"Supreme One," the slaver bowed, his voice shaking. "I have eighty of these anomalies secured within. Please, command your selection."
He channeled dark Qi into a heavy iron lever. The thick obsidian grating covering the pit slowly retracted with a grinding screech.
Rows of dull, green glow-stones illuminated the pit. Floating sluggishly within the confined space were dozens of the Abyssal Void-Sacs. The sudden influx of light agitated them, causing the pulsating, fleshy orbs to drift erratically, bumping into one another like morbid, semi-transparent balloons.
Sunny stood at the edge of the pit. He kept his expression frozen in a mask of apathetic cruelty, but his glowing crimson eyes rapidly scanned the floating entities.
Through his vision, the Supreme Merge System was projecting dozens of blue data frames simultaneously. He explicitly ignored the Normal-grade entities, his gaze seeking out anything with elevated stats or unusual mutations.
He scanned the entire cluster. He was profoundly disappointed. Almost every single Void-Sac was a weak, Normal-grade anomaly with barely enough dimensional capacity to hold a single broadsword.
"Is this the entirety of your harvest?" Sunny asked, his voice a freezing whisper that caused the slaver to flinch.
"I... I have a second holding pit, Supreme One! Just down this corridor!" The slaver panicked, gesturing frantically toward a dark tunnel branching off from the main chamber.
They walked down the narrow, dripping corridor. The second holding pit was significantly smaller, containing perhaps a dozen of the anomalies.
"The Vanguard mercenaries purchased the bulk of my stock," the slaver stammered, attempting to justify the low inventory. "These are the final specimens."
Sunny immediately focused his crimson gaze on a specific entity floating near the bottom of the pit. It was visually distinct. Its fleshy membrane was a deeper, bruised purple rather than pale gray, and its internal veins pulsed with a rapid, erratic rhythm.
More importantly, it wasn’t sluggish. While the other Void-Sacs drifted slowly, this specific anomaly darted back and forth with surprising agility, attempting to wedge itself into the darkest corners of the pit.
"What tribute do you require for that specific anomaly?" Sunny raised a pale finger, pointing at the bruised, agile Void-Sac.
The slaver squinted, trying to identify which beast the Young Master had singled out. He quickly bowed his head.
"Supreme One, I dare not demand tribute from you! But... my handlers noted that specific anomaly is highly aggressive. They believe it is a mutant-breed, an Elite-grade Void-Sac possessing a rare wind-attribute mutation. My superior intended to auction it for two hundred Corrupted Spirit Stones..."
Sunny read the floating blue data frame.
[Target Identified: Abyssal Void-Sac]
[Monster Level]: Tier 1 (Novice)
[Monster Grade]: Elite
[Monster Attribute]: Space / Wind
[Condition]: Terrified (Flight Response Active)
The slaver’s superior was mostly correct about its attributes, but entirely wrong about its nature. It wasn’t aggressive; it was profoundly terrified.
"Your handlers are blind," Sunny stated coldly. "It is a flawed specimen. I offer fifty Corrupted Spirit Stones. Do not mistake my patience for weakness."
He explicitly knew fifty stones was an extortionate bargain for an Elite, dual-attribute spatial beast, even a useless one. But in the Demonic Path, paying full price was a sign of vulnerability. He named the price as an absolute command, not a negotiation.
The slaver visibly gulped. He explicitly knew he was taking a massive loss for his syndicate, but arguing with the Supreme Flesh-Crafter in a secluded tunnel was a guaranteed death sentence.
"Your judgment is flawless, Supreme One! Fifty stones is absolute perfection!" The slaver practically wept, instantly producing a heavy iron net to fish the anomaly out of the pit.
Sunny mentally commanded the Phantom Ash Scorpion, which had been lurking silently in his shadow, to toss the required spirit stones onto the damp floor.
He shoved the captured Void-Sac into a lead-lined containment box. He internally named the pathetic creature ’Rucksack’. It was a fitting title for an entity that existed solely to be stuffed with heavy objects.
