But her work was so precise and methodical—never harming the plants, always improving the soil—that he decided not to interfere. In fact, some overgrown sections of the valley looked healthier after she’d been through them.

  Then a month passed.

  And she was still digging.

  Finally, the old man approached, scratching his head. “Young lady, you’ve been digging for weeks. Are you planting a whole mountain over at Starfell Summit?”

  Lauren looked up, brushing a smear of dirt from her cheek. “Actually, yes. There’s a barren stretch of land there, and my senior brother’s still in seclusion. I thought I’d bring over some spiritual plants to fill it out.”

  “Oh… I see.” The old man didn’t quite know what to say to that.

  Lauren hesitated. “Did I dig too much?”

  He waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you don’t waste them, take as many as you need.”

  Lauren’s lips curved into a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Senior. I’d never waste a single one.”

  They’d been digging for a month straight. Even though the old man had said it was fine as long as nothing went to waste, Lauren was starting to feel… well, a little shameless about it.

  “Hey, Edmund,” she called out, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Aren’t we done yet?”

  “It’s still early,” Edmund replied lazily from within her inner realm. “There’s plenty of empty space left. As your cultivation grows, your inner world will only expand further.”

  Lauren frowned. “No. We can’t just grab everything in one go. If we keep this up, people will stop letting us in altogether.”

  Edmund’s tone didn’t change a bit. “Whatever you say. It’s just such a hassle. If I weren’t this weak, I could’ve just waved my sleeve and moved the entire valley in one go. Why bother digging plant by plant?”

  “…” Lauren glared at the ground. “Do you think anyone else could be as shameless as you? I still have to replant that plot outside the Ice Cave, you know!”

  She continued working, careful not to disturb the surrounding roots. Every plant she dug up, Edmund would immediately replant inside the inner realm.

  There, he wasn’t the frail little creature he was outside. His powers were vast, almost effortless—one flick of his hand, and rows of spiritual herbs arranged themselves in perfect symmetry. Even the clouds and rain he conjured came from his own divine magic.

  Last time, the old man had given her an Ice Spirit Flower. She brought it out again, intending to plant it herself this time. Under Edmund’s care, it would no doubt thrive.

  ......

  When Lauren returned to the mountain, she stepped into her inner realm and froze.

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  The sight before her was breathtaking. Neat rows of herbs stretched across the fields, every color blending harmoniously, every garden perfectly arranged. A soft mist rolled across the land, threaded with the gentle glow of spirit light.

  She blinked. Someone like her—who usually just dug a hole, shoved a root in, and called it a day—could never create something this beautiful.

  “Edmund,” she said slowly, “were you a divine landscaper in your past life or something?”

  Edmund’s voice echoed lazily. “What, bored already?”

  “No, just asking. Do you think something’s missing here?”

  “The sun, moon, and stars?”

  Lauren tilted her head. “Yeah! I remember there used to be a blue moon in here. Where did it go?”

  “That wasn’t a moon,” Edmund replied. “What you saw was actually the Cultivation Realm itself, projected through the barrier of your inner space.”

  “What?” She froze. Wait—didn’t that mean she accidentally gone into outer space?

  “There are no natural suns or moons in an inner dimension. If you want them, you’ll have to make them yourself. Sunstones and Lightstones can imitate sunlight, and Moonstones can imitate moonlight.”

  Lauren sighed. “I had a Lightstone once, but I gave it away. Figures.”

  For an inner world this vast, that tiny Lightstone would’ve looked like a candle in a canyon anyway. She’d just have to find a bigger one next time.

  After planting a few spirit herbs to fill in the barren ground outside the Ice Cave, she finally went home to work on her talismans.

  She decided to start with Explosive Spirit Talismans—the materials were simple, easy to source, and dirt cheap. Perfect for stockpiling and selling later.

  She picked a few Weak Tree leaves from her inner garden and brewed herself a pot of tea. Then, for good measure, she lit one of her refreshing spirit cigarettes—light, fragrant, and excellent for focus.

  With tea steaming and smoke curling lazily in the air, she got to work.

  She drew talismans all day without stopping.

  By the time the sun dipped low beyond the mountain peaks, she had officially broken through to sixth-rank Talisman master.

  But the joy of achievement quickly dulled when she realized the gap between ranks was widening fast.

  “How many fifth-rank talismans have I drawn?” she murmured, stretching her aching wrist. “Tens of thousands, probably.”

  Her master’s words echoed in her mind: Everything in moderation.

  She sighed and set down her brush. Maybe it was time to give the talismans a rest and try something different for a while.

  Lauren pulled out the Memory Bead and turned them over in her hand.

  Before she could refine a Substitute Talisman, she’d have to seal her memories into them.

  Edmund had told her once that most people in the higher realms despised this particular practice. To hand your memories to a talisman master was to expose your deepest secrets. No one would do that unless they were desperate—or foolish.

  Of course, Lauren wasn’t worried.

  She wasn’t giving her memories to anyone else.

  She’d be the one doing it herself.

  ......

  Edmund had crawled out of her inner realm at some point, his scales catching the dim light as he eyed the Memory Beads in Lauren’s hand.

  “What are you spacing out for?” he asked, his tone half bored, half scolding. “You’re refining the Substitute Talisman yourself. It’s not like anyone can spy on you. What are you even worrying about?”

  Lauren shook her head. “I’m not worried. I’m just thinking about which set of memories to use.”

  “Tsk. What, you’ve got two sets now?”

  Lauren shook her head again. “No.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “I have three.”

  Edmund blinked. “…” He stared at her flatly. “Don’t talk nonsense. How can one person have three?”

  “If you don’t believe me, that’s your problem. Go away. I’m sealing my memories.”

  She ignored his skeptical stare and focused on the task at hand. After a moment of consideration, she decided to seal her second set of memories—the ones from her previous life.

  As the sealing spell took effect, the pristine white beads shimmered and shifted in color, turning into a soft blend of pink and green, like the first spring thaw—alive, gentle, brimming with vitality.

  But one tiny spot on the bead remained pitch black, dark and heavy, like tar that refused to fade.

  Lauren knew exactly what it was.

  It was that memory.

  Her final days in her second life.