Seven days later...
The gates of the Ninth Peak’s containment block screeched open.
Theo strolled into the hallway with a bucket of meat in one hand and a mop resting on his shoulder.
He stopped by a cage and tossed a chunk of meat through the bars, earning a bone-rattling purr from a three-headed hellhound that immediately began tearing into the meal.
Over the past week, the few outer sect laborers assigned to deliver basic supplies to the Ninth Peak had gotten used to seeing Theo.
He was technically a janitor, but he acted like he owned the entire mountain.
Whenever Elder Vespera blew up a cauldron, Theo was there to put out the fire.
Whenever a grotesque mutant escaped its bindings on the surgical table, Theo dragged it back by its tail.
To the outside world, Theo was just a crazy mortal who hadn’t managed to get himself killed yet. But Theo knew exactly what he was doing.
He leaned the mop against a wall and opened his system interface.
[Name: Theo]
[Age: 16]
[Structure: Primordial Abyssal Meridians / Minor Purity Water Body]
[Realm: Eight Meridians of Qi-Blood (Concealed)]
[Class: Parasite Lv. 3]
[Recent Events: Constant exposure to high-tier demonic chimera blood has saturated your Abyssal Network. Physical density has reached the peak of the mortal threshold. One step further will trigger a structural evolution.]
In just a week, acting as Vespera’s surgical partner had proven to be an absolute goldmine!
He didn’t even have to risk his life hunting beasts in the dark caves anymore. Vespera did all the cutting, and his Parasite class passively absorbed the rich material spilling onto the floor.
"Great Sage," Theo murmured, scratching his chin. "How close are we to the evolution?"
[Answer. You require one final surge of high-density demonic qi. The current second-tier beasts have been drained of their ambient value. I recommend advancing to the third-tier holding pens.]
"Yeah, that’s what I was thinking," Theo nodded to himself. "If my physical density hits the evolution threshold naturally, I can save my credits. If not, I’ll just spend a few thousand in the System Shop to buy a bone-forging pill to force the breakthrough."
He currently had an astonishing 20,000 credits sitting securely in his account after his investment in Vespera.
He was rich, and the safety net made him incredibly relaxed.
Grabbing his bucket, Theo walked deeper into the second-tier containment zone, humming a cheerful tune that felt out of place in a monster prison.
...
At the base of the Ninth Peak.
A sect steward sat behind a desk, tallying a list of delivered toxic herbs.
"Name and business," the steward said, not even bothering to look up as footsteps approached his station.
"Malakor."
The steward’s brush snapped in half. He jumped to his feet, kicking his chair back and bowing so fast he almost hit his head on the desk.
Standing before him was a hulking disciple wearing the crimson-trimmed robes of the Blood-Iron Peak.
Malakor was barely twenty years old, but his skin was the color of dead ash, and a web of black veins pulsed along his neck.
He was a true disciple of Elder Silas, a young man who had subjected his own body to forbidden, blood rituals just to forcefully graft the strength of demonic beasts into his human frame.
"Ah! True Disciple Malakor! Welcome to the Ninth Peak," the steward stammered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Is Elder Silas requesting another chimera for his... arrays?"
"Do not speak of my Master’s private business," Malakor grunted. "I am here for my monthly body tempering in the containment zones. And to collect the Iron-Spine Ape that Elder Vespera promised us."
The steward’s hands shook as he quickly logged the entry into a jade slip.
"Of course, right away," the steward nodded. "Just... please be careful in the second-tier zone today, True Disciple. The new janitor is down there cleaning the cages."
Malakor paused.
"A janitor? In the second-tier containment zone?" Malakor sneered. "Since when does an outer sect rat have the fortitude to withstand the bloodlust of high-tier beasts? The pressure alone should crush a mortal’s mind into dust."
The steward gulped, shrinking back against the wall. "I-I don’t know, sir. It’s that Theo kid. The one who supposedly walked up the stairs last week. He’s been going in there every single day. Yesterday, I saw him carry a two-ton iron cage on his back like it was a sack of feathers. Elder Vespera treats him like an equal."
Malakor’s jaw clenched.
He had spent three years soaking in vats of boiling beast blood, enduring pain that nearly shattered his soul, just to earn the right to walk among the second-tier monsters without losing his mind.
He had watched fellow disciples turn into mindless, drooling husks from the backlash.
And a janitor was in there sweeping the floors?!
"A mortal in the second-tier cages," Malakor whispered. "Are you insulting my foundation, steward?"
"N-No! I swear it!" the steward cried, falling to his knees and pressing his forehead to the dirt.
Malakor didn’t bother listening to the pathetic excuses. He shoved past the desk and marched up the thorny path toward the containment block.