Rowan crossed through the quiet expanse of interstellar darkness, emerging into a region of space that felt strangely detached from the greater civilizations he was used to. The sensors aboard the Black Dragon, humming softly beneath his feet, swept across the area with a methodical pulse. Moments later, the results appeared as layers of translucent light across the ship's projection screen.
Seventy-five planets occupied this star cluster. Only three supported any form of civilization. All were classified as low-tier planets belonging to the Silver-Blue Empire. The most powerful beings among them barely reached the planet-level stage, and two of those worlds were designated slave planets. The only exception was a pale, earth-toned world to the north, labeled as a democratic planet. It governed the two slave planets and served as a transit station where newly processed slaves were transported to other regions for trade.
Rowan fixed his gaze on the screen. The coordinates were correct. This was exactly where the cosmic-level fugitive was said to be. However, the exact hiding place remained unclear. Even Babata had only been able to identify an approximate region. As for the two cosmic-level second-tier warriors who had been pursuing Nakoro earlier, they had long since lost track of their target. Without precise coordinates, they had no hope of continuing the chase.
Which meant Rowan stood alone in this hunt.
The Black Dragon glided smoothly toward the democratic star. Rings of defense satellites hung around the planet like metal thorns. The moment Rowan's ship approached, every weapon on those satellites shifted to lock onto him. Under normal circumstances, they would have opened fire immediately.
But the Black Dragon was a vessel of extraordinary value, recognizable even from a distance. Attacking someone who owned such a ship was the sort of decision most commanders preferred to avoid if they wished to keep their heads. Even so, the floating cannons circling the planet possessed enough destructive power to obliterate a star-level warrior with a single shot.
A sharp voice echoed through the comms.
"Unknown vessel, halt immediately."
Rows of massive warships rose from the planet's atmosphere, more than a dozen in total. Seven were B-class, three were C-class. The docking bays opened, releasing thousands of armored warriors into the void. More than seven thousand planet-level fighters, forming a dense, intimidating curtain across the sky like a swarm of metallic locusts.
Three stronger presences soon followed them. One star-level rank nine physical-type warrior. One star-level rank nine spiritual-type. And one star-level rank eight.
A calm, authoritative voice entered Rowan's mind.
"Honored visitor ahead, please exit your vessel."
The mental message came from the star-level nine spiritual master. Rowan, watching their faces through his ship's external projection, saw something peculiar. Beneath their stern expressions lay a faint shadow of unease. Fear, even.
That alone told him everything he needed to know.
Nakoro, the cosmic-level fugitive, must have taken refuge on this planet. And these people were clearly acting under his threat.
Otherwise, why deploy an entire interstellar fleet against a solitary star-level visitor? Why direct every weapon at him as if anticipating a calamity? Something here was painfully forced.
Rowan stepped out of the Black Dragon without hesitation.
Despite being a C-class ship, the Black Dragon was no match for the combined firepower of the fleet surrounding him. It had been modified heavily, using spare parts scavenged from B-class vessels. Its defenses were weaker than a standard C-class craft. If they opened fire, the ship would barely survive.
More importantly, Rowan could not reveal the Infinity Gauntlet in front of an entire star system's military forces. If he used it here, the only way to prevent news from spreading would be to exterminate every person on this planet. That was impossible. Even if he killed most of them, a single escaped witness could doom not only him but also the worlds he cared about.
The moment rumors of the Gauntlet leaked into the greater universe, the consequences would be catastrophic. The Marvel Universe, where he had trained, was a place of weak laws. There were few treasures or cultivation resources. Reaching immortality there would take far longer than in the Swallowed Star universe. Here, the laws were complete. The techniques were plentiful. The opportunities were countless.
Returning to the Marvel Universe for good would cripple his future. He simply could not afford that.
He exhaled slowly. Killing everyone here was not an option. Staying silent and moving cautiously was.
Especially since this star region belonged to the Silver-Blue Empire. Causing a massacre in their territory would draw the Empire's direct attention. And this was a slave-trade hub. Stirring trouble here would attract even more scrutiny.
