Silver Moon Secret Realm.
It's both a time- and space-based secret realm.
Dawn, dusk, and the four seasons form a unique system.
A small courtyard nestled in a bamboo grove, elegant and tranquil.
A two-story villa, white walls and red tiles.
Downstairs are the dining room and living room, upstairs are eight bedrooms.
Alan and his three female companions live here.
One of the spare bedrooms has been converted by Allen into a laboratory, where he prepares various potions.
The room is filled with the rich aroma of medicinal herbs.
Alan sat at the table, skillfully fiddling with various potion bottles.
The medicinal herbs that Teacher Shiva had sent Renee to deliver are quite complete.
An anti-aging potion is hard to come by, and the refining process is even more difficult.
Many potion masters spend their entire lives trying to perfect a single one.
It only took Alan two weeks to successfully concoct his first anti-aging potion!
The concoction process did encounter numerous technical challenges.
He pretended to tackle the problem, then resorted to brute force.
He spat, and all the heat, ratios, purity, temperature, and the main, secondary, and adjuvant ingredients were nothing but empty talk.
All the herbs had to obey and act!
Alan injected the first potion himself to test its efficacy.
The Gluttony system provided real-time feedback:
Extended life and youthful appearance by 10 years, perfectly meeting expectations!
From today until 10 years from now.
He will remain 18 forever!
Alan used up all the herbs, having concocted a total of 30 anti-aging potions.
The yield rate, of course, was 100%.
One of them was presented to Master Shiva.
My sister, Ella, and Renee, being close to the water tower, got the moon first. Each received a dose, adding ten years of beautiful youth to their lives.
Some of the remaining anti-aging potion was given to relatives and friends.
Alan saved the rest for future bargaining.
In addition to the anti-aging potion, Alan was also researching the blood essence extracted from the ogre wizard Akuma.
It functions as a "bloodline awakening potion."
Alan injected himself with a dose and then opened the system page to view the changes in his bloodline genealogy.
As expected, the "Ogre Wizard" bloodline appeared in the genealogy list, with a purity of 3%.
The purity of the blood essence extracted from the venom gland is always proportional to Alan's warlock rank.
A bloodline purity of 3% is considered inferior and cannot be integrated with Alan's venomous leopard bloodline.
In order to fuse the bloodlines, the former must be purified to 7%, reaching the standard of "superior quality."
This task cost Alan two potential points.
Then, he had to spend another three potential points to fuse the Poison Demon Leopard Bloodline with the Ogre Wizard Bloodline.
Fortunately, Alan had a large reserve of potential; after spending five points, he still had 11.
The resulting new bloodline was named "Poison Demon Wizard."
The potential ceiling of the Poison Demon Wizard bloodline was definitely higher than that of the Poison Demon Leopard!
Even Akuma, the Ogre Wizard, could reach level five.
The enhanced Ogre Wizard bloodline Alan had fused himself could reach at least level six.
Another major advantage of the Poison Demon Wizard bloodline was its enhanced spellcasting power.
Besides poison and beast magic, there was also a chance to awaken several other types of magic.
Of course, these are just theoretical deductions.
We'll know the truth only after we try it!
With full anticipation, Alan closed his eyes and concentrated, entering the Poison Demon Wizard's meditative world.
In the vast galaxy of bloodlines, there was no branch belonging to the "Poison Demon Wizard."
Alan was not surprised at all.
He had even created the Poison Demon Leopard Man bloodline out of thin air.
How could the Poison Demon Wizard, created by fusing the Poison Demon Leopard Man with the Poison Demon Leopard Man, have a ready-made ancestral spirit?
It didn't matter if the Poison Demon Wizard's ancestral spirit didn't exist.
Just like he had used the Leopard Man ancestral spirit to replace the Poison Demon Leopard Man, he could bring in the ancestral spirit of an ordinary Ogre Wizard and try the "borrowing a chicken to lay eggs" trick again.
As long as his luck wasn't too bad, he could still awaken the Poison Demon Wizard's bloodline!
...
The ancestral spirit that Allen merged with lived a thousand years ago.
It was an era of war and war!
The "Holy Griffin Empire," founded by humans, was only one of the seven major factions on the continent.
In addition, there were six other major factions: the "Elven Court," the "Orc Tribe," the "Swamp Alliance," the "Undercity," the "Underworld Council," and the "Giant Court."
The major factions formed alliances and formed coalitions.
They attacked each other, engaging in endless chaos.
The long period of war brought suffering to the people, but it also objectively promoted progress in the military.
