“Lauren, how arrogant! Don’t think that just because you got lucky once, you’ll always win. I lost st time because I was careless. This time, I’ll show you my true strength!”

  “Enough talk,” Lauren said ftly. “Get on the ring.”

  “Fine!”

  Gasps spread through the crowd.

  They’re really going to fight? At this hour?

  Disciples scattered in all directions, some to watch, others to warn the elders. Within minutes, the entire courtyard was buzzing.

  “Master! Master, Timothy is fighting someone!”

  Herbert, who’d been studying Drake’s letter, had just caught a glimpse of an intriguing aura when the shouting interrupted him. His expression darkened immediately.

  “What nonsense are you babbling in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s true! They’ve already gone to the training grounds!”

  “What?” Herbert shot to his feet. “A real fight?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “With whom?”

  “Timothy challenged Ms. Lauren.”

  Herbert froze. “Lauren? You mean that little girl — the one who beat Timothy before?”

  “Y-Yes, Master.”

  He rubbed his temples. “Utter nonsense!”

  Still, curiosity won out. By the time he stormed over, the two were already standing on the ptform, the moonlight painting their figures in silver.

  He sighed deeply. Why are the young ones even more reckless than I was?

  “Master, should we stop them?” one disciple whispered.

  Herbert waved him off. “Forget it. Let them fight.”

  Drake hadn’t accepted a new disciple in decades, and then out of nowhere, he’d taken this girl. Herbert was just as curious as everyone else — he wanted to see what kind of talent could earn Drake’s personal guidance.

  Onstage, the two signed their letters of challenge. This wasn’t a casual spar; it was an official duel. So long as neither side was killed or crippled, no sect had grounds to interfere.

  There was also a harsher form of the challenge — one signed for life and death, where even if the opponent died, no revenge could be sought. But they weren’t going that far.

  Still, Timothy’s blood ran hot when he saw how quickly Lauren signed her name.

  Then he noticed something else and frowned.

  Her cultivation… Great Perfection of Core Formation?

  His heart sank a little.

  Someone with Ice Spiritual Roots had advanced at the same speed as him — a Dragon Spiritual Root cultivator. So that’s why Immortal Master Drake accepted her.

  “I have one more condition.”

  Lauren crossed her arms, calm as ever. “Go on.”

  Timothy’s lips curled in a cold sneer. “I know you, Uncle-Master. As a disciple of the Immortal Venerable, you’re loaded with divine artifacts. You’re not allowed to use the Ice Domain.”

  “Fine,” Lauren replied easily. “I won’t use the Ice Domain—or the Gintama Sword, either. Wouldn’t want you ciming I bullied you with my Innate Spirit Treasure.”

  The words hit Timothy like a sp. His whole confidence came from his pride—his talent, his strength, his ability to improvise mid-battle. Now, in front of half the sect, she’d turned his own condition into a joke.

  His face burned.

  “Then I won’t use the Dragon Soul Whip either!” he snapped.

  He scribbled the agreement, signed it with a flourish, and tossed it aside like it was some great act of honor.

  Lauren only smiled faintly. If you were the one banning the Ice Domain, I would humor you and gave up my sword too.

  Around them, whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

  “Hah, this is the Moonlit Sect’s senior brother? What a petty move.”

  “Uncle Lauren’s too generous. She gave up both the Ice Domain and the Gintama Sword? Damn.”

  “Without the Ice Domain or that sword, how’s she supposed to fight Timothy?”

  “Even without the Dragon Soul Whip, Timothy’s no joke. His body’s tougher than spirit-armor. Without her sword, there’s no way she can even scratch him.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Uncle Lauren’s the Immortal Venerable’s disciple—if she’s agreeing to this, she must have something up her sleeve.”

  “Oh yeah? I’ll bet five hundred spirit stones that Timothy wins.”

  “I’ll match that—five hundred on Uncle Lauren.”

  Soon, the audience was buzzing like a damn marketpce, wagers flying left and right.

  Lauren, standing calmly on stage, caught Dante’s eye and gave him a cheeky wink—clearly telling him to bet on her.

  Dante’s lips twitched. If she could still joke around at a time like this, it meant she was confident. Without hesitation, he tossed his wager in too.

  The referee’s voice boomed out: “Are both parties ready?”

  Weapons fshed into view.

  “Begin!”

  Timothy handed off his Dragon Soul Whip to the attendant and drew out his old weapon—a pair of Wolf Fang Maces, newly refined and deadly-looking. They weren’t as powerful as the whip, but they were nothing to scoff at.

  Lauren, meanwhile, surrendered her Gintama Sword and stood empty-handed.

  The spectators murmured again.

  Then she flicked her wrist—and two glowing talismans appeared between her fingers.

  “What the—” someone whispered. “Is she seriously a Talisman Master?”

  Dante recognized the talismans at once—fourth-grade Explosive Spirit Talismans. He blinked. “Yeah… apparently she is.”

  The crowd collectively sucked in a breath.

  She threw both talismans before anyone could react. Two spheres of light arced through the air—boom, boom!—exploding in brilliant waves of spirit fire.

  Timothy just ughed. “Uncle Lauren, you’re not actually pnning to beat me with talismans, are you? Fourth-grade Explosive Spirits are fshy, but I’m no ordinary Core Formation cultivator. You can’t touch me with those.”

  With a roar, he charged. His Wolf Fang Maces spun in his hands, leaving afterimages in the air as he struck—

  Lauren flicked her wrist, tossing out four Avatar Talismans. In an instant, four identical copies of herself appeared on the stage.

  Then she followed up with a Phantom Talisman, and suddenly the entire arena was filled with flickering afterimages—hundreds of Laurens moving in every direction.

  Timothy blinked hard, eyes darting back and forth. For a moment he couldn’t tell which one was real—until the real Lauren appeared silently behind him.

  “Really?” Her voice was calm, teasing. “Then what if I add this?”

  A golden seal fshed.

  Timothy looked down just in time to see an Armor-Breaking Talisman burning bright against his chest.

  “Fifth-grade?” His face drained of color.

  The talisman detonated. A violent ripple tore through his defenses, shredding the protective aura around him. His spiritual armor’s resistance plummeted within three breaths.

  And then—boom.

  A fourth-grade Explosive Spirit Talisman went off right in front of him, bsting him clean off his feet.

  The crowd gasped.

  Timothy tumbled across the ptform, coughing up blood, his hair singed. He scrambled up, shoving several pills into his mouth and summoning his armor in a fsh of light.

  The audience stared, dumbfounded.

  “Wait, he’s wearing armor now?”

  “She just detonated a fifth-grade Armor-Breaking Talisman and four Explosive Spirits—how is she not drained dry?”

  All eyes turned to Lauren.

  While Timothy was frantically stabilizing his qi, she stood there as calm as a morning breeze—took a small sip from a delicate gss vial, something that shimmered faintly pink—and exhaled, serene as ever.

  No exhaustion. No strain. Just confidence.