Chapter 536

Chapter 536

The natural aura emanating from Xiao Lan was of legendary-level.

Even though it wasn’t deliberately exerting any pressure on this weakling beast, the involuntary energy fluctuations radiating from its body were more than enough to cow it into utter docility.

It became as limp as a ragdoll, its earlier snarls long forgotten.

The truth was, the Field Snowhare was petrified in Xiao Lan’s presence. The gap in power between them was even greater than that between a human and wild grass. Just meeting or coming into contact could be harmful, and if not for Xiao Lan’s careful efforts to avoid harming it, this Field Snowhare—being so close to a legendary-level beast—would likely have been pulverized the moment they made contact.

Thus, the Field Snowhare, instantly subdued by Xiao Lan, became as lifeless as a ragdoll.

When Lorant reached in to tug and squeeze its head, limbs, and tail, the creature acted nothing like the defiant beast from moments ago.

Apart from its eyes quivering like a prey animal’s, it was hard to tell if the creature was even still alive.

"Alright, now let’s proceed with the final step," Lorant said contentedly, stroking the little creature he had been wanting to touch earlier. He pulled back his hand with a faint grimace, then scrubbed his hands and muttered under his breath while cleaning them again.

Fa Meng immediately flicked a tiny paw, and the astonishingly heavy cup of thick black liquid floated up effortlessly. At the same time, a pair of beautiful, large wings emerged from Xiao Lan’s back. Upon closer inspection, Lorant realized they seemed to summon a replica of the wings of a Radiantwing Butterfly—one that often appeared in his home.

That particular Radiantwing Butterfly was one of the few Lorant kept by his side.

Though its abilities were unremarkable, its appearance was ethereal, a vision of beauty, ranking among the top three of all Radiantwing Butterflies. Lorant had kept it precisely because its beauty was a daily solace.

Having observed it so often, Xiao Lan had likely grown fond of those wings as well, now manifesting them on its back. The wings fluttered, lifting it into the air.

Along with Xiao Lan, the Field Snowhare it was gripping also rose into the air, lifted by the scruff of its neck like a kitten. The hare stiffened, its short limbs and long ears hanging limply beneath it, not daring to struggle. Only the slight quiver at the tip of its tail betrayed its inner turmoil.

However, no matter how terrified the Field Snowhare was, it couldn’t change Lorant’s plans for it.

Xiao Lan used both hands to wrench the hare’s jaws apart, forcibly exposing its prominent front teeth.

The Field Snowhare's mouth hung open in mute terror, its small black eyes darting around frantically.

Meanwhile, Fa Meng slowly brought the floating cup of thick black liquid above the hare’s head, then tilted it with meticulous control, letting the liquid drip one drop at a time into the creature’s open mouth.

Normally, given the density of that liquid, just three to five drops would be enough to punch clean through the hare—from its throat all the way to the base of its tail.

It would be like pouring molten metal onto tofu—the tofu’s structure simply couldn’t withstand such intensity.

Yet, in reality, once the liquid entered the Field Snowhare’s body, it seemed to be assimilated without a trace.

The terrifying weight and density vanished without a trace.

The moment it entered the mouth, it transformed into what seemed like ordinary water, effortlessly absorbed by this bottom-rung beast.

And this low-tier beast clearly had no idea what kind of extraordinary experience it was undergoing. Once it realized that these two overwhelmingly powerful beings only wanted to pour some liquid into its mouth—without causing it direct harm—the Field Snowhare actually relaxed.

At the very least, Lorant could see its limbs and tail, which had been rigid, now hanging limply. After a while, as the liquid continued dripping into its mouth, the hare looked downright euphoric.

It was like a human drunk on wine, its gaze growing hazy, or like a college student on a hot day taking a big gulp of ice-cold soda—utterly satisfied.

Lorant could practically see contentment and joy on the furry face of the beast. If not for the fur, the creature’s skin might have flushed red.

In short, this hare was living its best life.

Only after every last drop of the liquid had been poured into the Field Snowhare’s mouth—with Fa Meng even tipping the cup upside down to ensure no residue remained—did it finally set the floating stone-carved cup down.

The Field Snowhare let out a groggy belch, its beady black eyes slowly narrowing as it dozed off deeply, still dangling by its scruff in Xiao Lan's grip.