All major factions established a comprehensive war preparedness system.
Including recruitment, training, and promotion, all had a mature system.
The major factions had a complex military force, generally divided into levels 1 to 7.
For humans, militiamen who have undergone reserve training and are equipped with spears and crossbows are considered first-tier units.
Aside from being cannon fodder, they can hardly be expected to be of much use.
Veterans with extensive combat experience and nimble marksmen can be considered second-tier units.
Griffins and giant eagles domesticated by humans are third-tier units.
Priests skilled in healing magic and fearless knights are both fourth-tier units.
Their advanced stages, high priests and paladins, are fifth-tier units.
Massive war machines, such as magic airships and constructed chariots, are considered sixth-tier units as combat units.
Finally, the angels, the Holy Griffin Empire's celestial allies, descend to the mortal realm to fight for humanity and are considered seventh-tier units of great strategic significance!
Theoretically, the other major factions also possess strategic seventh-tier units.
The phoenix of the Elven Court.
The black dragon of the Underdung.
The titan of the Giant Court.
The lich of the Undead Council.
The green dragon of the Swamp Alliance.
So, what about the Orcish tribes?
The Orcs... once had a seventh-tier unit.
The Orcish Tribal Alliance worshipped the ancient beast Behemoth as their totem.
Or, in the Orcish language, they called it "Behemoth."
Sadly, the ancient beast depicted on the totem has long since vanished from the human world.
Except for the Orcs who still persisted, others generally believed that the Behemoth was extinct.
The Orcs urgently needed to find a replacement for the Behemoth as a seventh-tier strategic unit.
The major Orcish tribes sent envoys to search for it.
They traversed glaciers, deserts, and mountains, eager to seek the support of dragons and forge an alliance.
However, the white, blue, and red dragons either ignored the orcs' pleas or sought only to enslave them, rather than cooperate as equals.
After a series of setbacks, the orcs suffered a crushing blow.
The orc tribe, one of the seven traditional factions, could no longer keep up with the pace of the new era.
In a land of conflict where the fittest survive, the weak must be eliminated!
The stubborn orcs refused to accept this harsh reality.
Until their shrewd allies, the Swamp Alliance, blatantly betrayed their former comrades.
Alan's ancestral spirit, a young ogre wizard, fell victim to this unjust war.
Alan's ancestral spirit inherited his father's legacy and ruled a medium-sized orc tribe.
He commanded three hundred goblin minions, one hundred orc warriors, fifty wargs, and thirty ogres.
To resist the combined encirclement of humans and elves, the ancestor spirit formed an alliance with the nearby Swamp Tribe, forging a common front.
The ancestor spirit had led orc troops to support the Swamp Tribe on numerous occasions.
However, when his territory came under siege by humans and elves, the Swamp Tribe refused to send troops.
The battle raged until the very end, the fortress was conquered, and his men were decimated.
Alan's ancestor spirit was at his wit's end.
In despair, he even felt suicidal.
Alan seized the moment when his will was at its weakest, possessing his spirit and taking control of the body.
The orcs were completely annihilated, and their territory was lost.
Humans and elves always slashed their orc captives, killing them without mercy!
So, kneeling down and acting like a dog wasn't an option.
But Allen felt he still had a chance to escape!
According to his ancestral spirit's memories, Allen learned that the orcs had dug a secret escape tunnel beforehand when they built their stronghold.
Entering the secret tunnel offered a chance to escape pursuit.
Furthermore, Allen's ancestral spirit, a prince of the tribe, was born with a bloodline totem.
A bloodline totem is similar to the "Kekei Genkai" from an anime in Allen's previous life—a power inherited through bloodline.
Alan looked at the back of his right palm.
On it lay the head of a beast that resembled neither an ape nor a bear.
This was Allen's bloodline totem, the head of an ancient behemoth.
By piercing his palm and using blood as a medium, he could awaken the dormant behemoth spirit within the totem and materialize it into flesh and blood! A remnant soul, of course, is no match for a true Behemoth.
However, its combat power is comparable to that of an early-stage tier 5 brute-force warlock!
A Totem Behemoth can only be summoned once per day.
The duration of its summoning is proportional to its Spirit Attribute.
If the Behemoth dies in battle, Allen's Bloodline Totem will disappear, permanently losing the ability to summon it.
Alan quickly calculated.
With his exceptionally high Spirit Attribute, the summoned Behemoth can fight continuously for 43 minutes.
That's enough time to break through, but the Behemoth isn't as durable as it appears.
