[AN:
Give thanks to the mighty supporter Daoist AshtynKC, who has bestowed upon this humble author a Luxury Car gift, worth 1000 spirit coins! According to the ancient pact, this grants you all 60 bonus chapters.
Ten have already been released, and twenty were part of an older heavenly debt — thus, a total of 80 chapters shall descend upon the mortal realm.
I will strive to deliver them swiftly, but the continuous blackout tribulation, active since the month of August, tests my cultivation daily. I beg your patience, fellow readers!
]
Draeth Family Home - Evening
Vaelor pushed open the front door, the familiar creak of hinges announcing his arrival. The warm scent of home-cooked food filled the air—Aunt Mira's signature stew, if his nose wasn't mistaken.
"I'm home!" he called out, closing the door behind him with his foot while carefully balancing the expensive packages in his arms.
"Vaelor!" His cousin Lyanna's voice came from the living room, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. The fifteen-year-old girl appeared in the hallway, her shoulder-length brown hair tied in a messy ponytail. "You're late! Aunt Mira was about to send—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she noticed the elegantly wrapped packages he carried. The preservation formations on them glowed faintly with frost-blue energy—a clear indicator these weren't ordinary groceries.
"What... what are those?" Lyanna asked, her voice dropping to an awed whisper.
"Dinner ingredients," Vaelor said casually, walking past her toward the kitchen. "Is everyone home?"
"Y-yes..." Lyanna followed him like a curious puppy, her eyes never leaving the packages. "Even Uncle Thorne came back today. He's on leave for three days."
Perfect timing, Vaelor thought with satisfaction. Having Father home makes this conversation much easier.
He entered the kitchen where Aunt Mira stood at the stove, stirring a large pot. The middle-aged woman turned at his entrance, her kind face breaking into a warm smile.
"There you are! I was beginning to worry—" Her words cut off as she noticed the packages. Her smile faltered, replaced by concern. "Vaelor, what are those? Those preservation formations... those are hunter-grade containers!"
"Ingredients," Vaelor said, setting the packages on the kitchen counter. "Premium quality. I thought we could have something special tonight."
Aunt Mira approached cautiously, as if the packages might explode. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the nearest one. "Vaelor, where did you get these? These containers alone cost more than our weekly grocery budget!"
"Just open them," he encouraged gently.
With visible hesitation, Aunt Mira untied the preservation cloth wrapping the first package. The formation deactivated with a soft chime, and she pulled back the fabric to reveal—
"AAAHHHHH!"
Her scream echoed through the entire house, so loud and sudden that Vaelor actually flinched.
"WHAT?! WHAT HAPPENED?!" Uncle Torven's panicked shout came from upstairs, followed by thundering footsteps as multiple people rushed toward the kitchen.
Within seconds, the small kitchen was crowded. Uncle Torven—a stocky man with graying hair and a perpetual worried expression—burst through the doorway first, looking around wildly for danger.
Right behind him came Thorne Draeth, Vaelor's father. At forty-two years old, Thorne still maintained the powerful physique of an active warrior—broad shoulders, corded muscles visible beneath his casual home clothes, and the alert posture of someone who'd spent decades fighting on dangerous frontlines. His light golden eyes—identical to Vaelor's—scanned the kitchen with practiced efficiency.
Lyanna squeezed past both men, her curiosity overriding any sense of danger.
"Mira, what's wrong?!" Uncle Torven demanded, moving to his wife's side.
Aunt Mira stood frozen, staring at the partially unwrapped package with an expression of absolute horror. Her face had gone pale, and she seemed incapable of speech beyond pointing at the revealed contents.
Thorne's eyes narrowed as he approached, his warrior instincts analyzing the situation. When he saw what lay in the package, his expression shifted from concern to shock.
"That's... that's Crimson Phoenix Chicken..." he whispered.
Uncle Torven looked, and his eyes bulged. "By the gods..."
Lyanna, being the shortest, couldn't see clearly. She pushed between the adults, rose on her tiptoes, and when she finally glimpsed the contents—
Her mouth fell open. A thin line of drool actually formed at the corner of her lips.
