But the moment she met this senior, Lauren felt something she hadn’t since entering Starfell Summit—a strange sense of belonging, as if she’d finally found her place.

  She smiled sweetly. “Senior, my name is Lauren. I’m new here, so please take care of me.”

  “Alright, Lauren.” The man’s voice was calm, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “My name is Tarot. I’ll make sure to look after you.”

  “Tarot?” She tilted her head.

  “Yes. The exact Tarot you’re thinking of.”

  Lauren grinned. “So… are you a fortune teller then?”

  Tarot’s lips curved faintly, but he didn’t bother to answer.

  “What kind of spiritual roots do you have, Senior?”

  He only kept smiling, silent.

  Instead, he said, “Since you’re new here, I’d better show you around Starfell Summit.”

  Before she could react, he pulled her up beside him onto a massive gourd, which shot into the air. Below them, a vast, majestic hall came into view.

  “That’s where Master lives,” Tarot explained. “Don’t go there unless you absolutely need to. If Master wants you, he’ll find you.”

  “Got it,” Lauren said quickly.

  The gourd glided forward. Tarot gestured at another peak. “That’s my place. Unlike Master, I’m not so particular. If I’m around, you can come anytime with your questions.”

  Lauren caught the small qualifier. If he’s around… so he’s often gone, huh?

  The gourd floated farther until it descended before a quiet, snow-dusted courtyard.

  “You’ll live here,” Tarot said. “It’s pretty close to me—less than half an hour on foot.”

  Lauren blinked. Half an hour? That’s supposed to be close?

  She realized she’d better solidify her foundation quickly. Otherwise, trudging through mountain paths on her own two legs would be a nightmare. The jade pendant alone wouldn’t solve the problem, and using the flying boat Flower Wife gave her wasn’t an option—it ate up spirit stones and would draw too much attention.

  Tarot pushed the gate open and stepped inside, gesturing for her to follow. “Before you, this residence belonged to another senior brother—he also had ice spiritual roots. He was Master’s eldest disciple. I never met him. He died many years ago.”

  Lauren frowned. “How did he die?”

  Tarot shook his head. “Don’t know. And you’d better get used to that. On the cultivation path, death is normal. Whether ordinary or a so-called genius, most die before their prime. Even someone as strong as Master won’t live forever.”

  “Master’s the only Mahayana cultivator left, isn’t he?”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Tarot nodded. “And still alive. Still very young, compared to what he could be.”

  Lauren thought for a moment. “So… we’re the only two disciples left on Starfell Summit?”

  “That’s right. No ordinary inner disciples here.”

  And suddenly, Lauren understood.

  No wonder, when she’d read the book in her past life, she’d never seen the heroine meet a single disciple from Starfell Summit.

  “I’ve heard,” Tarot added, “that in his early years, Master accepted many disciples. Hundreds of ordinary inner disciples. But he watched them die off in waves. Eventually, he stopped bothering.”

  Lauren’s chest tightened at the reminder. Lifespans in cultivation were strict. If you couldn’t break through, you died. Even the most gifted Nascent Soul cultivators only lived a thousand years. Too short, compared to Drake’s life as the sole Mahayana cultivator.

  “Alright.” Tarot stopped at the threshold, raising an eyebrow and motioning her inside. “This is your place now. Go on.”

  Lauren shivered as the cold wind cut through her thin robes, pulling them tighter around her shoulders. “Senior brother, is it really winter all year round on Starfell Summit?”

  Tarot sighed, clearly helpless. “Master just likes winter. Nothing I can do about it. I’ve been here for centuries, and it’s never changed.”

  Lauren gave a small, defeated sigh. “Alright, then.”

  She said goodbye and slipped inside her quarters, shutting the doors and windows tight to trap what little warmth there was.

  Outside, Tarot didn’t linger. He went straight to the sect’s market, his black robes drawing a few startled glances. He rarely showed his face there, and it had been years since he’d last appeared in public.

  “Grandmaster Tarot? You’re here?” someone exclaimed in surprise.

  Tarot arched a brow. “Master brought home my junior sister. I came to buy her some necessities.”

  …

  Meanwhile, Lauren sat cross-legged inside her room, her attention turning inward.

  The shadow in her dantian was still there—a long, dark coil wrapped loosely around her immortal root. It stirred faintly, as though still injured.

  Her chest tightened. If I’m right… this is the thing that burst from the Heart-Questioning Gate and pierced the Celestial Eye.

  The thought didn’t fill her with revulsion, as it might have before. Instead, she felt a flicker of gratitude for it.

  “Hey,” she whispered softly into her own consciousness, “you’re in my dantian because you’re hurt, right? You saved me once. I’ll save you once. Can you tell me how to help you?”

  The little creature stirred, lifting its head sluggishly to glance at her. Then it sagged again, curling weakly.

  Lauren’s heart leapt. It responded.

  “If you don’t tell me, I can’t help,” she coaxed. “I still need to cultivate.”

  But the shadow ignored her, slipping into something like sleep.

  Lauren withdrew her awareness with a sigh, tucked her new jade token safely against her chest, and was just preparing to begin her training when a sharp knock startled her.

  She rose quickly and opened the door. Tarot stood outside, smiling faintly.

  “Senior brother?”

  Without a word, he handed her a storage bag. “Your starter resources. And a few daily necessities I picked up for you.”

  Lauren blinked, then probed the bag with her spiritual sense. Warm robes, blankets, even a small heater. Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “Thank you, Senior Brother.”

  “No need,” Tarot said easily. “I wasn’t sure what you’d need most, so I bought a bit of everything. If something’s missing, tell me later.”

  “Alright. Thank you.”

  “Go on in. I’ll be leaving now.”

  And with that, his figure simply… vanished into the night.

  Lauren froze. That wasn’t Drake’s Shrinking-the-Earth technique. So how had he moved so fast?

  Her mind flicked back to something Drake had said—Starfell Summit only took in disciples with rare mutant roots. The most common were wind, ice, and thunder. But there were two others, nearly impossible to find: light and dark.

  Light roots belonged to Buddhist cultivation, while dark roots thrived in demonic paths. Flower Wife had once told her she was targeted by the Demonic Cult for that very reason—her dark roots. And Master Light, infamous for being born with both light and dark roots, had gone mad because of them.

  Lauren narrowed her eyes at the shadows outside. Brother Tarot… could he be dark spiritual roots?

  If that were true, why had the Sect Master allowed him in?

  She pressed the thought down and turned back inside, rummaging through the storage bag. Tarot had been thoughtful—robes, blankets, and even her official Thunder Sect beginner’s kit.

  Inside were a few spirit stones, some low-grade elixirs, and a slim manual outlining the sect’s most basic knowledge.