Uncle Yan looked up at Lincoln, sighed, and said slowly, "Don't worry.
"I already told your father—I'm old and I don't have that kind of ambition anymore. I'm not competing with Alliance officials for talent.
"I've handed over everything that's useful. Do whatever you like with me. Don't you believe me?"
Lincoln winced—clearly a misunderstanding. He hurried to explain.
"Uncle Yan, that's not what I meant. I don't think like my father. I want to ask you to take those two in."
"Aren't you afraid I'll tell your father what you just said? With his temperament he'll tan your hide."
Lincoln scratched his head. He did look a little nervous, but his voice stayed firm. "If that happens, so be it.
"Their old, rigid way of thinking holds the Alliance back. It's fine for turning mediocre kids into decent ones, but it can't raise naturals into powerhouses.
"Keeping those two in the system will waste them. And they're from ordinary families—without a backer they'll get squeezed out of resources. That's the Alliance stomping out what makes them special."
As the Rock Gym's young master—and a rightful Alliance heir—he'd touched the system and hated its flaws.
Uncle Yan's gaze sharpened, but he didn't yield easily. "Then let your Rock Gym back them. Take them as apprentices. Simple."
Lincoln saw the trap and shook his head. "My father's in his prime. I don't have a real say in the dojo. In the Alliance, few take me seriously yet. If I bring them in and make Dad look after them, it's the same old machine. If I look after them, resources will be limited.
"They fight hard and give everything. I want to help them for real."
Uncle Yan stopped probing and simply warned, "If I take them, they'll be seen as stepping away from the Alliance line. No matter how strong they get, the background-obsessed crowd won't let them near the center of power."
Lincoln snorted. The mask of the genial heir slipped; something colder peeked through. "As long as they're for the Alliance, that's enough. Times change. Some levers don't work anymore. Who knows who'll run the Alliance later?"
Uncle Yan leaned back, eyes closed, thinking a long while before answering, almost lazily, "Alright. I agree. But I'll observe them for a while—and it depends on what they want."
"Thank you, Uncle Yan. I'll leave those two to you. I hope they'll become pillars of the Alliance under your guidance."
On the bus home, Lana still looked a little dazed, rolling the Dark Gem and the USB drive between her fingers like she couldn't put them down.
"Brother Sheng, do you have a money magnet ability? I just tag along and we strike gold."
Ethan mimed an eye-roll. "If anyone's a money magnet, it's you. By the way—does your persian know Pay Day?"
"It doesn't. Evolved too quickly. We didn't reach the window to learn Pay Day."
"Oh? Then I guess I'm the money magnet."
Lana: "…"
She eye-rolled again and socked Ethan in the chest. He wheezed for a long five seconds.
"Your violent streak is getting worse."
Lana's eyes crescented into a devilish smile. "Want me to be gentle?"
"Mm… girls being a little violent is safer outside."
"tsk." Eye-roll number three. "So, what's your plan for the next twenty days?"
"I'm tightening Houndour's tactics. And we've got that Substitute training footage—I want Houndour to try it. Also need to make full use of this Fire Gem."
"Then let's train together. Houndour and my Alolan Persian can learn Substitute side by side—and we can steal ideas from each other."
Ethan thought it over, then nodded. Houndour would be thrilled to have a spar partner.
Inside the bag, Houndour suddenly felt a wave of malice for no reason.
Houndour (grim): Yeah, I like fighting—but what opponents do you pick? Either those higher-level sentret or that control-spam cat. Can't you find me some honest, straightforward types like Ekans or Aron?
Back home, Ethan reported the exam to his parents, then took Houndour back to his room.
He stowed the Fire Gem, USB, and the 1,000,000 credit card in his [Backpack]. Only the Larvesta egg box stayed out—too conspicuous to "blink away" without questions.
He set the box on the floor. Houndour squatted in front of it, tail swishing, waiting for the present to "hatch."
"You're drooling. Swallow it. If a drop hits the floor, you're on mop duty."
"Slrp!" Houndour vacuumed instinctively, tongue swiping the corner of his mouth.
…Nothing there.
Houndour looked up and rolled his eyes at Ethan.
Ethan's eyes went wide. The mutt dared to sass him—and the roll looked suspiciously like Lana's.
Smack! Ethan flicked Houndour's head. "Learn the good things, not the bad ones. Hopeless! Alright—rag time."
He scooped Houndour under the forelegs, flipped him belly-up, and drag-mopped him across the floor.
The plan was to bully Houndour now—because once he evolved into Houndoom, Ethan doubted he'd get away with it.
(📞 Chansey, in scrubs: "We tried our best. Your trainer is still…"Houndoom, unplugging an oxygen tube: "Hopeless. Pull it.")
Imagining his inevitable doom, Ethan released Houndour's scruff.