"Is that... is that real?" she breathed, her voice filled with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred artifacts.
The Crimson Phoenix Chicken pieces glowed with a faint reddish-gold luminescence, each perfectly cut portion radiating concentrated life energy. Even without any special perception abilities, everyone in the kitchen could feel the vitality emanating from the meat.
"Vaelor," Thorne said carefully, his voice taking on that particular tone of a parent trying very hard to remain calm, "where did you get this?"
"I bought it," Vaelor replied simply.
"BOUGHT IT?!" Aunt Mira's voice cracked. She finally tore her gaze from the chicken to stare at Vaelor with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Do you have any idea how much this costs?! This is 400,000 points! FOUR HUNDRED THOUSAND!"
"Actually, it was 200,000 points per kilogram," Vaelor corrected. "I got two kilograms, so 400,000 total for just the chicken."
Aunt Mira swayed dangerously. Uncle Torven caught her elbow to steady her.
"Just the chicken..." she repeated faintly. "Just... there are more packages..."
All eyes turned to the other wrapped bundles still sitting on the counter.
"Vaelor," Thorne said, his tone becoming more serious—the voice of a father demanding answers rather than requesting them, "what is going on?"
"Open the other packages first," Vaelor said. "Then we'll talk."
Thorne and Uncle Torven exchanged worried glances, but Lyanna had already darted forward, unable to contain her curiosity. She grabbed another package and tore away the preservation cloth with zero hesitation.
"Deepwater Dragon Fish!" she gasped, her eyes sparkling. "I've only seen pictures in academy textbooks!"
The fish portions shimmered with iridescent blue-silver scales, each piece radiating an aura of deep ocean mystery. The preservation formation had kept them so fresh they still smelled of salt water and ancient depths.
Aunt Mira opened the third package with trembling hands, revealing the Jade Spirit Vegetables—vibrant green produce that literally glowed with concentrated life force.
Uncle Torven unwrapped the final package, the Golden Vitality Fruits. Each fruit was perfectly formed, golden as sunrise, and emanating such pure life energy that simply being near them made everyone feel slightly more energized.
Silence fell over the kitchen. The kind of profound, stunned silence that occurs when people's understanding of reality has been fundamentally shaken.
Finally, Uncle Torven spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Vaelor... this is over 850,000 points worth of ingredients..."
"850,000 points," Aunt Mira repeated numbly. "We could live for five years on that amount..."
"Did you..." Thorne's jaw clenched, his warrior's mind jumping to the most logical—if uncomfortable—conclusion. "Did you steal these? Take them from another hunter by mistake? Vaelor, if these belong to someone else, we need to return them immediately! High-tier hunters don't take kindly to—"
"I BOUGHT them," Vaelor interrupted firmly, meeting his father's concerned gaze directly. "With my own money. Legally. From Golden Fang Provisions. I have the receipts if you want to verify."
"Your own money?" Aunt Mira's voice rose to a near-hysterical pitch. "You're seventeen! You just awakened your talent! Where would you possibly get nearly a million points?!"
'I hope you didn't use your contract money from Crimsonpeak Martial Hall, it was meant to be an investing for your self not us. Quick take it back."
"No Aunty, I didn't."
Lyanna, meanwhile, had moved closer to the Crimson Phoenix Chicken, her eyes glazed over with foodie obsession. She reached out slowly, as if drawn by invisible strings.
"Don't even think about it," Uncle Torven said without looking at his daughter, catching her wrist before her fingers could touch the precious meat. "We're not eating this until we understand what's happening!"
"But Daaaad..." Lyanna whined, her stomach growling audibly.
Thorne held up a hand, cutting off any further protests. His golden eyes—so similar to his son's—studied Vaelor with an intensity that had made lesser men confess to crimes they hadn't committed.
"Living room," he said simply. "Now. Everyone. We're having a family meeting."
The tone brooked no argument. This was Border Sentinel Thorne Draeth speaking—the man who'd commanded warriors in life-or-death situations for two decades.