Because it uses Allen's own blood as its carrier, its vitality, like Allen's, is far less robust than a true Behemoth.
If it were surrounded, it would die within ten minutes.
Choosing the right time to summon and avoiding the Behemoth's death as much as possible is the key to a successful escape.
As Allen pondered this, his heart suddenly trembled, and he turned to look at the door.
The Qi sensor detected a hostile force approaching outside!
Heavy footsteps approached from afar along the stairs.
Crack!
The door was suddenly split open by a sharp axe.
A burly knight in plate armor strode in.
The knight, holding a bloody battle axe, stared at Allen fiercely and laughed wildly.
"Wizard! I'm going to chop off your head and use it as a decoration for my living room!"
"Remember! The warrior who will defeat you is Sir Lawrence—"
Swish!
In a flash, the ogre wizard vanished.
"Huh?!"
The knight's face suddenly changed, and without a second thought, he swung his battle axe.
"You're too slow."
Alan's figure appeared beside the knight.
An index finger suddenly stabbed at his earlobe.
Silver Moon Style's secret armor-piercing technique—Steel Rake!
Puff!
The finger pierced the knight's helmet and lodged deep into his temple.
A surge of energy erupted within his skull, shattering his brain.
The knight's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground as if his bones had been torn apart.
Alan quickly stripped him of his armor, removing the bone spurs and injecting digestive fluid to destroy the body.
The knight's build was similar to that of an ogre wizard.
Alan donned his plate armor and helmet.
He also used the "Disguise" technique to transform his appearance into the knight's own.
After preparing himself, he shouldered his battle axe, strode down the stairs, and blended into the crowd.
Outside the castle, the melee continued.
The remaining orcs were being surrounded and killed by a combined force of humans and elves.
Alan surveyed the battlefield, unable to take care of himself, and gave up on rescuing his men.
He quickly crossed the chaotic zone and headed for the armory.
The escape passage was hidden within the armory.
A middle-aged woman in a white robe stood on the high ground, surrounded by a circle of human guards holding swords and shields. She looked like a priestess.
"Brothers and sisters! Stay alert!"
"Don't let a single orc escape!"
The priestess raised the holy symbol and chanted a spell.
A circle of silver light erupted from her, instantly spreading to Alan's side.
Baptized by the light, the humans and elves appeared under different colored halos.
The humans stepped on a silver halo, while the elves' was green.
Alan instinctively lowered his head and glanced at his feet.
He was stunned to discover a circle of red light beneath him.
It was dazzling against the silver and green.
Oh my god... Detecting a camp?!
Alan broke out in a cold sweat, sensing something was amiss.
As expected, the priestess pointed at him and screamed.
"Ancestors! There's a spy!"
"Quick! Capture that orc spy pretending to be a knight!"
"Damn it! I'll peel off his green skin myself!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Alan took off running!
The speed of the leopard...
My leopard sister!
Alan groaned bitterly, regretting his cleverness.
Wearing full plate armor, he couldn't run any faster.
Seeing the horde of enemies closing in, he was forced to slash the back of his palm with a bone spur, summoning the spirit of a behemoth beast!
In the darkness, he seemed to hear a roar from an ancient time.
The blood-stained totem on the back of his hand shone brightly!
The ancient Behemoth spirit that resided within Allen merged with his blood, materializing into a massive beast that appeared out of thin air!
The Behemoth was covered in long gray fur.
It resembled a giant bear with a pair of fangs.
From head to toe, it stood a full ten meters tall.
Exaggerated claws, like bayonets, protruded from the ends of its limbs.
Its eyes were as fierce as blood.
Though not as impressive as a true Behemoth, it was still a formidable beast.
Alan didn't need to communicate verbally with the behemoth; a single thought was enough to connect them.
The behemoth, sensing its master's will, suddenly stood up, beating its chest and roaring.
The terrifying sound waves spread in all directions.
The besieging humans and elves, all below level three, were instantly shaken to the point of bleeding from their ears and shattering their souls!
After its roar, the Behemoth leaped into the air!
With a single slap, it smacked a circling griffin down, shredding it to pieces.
As it landed, it crushed a human knight, horse and rider, into a meat pie.
With a fierce stomp of his foot, the ground cracked, and mud and sand rolled like a raging tide!
The human swordsman and the elven archer were thrown to the ground.
While the behemoth was on the rampage, Alan activated his third-order atavism, shattering the armor that was hindering him.
Bang! !
A "Thunderous Explosion Wave" shattered the shield wall ahead, and they broke into a run!