Sunny reviewed Rucksack’s full status window.
[Monster Weakness]: 1. Sonic-attribute strikes 2. Extreme heat 3. Intensely terrified of avian and aquatic fiends; will suffer core-paralysis if exposed to them.
Sunny paused, staring blankly at the third weakness. A demonic entity terrified of birds and fish. It was almost comedic. The Void-Sac was explicitly designed by the cosmos to be absolute prey.
Before leaving the Flesh-Bazaar, Sunny utilized his remaining Corrupted Spirit Stones to purchase a massive quantity of highly restricted, space-attribute catalysts from a terrified alchemist. The ’Void-Marrow’ powder was horrifically expensive, costing ten times the amount of standard toxic flora. Space-attribute fiends required these specific catalysts to expand their internal dimensions.
When Sunny finally returned to his heavily warded pavilion, the oppressive atmosphere was immediately noticeable.
He unsealed the heavy obsidian doors. The Iron-Forged Ghoul Ape was standing rigidly in its cage, staring blankly at the far wall.
However, the moment Sunny crossed the threshold, the Phantom Ash Scorpion—which had been trailing him—scuttled rapidly past his boots.
The Scorpion froze in the center of the room. Its multiple ruby eyes locked onto the lead containment box in Sunny’s hand.
"..." Sunny maintained his cold silence, observing the Scorpion’s reaction. He opened the box, allowing the bruised, purple Void-Sac to drift out into the pavilion’s stale air.
The Phantom Ash Scorpion did not hiss. It did not display any predatory aggression. It simply stared at the floating, fleshy orb for a long moment. Then, with a distinct, rhythmic click of its mandibles, the Scorpion rapidly scuttled backward, retreating into the darkest corner of the pavilion, and pressed its armored body flat against the obsidian wall.
It explicitly refused to look at the new arrival.
Sunny was internally bewildered. Is the terrifying, Commander-tier assassin... pouting?
He turned his attention to the Iron-Forged Ghoul Ape. The towering, metallic skeleton was too massive to properly fit through the standard doorway of its cage anymore. It had to explicitly contort its spine and slowly drag its heavy, dark-metal limbs through the opening to approach Sunny.
Sunny explicitly realized his pavilion was becoming too small for his escalating arsenal.
He needed to establish a soul-tether with the Void-Sac. Because it was merely a Tier 1 Novice, the spiritual strain would be negligible. The soul-tether would allow him to telepathically command the beast to open its dimensional pocket, eliminating the need to physically force objects into its membrane.
He walked over to the alchemy station he had constructed near the altar. He poured the expensive Void-Marrow powder into a bronze basin, mixing it with a highly concentrated, sweet-smelling blood-nectar he had acquired.
Rucksack, smelling the potent spatial catalysts, immediately ceased its erratic drifting. It floated tentatively toward the bronze basin, its dark veins pulsing rapidly.
It bobbed up and down, hovering just out of arm’s reach.
"Consume," Sunny commanded softly, pointing a pale finger at the basin.
The Void-Sac hesitantly drifted lower, eventually submerging its lower membrane into the nectar. As it absorbed the catalysts, its bruised-purple color deepened, and it slowly drifted closer to Sunny, instinctively recognizing him as the source of its required sustenance.
Suddenly, a frantic, rhythmic clicking echoed from the dark corner of the pavilion.
The Phantom Ash Scorpion was rapidly snapping its pincers together.
"Intruder... weak... annoying... squash..." The Scorpion’s psychic voice echoed in Sunny’s mind, thick with cold, insectoid irritation.
Sunny’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly. He explicitly found the Scorpion’s petty jealousy hilarious, though he dared not break his terrifying facade.
"Silence," Sunny commanded telepathically.
"Squash... squash... devour its core!" The Scorpion’s psychic transmission escalated, projecting a wave of lethal petulance.
Sunny felt a sudden pain in his temples as the Scorpion’s mental complaints grew louder, explicitly demanding permission to execute the floating backpack.