Lorant reached out and lifted the Field Snowhare from below, cradling it in his hands like a large guinea pig. Admittedly, now that it wouldn’t attack unpredictably, the chubby, fuzzy critter—rat-like in size—felt rather pleasant to hold.

While not the cutest, it was still something, at least.

The Field Snowhare’s weight remained almost unchanged from before, just water weight.

Lorant gave a few rough pets of the creature’s bristly, short coat and suddenly realized that this might actually be the role he had originally envisioned for his pets in this world—a proper family pet.

Unfortunately, so far, the creatures he had bred either had far greater uses, too valuable to just be pets, or their forms simply weren’t suitable for the role.

Of the few low-level creatures he had high hopes for, one looked almost indistinguishable from roadside bamboo stalks—easily mistaken for some kind of plant if it weren’t for its habit of spitting flowers.

Another resembled a sloppily crafted lantern when its mouth was closed, emitting only a faint glow, not exactly lovable.

The third was marginally cute, but since they lacked physical bodies and drifted about as specters, ordinary households struggled to confine their movements. After all, not every home could afford to build walls wide enough to prevent these dim-witted little things from slipping in and out.

Without such measures, these creatures could easily get lost.

Moreover, unlike regular pets, little ghosts couldn’t be held or petted like the Field Snowhare, making them somewhat lacking as emotional companions.

To Lorant, a pet was meant to be a tangible presence—something to hold when sad, to play with when happy, a vessel for emotions.

If it couldn’t be touched, it felt like something was missing.

Distractedly, Lorant stroked the warm little creature in his hands again, squeezing the chubby rodent frame.

Just as he lost himself in these thoughts, a sharp *ding!* rang in his head, startling him.

Lorant froze, taking a few seconds to process what the sound meant.

It wasn’t that he was entirely unprepared.

As he had mused earlier, Lorant had a basic intuition about whether he was nearing the edge of a breeding path. These paths appeared in his perception like glowing trails across an endless plain—follow one to its end, and there was a good chance of finding a treasure, big or small.

However, the length and width of these paths varied wildly, and the treasure at the end wasn’t necessarily proportional to the path’s size. Lorant had once mistakenly assumed that the broader, longer paths led to greater rewards, so he deliberately chose the widest, most endless-looking one and ventured down it.

But in the end, after months of effort, he arrived at a dead end—no treasure chest, not even a consolation prize.

That experience taught him a new lesson about the subtle nature of these breeding paths.

This sudden new path was just as peculiar.

It was like a lone treasure chest sitting in the middle of a vast wilderness, unconnected to any path before or after it.

Lorant resisted the urge to immediately open the chest and claim his reward. Instead, he suppressed his excitement, closed his eyes, and focused on the changes in his mental simulator. Only then did he realize that what he had thought was a pathless void actually had a faint, barely tangible trail—no more than a few centimeters long—leading to the chest.

That must have been the "path."

And apparently, while wandering aimlessly across the plain, he had accidentally stepped onto it, triggering the treasure to eagerly present itself as his reward.

Understanding the absurdity of it all, Lorant shook his head in amusement. It was almost comically dramatic—like stumbling upon a pair of solid gold stone lions while out for a casual walk.

But since this unexpected gift had fallen into his lap, Lorant wasn’t one to hesitate. With a pleased grin, he immediately pulled up his ability chart to examine it.

"Dreamweaver Hound"…………………………………………………………(ID: d0004)

"A gentle magical pet with varying sizes among individuals, ranging in length and height from 20 centimeters to 1.5 meters. Their fur patterns are not fixed, making the appearance of Dreamweaver Hounds highly diverse. They possess an exceptional ability to stabilize emotions—an innate (not consciously activated) ability—providing emotional stability and calming effects to all living beings in contact with them. The strength of this ability differs for each hound."

Lorant blinked in slight bewilderment as he read the brief description displayed on the ability chart.

This wasn’t the first time. In fact, Lorant had long sensed that he always seemed to create exactly what he desired at just the right moment.

It was like his wishes came true.

The Wulu Shell was one such proof.

It appeared right when Lorant was reminiscing about telephones, and the Wulu Shell’s abilities almost perfectly replicated all the functions of a telephone.

Now, the emergence of the Dreamweaver Hound was more evidence to Lorant that he wasn’t mistaken—those previous creations weren’t mere coincidences.

There *had* to be some connection behind it all, one he hadn’t yet fully grasped.