“Lauren, when did you have the realm?”

  Lauren didn’t answer. She only pointed ahead. “Let’s move. This is where Dante and the others sent the message, right?”

  Since she clearly didn’t want to expin, Nash dropped the subject. He pulled out the signal pque, checking the glowing script. “Yeah, this is the spot. But… where are they?”

  Ahead of them stretched a ke as bck as ink, still and lifeless. Not a soul in sight.

  Lauren’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Footprints.”

  The tracks led straight to the water’s edge—and vanished.

  “They stopped here,” Nash murmured, frowning.

  He lifted his gaze to the vast dark ke. “Could they have gone in?”

  Lauren’s brows pinched. Jumping into a ke like this without preparation? Any Foundation Establishment cultivator without a water-repelling bead would be courting death.

  “Lauren, do you… have any beads?”

  She did. Flower Wife’s treasure chest had been filled with odds and ends—trinkets, charms, and yes, water-repelling beads.

  But she shook her head. “They didn’t use beads. If Dante had gone in unprepared, he would’ve at least sent a transmission first.”

  Nash’s face darkened as the realization struck. “Right. He didn’t even have time to reach for the talisman. Something happened.”

  The two of them spoke at the same time: “They’re in trouble.”

  But Lauren’s instincts fred a second ter. “No… think. The Moonlit Sect vanished here too. That means it wasn’t an accident—they went in together.”

  She forced herself to focus, digging through scraps of memory. Bckwater Lake… yes. That was it. Somewhere in these waters y a boundary marker, concealed by mechanism. A hidden path straight into the pace below.

  Mechanism, she reminded herself.

  “Nash. Look for the entrance mechanism.”

  “On it.”

  This was his specialty. Rain Peak had trained him in arrays and mechanisms, and he was never without his strange jingling tools.

  He worked quickly, metal clinking, hands flying through patterns of seals and wires. Then—

  The ke began to churn.

  Bubbles boiled up from its depths, and a vortex tore open in the center.

  An overwhelming suction smmed into them.

  “Lauren, hold on!”

  There was no resisting. The pull was absolute, dragging them off their feet. Lauren and Nash were swallowed whole, one after the other, into the whirlpool.

  So that’s why Dante never got a message out, Lauren thought, twisting in the current.

  Darkness closed around her, and suddenly it was like being hurled through a tunnel of time itself. Countless points of light streamed past, stretching into endless lines.

  Nash’s scream echoed just ahead of her. She couldn’t see him, but he was close.

  Then—

  A familiar voice resonated in her mind.

  “This pce… it feels familiar.”

  Lauren nearly jolted out of her skin. Four Legs?! She threw out her spiritual sense to connect with him. “What do you mean familiar? This is the Hidden Mist Secret Realm. Have you been here before?”

  “No,” the beast’s voice rumbled, solemn. “Not here. I mean its aura. I recognize it.”

  Lauren’s heart thudded. “A familiar aura?”

  “Yes. What you humans call a secret realm—it could be many things. Sometimes a fragment of a fallen star. Sometimes… the inner world of a cultivator. When a powerful one dies, their inner space can colpse, drift in the void, and form a realm like this.”

  Four Legs inhaled deeply, as if tasting the very air of the void around them. His tone dropped into something low, almost reverent.

  “This aura… I think I knew the one who left it behind.”

  Lauren knew of “inner space” from other cultivation systems, but in this world it was little more than a myth.

  Only the most powerful cultivators could carve out a world inside their own body.

  “Do you want an inner space?” Four Legs asked.

  Lauren’s answer was immediate. “Of course. Can you teach me how to cultivate one?”

  “You’re too slow on your own. Unless you ascend to the Immortal Realm, you’ll never have enough strength to carve out a space.”

  Lauren’s lips twitched. Immortal Realm? That threshold is way too damn high.

  “There’s a faster way,” Four Legs continued, his tone sly. “Find the boundary marker here and refine it into your body. With a seed of inner space already pnted, the process will be much easier.”

  Lauren hesitated. Her first instinct had been to hand the boundary marker over to the Thunder Sect—let her master distribute its blessings among the younger disciples.

  But if she could refine it herself…

  Her expression turned troubled. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have brought Dante and the others here. What if we all fight for it together, and I’m the only one who ends up taking it? How the hell am I supposed to expin that?”

  Four Legs snorted. “Have you forgotten what Tarot taught you?”

  Uh…

  “When it comes to great benefits, even if Tarot stood in your way, you’d have to kill him. And these others… well, they’re nothing compared to that.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but Lauren still couldn’t ignore the weight of circumstance. Timing, opportunity, allies—none of it could be brushed aside.

  “Forget it. We’ll deal with it ter. Looks like we’ve arrived.”

  Nash hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, yelping as pain nced up his spine. He was pretty sure his tailbone had just cracked.

  Before he could even shout a warning, Lauren came crashing down right on top of him.

  There was a sharp crack. Nash’s vision swam.

  Fuck. Those were ribs.

  “Nash!” Lauren scrambled up and bent to help him.

  “Don’t—don’t move me,” he gasped, face twisted in agony. “Hurts… damn it hurts.”

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to fall on you.”

  “I know you didn’t,” he wheezed. “I’m gd I broke your fall… it’s just that… pretty sure my ribs didn’t survive.”

  Lauren winced with guilt. “I have bone-healing pills.”

  She dug through her bracelet and pressed a few into his hand. Low-level cultivators carried them as a matter of course; broken bones weren’t exactly rare. Still, the medicine needed time—at least an hour to properly mend him.

  But they didn’t have an hour.

  Gritting his teeth, Nash pulled out two sbs of hardened tortoise shell. “Help me tie these on.”

  She strapped them across his chest and back. From the side, he now looked like a turtle trying to cospy a cultivator.

  Lauren couldn’t help it—she burst out ughing.

  “Go ahead and ugh,” Nash muttered darkly. “At least this way I won’t snap in half.”

  Still smiling, she helped steady him. “Come on. There’s a path up ahead. They must’ve gone this way.”

  Nash nodded, scanning the dim surroundings. “Careful. This pce is restricted—telepathy’s useless, and light-body techniques are dead weight here. We’ll have to walk it out.”

  The two pressed forward through the murky underground, visibility low, senses dulled. After some time, the tunnel widened into a vast stone pza.

  At its far end, a towering pace rose from the depths, ancient and majestic, its outline shimmering in the water’s gloom.

  Nash’s jaw nearly dropped. “Before coming here, I read everything I could about the Hidden Mist Secret Realm. Not one damn record mentioned a pace, let alone one hidden underwater.”

  Lauren’s gaze sharpened. “Which means the Moonlit Sect knew. They must’ve discovered this a hundred years ago, and they came back now specifically for it.”

  Nash swallowed hard, then nodded. “Good thing we followed, or we’d never have found it. Look—” He pointed at the faint scratches on the ground. “Those markings are from Brother Dante. They went inside.”