to study was fair.

  Lauren watched the three of them crouch and start digging like determined miners.

  Then Edmund’s calm voice returned. You should find the one with the sacred heart.

  Lauren sighed softly.

  Finding it among a forest full of look-alikes was easier said than done, but she started searching, walking deeper between the trees.

  “Hey, Ms. Lauren, where are you going?” Nash called after her.

  “I’m looking for the right one,” she replied without turning.

  Nash glanced at Dante, shovel in hand. "Isn't it a bit too casual to just dig one right here? How about we do what Ms. Lauren did and pick a beautiful one?"

  Dante didn’t look up. His sword flashed once, slicing clean through the root of the tree he’d chosen.

  “I’m not that picky,” he said. “Any one will do.”

  Water gushed from the severed roots, flowing across the sand like melted crystal.

  Then, before their eyes, the entire tree began to shrink.

  In seconds, it was no taller than Dante’s palm—a perfect miniature version of the tree he’d just dug up.

  Nash blinked. “Wait—why the hell did it get so small?”

  Dante turned the tiny sapling over in his hand. “No idea. Maybe because it lost its connection to the ground. I’ll plant it back at Thunder Sect and see what happens.”

  That was good enough for Nash. “Then I’m definitely taking one too.”

  Soon Westin finished digging his up as well. His tree didn’t shrink as much as Dante’s—about the thickness of an arm.

  Westin examined the small tree in his hand, turning it thoughtfully.

  Dante frowned. “Why the hell is yours so big?”

  Westin shrugged. “When I dug it up, it was the biggest tree around.”

  That made sense. The bigger the tree had been, the larger its shrunken form would be.

  Dante glanced down at his palm-sized sapling and felt mildly offended. He turned, scanning the forest with narrowed eyes. “Then I’ll dig up a larger one.”

  “Hey, no way I’m losing to you,” Nash said, immediately joining in. He’d barely finished unearthing one tree before spotting another and started digging again.

  They’d agreed to take only one each. By now, the three of them had dug up seven or eight. The once-serene grove was beginning to look like a crime scene.

  Meanwhile, Lauren had wandered deeper into the forest under Edmund’s guidance.

  “Are you sure this is the one?” she asked, stopping before a rather ordinary Weak Tree.

  “Absolutely,” Edmund said, his tone calm and certain. “This is the ancestral tree. Dig it up.”

  Lauren hesitated. She had expected something grander—a towering trunk, perhaps glowing bark, or at least a difference in color. But this tree looked no different from the rest, quietly rooted in the same soft soil.

  Without Edmund, she would have walked right past it.

  “Fine,” she muttered, drawing her blade and kneeling down.

  “Be careful,” Edmund warned. “Don’t damage the roots.”

  “Got it.”

  She carefully brushed the soil away with controlled precision, mindful of every root hair. In the distance, she could still hear the others’ voices.

  “Hey, Ms. Lauren!” Nash called out between swings of his shovel. “Pick the biggest ones! Who knows when we’ll ever get another shot like this? Take a few more and we’ll plant them all around Thunder Sect!”

  Lauren paused, staring flatly in their direction. …The guys sounded like grave robbers.

  Edmund snorted. “Without the ancestral tree, those saplings will lose their divine essence. They’ll just become ordinary spirit trees.”

  “Ordinary spirit trees aren’t bad either,” Lauren replied dryly. “We’re in the Cultivation Realm, not the God Realm. It’s already good enough.”

  “If you say so,” Edmund said, clearly unimpressed.

  Lauren tilted her head. “Do the leaves of normal Weak Trees still help restore spiritual power?”

  “Yes, but not immediately. The effect takes time.”

  Better, or they would also make decent water conduits at least.