The fox let out a soft, dismissive chuckle.
"Haha… a dragon, maybe. But a true dragon? That's impossible."
It shook its head once, as if physically dispersing the thought.
"No use dwelling on it."
With that, it leapt lightly onto the bed, landing without a sound. Its tail flicked once—a signal of business. That was what mattered.
With a ripple of spatial distortion, twenty-one storage pouches spilled out onto the mattress in neat formation—the spoils of the R22 hunt. Some were bloodstained. Some scorched. A few still carried lingering spiritual signatures.
The fox's eyes cooled.
It raised a paw.
From its claws extended thin strands of pale Yin energy—delicate, threadlike, yet impossibly strong. One by one, the threads pierced the seams of each pouch, weaving between them, binding them together into a floating ring above the bed.
The pouches rose slowly.
Hovering.
Connected.
Balanced.
Next—
Three talismans flicked into the air.
Seal-breaking.
Imprint-clearing.
Soul-disrupting.
They ignited without flame, symbols glowing softly as they began rotating around the cluster of pouches.
The fox closed its eyes. Divine sense spread outward like calm water.
It touched the first imprint.
Resistance.
Every storage pouch carried the mark of its owner—some weak and fading, others stubborn, particularly those belonging to fifth- and sixth-layer cultivators.
The fox didn't rush.
It pressed inward slowly, carefully.
Erase.
Unravel.
Dissolve.
A faint crack echoed as the first imprint shattered.
One down. Twenty to go.
Sweat began to bead faintly at the fox's brow despite the recent recovery pill. Erasing soul imprints demanded precision more than raw power. Too rough, and the pouch's internal space could destabilize. Too slow, and time would be wasted.
Another imprint resisted fiercely—likely the formation master's.
The fox narrowed its focus.
Yin threads tightened.
The talismans flared brighter.
Crack.
The imprint fractured like thin ice.
Inside the room—
Silence deepened.
The only sound was the steady, wet crunch of the lizard tearing through flesh. Scale brushed scale as it shifted its weight. Occasionally, a faint snap of lightning arced between its horns before fading.
The fox erased another imprint. Then another.
One by one, the spiritual signatures dissolved, fading into nothing.
As the twentieth imprint broke, a small wave of pressure dispersed harmlessly against the defensive formation surrounding the room.
The fox exhaled slowly.
"…Last one."
This one was stubborn. Dense. Layered. The talisman master's.
The fox's divine sense pressed down like a blade shaving stone. Minutes passed.
The lizard swallowed the last chunk of flesh from one corpse and moved to the next without comment.
Then—
CRACK.
The final imprint shattered.
The talismans dimmed, fluttering down lifelessly onto the bed. The Yin threads withdrew. The twenty-one storage pouches dropped gently in a loose pile.
The fox opened its eyes. Calm. Focused.
"…Done."
A faint smile curved its lips.
Now—
The real harvest began.
The fox's paws moved quickly. Storage pouches opened one after another, their contents spilling across the bed in controlled piles—spirit stones stacked neatly, pill bottles sorted by grade, herbs separated by freshness and aura density. Talismans were laid out in rows. Miscellaneous artifacts formed their own small hill.
Its eyes gleamed faintly in the lamplight.
"Not bad…"
A small pouch spilled open—
Clink.
Thin metallic needles rolled across the mattress before stopping against its tail.
The fox's gaze sharpened.
"The Soul-Severing Needle Set."
It picked one up carefully between two claws. The metal was dark silver, with faint violet inscriptions spiraling along its shaft. Light. Balanced. Quiet.
Perfect.
Another pouch turned over—
Credit tokens.
Stacked. Stamped.
Its grin widened slowly.
"Ah… this is why we're still in the game."
It flipped one in the air, catching it again.
"Eighteen tokens… not every pouch had them. Lucky me."
It imagined walking into the Night Market once it reopened, calmly exchanging them for spirit stones.
Liquidity.
That was survival. Everything else—tools, pills, formations—was just means.
The fox swept the rest of the loot back into storage—stones, pills, herbs, even the empty pouches. Only the Soul-Severing Needle Set remained laid out in a neat row before it.
It studied them.
"Since I lost my spiritual tool, I'll use this to fill the gap."
A faint sigh escaped it.
"I had my eyes on these from the start… and now they've ended up in my paws."
It rolled one across its claw, testing its balance.
"Spiritual tools that can sneak attack… fast, silent, lethal. And more importantly—life savers."
Its ears twitched slightly.
"Too bad the one carrying the Essence-Reinforcement Elixir didn't show up tonight. That would've been nice."
A pause.
It glanced at the needles again.
"This'll do for now."
The fox sat straighter. Its eyes dimmed as its divine sense extended outward like an invisible mist.
A single thread peeled off—fine, controlled, precise. It touched the first needle.
Imprinting was different from erasing. It wasn't force. It was alignment.
The fox slowly guided its spiritual signature into the needle's core array, brushing against the lingering trace of its former owner.
Resistance.
The fox narrowed its eyes. It didn't crush it. It replaced it.
Thread by thread, its divine sense seeped into the inscriptions along the needle's body. The runes flickered faintly violet… then shifted hue.
One by one, the needles began to hum softly.
The fox's breathing steadied. Sweat formed faintly at the edge of its fur again—divine sense manipulation after earlier battles wasn't trivial, even with the replenishment pill.
Another needle aligned. Then another.
The room remained quiet.
Behind it, the lizard's chewing slowed—its body radiating faint heat as it digested. Lightning flickered lazily between its horns, harmless but alive.
The fox continued.
Each needle accepted its imprint more easily than the last, the set gradually syncing into a unified system.
When the final needle settled—
All seven lifted slightly into the air. Hovering. Perfectly balanced.
A faint psychic connection snapped into place. The fox felt it instantly. Weightless. Responsive. Sharp.
Its lips curved.
"…Good."
With a thought—
One needle vanished.
It reappeared inches from the wall across the room. Silent. Precise.
Another flicked behind the defensive barrier and returned without disturbing the formation.
The fox's eyes glowed faintly.
"Fast."
It extended its divine sense further. The needles scattered invisibly through the room, weaving between furniture, ceiling beams, corners—moving like ghosts.
Then—
All seven aligned behind the fox's back. Invisible. Waiting.
The fox exhaled softly.
"Not bad at all."
Its tail swayed once. Lost one earth-grade spear. Gained something far subtler.
Sometimes—
Subtle was deadlier.
It glanced toward the lizard, who had now finished half the corpses.