After Logan Lane put away his new treasures, he took a shower and reapplied his medications.
The wound on his back still burned fiercely, but he had no way to see or treat it directly.
He reflected on the current state of the district.
With torrential rain pouring down for seven days, and based on his earlier foresight, at least 10,000 people would die—likely more. Even for "strengthened" survivors, it was grim, let alone those stuck as vassals.
First, he took out his Breeze Sword and nicked his hand, smearing blood onto the egg of the "universal fairy."
Infusing it with Five Elements Spirit Stone energy, he hatched a tiny creature resembling a fluffy yellow ball that could already fly from birth.
It fluttered around him, chirping nonstop, and Logan somehow understood its meaning:
"Master, Master! I'm a cute wood spirit—please treat me kindly!"
He was stunned that the little being possessed such high intelligence right after hatching. At a thought, a status panel popped up:
Race: Wood Spirit
Name: None
Age: 1 day
Abilities: Armor (v1), Healing (v1)
Armor: Creates a small, thin light-shield around the host, able to withstand a full-strength blow from a late F-rank force.
Healing: Heals internal/external injuries for creatures below F-rank, and accelerates recovery by 50–20% for F-rank and E-rank injuries. (Note: can heal injury, not illness.)
Traits: Playful, food-loving, music-loving. (Note: The worst meal it accepts is F-rank food; if starved of rank-grade food for more than 24 hours, it'll go on a hunger strike and die. Every three days, the host can hum a tune for five minutes to raise intimacy. Even if you sing off-key, you might gain a surprise at 100 intimacy.)
Current Level: F (advanced)
Surprised to finally have a companion, Logan placed the little critter on his shoulder. "You're one chatterbox," he said. "I'll name you 'Tweet.'"
No sooner had he spoken than "Tweet" appeared on the status screen. A note indicated the name was now locked.
Logan groaned at his offhand choice, as the little spirit chirped in protest:
"Bad Master! I'm supposed to be 'Bella,' not 'Tweet!'"
All it could do was complain while he listened helplessly. Finally, he compromised by calling it "Bella" as a nickname, then bribed it with some E-rank Dragon Armor Beast barbecue to keep it happy.
Finished with that, Logan walked to the stone pillar and posted a trade offer:
DemonSlayer: "Looking to acquire vassals—men or women, no preference, but must be decent-looking, 15–23 years old, physically intact, and mentally stable.
In exchange, I'm offering:
50kg Tiger Meat
1 Rabbit
2 Sparrows
1 D-rank Production Blueprint
10 Pears
10 Apples
for 1 vassal matching those criteria. (Total of 3 such offers available.)"
He didn't have high hopes, since not many islands had vassals. And yes, his price was steep, but he was hardly hurting for food or small blueprints right now—other than grade food, of course.
He intended to pull down the listing soon anyway, because he could only spare enough space in one more room for them. But before he could retract the offer, something happened.
On his way back to the pillar, three flashes of light appeared in front of him, revealing three new arrivals—wearing nothing but thin underwear.
They stood motionless in the pouring rain, eyes blank, while Logan sensed the new "control" interface in his mind. They were indeed now his vassals, obeying him silently.
Logan stared at the trio: two women—one a Celestial Empire flower-like beauty of about eighteen, with long hair, the other a blonde, blue-eyed foreign woman of breathtaking looks—and one tall, muscular man sporting eight-pack abs. All three stood shivering in the downpour.
"Face forward. Don't turn your heads," Logan ordered. "You go to my thatched hut," he pointed at the man. "You two, head to Cabin #3."
They gazed straight ahead, then parted ways as directed.
After a relieved exhale, Logan reached the pillar again to see that each of the three trades was still displayed, now completed.
A user named "Yansen" had sent him a friend request too.
The first message was from the old owner of the blonde woman:
"Brother, this foreign beauty's top-tier, no worse than our Celestial. She fell for my money. Unexpectedly, she came along for a while. Now I need food. Haven't been serious about fishing crates, so thanks for taking her off my hands. Have fun, friend—she's quite good!"
The second message was from someone named Rose, who had traded the man:
"That's my husband. I'm a half-breed from overseas. Take care of him—I only took ten pears out of your payment. The rest of the stuff I'm returning. I just hope he can survive in your hands."
Logan was stunned to learn that she'd returned everything except for ten pears.
On some distant island he'd never heard of, a gorgeous woman in her early twenties was now squatting in the rain under a makeshift 1.5-meter board roof.
She wore a man's shirt over her thin frame, while men's pants lay on the soaked ground. She silently wept, alone.
Unknown to Logan, that man had sold himself as a vassal with his wife's permission—he held partial "owner rights" to the island. Before coming here, he was quite capable, comparable to a soldier, but his wife's attribute enhancements had surpassed his.
Worse yet, they discovered a hidden rule: if spouses existed on the same island and one was a born vassal, the island owner's luck halved, rendering them dangerously unlucky. That's what forced the trade.
They needed Logan's supplies to survive.