The Behemoth turned back, providing cover behind Allen.
The Leopard Giant and the Behemoth charged through the enemy horde like two lone boats in a raging sea.
Behind them lay corpses, a bloody mess.
However, outnumbered, their advance gradually slowed.
Alan soon discovered that reverting to his ancestral form was not a good idea.
Being too large made them easier targets.
The human and elven coalition, above level three, were equipped with sharp enchanted weapons.
The priests and druids continuously unleashed powerful, destructive magic.
Alan
Even his beastly armor and soft bone armor couldn't completely protect him from the damage.
After so much fighting, he was covered in wounds.
Alan transformed back into human form and leaped onto the back of the Behemoth.
He rode the Behemoth to break through, hoping to fight his way to the armory.
However, the Behemoth was also a large, moving target, riddled with arrows and javelins.
He panted heavily, a bloody mist emanating from his mouth.
If the fight continued like this, both Alan and the Behemoth would fall on their way to escape.
The wiser approach would be to split up.
Sacrifice the Behemoth as a cover, while he himself escaped.
But...
Alan refused to accept the loss of his bloodline totem here!
If the severely injured Behemoth could be saved and its bloodline totem retrieved, it would automatically recover within a day.
Keeping this trump card in hand and bringing a Behemoth with him at the start would make escape easier.
The price, however, was that Allen himself would face a greater risk.
Two paths, which one to choose?
Alan gritted his teeth and decisively retrieved the Behemoth.
After all, he wouldn't actually die in the Meditation World. He'd give it a try, and his bicycle would become a motorcycle!
At worst, he could just reload the save and start over!
As the Behemoth vanished, Allen plummeted from mid-air.
The moment he landed, he activated his beastly transformation, transforming into a blue leopard.
Using "Phantom Step," he teleported a hundred meters away.
The beastly Allen, like a flash of blue lightning, weaved through the vast enemy.
Countless arrows and javelins whizzed past him.
Swords and spears stabbed at the afterimages that swung behind him.
The armory's yawning window was already within sight.
Alan thrust his hind legs, leaping up with a whoosh, lunging straight for the window.
But at this crucial moment...
The human priest and the elven druid cast spells simultaneously.
A 4th-level "Flame Strike"!
A 5th-level "Call Thunderstorm"!
Bang!
Crack!
Holy fire and thunder slammed into Alan simultaneously.
It was like a double cheese sandwich!
Damn it...
Alan, airborne, had no way to dodge, and could only curse.
The blue leopard plummeted from the sky like a bird with a broken wing.
Alan fell awkwardly against the windowsill.
The numbness from the electric shock slowly faded. The burning pain from the burns was barely bearable.
The real agony was his broken legs.
Gritting his teeth and mustering his last bit of strength, he desperately climbed through the window, lifted the cellar lid, and struggled into the secret passage.
Savage spellcasting! Alan lashed out with a "Poison Cloud" spell from his back claws! The pursuers climbing through the window were instantly petrified.
His broken legs couldn't support Alan's weight.
He could only lie prone on the ground, continuously performing Phantom Steps.
He didn't hesitate to expend his magic power, frequently teleporting through the secret passage.
... At the underground river dock, a small boat was tied to a wooden stake.
Alan scrambled aboard, wielded his leopard claws, cut the rope, and drifted down.
Safe for now.
Alan transformed back into human form and examined his injuries.
Thanks to the ogre wizard's powerful regenerative abilities, the bleeding and healing of his flesh wounds had stopped.
Only his legs, severed by the "Flame Strike" spell, showed no sign of recovery!
Fire magic can indeed disrupt cell regeneration.
"Flame Strike" is more than just fire magic.
This terrifying spell seemed to contain a divine curse, preventing Alan's broken leg bones from healing automatically.
He could only drag his broken legs as he fled from the enemy.
Bang!
The ship suddenly shook, its speed drastically decreasing!
Alan was nearly thrown overboard and quickly grabbed the side.
The water level in this section of the river was shallow, and the riverbed was silted.
Soon, the boat ran aground.
Alan frowned, pondering how to escape.
Just then, the sound of oars clattered behind him.
Looking back at the river, he could faintly see a ball of light, dispelling the darkness that enveloped the waterway.
They were pursuers!
The priestess sat at the bow, her staff casting a "Daylight Spell."
Spotting Alan's boat from afar, she screamed in excitement.
"Shoot!"
"Use rockets!"
"Burn him!"
The crossbowmen on the boat collectively loaded their enchanted arrows.
