Next, she took out Tyler’s gift.

  The Alchemy Sect inheritance was no ordinary trinket—it was a treasure of immeasurable value. The Alchemy Sect had been annihilated centuries ago, their elixir formulas scattered to the winds. What remained in Lauren’s hands was the most complete collection in existence.

  Something like this could never be revealed to outsiders.

  She pressed the jade slip into her palm and sent her spiritual sense into it. A torrent of knowledge surged into her mind, searing itself into her memory.

  It was a destructive method of transfer—once the last line of text burned itself into her soul, the jade slip shattered into dust.

  Flower Wife’s gifts, in contrast, weren’t dazzling magical weapons but practical, life-saving tools. Lauren carefully sorted them away.

  Only then did she exhale slowly, sit cross-legged, and begin her breathing exercises.

  Cultivation was a daily ritual.

  But tonight, something was wrong.

  As her spiritual sense slipped into her dantian, she froze. In the chaotic swirl of icy mist… something was there.

  A black object.

  A black object clinging to her immortal bone.

  Lauren’s heart lurched. She forced her spiritual sense deeper, straining through the haze. Her immortal bone should have gleamed like flawless white jade—but now, a pitch-black… lizard? was sprawled across it.

  “Oh, fuck me.” Lauren’s eyes flew open.

  She bolted upright, twisting her body, running her hands down her spine. She half-expected to feel some cold, scaly creature clinging to her skin.

  Nothing.

  But when she probed again with her spiritual sense, it was still there.

  Four legs, a squat little body—it really did look like some kind of lizard.

  “Hello? …Hello?”

  Lauren tried, absurdly, to communicate with it. She sent a tendril of icy mist toward the creature.

  To her horror, it moved. The lizard twisted, dodging her touch.

  Lauren’s pulse spiked. It’s alive.

  She gathered the icy mist again, this time trying to shove the thing away. But the lizard clamped itself tighter around her immortal root, stubborn as iron.

  No matter how she pressed, pulled, or scraped, it wouldn’t budge. By the time she stopped, her spiritual sense was drained, and her forehead was damp with sweat.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  What the hell is this thing?

  She scoured her memories—both from this life and the one before. She’d devoured countless books, but none had ever mentioned something like this.

  If only it had appeared one day earlier. She could have asked Flower Wife back in the valley.

  But now? Who could she ask?

  She was still weak. She didn’t dare let anyone know about her immortal bone, let alone the thing crawling on it.

  So what—was she supposed to carry this goddamn lizard into the Ascension Conference?

  Lauren lay awake the whole night, unease gnawing at her like teeth in the dark.

  “Hasn’t it always been ten mid-grade spirit stones? How the hell did it jump to fifteen overnight? That’s robbery.”

  Lauren had just arrived at the teleportation array and found a crowd of cultivators bickering with the attendants.

  “What’s the point of yelling at me?” the observer at the gate said lazily. “I don’t set the prices. Take it or leave it. If you don’t like it, get out of line.”

  “Hey, watch your mouth. We paid deposits yesterday.” One of the men brandished the jade token he’d received.

  The attendant tossed him two mid-grade spirit stones. “Fine. Hand me the token, I’ll refund you. Happy now?”

  “We’re in a rush for the Ascension Conference. What good is a refund? You’re just jacking up the price because you know we can’t say no.”

  “Exactly. You’re screwing us on purpose.”

  The murmurs swelled until a heavy thump silenced them—the sound of a wine jug slamming onto a table. A burly man lounging nearby stood, weaving his way into the crowd with slow, deliberate steps.

  “Listen up,” he drawled. “This array was designed to activate ten times a day. Now it’s running thirty. That’s triple the load, triple the spirit stones. Honestly, we should’ve charged three times as much, but I’m a generous man. I only raised it by five mid-grades. And you’re still bitching? Don’t like it? Walk to Hogwarts.”

  “The Conference starts in ten days! How the hell are we supposed to walk there in time?”

  “Yeah! If you’d said that a year ago, maybe I could’ve planned for it, used another city’s array. You’re bleeding us dry on purpose!”

  The man took a swig from his jug, sneered, and spat on the ground. “And what if I am? Sit down or get lost. Your choice.”

  “Alright, alright. The one who wants to pay, step inside. The rest of you—quit blocking the way.”

  Grumbling filled the air, but one by one, cultivators handed over the extra stones. They didn’t have a choice. The Nightshade family controlled the teleportation array this year, and no one dared cross them.

  “Nightshade’s going too far,” someone muttered under his breath. “If Blackstone still had control, the price wouldn’t be this insane.”

  “Shh! Keep it down. If he hears, you’ll be lucky if all he does is kick you out.”

  Five mid-grade spirit stones—that was five hundred low-grade. In backwater cities, it was no small sum.

  Of course, anyone scraping pennies had already left a year ago, traveling by foot. Those using the array now weren’t destitute, just pissed.

  Lauren, though, had no shortage. Preston had given her eighty mid-grades and thousands of low-grades. Flower Wife’s storage bag had even more—including top-grade stones. To these people, she would have looked like a hidden dragon.

  She paid without flinching and entered the array.

  A dizzying wave of vertigo later, the portal door opened—and the chaos began.

  “Ugh—”

  The young man beside her lurched forward, clutching a railing, and vomited violently.

  “Out of the way! He’s puking!” someone shouted.

  Another person bolted out, doubling over and retching.

  There had been ten travelers in total. Lauren noticed, with detached curiosity, that she was the only one not doubled over. Even those who weren’t vomiting were pale and sweating, their faces twisted in misery.

  “Hey, girl,” one of them groaned. “You’re not sick?”

  Lauren froze. If she admitted she felt fine, it’d make her stick out like a sore thumb.

  Quickly, she covered her mouth and said, muffled, “Holding it in.” Then she bolted toward the railing, pretending to gag.

  The smell hit her anyway—sour bile and spirit wine, spattered across the railing where half a dozen travelers had already lost their guts.

  The stench was so strong her stomach lurched for real. She clamped a hand over her nose and hurried away.

  Beyond the teleportation station, Hogwarts spread out before her. The city was heaving with people—shoulder to shoulder, so packed she had to squeeze just to move forward.

  It was overwhelming.

  For the first time, Lauren realized how small her world had been. In two lifetimes, she had never left Mistvale until now.