Following the revelation of her true form—a shape as intricate as a work of fine art—the Myriad Flower Fey erupted once more into a frantic struggle, one that was entirely disproportionate to her delicate frame. She let out bursts of shrill, bell-like shrieks, her slender arms pushing violently against Pierce’s calloused palm.

  However, within the biological annals of Arcane civilization, the Myriad Flower Fey was as renowned for her physical frailty as she was for her talent in illusions. Even a 1 or 2-year-old human child could easily dominate such a phantasmal creature in a test of pure strength. From the moment she fell between Pierce’s fingers, her fate was destined to be branded by the victor.

  "The rumors state that the fey race possesses a high resistance weight against low-tier spells; it seems the tales are true. A deeply optimized Touch of Fatigue was dispelled by her instincts in a heartbeat." A flicker of investigative intrigue crossed Pierce’s eyes.

  He was well aware that had he not used the Omniscient Eye to strike first, the fey’s flight mobility combined with a magical resistance comparable to a Glimmer-rank artifact would have made her nearly impossible to capture, even with Mistfeather’s full reconnaissance. For the initiates still wallowing in the mud of this island, the difficulty of obtaining these 5000 points was no different from facing an official Arcanist. This was not just a chasm of strength, but an absolute suppression of informational dimensions.

  Pierce acted with a cold, surgical precision, granting her no room to breathe. He parted his lips slightly, a low incantation dancing upon his tongue.

  The 1st Sleep incantation.

  A layer of soft green light flickered around the fey, only to be promptly neutralized by the primordial life energy within her. Pierce remained expressionless, like a heartless casting machine, repeating the same syllables over and over. As the frequency of the spells stacked, the defensive green glow emanating from the Myriad Flower Fey grew dim.

  It was not until the arcane fluctuations of the 7th Sleep spell detonated that her final shred of tenacity collapsed. Her emerald-like eyes half-closed, and she finally succumbed to the profound drowsiness, her body slumping in Pierce’s hand as she emitted a microscopic snore.

  Pierce wasted no time on sentiment. He swiftly retrieved a length of hemp rope—strengthened with a Fortification enchantment—from his Dimensional Pouch, wound it several times around her slender waist in a dead knot, and secured the other end to his left wrist. With the fey’s meager physical strength, attempting to snap a rope capable of withstanding 150 pounds of tension was a fool’s errand.

  Valeria stood by, her breath held, witnessing this exceptionally efficient hunt. Only after Pierce had secured the tether did she ask in stunned wonder, "Pierce... how on earth did you lock onto her amidst that sea of blossoms?"

  Pierce turned his head, the firelight casting a sharp silhouette as a faint, mysterious curve appeared on his lips. "Intuition."

  Valeria froze for a moment, then huffed slightly, her lips pursing in mild annoyance. She might be mediocre in talent, but she was far from stupid. Pierce’s decisiveness was clearly a pre-planned, high-dimensional strike. However, since he was unwilling to reveal his secret, she would not be so foolish as to pry.

  Her gaze fell upon the sleeping fey, and an uncontrollable surge of envy flickered in her eyes. The Myriad Flower Honey produced by such a fey was a top-tier auxiliary material craved by all arcane initiates. In the black markets of Aurora City, 100 milliliters of the honey was never priced lower than 1 mana stone, and even then, it was often unavailable. Owning a Myriad Flower Fey was equivalent to placing a miniature fountain of wealth inside one’s Dimensional Pouch.

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  "A Myriad Flower Fey would trigger a bidding war among official wizards at an auction. Pierce’s gains this time will likely make even geniuses like Silas and Gwendolyn green with envy."

  Approximately 15 minutes later, the remnants of the Sleep spell dissipated. The Myriad Flower Fey’s long lashes fluttered, and she woke with a start. The moment she realized her situation, she let out a piercing shriek, her gossamer wings flapping frantically. However, upon reaching a height of 2 meters, the rope at her waist snapped taut, and a massive reactionary force yanked her back to the ground like a broken kite.

  "Ouch!"

  She wrinkled her delicate face, rubbing her bottom, which had nearly split into eight pieces. Looking back, she met Pierce’s profound, temperatureless gaze. The pressure radiating from a high-tier caster caused her to shriek again, followed by another round of futile flight.

  After being yanked back by the rope several consecutive times, the fey finally realized escape was hopeless. She sat dejectedly on the mud, her face pale, arms wrapped around her knees as she let out a heartbreaking, soft sob. Valeria eventually felt a pang of pity. She approached slowly, intending to kneel and comfort this porcelain-like creature.

  However, the moment she closed within a 1-meter radius, the previously wailing fey lunged her small hand forward, accurately scooping a handful of dirt mixed with sand and hurling it straight at Valeria’s face.

  "Ambush!"

  "Ah!" Valeria shrieked, her hands covering her stinging eyes as tears surged uncontrollably from the irritation.

  "Hee-hee!" The Myriad Flower Fey's face transformed instantly. She clutched her stomach, laughing shamelessly and making grotesque faces at Valeria.

  "The fey race is naturally mischievous; they are masters not only of mimicry but of manipulating human nature. Do not be deceived by her facade," Pierce said as he handed over a flask of fresh water, his tone laced with a trace of helplessness.

  Valeria washed her eyes, glaring through the redness at the fey, who was now preening with pride. She never expected that a creature representing beauty in fairy tales was actually a dark-hearted prankster.

  While Valeria cleared the remaining sand, Pierce reached out and gave his finger a light flick. The Myriad Flower Fey was sent tumbling two rounds by the flick. She screamed in anger and launched a charge at Pierce, only to have her forehead held back by a single finger, leaving her to kick her legs in vain.

  Recognizing the absolute disparity in strength, she finally quieted down, sitting on the ground with her arms crossed, sulking. Pierce ignored her and began processing the true Frenzy-Lure Blossoms. A Dimensional Pouch did not stop the passage of time; he had to extract and seal these materials, with a total value nearing 10000 gold, as quickly as possible.

  Silence returned to the camp. The fey’s emerald eyes darted around as she tried to untie the knot at her waist. After a long struggle that left her drenched in a fragrant sweat, she finally realized that this human weaving technique was far beyond her intellect.

  Finally, she leaned against a rock, panting, but suddenly felt an extremely cold and dangerous aura envelop her. She turned her head stiffly, coming face-to-face with a massive, black-mist-shrouded crow. Mistfeather’s blood-red ruby pupils were locked onto her throat.

  The fey flinched, but then secretly compared their body sizes. She was helpless against Pierce, but against a pet, her pride as a high-tier fey surged again. She let out a light snort, her mana fluctuating as her form warped, transforming into a fierce, iron-taloned hawk, shrieking as she lunged at Mistfeather.

  Mistfeather’s expression did not flicker. Just as the hawk reached it, the crow swung its wing—wreathed in death energy—like a heavy black iron hammer, slamming it hard against the hawk’s head.

  Clack!

  The hawk was instantly beaten back into her original form, the fey collapsing onto the ground like a broken puppet. The Myriad Flower Fey clutched the swelling bump on her head, her lips trembling as she burst into genuine tears. It was bad enough she couldn't beat the Great Demon King, but why was even his pet so unreasonable!

  "Waaah... my head really hurts!"