If a male weapon refiner had handled it, the result would’ve been all bulky reinforcement and zero style — the same stiff, ugly patterns over and over again.

  Lauren brushed her hand across the fabric and muttered, half to herself, “I want to learn weapon refinement too.”

  Edmund rolled his eyes from her shoulder. “Save it. You’ve got enough on your plate. Focus on what actually matters — train hard, climb fast, and ascend early. There’s better inheritance waiting for you above.”

  Lauren gave him a sidelong glance. He’s way too obsessed with me cultivating nonstop.

  “My master said rushing leads to mistakes,” she said. “He told me to slow down, focus on balance.”

  “Bah.” Edmund flicked his tail impatiently. “Draw talismans if you want balance — they’re worth your time. But don’t waste your energy on alchemy, weapon refinement, or formations. The legacies down here are half-baked anyway.”

  He wasn’t wrong — even if his motives were a little selfish.

  Lauren nodded thoughtfully. If she ever found herself with spare time, she might dabble in those arts. But for now, she’d stick to what she did best — talisman mastery, cultivation.

  ......

  After that, Lauren went to the Talisman Hall to sell the Explosive Spirit Talismans she’d drawn recently.

  There was no price war within Thunder Sect — each elixir and talisman had fixed rates, determined strictly by quality. Her talismans were special, though — so special they had to be priced according to their highest quality tier.

  Still, she was uneasy.

  “Can I ask you to set a purchase limit?” she said to the shopkeeper. “Like, limit how many each person can buy. My talismans are… different. I’m worried someone might buy them in bulk and resell them outside the sect for a profit. I don’t care about the spirit stones — I just want to make sure the Thunder Sect disciples benefit from them.”

  The old shopkeeper, moved by her sincerity, nearly teared up on the spot. “Ms. Lauren, you truly have the sect’s best interests at heart. Don’t worry — the Ashenreach Peak Master has already issued orders. All your talismans will be sold under controlled distribution. Buyers will need his approval, and there’ll be fixed purchase quotas.”

  Lauren finally relaxed. If Cornelius himself was overseeing the process, there was no way anyone would mess around.

  Her batch sold quickly — and for a small fortune. Her wealth, already absurd, ballooned even further.

  With more spirit stones than she could ever use, she turned her attention to buying materials instead. Rare herbs, spiritual ores, beast cores — anything she might need for talismans or cultivation.

  For particularly rare or unpriced items, she had Elder Zane post flexible-amount missions.

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  It was not about saving money. If she set a fixed price, people might thought it was cheap and sold the goods outside. Better to negotiate — that way, the resources would stay within the sect.

  When Lauren returned to Starfell Summit, she was surprised to be summoned by her master again.

  Inside Starfell Hall, Drake sat behind his desk, looking utterly defeated. A large bamboo basket sat before him, overflowing with jade slips. Without a word, he pushed the whole thing toward her.

  Lauren blinked. “…Master?”

  Drake rubbed his temples. “Your senior brother’s in seclusion again. All the business matters are piling up. Handle them.”

  Lauren stared blankly. “…Handle them? Master, why don’t you hire professional managers?”

  Drake let out a long, world-weary sigh. “I’ve tried. Many times. I even trained a few myself. They all died.”

  “…”

  “I poured decades into training one, and he lasted barely eighty years. Even with my medicine, none of them make it past a hundred. I’m tired of it. I don’t want to manage it anymore. Take them away, all of it.”

  She suddenly understood.

  At first, managing a vast business empire must’ve been exhilarating — building networks, forging trade routes, watching profits soar. But after thousands of years? The novelty had long since evaporated.

  Drake didn’t care about spirit stones. He had more than he could ever spend. All he had left was the headache.

  Seeing his darkened expression, Lauren didn’t dare protest further. She obediently accepted the basket.

  She began skimming through the jade slips one by one.

  Each represented an industry under Drake’s control — the Treasure Pavilion, partnerships with major inns, trade agreements across cultivation territories…

  Wait. Teleportation arrays?

  Her eyes widened. The teleportation array she had first used when joining the sect — it had been built using Drake’s funds. He collected half the profits from the spirit stones used to activate it.

  And what’s this? Auction house commissions?

  Half of those, too?

  Apparently, Drake had financed the construction of several auction houses — and the Treasure Pavilion supplied many of their most valuable goods.

  On top of that, the Treasure Pavilion acted as a bank, handling deposits, spirit stone exchanges, and loan services, all while liaising with the auction houses.

  Lauren leaned back, stunned.

  Her master… was basically the Cultivation World’s financial overlord.

  She sighed quietly, muttering under her breath, “I guess immortality doesn’t stop burnout.”

  Anything auctioned through the Treasure Pavilion was guaranteed to stay anonymous — no one could ever trace the owner. It was one hundred percent safe.

  After all, Boss Drake himself was the living, breathing signboard of the Pavilion. Who the hell would dare to mess with his business?

  Lauren spent the entire night sorting through the jade slips and business ledgers, and by dawn, she’d made up her mind — she needed to go out and personally help her master manage things.

  The Pavilion desperately needed a new head shopkeeper, someone steady who could be trained properly and actually last. Doing everything by herself would be exhausting.

  But finding the right person was tricky.

  Anyone with decent talent wouldn’t waste their cultivation years running a shop. Those with a future wanted to train, not sit behind a counter counting spirit stones.

  For example, Elder Zane had only taken over management of the Mission Hall because his own chances of promotion had long since disappeared.

  Most cultivators who worked in the Mission Hall stayed for a year or two — three at most — usually because they were broke and needed quick spirit stones. It was basically a side gig.

  Some posts were even mandatory. After reaching the Nascent Soul stage, every disciple had to serve a one-year management stint.

  But her master’s business empire was private, not owned by the Thunder Sect. Any spirit stones he earned never went into the sect’s treasury, which meant he couldn’t just assign elders or disciples to help him.

  That was the contradiction.

  And Lauren hadn’t yet figured out a solution.

  So, for now, she decided to just go take a look.

  .......

  Her first stop was the inn where she’d stayed last time. The roof had already been repaired — courtesy of Herbert, who’d paid compensation without hesitation.

  The innkeeper recognized her instantly. After she explained her purpose, he hurried off to fetch the manager from the Treasure Pavilion.