In the darkness, a whooshing sound pierced the air, sending Alan's scalp tingling.
The rockets struck the boat, instantly bursting into flames.
Allen hurriedly summoned his remaining magical power, unleashing his Ice Soul Palm to extinguish the fire on the boat.
While the pursuers were still reloading their crossbows, Allen raised his palm and slammed it into the river!
Boom!
A huge wave erupted on the river, sending water splattering!
The stranded boat, thrust back by the palm's force, suddenly surged onto the crest of the wave.
The water froze in mid-air, frozen into ice crystals by the cold air.
The incredibly cold Ice Soul Palm's force traveled along the riverbed.
The river surface, from upstream to downstream, within a thirty-meter radius, froze instantly.
The warship the priestess was aboard was frozen by the river's ice.
Alan's flat-bottomed boat reached its highest point and slid down the slope of the waves, frozen into an ice sculpture.
It was like riding an ice slide, gliding through the shallows and weaving across the frozen river.
In a flash, the boat slid through the shallows and into the deep, drifting downstream.
Alan looked back and saw the priestess leading the pursuers off the warship, breaking the ice.
"Let me help you!"
Alan sneered, raised his right hand, and unleashed a "Shaped Thunder Explosion Wave."
BANG!
The ice exploded instantly, sending shattered ice shards flying everywhere.
The pursuers, caught off guard, fell into the water with screams.
"Tyávé!"
Alan chanted a spell, unleashing liquid alchemy on the river.
The water near the enemy warships turned into a grease-like mass.
He casually pulled a still-burning rocket from his boat and hurled it back.
Boom!
The grease floating on the river surface was ignited by the rocket, transforming it into a sea of fire.
The warship, along with the pursuers who had fallen into the water, was engulfed in flames.
The screams continued.
"Goodbye, friend!"
Alan sneered, retracted his gaze, and continued his escape.
…
Alan's escape route was actually a burrow into the earth, leading to an unknown and dangerous underworld.
The river sloped downward, the light growing dimmer and dimmer.
Alan possessed darkvision, but he still felt uneasy.
He kept his "Qi Sensing" activated, maintaining high alert.
In the dome above the underground river, swarms of bats hung upside down.
Occasionally, it would lunge nervously, squeaking and squeaking.
It was startling and a bit scary, but not threatening.
The real danger lay ahead in the river.
The Qi sensor detected a break in the riverbed ahead, sending the water plummeting into a waterfall!
Just how high was the waterfall?
Alan couldn't tell.
To be on the safe side, he activated his Phantom Steps and teleported to shore before the boat overran the waterfall.
He watched the boat plunge down the waterfall, disappearing into the darkness of the deep pit...
A full ten seconds passed before the sound of it hitting the bottom and shattering was heard.
Alan wiped the sweat from his forehead, thankful he had abandoned the boat and reached shore in time.
The wet riverbank was dotted with stalactites.
The rock wall ahead sagged inward, forming a natural cave.
Alan struggled to crawl into the cave and hide.
He used planks from the boat to stabilize his broken leg.
He tore off his shirt and used it as a bandage. Fleeing wounded, he was exhausted, tired, and hungry.
Alan picked moss from the rock wall and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it.
He endured the bitter taste and barely satisfied his hunger.
He sat against the wall, closed his eyes, and rested. He didn't know how long it took... He suddenly opened his eyes and looked warily toward the cave entrance.
He sensed the presence of life in the emanating energy.
Outside the cave, heavy footsteps echoed along the riverbank. He could faintly hear muffled conversations.
It seemed to be the language of giants, with a strong accent.
Alan thought for a moment, then closed his eyes and pretended to be unconscious.
A bone spur spurred from the palm of his left hand, pressing against the back of his right.
His magic power had reached its limit, making it difficult for him to handle the crisis on his own.
If pursuers broke into the cave, he would have no choice but to use his bloodline totem as his trump card, summoning the Behemoth once more.
"Moo?! Sisters, come quickly!"
"I smell fresh blood!"
"Yay! Maybe it's delicious!"
Swaying figures, accompanied by excited chatter, gradually entered the cave.
Alan squinted, gazing in amazement.
It wasn't what he'd expected.
The intruders weren't humans or elves, but a group of tall, powerful minotaurs!
All seven minotaurs were bare-chested, revealing their heavy, plump breasts.
They wore rough animal-skin skirts, were barefoot, and carried large wooden clubs. Seven minotaurs spotted Alan sitting against the wall.