So Rowan behaved as any wealthy young noble would.
He descended from his ship with a composed expression.
"There is no need to be so tense. I am only here to purchase some slaves."
He made a show of arrogance, and his three Silver-Liquid Guardians floated protectively in front of him. The three star-level commanders froze. The combination of the Black Dragon and those rare guardians made it clear Rowan was enormously wealthy and likely came from a high-ranking family. Offending him would be dangerous. But offending the hidden cosmic-level fugitive would be worse.
They hesitated helplessly.
Rowan clicked his tongue impatiently.
"Is this how you greet paying customers?"
The three leaders exchanged a glance. The mental-type star-level nine consulted Nakoro through spiritual transmission. Deep below the planet, in a fortified underground base, Nakoro frowned at the interruption. He had barely escaped pursuit and had seized control of this slave planet to hide.
The young noble above could not possibly be related to the ones hunting him. He agreed to let Rowan land. The commanders instantly relaxed.
They escorted Rowan down to the planet. The primary city was grand, shining with wealth and trade, yet the surrounding towns were bleak and broken. Lines of muscular guards wielding electromagnetic cannons marched prisoners through the streets. Those cannons could kill a planet-level fighter instantly.
The slaves came in two main types.
The first were the Natas people, a species closely resembling humans but taller and stronger. Their skin bore a dark metallic sheen, and most stood between two and three meters tall. The women were wheat-skinned with tall, elegant figures and striking beauty. Most were apprentice-level seven or eight, while the planet-level adults were grouped separately, numbering only a little over a hundred.
Under the guidance of the three commanders, Rowan arrived at the reception hall of the central trade building.
"Honored sir," the spiritual master said with practiced warmth, "what type of slaves are you looking for? The Natas race is our specialty. Docile temperament, obedient personalities. Lowest rank is apprentice rank two, highest is star-level rank five."
He began listing advantages and drawbacks, but Rowan was only half listening. His spiritual power spread outward silently, covering more than sixty kilometers. It pierced through buildings and underground layers with ease. Though he appeared to be only star-level seven, his spiritually enhanced power, catalyzed by the Mind Stone, was comparable to a weaker cosmic-level mental master.
He located Nakoro almost immediately.
Rowan ignored him for now.
"I want a few beautiful ones."
He lounged back on the reception sofa, crossing one leg over the other. The commanders exchanged knowing looks. A rich young man buying women for pleasure was hardly unusual. Intermarriage between human-type races was common, and many nobles enjoyed collecting slaves.
"Of course, sir. Do you prefer apprentice-level or planet-level women?"
"Planet-level. They tend to last longer."
They hurried away. Soon they returned with more than three hundred carefully selected Natas women. Their expressions were wooden, but their beauty was undeniable. Even so, Rowan felt nothing. Their appearance did not interest him, and his mind was entirely focused on the Shadow Demon race.
Still, he walked among them as any noble would. The women kept their heads lowered in fear. They all knew their fate. Most who bought them were cruel. When they broke, they were discarded or killed with a single command to the chips implanted in their skulls.
Very few ever found a good ending.
As Rowan moved through the rows, something unexpectedly caught his attention. A young Natas girl, barely taller than one meter eighty, looked up at him with frightened eyes. His spiritual sense swept across her mind and froze.
She possessed undeveloped spiritual power.
This was extremely rare. Apprentice rank seven usually awakened their spiritual force automatically, but hers remained dormant.
Fascinating.
"That one," Rowan said.
"Sir, she costs four thousand Silver-Blue coins."
Rowan tossed a Dry Witch Coin. The commanders' eyes widened. Dry Witch Coins were rarely seen in this region and far more valuable than Black Dragon Coins.
Their attitudes grew even more respectful at once.
"Sir, one Dry Witch Coin equals one thousand Black Dragon Coins, and a Black Dragon Coin equals one thousand Silver-Blue Coins. You still have plenty left. Would you like to choose more slaves?"