I swaggered into The Iron Bloom, Crestmoore's ale-soaked den, my groin guard flashing "Supreme Sword Sleeps Here" like a badge of chaos. My spatial ring, Goran's gift from Opeka back in Chapter 15, hummed with loot: 22 Level 4, 45 Level 3, 210 Level 2, 200 Level 1 Spirit Stones, and 470 gold coins from my last haul.
Bera and Tira lounged across from me, their glares hotter than a Lava Dragon's breath. A month in Crestmoore's Cultivation Tower? They were ready to torch the place."We need to be there whole a month locked up? I'd rather singe your braid, pervert!" Bera snapped, her Beginner Expert Fire sparking in her eyes. Her corset hugged curves I'd nicknamed "blazing melons," and my gaze feasted without shame. Tira, Beginner Master Fire, smirked, her phoenix tattoo peeking from a red dress that screamed "tattooed canyon."
"My fire's hot enough without tower sweat," she purred, tossing her hair, hips shifting in a way that made my supreme sword twitch.
I leaned in, grinning. "Ladies, a month's nothing. You'll outshine Crestmoore—for my legend first, then your glory." My eyes traced Bera's cleavage, then Tira's hips, lingering like a thief. "Break through, and you can demand anything from me—name it." Bera purred, "I'll chain you till you beg, elf." Tira's eyes glinted. "Maybe I'll torch that supreme sword of yours." Their smirks spelled trouble, and I loved every second of it. I slid over 180 Level 1 Spirit Stones—3 per day each for 30 days. "Deal's sealed. Don't disappoint your Supreme Elf."
A month later, Valthorne's forests bore my footprints as I carved through Beginner Knight to Middle Expert beasts with my Pyroclast swords, their fiery edges sizzling through hides. Varkoth, my 0.45-meter Basilisk Emperor, Beginner Scholar Darkness, slithered nearby, his crimson eyes pulsing with Dread Glare, freezing foes for 0.7 seconds. Coiled as a Shadowveil bracer on my arm, he juiced my aura to mimic a Peak Scholar, making beasts flinch. "Crotch Cobra, you're a tiny terror," I chuckled, eyeing his jet-black scales and red-veined crest, smug as my own grin.
I scavenged like a master: 10 kg Zenoite, 5 kg Gloomvine, 20 Silver Wolf fangs, 2 kg Lunargent ore, and 15 Level 2 Spirit Stones' worth of beast cores weekly, all stored in my spatial ring. Starveil's auctions ate it up, netting me 15 Level 4, 30 Level 3, 150 Level 2, and 100 Level 1 Spirit Stones over four weeks. My ring now held 37 Level 4, 75 Level 3, 360 Level 2, 120 Level 1 Spirit Stones, and 470 gold coins, minus tower fees. My coin stash gleamed brighter than Tira's tattoo.
Week four, I hunted a Middle Master Crystal Wyrm in a misty glade. Varkoth's Shadow Bind boosted my grip, the black aura on my Pyroclast blades fooling the Wyrm into thinking I wielded Darkness Qi. Five outlaw cultivators ambushed me, their eyes glinting with greed for my auction loot. Three Middle Knights—Fire, Wind, Earth—unleashed hell: flames roared from the Fire thug's fists, gusts from the Wind jerk tore at my braid, and stone spikes erupted from the Earth brute. Two Peak Knights, Lightning and Darkness, flanked me, bolts crackling and shadow blades slicing.
"Hand over the stones, elf!" the Lightning bastard barked. I smirked, "Only stones I've got are in my supreme sword's sack!" Heaven Splitter shattered the Earth Knight's spear, my blades humming. Varkoth's Dread Glare locked the Fire Knight's gaze, his body frozen for 0.7 seconds. I ducked a lightning bolt, but it seared my chest, blood soaking my tunic. A shadow blade grazed my neck, and a stone spike tore my thigh, pain flaring. I staggered, vision blurring.
Varkoth hissed, scales gleaming as he shifted from bracer to basilisk. His red barb whipped, fangs ripping the Wind Knight's throat in a crimson spray. The man gurgled, collapsing. Varkoth spun, sinking his jaws into the Darkness Knight's neck, tearing out his windpipe as blood gushed. "That's my Crotch Cobra!" I roared, grinning through the pain. I slashed the Fire Knight's arm with my Pyroclast blade, but the Lightning Knight's bolt numbed my shoulder. The Earth Knight's stone fist cracked my ribs, and I hit the dirt, gasping.
Lila, Beginner Master Earth, burst through the trees, the ground quaking. Her Earth Qi spiked, stone lances impaling the Lightning Knight. A dirt wall blocked a shadow blade, and a tremor dropped the Earth Knight, his skull cracking on a rock. "Earth goddess, you're back!" I croaked, blood dripping. Lila, dirt-smeared, slung me over her shoulder, her aura steady as she sprinted to Crestmoore's Alchemy Guild. Her tunic hugged hips like Zenoite cliffs, and I couldn't resist a leer, even half-dead.
At the guild, a Peak Scholar Wood alchemist slapped Moonstone salve on my chest—10 Level 2 Spirit Stones gone. Lila stood nearby, her earth-steady stance screaming power. "Lila, you saved my ass. Thanks… and sorry for that prank when I went too far," I rasped, winking at our steamy history. Her cheeks blazed, anger flaring, but a flicker of that old thrill lingered. "Supreme Idiot," she muttered, her glare softening. She paid the guild, then helped me limp to The Iron Bloom, her arm strong.
Back at the glade's edge, I checked Varkoth, unharmed and coiled on my arm. After a month of hunting and soaking forest Qi, my tiny terror had grown to Middle Scholar Darkness, now 0.85 meters, his scales sharper, Dread Glare fiercer. "Crotch Cobra, you're a damn monster," I said, patting his crest. He hissed, smug as me. His growth spurt saved my hide, and I wasn't complaining.
In my tavern room, I sprawled on the bed, wincing from my wounds. Lila applied Moonstone bandages, her hands shaky, grazing my supreme sword. It woke instantly. "Didn't know you missed me that much, tight-hipped earth goddess," I grinned. Lila's face burned, fury clashing with that buried thrill from our past. "Pervert!" she spat, bolting out, door slamming with Earth Qi tremors. I chuckled, eyes on her retreating curves, awed by her might.
Alone, a Zenoite shard in my ring triggered my split-leaf amulet, pulsing with a whisper: "The Child stirs the Shadow." "Ruin garbage," I scoffed, mind diving into lust. I pictured Tira's tattooed curves blazing the sheets, Bera's fiery melons pressed close, Lila's tight-hipped form trembling under my supreme sword's command—all three tangled in a steamy, chaotic dance, moaning my name. "That's a legend," I smirked, wounds fading in desire's haze.