It was just like the dragons—none left in the Cultivation Realm, only degraded forms like scaled lizards.

  Wait—if there were no dragons left, then what exactly was he？

  “I don’t think so,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Aren’t you in the Cultivation Realm right now?”

  Edmund let out an exasperated snort. "Do you think there are people like me everywhere? You insist on focusing on that one in a million chance."

  His words were like a spsh of cold water.

  Lauren sighed. “Fine. No Memory Beads, no Substitute Talisman. I’ll think of something else.”

  Footsteps sounded outside. She immediately swept Edmund back into her sleeve.

  “Dante’s here,” she murmured.

  Right on cue, his voice came through the door. “Ms. Lauren, are you still awake?”

  “Yes. Come in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dante stepped inside and rexed the moment he saw her sitting calmly at the table. “You scared me for a second. I thought something happened.”

  “What is it?”

  He scratched his head. “I was catching up with some old friends when Indiana suddenly walked in. Timothy saw her red eyes and asked what happened. She didn’t say anything, just kept shaking her head. So of course, he guessed she must’ve seen you—and then she started crying.”

  Lauren’s face went cold, voice dropping, “Then Timothy asked, ‘Did Lauren bully you?’ and she cried harder. Shook her head, said ‘no, no,’ over and over. And guess what that idiot did? Blew up! ‘No? That means yes, doesn’t it?’ he shouted. ‘She’s so vicious!’”

  Lauren smiled faintly, her tone dripping with amusement. “Is that so?”

  Dante nodded enthusiastically, fshing her a thumbs-up. “Ms. Lauren, that’s… honestly impressive.”

  Lauren waved a hand dismissively. “Alright, I get it. You can go.”

  He hesitated. “Are you okay, though?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. Her smile turned sharp. “I don’t do being wronged.”

  Dante had known Lauren for quite some time. The young master of Thunder Sect had always been polite, soft-spoken, and careful in how she treated others.

  At just twenty, she was still considered young in the cultivation world, but she carried herself with the calm and precision of someone far older. Capable, composed, and unwaveringly decent — that was Lauren.

  So no, Dante didn’t believe for a second that she’d bullied Indiana without cause. If anything, Indiana must have done something truly infuriating to push her that far.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ms. Lauren, why don’t we… maybe find an excuse to leave early tomorrow? Skip the wedding?”

  Lauren looked up, eyes sharp. “Why?”

  Dante hesitated, shifting his weight. “There were a lot of people around earlier. Influential ones — elders, disciples from other sects. They don’t know what really happened, don’t know your character. They all… kind of sided with Indiana.”

  Lauren’s expression darkened, her pulse skipping a beat. So Indiana was already trying to paint herself as the victim, turning public opinion against her?

  If she weren’t here, fine. But with her present — and Indiana daring to snder her in public — how could she possibly tolerate that?

  “Where are they?” she said ftly. “Take me there.”

  “Ah? You’re actually going?” Dante panicked. He could already imagine the scene — people whispering, gossiping, pitying Indiana. It would break anyone’s heart to walk into that. “Don’t go. Let me go instead.”

  “I’m going,” Lauren said simply.

  Her tone left no room for argument. Dante sighed. “Alright. Come with me, then.”

  They followed the noise down a corridor toward one of the outer courtyards.

  It was already past three in the morning, but of course, cultivators didn’t sleep much. Late-night gossip was practically a sect tradition.

  As Dante had warned, there was a lively crowd gathered, and all of them were riled up.

  The story — warped and exaggerated — had spread fast. Most people here were from sect families, and they’d all seen their share of domestic feuds. A wife’s child and a concubine’s child not getting along? That was as old as time.

  But for the legitimate daughter to come to her half-sister’s wedding and make her cry the night before the ceremony? That was outrageous.

  Someone muttered, “Even if there’s bad blood, she could’ve just stayed away. Why humiliate her now?”

  Timothy, standing at the center of it all, snorted. “She’s just bullying Indiana because she’s a disciple of the Immortal Master. Arrogant as hell.”

  The murmur of agreement rippled through the room — right until a calm, icy voice cut through the noise.

  “Timothy,” said Lauren, stepping into view, “you’re being awfully disrespectful to an elder. Should I teach you some manners on behalf of your master?”

  The entire courtyard went dead silent.

  Timothy turned around, color draining from his face. The woman who had just walked in looked almost identical to Indiana — except her expression was composed, cold, and unmistakably dangerous.

  It was her — the one who had humiliated him years ago.

  “‘Elder,’ huh?” Timothy forced a smirk. “You—” He stopped, realizing that technically, yes, she was his elder. Even if he’d be her brother-in-w tomorrow.

  That made it all the more humiliating.

  Timothy’s face flushed red, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down in front of the crowd. With a sharp motion, he summoned his weapon.

  “Master-Uncle Lauren was so mighty back then,” he said mockingly. “But I never accepted that loss. How about I take this chance to learn from you again?”

  Lauren smiled faintly. “Alright.”

  Her tone was light, almost pleasant — but everyone could feel the air tighten around them.

  A public challenge meant it would be an official match, witnessed and justified. No one could accuse her of bullying him afterward.

  Indiana, pale and anxious, stood up quickly. “No, stop. We’re getting married tomorrow. Please, nothing can happen tonight.”

  Timothy didn’t even look at her. “It’s fine. I was careless st time. I won’t lose again.”

  Murmurs swept through the crowd. Indiana was right — fighting on the eve of a wedding was bad luck.

  Besides, Lauren was the disciple of Immortal Master Drake. She had already beaten Timothy once, and badly. If he lost again — or worse, got seriously injured — how the hell was he supposed to stand at his own wedding tomorrow?

  But Timothy’s temper was already burning, and Lauren’s calm, unflinching expression only fanned the fmes.

  “Ms. Lauren, let’s just forget it,” Dante whispered urgently as they neared the arena. “This is the Moonlit Sect — we’re guests here to congratute them.”

  The real problem was, if anything happened to her, Master Gerald would absolutely skin him alive.

  Lauren was gentle most of the time, but when it came to Indiana, she was unyielding — utterly immovable.

  “Don’t worry,” she said lightly, eyes on the ring. “I won’t kill him.”

  Dante stared, speechless.

  Before he could respond, she tossed him a small pouch. “If anyone’s taking bets, help me put some in.”

  He blinked. Huh?

  But before he could even ask what odds she wanted, Timothy’s pride finally snapped. He’d almost backed out after everyone’s persuasion, but that single, offhand line from Lauren made his temper explode.