The trapped figure was clearly unwilling to surrender without a fight. Instead of answering Fu Qian's question, it thrashed violently within the cage of tentacles.
Unfortunately for his captive, the strike Fu Qian had spent so long preparing in ambush had dealt it unbearable damage.
Dripping with blood, the body inside the cage tore and swelled, revealing a fleshy texture that shimmered with a bizarre beauty.
Yet the tentacles were unimaginably tough. Though the body swelled to several times its original size in an instant, it merely pried the horrific cage open a fraction—a gap far too narrow for escape.
Seeing the stalemate, the bloated body suddenly detonated, exploding into chunks of gore smaller than a fist.
The instant the flesh erupted, the chunks twisted and morphed in midair, turning into a swarm of bats.
Flapping their wings, the bats poured out through the gaps between the tentacles.
This was its true escape method.
Brilliant!
The little bats were incredibly fast. The moment they slipped through the cracks, they scattered in every direction.
Every single bat took an erratic, unpredictable flight path. Their only shared trait was that none of them looked back; the entity had clearly abandoned the fight, putting everything it had into fleeing.
Under these circumstances, keeping them here would be exceedingly difficult.
Sadly, in the very next second, this desperate thirst for freedom crashed headlong into an even larger net.
Sorry, but when it comes to instantaneous explosions, I'm something of an expert myself.
Fu Qian controlled the tentacles—now numbering in the hundreds, if not thousands—and slowly contracted them toward the center, forming an airtight net of woven flesh.
How could he let his guard down against an assassin-type opponent skilled in ambushes!
The vast majority of these countless tentacles had erupted from Fu Qian's own upper body.
It had happened at almost the exact same instant the enemy swelled its body to self-destruct.
And now, he could feel countless bats biting and thrashing against the inside of the net, desperately searching for a way out.
But under Fu Qian's meticulous weaving, the cage of tentacles had transformed into a black-and-red Cocoon—a deadly, inescapable trap.
Let alone something fist-sized, it couldn't escape even if it were the size of a turtle's head.
And it wasn't over. As the seconds ticked by, the Cocoon relentlessly shrank, inch by inch.
The bats' struggles soon weakened as their free space drastically reduced.
With a sensation much like crushing soup dumplings, the bats began popping one by one under the immense pressure.
"Can you answer my question now?"
When he had controlled the Cocoon to shrink to about 0.5 cubic meters in volume, Fu Qian paused his relentless squeezing and repeated his earlier question.
"You... why... impossible! What exactly are you?"
After a patient three-second wait, a voice questioning its very reality echoed from inside the Cocoon.
"Answer the question. It's not your turn to ask yet."
Fu Qian reminded his captive expressionlessly, before suddenly realizing something.
Did that voice belong to a woman?
Fu Qian drew a sharp breath and looked up at the suspended Cocoon.
Interwoven in black and red, thousands of tentacles extended majestically from the mass.
So... right now, he was using a massive cluster of tentacles to tightly bind a female Transcendent warrior and suspend her in midair?
This imagery felt entirely wrong!
"Come down for a chat?"
After a moment's thought, Fu Qian decided to end this compromising pose as quickly as possible, lest the scene become unfit for broadcast.
"Fine!"
The response from within was far more eager than he expected. Fu Qian chose to interpret it simply as a thirst for freedom.
The next instant, the tentacles withdrew from the perfectly woven Cocoon one by one, swiftly retracting back into Fu Qian's body.
Soon, he saw what had been wrapped inside.
It was a slender humanoid creature with hands and feet, its outline a blurry mess.
Right now, the figure was hugging her knees, head buried tightly between her legs.
Curled up into a perfectly round ball.
The moment the Cocoon fully dismantled, this ball went limp as silk and slumped onto the ground in a heap.
...
For a moment, Fu Qian didn't make a single move; he just silently stared at the puddle on the floor.
Fortunately, the figure quickly uncurled after hitting the ground. Nearly translucent arms propped her up as she took two long, deep breaths.
After those two breaths, color rapidly returned to her body. Her skin turned dazzlingly white, swiftly concealing her exposed flesh and internal organs.
Finally, as a pair of broad, leathery bat wings stretched from her back and wrapped around her body, she raised her head.
Gray hair, red eyes. Her features were exquisite yet carried a trace of an inhuman aura. Her face bore a severe expression, completely lacking the self-awareness of a prisoner.
"What... exactly are you?"
Recovering slightly, she stood up and questioned Fu Qian in sheer disbelief.
"You have one last chance to organize your words."
Fu Qian reminded her, his face devoid of emotion.
...
"Serana."
The intelligence of the Blood Clan was not to be underestimated. After a few seconds of deep thought, she successfully recalled Fu Qian's initial question and gave a prompt answer.
"Serana Gulade?"
"Yes."
"Excellent!"
Fu Qian felt relieved that they could finally have a normal conversation.
"So, did our friend Taylor send you?"
"As if that idiot could ever order me around."
Hearing Fu Qian's question, Serana scoffed, her expression haughty.
"You have the Abyss Notes, don't you?"
"You came for this?"
Curiosity written on his face, Fu Qian reached into his pocket and pulled out his earlier loot.
"That's right."
Looking at the item in his hand, Serana gave a silent nod.
"You can track it?"
Combining her reaction with what she had just said, Fu Qian guessed a possibility.
"Yes. But not long ago, I suddenly lost my connection to it."
"That surprised me, so I went to question Taylor, who was supposed to be holding it."
See? It never hurt to be a little cautious.
Fu Qian felt quite satisfied with his earlier prudence regarding the notebook's use.
"And Taylor just told you the truth that honestly? I thought he'd at least invent a few excuses to stall for time."
"Taylor may be a useless sack of straw, but his one redeeming quality is his absolute terror of death."
Serana's tone was flat, yet it overflowed with murderous intent.
"Understood."
Fu Qian instantly grasped the implication.
"If this thing is so important, why did it end up in his hands?"
"Because it isn't actually all that important."
"In the end, it's just a notebook with severe usage restrictions."
Serana looked at the notebook in Fu Qian's hand, her expression complicated.
"The reason I paid any attention to it is that, over a remarkably long lifespan, the things left that are actually worth my attention and memory are terribly few."
"Such is life."
Feeling the world-weariness in her words, Fu Qian voiced his agreement.
But at the same time, a certain detail caught his ear.
A remarkably long lifespan...
"How old are you exactly?"
...
Serana said nothing, but the air seemed to suddenly freeze.
You're part of the Blood Clan and you're still this sensitive about your age?
Fu Qian found this reaction entirely incomprehensible.
The problem was, even if she refused to say, verifying something like this was incredibly simple.
Shaking his head, Fu Qian opened the notebook, pulled a pen from his pocket, and scribbled a single sentence on a blank page.
[Serana's age is less than 500 years old]
The very next moment, the ink rapidly vanished.
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