Tarot slumped in defeat. “You really don’t know when to bend, do you?”

  She smiled faintly. “I can be patient.”

  He gave her a look. “Sure, you can be patient. But when Master tells you to stay in the mountains and cultivate without leaving for fifty years, let’s see how patient you are then.”

  Lauren hesitated. “I… I can hold it in.”

  “Sure you can,” Tarot muttered, unconvinced.

  After a moment, she tilted her head. “Brother, are you… getting tired of all this managing?”

  He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Yeah. I’ve been running errands for centuries, waiting for Master to finally take a new disciple. I thought once you joined, you’d grow up and take over the business side so I could focus on cultivation. But here you are—twenty years old—and I’m still the one handling every goddamn thing.”

  Lauren stared at him. In the mortal world, twenty was an adult. In the cultivation world? It was barely out of toddlerhood. You want me to take over the family empire already?

  She coughed. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. Why not just hire a few people—capable ones—to run things? You can pay them well and have them send regur reports to the Thunder Sect. That way, you don’t have to run around like a delivery boy.”

  Tarot frowned. “And what if they take kickbacks?”

  Lauren gave him a look. So it’s not just brotherly accounting; he’s actually that tight-fisted.

  “Don’t employ someone you don’t trust,” she said patiently. “And if you do trust them, then don’t doubt them. Everyone takes a little off the top—it’s normal. As long as the main numbers stay clean, that’s what matters.”

  Tarot leaned back, thoughtful. He still looked skeptical, but not dismissive.

  The once-a-decade auction brought a surge of energy to Sunspire. The streets were packed with merchants, sect disciples, and independent cultivators, all jostling for position. Even the inn was overflowing with guests—elites, elders, and wandering immortals from every major sect.

  Lauren had originally pnned to head downstairs, but halfway down the staircase, she spotted Headmaster Gerald chatting and ughing with Immortal Herbert on the fourth floor. She froze, spun around, and hurried right back upstairs.

  Tarot raised an eyebrow when she slipped back into the room. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just saw the Headmaster and Immortal Herbert down on the fourth floor,” she said quickly.

  “Oh.” Tarot nodded. “That makes sense. The rooms on the fourth floor aren’t cheap. They usually house the most prominent guests.”

  Lauren’s lips twitched. So the fourth floor’s basically an upper-css stronghold. Perfect.

  “Aren’t you going downstairs?” Tarot asked.

  “Later,” she replied cautiously.

  He gave her a look. “Why? Did you stir up trouble at the Moonlit Sect?”

  “I… no,” Lauren said, her tone evasive. “I just had another… duel with Timothy.”

  Tarot blinked. “...” He hesitated, then asked dryly, “Is he hurt?”

  Lauren thought for a moment, then answered honestly, “Two people had to carry him to his own wedding.”

  Tarot nearly choked. “Carried? To his wedding?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  He stared at her, speechless. How humiliating must that have been?

  “They’re getting married and starting dual cultivation—why on earth were you fighting him?”

  “Maybe he wasn’t convinced after losing st time,” she said lightly. “He challenged me again. If I’d refused, wouldn’t that have made Master lose face?”

  Tarot considered that. “...Okay, fair point. Still, that Timothy brat’s always been arrogant. He once challenged several of us in the Thunder Sect when you were still new. Nearly broke a few bones, the bastard. Even the Sect Master was furious. If you fought him, I doubt Master would bme you.”

  “Even if he doesn’t, he’ll probably scold me a little,” Lauren muttered. “I’d better stay put for now.”

  “That’s smart,” Tarot agreed.

  Just then, a sharp knock sounded on the door.

  The two of them looked at each other.

  Who the hell could that be?

  A familiar voice came through the door. “My two junior siblings, I know you’re in there. It’s me.”

  Lauren froze. “...Headmaster Gerald?”

  Tarot gave her a quick, nervous grin before getting up to open the door. “Gerald!”

  “Senior Brother,” Lauren echoed politely.

  Gerald waved his hand as he stepped inside. “No need for the formalities.” His eyes immediately found Lauren. “So, you did beat Timothy half to death again, didn’t you?”

  Lauren coughed softly. “He challenged me. I couldn’t exactly turn him down.”

  Gerald studied her face for a moment, then chuckled. “Good. I’m not bming you. Honestly, I’ve wanted to teach that kid a lesson for years, but it never seemed worth the trouble.”

  Tarot gave her a smug look that said, Told you so.

  Lauren blinked. “Wait… you mean Herbert didn’t compin to the Headmaster?”

  “Of course not. The old man wouldn’t dare,” Gerald said dismissively. “I heard about it from Dante. Herbert actually came to me first—wanted to ask about the Blood Qi Pills.”

  Tarot and Lauren both perked up at that.

  “By the way, Lauren,” Gerald went on, “Uncle-Master asked you to deliver a letter to Herbert, didn’t he? What was in it?”

  Lauren shook her head. “I have no idea. Master sealed it himself. Only someone at the Spirit Transformation stage or above can open it.”

  Gerald frowned, thoughtful. Then he sighed, looking uncharacteristically weary.

  “So Uncle-Master did tell Herbert about the Blood Qi Pills... otherwise he wouldn’t have shown up here personally.” His expression darkened. “If word spreads, things are going to get ugly. Everyone will be fighting over them.”

  “There are two pills, right?” Tarot asked. “Can’t you just give him one?”

  Gerald’s brows drew together. Even if there were two, who would want to give one up?”

  One to take, one to keep—perfect. But with Herbert in the picture, he might not get either. Unlike Herbert, Gerald had no powerful senior to back him. Herbert had his sect’s full support and a vault full of spirit stones.

  Gerald, on the other hand, was constantly watched over by Drake, who forbade him from dipping into the Thunder Sect’s coffers for personal use.

  Gerald lived like a rich man on paper but a pauper in practice—pinching every spirit stone while still pretending to be anascetic.

  Gerald looked around at his two junior disciples, his gaze finally settling on Tarot.

  “Tarot, lend me some spirit stones.”

  Tarot stared bnkly. “...Gerald, are you joking? You, of all people, short on spirit stones?”

  Gerald sighed with perfect seriousness. “I’m buying the Blood Qi Pills for personal use. I can’t touch the Thunder Sect’s funds. Sure, I’m the Sect Leader, but my monthly stipend isn’t much higher than yours. You know how expensive it is keeping up appearances at my level. And whoever I’m bidding against won’t be short on stones either. I need a bigger purse if I want a chance.”