"See? Zero vigilance. How can a human like me pin you that easily?"
Houndour: "???"
"Lubi! Lubi! (If this Lord Dog wasn't humoring you, I'd have you folded like laundry.)"
Ethan didn't speak Dog. Seeing the offended stare, he just ruffled Houndour's head hard, then finally let go.
"Alright—let's open the box. This one's the real treasure."
He flipped the latch and lifted the lid.
Inside lay an egg marked with fiery red tracery. When he touched it, the surface had a soft, almost rubbery give.
Lincoln had been thorough: the egg was masked to keep any aura from leaking and inviting trouble. In the corner sat a familiar glue stick—the same masking agent Lincoln had used before.
"What a good guy," Ethan muttered.
Houndour circled, suspicious. Why couldn't he sense sunlight from it? Had his trainer been duped?
"Lubi? (Is this fake? Why doesn't it smell right?)"
"What? Planning to eat it now?" Ethan snorted. "No way. I'm going to figure out how to get the most from this egg. I won't let you waste it."
Houndour gave him the deadest of dead stares. Man's mouth, dog's trick. He was this close to going nuclear.
Ethan tucked the Larvesta egg into the [Backpack].
Instantly, something felt off. He popped open the Goldfinger's main pane.
A prompt flashed: "Ancient energy and unknown energy detected. Extract and purify?"
"Huh? I only called it Ancient Energy off the cuff—so it's actually named that? Or did the Goldfinger pick it up from my thoughts?"
The déjà vu pricked at him—like a wish-granting interface he'd seen in some other story. The [Exchange] felt eerily familiar to a certain someone's power…
But that was just paranoia; nothing he could prove.
He tossed the thought aside and tapped Yes.
A heartbeat later, guilt stabbed him. He cut his eyes at Houndour. If the Goldfinger robbed the egg's Solar essence…
Houndour would hate him.
The UI winked out. Searing pain branded his left wrist—like a soldering iron. He collapsed onto the bed, cold sweat pouring.
Houndour panicked. One second his trainer was fine; the next, down.
"Lubi?" He leapt up, nuzzling Ethan's cheek.
"I'm okay—give me a minute."
"Lubi!" Houndour jumped down and shouldered at the door, ready to fetch Ethan's parents.
"I'm fine! Come back. Don't let them worry."
"Lubi… lubi…" Reluctantly, Houndour returned and curled tight at Ethan's side, eyes locked on his face.
About ten minutes later, the burn ebbed. After twenty, the Goldfinger finally pinged again.
The Ancient Energy counter in the top-right jumped from 991 to 10,991.
The egg had just yielded 10,000 points.
"Because it's tied to a legendary line, huh? One hit for ten thousand…"
"But why didn't my wrist react when I first saw the egg, while it went crazy for that fossil from a distance?"
He remembered the prompt had said two energies. He opened the backpack.
Most slots held everyday stuff. In the last one lay a white, stone-like egg and a golden, diamond-shaped gem.
He pulled the egg first. It had turned chalky—the fiery tracery gone, the shell a gray-white like plaster.
A chill gathered in the room. He didn't have to look to feel Houndour's stare drilling a hole in his skull.
"Lubi?" The voice was dangerously calm. How did an egg become a stone in seconds? Explain.
"Heh—would you believe me if I said I have no idea?"
"LUBI!" Houndour tackled him flat, paws on shoulders, bared fangs an inch from Ethan's nose.
"Okay, okay! Stop! I'll show you something better—let me up!"
Houndour released him—barely—eyes still murderous.
"Behold—the treasure."
A thumb-sized golden crystal gleamed in Ethan's palm.
Houndour's eyes ballooned. A string of drool stretched and snapped. Sunlight—rich and pure—poured off it in waves. It made that "egg from a few days ago" smell like scraps.
As the gem appeared, the room brightened, like someone had flicked on a stage lamp. The temperature spiked; in seconds it was more than sixty degrees hotter than the cave had been.
Ethan yelped, stuffed the crystal back into the [Backpack], threw the window wide, and cranked the fan.
When he turned back, Houndour's earlier fury was gone. He sat primly on the floor, tail pistoning, eyes huge and shimmering.
What a bootlicker. Ethan's soul felt moisturized.
"Smell good?"
"Lubi… lubi… LUBI! (So good, Coach! It smells amazing! I want it!)"
"What?" Ethan gasped theatrically. "You said it doesn't smell good? Picky mutt! Fine—no share for you. I've decided to raise a Fire-type. You're fired."
Houndour's eyes rounded. A decision crystallized.
Excellent.
Excellent.
Little Ethan… your house is gone.
Houndour's head ticked sideways. He snuffled the bedsheet—then sneezed.
A spark popped from his nose.