They gathered around in surprise, poking him with sticks.
Alan closed his eyes and feigned unconsciousness, waiting to see what they would do next.
After a moment's discussion, the seven minotaurs decided to take this unfamiliar blue-skinned youth back to Lord Orlando's castle.
One of the minotaurs grabbed Alan and hoisted him across her shoulder like a sack of flour.
With long strides, she staggered out of the cave.
Alan leaned on her shoulder, searching his ancestral memories.
The key word was "Lord Orlando."
After some searching, Alan learned that Orlando was a dark elf (drow) who lived in this dark region.
Born in the Underdungeon, he was a talented drow sorcerer, with a cultivation level no lower than the late fourth stage.
It's well known that women are superior to men among the dark elves.
As a male, Orlando was not valued within his family and was often abused by his sisters.
Later, unable to tolerate this, he poisoned and murdered a sister who frequently whipped and tortured him.
Murdering a female drow noble was a capital offense!
Fearing his crime would be exposed, Orlando quietly fled his family.
He hid in a remote underground valley and built a small dungeon.
Orlando made deals with the orcs on the surface, but each side took what it needed, so they weren't really allies.
Alan's ancestor had never met Orlando before.
Orlando's deeds were all told to him by his deceased father in casual conversation.
His father also told him an amusing anecdote.
Orlando loved milk.
The lack of sunlight in the underground world made it impossible to raise cows.
This perverted drow sorcerer took a different approach and used magic to enslave a group of female minotaurs.
He forced them to regularly consume a magical potion that stimulated lactation, providing him with abundant, fresh milk.
These seven female minotaurs must have been Orlando's slaves.
It seemed that in addition to providing milk for their master, they also performed patrol and hunting duties.
In the Underdungeon's military hierarchy, minotaurs were considered a second- or third-tier unit, and their combat effectiveness was quite good.
The seven minotaur sisters excitedly carried Alan home.
The place they lived in appeared to be an ordinary cave on the surface.
In reality, the depths of the cave held a hidden world: a complex network of tunnels and caverns, layered one upon another, like a maze.
Minotaur, male or female, were born maze builders. Digging tunnels and building mazes were their leisurely pastimes.
Minotaur are gifted with an excellent sense of direction. They can memorize any path, no matter how complex, and never get lost.
The seven female minotaurs brought Alan home with no good intentions: they planned to strip him naked, wash him, and eat him.
Alan lay on the soft moss carpet, ready to summon the Behemoth.
However, as the female minotaurs cleaned him, something began to go wrong...
"Huh? I didn't realize this guy... is quite big."
A hand reached out and groped him unceremoniously.
The other female minotaurs, curious, also came over, surrounding Alan and groping him.
The female minotaurs quickly reached a consensus.
Before devouring this strong young man, why not use him for some entertainment? Drain his juices before eating the meat. Nothing would be wasted!
Alan had originally planned to summon the Behemoth to launch a counterattack and slaughter all seven of these foolish yet ferocious cows.
But then he remembered that this was Orlando's territory, and if the noise of the fight alerted the drow warlock, the consequences would be disastrous.
At this point, continuing to play dead would be rude.
Alan opened his eyes, pretending to wake from a coma, and thanked the minotaur for saving his life.
Next, the natural progression was the clichéd "nothing to repay a great favor," "only one to repay with one's own body."
The minotaur was no naive saint.
Alan was willing to sacrifice himself to repay the favor, but the minotaur might not be willing to accept it.
First, they had to test the goods to prove his sincerity and ability to repay their gratitude.
If it turned out to be a silver-plated spearhead that looked good but was useless, disappointing them greatly, it would be more cost-effective to slaughter him and eat his meat.
During this long night, Alan endured a severe test.
Fortunately, he was gifted and experienced, and this wasn't his first time facing such a test.
He ultimately delivered a result that greatly satisfied the seven minotaur sisters.
In fact, Alan's performance was so outstanding.
So much so that afterward, the minotaurs, not only reluctant to kill him for meat, but hearing his hungry growls, they vied to please him, taking turns offering him milk to satisfy his hunger.
Alan's hearty meal of rich, nutritious milk warmed him up.
Facing the seven minotaur sisters surrounding him and asking about his well-being, he couldn't help but feel a strong sense of déjà vu.
The first thing that came to mind was the Seven Swan Sisters.
Why seven sisters again...
Could it be that I had a connection with the number seven?
Alan wondered to himself.
For some reason, the story of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" suddenly came to mind...
Isn't it a complete stunner?