A bst of spiritual force struck. Lauren flung up an ice wall to block, but it shattered instantly, the shockwave hurling her back and rattling her bones.

  The gulf between Foundation Establishment and Core Formation was brutal. If she fought head-on, she was dead.

  So she didn’t.

  Lauren hit the dirt, limp, feigning defeat. Her hand slipped into her robes, fingers brushing the smooth surface of one of the three fourth-grade life-saving talismans her senior brother had entrusted to her.

  The two cultivators closed in.

  She hurled the talisman.

  Boom.

  The world lit up. The Explosive Spirit Talisman detonated in a deafening bst, the kind meant to tear open mountainsides. Both Core Formation cultivators were thrown like ragdolls, coughing blood.

  Fourth-grade talismans were rare and deadly—capable of crippling, even killing, a Core Formation opponent. Lauren’s chest heaved; the backsh had ripped most of the spiritual energy from her body. Her vision swam.

  She shoved two Restoring Spirit Pills into her mouth, choking them down as the metallic tang of blood lingered on her tongue.

  “Forget the one on the right,” Little Four Legs urged. “Finish the one on the left first.”

  Useful little bastard. He was her second pair of eyes, catching what she couldn’t.

  Lauren surged forward, sword in hand. The wounded cultivator barely had time to raise her head before steel punched through her core.

  One down.

  Without waiting to finish the second, Lauren fled, activating a concealment talisman and veering off the main road. This time she was careful. She cut into a wooded grove, stripped off her Thunder Sect uniform, and swapped it for pin traveling cloth.

  The uniform carried Thunder Sect’s aura—good for protection, bad for staying hidden.

  She had already fired off a distress signal to her master. Surely her senior brother would come for her. Or someone else from the sect.

  But what would her master say?

  Drake hadn’t left Thunder Sect in over a thousand years. He’d never stir just for a disciple.

  Except—this time he did.

  Drake descended the mountain.

  He didn’t head for Lauren. Instead, he appeared at the Moonlit Sect, calm as a ke, and sat down to py chess with Immortal Herbert.

  Herbert had just received word of the upheaval in the secret realm and had been ready to move. But before he could act, Drake appeared, as if from the grave.

  The man Herbert had long assumed would waste away in Thunder Sect had stepped into his courtyard, smiling faintly, demanding a game.

  Herbert’s expression soured. He didn’t believe for a moment that Thunder Sect knew nothing about the boundary marker.

  But Drake was already pcing down a stone, serene and unhurried.

  “Mr. Drake,” Herbert said tightly, forcing courtesy into his voice. “Why the sudden interest in chess?”

  “Do I need a reason?” Drake replied, his tone light, almost mocking. He slid another piece onto the board with elegant precision. “I wished to py chess with you, so I came.”

  Herbert’s throat closed around his retort.

  In front of Drake, he didn’t dare show temper. He didn’t dare move his troops. Even the thought of chasing after the boundary marker died in his chest.

  Immortal Herbert forced a smile. “If you were coming, you should’ve sent word. We could’ve prepared a proper welcome.”

  Drake waved him off. “No need. I don’t care for theatrics. It’s your turn—make your move.”

  Herbert: “…”

  Drake’s gaze drifted zily across the board, then back to Herbert. “Your Moonlit Sect has flourished, hasn’t it? In the past thousand years, you’ve gathered quite a few promising talents.”

  Herbert’s face stiffened.

  That casual remark sent a chill down his spine. Drake’s spiritual sense bnketed the entire sect—he had counted their numbers down to the st disciple.

  This was the only Mahayana cultivator the continent had seen in tens of thousands of years. His power was suffocating.

  All across the sect, Spirit Severing and Spirit Transformation cultivators froze. They had felt the pressure as well. Not one dared to move.

  Above the Moonlit Sect, a massive bck cloud had gathered, blotting out the sky.

  “Is it really Immortal Drake?” someone whispered.

  “Yes, I saw him.”

  “Why would he suddenly come here?”

  “…To py chess with the Sect Master.”

  “…”

  Inside the main hall, Herbert sat across from Drake, sweat beading his brow. Concentration slipped through his fingers like sand. He was already on the back foot.

  As Herbert reached for a piece, Drake said mildly, “Careful. Think before you py. If you lose, I’ll shock you.”

  Herbert froze. “What?”

  Drake twirled a piece between his right fingers, his left hand casually rubbing thumb and forefinger together. Each motion released a faint crackle of lightning, sharp and ear-piercing.

  His faint smile held no warmth. “Simple game. If you win, you shock me. If I win, I shock you. Fair, isn’t it?”

  Herbert wanted to curse aloud. Fair? The hell is fair about that?

  Yes, he also had a thunder spirit root—but Drake’s was said to be nearly perfect in purity, a monstrous thing no one could match.

  His fingers trembled as he set his piece.

  Drake’s smile widened. He dropped his own piece without hesitation. “Herbert, you’ve lost this round.”

  Herbert’s chest tightened. He forced a stiff smile. “Immortal-Master, your chess skills are extraordinary. I concede.”

  Drake didn’t bother with courtesy. He flicked his fingers, sending a bolt of thunder straight into Herbert.

  Screams tore through the hall, high-pitched and pitiful, like a pig being sughtered.

  “Master!”

  “Senior Brother!”

  Disciples rushed inside—only to freeze at the sight of Herbert, hair singed, face bckened, a thin wisp of smoke curling from his mouth.

  He coughed, grimacing. “It’s nothing… just a little shock for losing. Immortal Master… is merely pying with me.”

  The disciples stared. They’d seen wagers over spirit stones, even magic treasures. But losing a game and getting electrocuted? That was new.

  Herbert swallowed hard. “Mr. Drake, I’ve lost. How about—”

  Drake waved his sleeve, resetting the board in a single motion. The pieces cttered back into pce.

  Herbert: “…”

  “Again. This time, you take the first move.”

  Herbert’s heart sank. He had thought losing once would be the end of it.

  “Hurry up,” Drake urged, impatient.

  Herbert swallowed again, throat tight. “…May I at least take some medicine first?”

  “Of course.”

  Herbert downed a gss of spiritual liquid to steady himself.

  Fine. This shameless old immortal wanted another round? Then he would get one.

  Herbert’s eyes sharpened. This time, I’m serious. This time, I won’t lose. Let’s see how you like being fried, old man.

  Lauren had just received a message from her senior brother, Tarot. After learning her exact location, he urged her to head for a nearby mortal city, disguise herself, and lie low for a few days.

  With both a Hidden Spirit Talisman and a Hidden Breath Talisman covering her, as long as she didn’t use any spiritual power, she would be nearly impossible to track.

  Meanwhile, her pursuers had chased her all the way toward Thunder Sect. When they failed to find her, they immediately reported to Yusuf.

  Yusuf had only just crawled back after escaping Jade’s pursuit.

  “What? You chased her all the way to Stone Camel Mountain and still couldn’t catch her?”

  “Yes, Senior Brother. We suspect she was rescued. There’s no way she could’ve moved that fast.”