The silence hung inside the underground lair.
Kent stood still, his sharp gaze locked on the leader of the Mystic Sky Antelopes—a fading elder, breathing heavily, kneeling with eyes full of exhaustion, pain… and plea.
Then, the unexpected happened.
The beast leader, trembling, slowly lifted his head and with a muffled growl summoned a spiritual storage orb from under his hoof. It floated in the air between them—glimmering softly with golden runes.
Kent narrowed his eyes as it hovered toward him and opened mid-air.
Inside, 150 beast cores of a warm yellow hue radiated intense energy. Each core pulsed with life essence and battle-hardened spirit. These were no ordinary offerings.
“Yellow-ranked beast cores…?” Kent whispered, astonished. “Third-tier among the four…?”
The leader let out a weak cry, nodding slowly.
“These… were preserved from our fallen kin,” Kent translated in his mind, reading the emotion behind the gaze. “Not stolen, not hunted—sacrifices of the past.”
Then, the beast took a step closer and from his hidden pouch—likely guarded for decades—took out a tiny glass vial with curled green leaves coiled around it like ancient ivy. Inside shimmered ten perfect drops of translucent liquid, glowing faintly with golden-blue light.
Kent’s eyes widened. “Immortal Living Pool essence…?”
The elder beast carefully rolled the vial forward with his snout and collapsed once again, panting. Then his deep voice entered Kent’s mind, ancient and quivering through spiritual intent:
“Spare our herd… and every month, you shall receive ten more drops. This… we vow.”
Kent fell into deep thought.
He didn’t need to think about how valuable those cores or the essence drops were. Many outer disciples would kill ruthlessly just for one yellow-ranked core. Ten drops of immortal pool liquid? Even core disciples begged the sect for a drop during their breakthroughs.
But what moved Kent wasn’t just the offer. It was the sacrifice, the wisdom, and the courage of the beast leader to barter instead of fight to death.
A rare mind in a spirit beast.
Kent smiled warmly.
“Deal,” he said, reaching into his pouch and pulling out antidote arrows prepared from his poison kit.
He inserted one gently into a blowpipe and began moving through the cavern, waking every beast one by one. The babies were revived first, confused but unhurt. The elders soon stirred, and upon seeing Kent among them—not as an enemy, but a savior—they lowered their heads with respect.
The beast leader watched with tired but grateful eyes.
Finally, Kent placed a jade slip on the beast leader’s head.
“This is my spiritual contact token. Use it if you’re ever in danger again.”
The leader nodded slowly. No words—only reverence.
Kent turned and walked out of the lair, leaving behind peace and loyalty instead of destruction and death.
—-
Later that day…
Back at the Immortal Living Pool sect grounds, the sun was just dipping into the west.
Kent walked confidently through the grand pillared corridor of the administration hall. The mission tablet hung casually at his waist. A cloth pouch filled with herbs swung on one hip, while a leather-bound satchel filled with 150 beast cores was slung across his back.
Behind the front desk, Lady Ruella, the mission hall administrator, was sipping tea lazily, already expecting another tired disciple with two spirit herbs or a scratched-up beast claw.
Until she looked up.
Her cup stopped midway.
“…You’re back early,” she blinked. “Did you forget something? Or run away mid-task?”
Kent chuckled. “Neither.”
He casually placed the mission tablet on the table and unhooked the satchel, placing it beside it.
Ruella raised an eyebrow.
Then he opened it.
The air trembled.
One. Two. Ten. Fifty… A flood of yellow beast cores spilled neatly into the reinforced crystal tray. The light of 150 spirit cores filled the room, causing even the lighting crystals on the ceiling to flicker as if saluting their power.
“Y-Yellow grade cores?!” she stood up, eyes wide. “All of these from… the outer forest?!”
“I didn’t say they were hunted,” Kent said casually. “But they were earned.”
“And… and the herbs?” she asked, stunned.
Kent dropped the smaller pouch with forest herbs—each neatly picked, sorted, and tagged with names and locations. Some of them were notoriously sentient plants. One was a moving root that usually bites fingers off.
Lady Ruella stared at the full bounty for a moment, then suddenly leaned over the counter, peering at Kent with an expression somewhere between suspicion and awe.
“…You’re not human, are you?”
Kent grinned. “Flirting again, Lady Ruella?”
She rolled her eyes, though her smile returned with an impressed gleam. “You just set the record for the highest first-mission submission of this quarter… maybe this entire year.”
“I hope that means I get better missions next time,” Kent said, stretching lazily.
Lady Ruella sighed and scribbled notes on the crystal ledger.
“You’re lucky I like surprises. Come tomorrow—the elders will want to see you themselves.”
“Looking forward to it,” Kent replied with a wink.
As he turned and walked out of the mission hall, disciples passing by paused, staring at the glow of the cores behind the crystal window.
—-
The late afternoon sun filtered through the white mist blanketing the Immortal Living Pool Sect’s upper courtyard. Cries of energy bursts and the clash of spells echoed loudly as dozens of disciples were engaged in fierce duels.
Kent stood at the edge of the dueling grounds, arms crossed, eyes half-closed in focus.
The disciples around him fought not for pride—but for promotion.
Once every month, the sect allowed its outer disciples to challenge one another. The victors of these duels would ascend to the lower levels of the Immortal Living Pool—where the living energy grew purer, denser, and far more potent for cultivation.
“A clever system,” Kent murmured to himself. “Let them fight and rise on merit…”
He observed the different techniques. Fire palms. Water whips. One girl even summoned a flock of spirit butterflies to disorient her opponent. The duels weren’t always about strength—it was about skill, timing, and control.
Kent was deep in thought, mentally analyzing the most effective battle styles, when a young servant in gray robes came rushing toward him.
“Sir Kent!” the boy bowed quickly, panting. “Elder Jill has summoned you. Immediately.”
Kent raised an eyebrow.
“Elder Jill? The old librarian?”
“Yes! She said… it’s urgent and private. Please follow me.”
Without another word, Kent turned, adjusting the mission jade slip at his waist, and followed the servant down the marble paths leading away from the combat arena.