“Thank you, Senior Brother Vernon,” Lauren said politely.

  Inside the room, she found herself facing three boys. Hardly surprising—nearly eighty percent of the line outside had been male. Little girls were often shoved aside in crowds, but Lauren, being taller and older, had managed to muscle her way forward.

  “Hey,” the oldest of the three asked, “what’s your name? What kind of root do you have?”

  Lauren gave him a small smile. “Lauren. Ice spiritual root. And you?”

  “My name’s Warren. Fire spiritual root.”

  Lauren blinked. Warren? That name rang alarm bells. She remembered a cocky villain by that name who later died miserably fighting Indiana over a treasure in some secret realm.

  Could the brat in front of her really be that Warren?

  “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

  “I’m thirteen. You?” She tilted her head. “You look older. You’re fifteen already, are you?”

  Lauren: “…I’m thirteen too.”

  “What? You’re thirteen as well?” Warren glanced at her height, his expression twitching. She was half a head taller.

  She could practically hear his pride cracking. Suppressing a laugh, Lauren added lightly, “Boys and girls grow at different stages. Boys shoot up later. Next year, you’ll definitely be taller than me.”

  Warren shuffled aside, lips pressed tight. But won’t you grow next year too? If I don’t catch up, won’t that be embarrassing as hell?

  Lauren turned to the other two. “And you? Care to introduce yourselves?”

  They looked much younger, maybe six or seven. She already knew their details—she’d overheard while waiting in line—but she asked anyway, mostly to pass the time.

  “My name’s Yasir,” said the younger boy, grinning. “Single earth root. Six years old.”

  “My name’s Zebediah. Single water root. Seven.”

  Yasir she didn’t recall much about. He had a shaved head with only a thin braid dangling down the center—round, chubby-cheeked, and adorable.

  But Zebediah… she remembered him. One of Indiana’s future crushes.

  Although he was Thunder Sect by birth, he later attached himself shamelessly to Indiana, trailing after him into the Moonlit Sect like a loyal dog, begging to stay there forever. When Indiana returned to the Evercrest family to take revenge, Zebediah had been right there at his side.

  Lauren’s fingers twitched at the thought. Should she just snap his little neck now?

  When she had first been reborn, her hatred had burned hot enough to vow she’d slaughter every last one of Indiana’s little entourage.

  But after Indiana’s death, the fire cooled. Looking at this child now—soft-faced, innocent—she felt no urge to kill. Not yet.

  Forget it. I’ll wait and see.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Another boy soon joined them. Warren jumped on him immediately. “What’s your name? What’s your root?”

  “Kareem. Single wind root. I’m ten.”

  Lauren’s eyes narrowed slightly. Wind roots—like her ice—were mutations. They carried special perks. Once Kareem established his foundation, he’d be able to fly using only the wind itself, no talismans or flying swords required.

  By the time the day finally dragged to a close, eight of them had gathered.

  The elder from before entered, his face bright with excitement. “This year is a blessing. Immortal Master Drake himself will descend from the mountain to consider disciples. If you perform well in the Heart-Questioning Gate, one of you might be chosen. Your future would be limitless.”

  They all bowed deeply. “Thank you, Elder, for the guidance.”

  The last time the sect had opened its gates, they’d only accepted four exceptional roots. This year, they already had eight. The elder had already reported back to the mountain, and the sect leader was so pleased he personally invited Drake down from Starfell Summit.

  After a few more words of encouragement, the elder handed them back to Vernon, who would escort them up the mountain.

  As for the others—those with dual or triple roots—they would face his assessment instead.

  Perched on the flying boat, they looked down at a boundless sea of clouds and mountains, the kind of view that stole the breath from your chest.

  All eight of them leaned over the edge, gawking like children.

  “Wow, it’s gorgeous. Look at that red hill—what kind of mountain is that?”

  Vernon, hands steady on the flying boat’s controls, glanced back with a smile. “That’s Maple Leaf Valley.”

  “Brother Vernon, what about over there? The pink one, it looks so pretty.”

  “That’s Peach Blossom Valley.”

  Warren frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Maple leaves are red in autumn, peach blossoms bloom in spring. It’s summer now—why are they both here at the same time?”

  Vernon chuckled. “The sect doesn’t obey the seasons of the mortal world. If you like, you can experience all four seasons in a single day. Immortal Drake himself prefers snow. Right now, snowflakes are falling on Starfell Summit.”

  “Really? Then I want to go there and cool off. It’s too damn hot.”

  The speaker was a little girl of six, hair tied into two neat buns. Her pink silk dress shimmered, and Vernon seemed especially fond of her. He reached out and tousled one of her buns, smiling.

  “Then you’d better work hard. Immortal Drake doesn’t accept disciples lightly.”

  She lifted her chin proudly. “But I have a ninety-percent-purity water root. Immortal Drake has to accept me.”

  “Not necessarily,” Vernon said. “It’ll depend on your performance.”

  She pouted, eyes flashing with arrogance.

  The younger ones kept peppering Vernon with questions, their voices overlapping in an excited chorus. Only one girl remained silent, sitting at the stern with her gaze fixed on the vast landscape below.

  Vernon noticed her immediately. So this was the girl with the mutant ice root. Cold personality, cold root—seemed to fit.

  The flying boat slowed. “We’re here, junior brothers and sisters. Time to disembark.”

  The older ones hopped down easily; the smaller children needed Vernon’s help. He smiled the whole time, herding them toward the looming structure ahead.

  A gate, two meters high, stood before them. On the plaque above gleamed three golden characters: Heart-Questioning Gate.

  Vernon turned, his expression serious. “Soon you’ll enter. Don’t be afraid. Remember, everything inside is an illusion—just paper tigers. Understand?”

  One of the little ones raised his hand. “But what if a paper tiger bites you?”

  Another promptly smacked him on the forehead. “Idiot, how can paper tigers bite? Spit on it and it’ll vanish.”

  “Waaah, Brother Vernon, he hit me!”

  Vernon fought back a laugh. These kids were younger than usual. What inner demons could they possibly have? He wasn’t worried.

  Lauren, though, wore a troubled expression. That did worry him.

  After sending the rest through the gate, Vernon pulled her aside.

  “Junior Sister Lauren, remember—once you go in, empty your mind. Don’t cling to thoughts, don’t let emotions drag you around. Stay calm. You have a bright future ahead of you.”

  Lauren gave him a soft smile. “Thank you for the advice, Brother Vernon.”

  He returned the smile, gentler still. “Go on.”

  Just as she was about to step inside, someone stumbled out.

  It was Yasir, his little braid sticking up, cheeks flushed. He rubbed his head, bewildered.

  “Huh? Why am I out already?”

  Vernon laughed. “Congratulations. You passed.”

  Children always had it easiest—no baggage, no torment, nothing for the illusions to seize on.

  “Junior Sister Lauren, it’s your turn.”

  Lauren drew in a deep breath and walked into the Heart-Questioning Gate.

  The world shifted. Bustling city streets rose around her—her first life, brought back to vivid detail.