The fox didn't hesitate after storing the weapons.
Its paw slipped back into the storage pouch, and this time it brought out **defensive tools**—one after another—laying them carefully across the bed.
A small mirror-like shield.
A layered scale-plate charm.
A dome-shaped barrier disk.
A bracelet of interlocking runes.
A talisman-board etched with ancient formation lines.
Each pulsed faintly, quietly—like something asleep, but far from dead.
The fox's expression sharpened.
"…These are different," it muttered.
Weapons resisted openly.
Defensive tools resisted *silently*.
They clung.
They endured.
They waited.
"I was planning to let your imprints fade naturally," the fox said, ears flicking. "But that takes time. And now that I know this works…"
Its tail swayed once.
"…there's no reason to wait."
Still, it didn't rush.
"This experiment was curiosity," it said calmly, glancing toward where the spirit weapons had been. "This isn't."
Its gaze dropped to the Yin thread coiled around its paw.
"For my own tools," it said quietly, "I'm not taking chances."
The fox pulled out **a second Yin thread**.
Then a **third**.
Instead of twisting them immediately, it laid all three parallel, infusing each with Yin qi until the threads darkened and their edges blurred, cold energy seeping into their cores.
Only then did it begin to braid.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Perfectly even.
Three threads merged into a **thick Yin cord**, far denser than before. The air around it grew faintly cold, frost-like qi clinging to the fox's whiskers.
It tied the cord carefully around the defensive tools, spacing them wider than it had with the weapons—giving each room to resist without overloading the others.
Then came the talismans.
Not two.
**Three.**
The fox placed them in a triangular arrangement along the cord—one at each end, one at the center—forming a stabilizing cycle. The talismans activated together, their inscriptions glowing in muted harmony rather than flaring wildly.
"…Good," the fox murmured. "Pressure distribution is clean."
The defensive tools reacted.
Not violently.
The mirror-shield dimmed slightly.
The bracelet tightened around itself.
The barrier disk hummed—low, steady, bracing.
The fox crouched, posture grounded, breathing slow.
"This won't be gentle," it said quietly. "But it will be thorough."
It closed its eyes.
This time, it didn't hesitate.
Its divine sense flowed directly into **the weakest imprint first**—the talisman-board. The soul imprint within was old, frayed, already thinning with time.
The moment the fox began erasing—
The Yin cord **contracted sharply**.
Cold surged.
All three talismans flared together.
The cord absorbed the backlash, spreading it evenly.
The other tools trembled—but held.
The imprint dissolved.
Immediately, the effect spread.
Not abruptly.
Not violently.
Like frost creeping across a window.
The bracelet's imprint weakened.
The mirror-shield's resistance cracked.
The barrier disk strained, humming louder as it pushed back—
The fox adjusted instantly, reinforcing the Yin flow and stabilizing the cord before the pressure could spike.
"…Easy," it murmured. "You're mine anyway."
One by one, the imprints gave way.
The last to fall was the dome-shaped disk—stubborn, layered, reinforced by multiple prior owners—but even it couldn't withstand the combined pressure of **three Yin threads** and **three soul-thread talismans** working in concert.
When the final imprint vanished—
Silence.
The cord slackened slightly.
The talismans dimmed—cracked, but intact.
The defensive tools lay inert.
Clean.
Ownerless.
The fox opened its eyes.
Its gaze gleamed—not with greed, but with satisfaction.
"…Perfect."
It exhaled slowly, tension easing from its shoulders.
"So storage pouches scale with talisman count," it mused. "Weapons resist but can be bound. Defensive tools… demand redundancy."
Its tail flicked once.
"Good to know."
The fox carefully gathered the defensive tools back into its pouch, movements precise, almost reverent.
Then it glanced at the remaining Yin threads, the cracked talismans, and the empty space on the bed.
"…This method isn't cheap," it admitted. "But compared to the value it unlocks?"
A faint grin tugged at its muzzle.
"It's a bargain."
Behind it, the lizard shifted slightly, still eating—utterly unconcerned—while the fox quietly rewrote the rules of ownership in the cultivation world.
The fox didn't stop.
If anything, success only sharpened its appetite.
With a flick of its paw, it pulled out **more spirit weapons** from its storage pouch, laying them out with care.
A **jade spear**, its shaft cool and translucent, faint runes drifting beneath the surface like mist trapped in crystal.
A heavy **crescent glaive**, dark metal etched with savage lines, its edge humming with restrained intent.
Two hooked blades.
A chain-whip coiled like a resting serpent.
And a short saber whose aura was thin—but vicious.
The fox studied them quietly.
"…Weapons," it muttered. "Far more willful than storage pouches. Less patient than defensive tools."
Its tail swayed once.
"But I already know the answer."
Again, it pulled out **three Yin threads**.
This time, it didn't hesitate.
The threads were infused, braided, and tightened with practiced ease, forming a thick Yin cord capable of carrying far more strain than before. The fox tied the cord around the weapons, spacing them carefully so no two auras directly clashed.
Then—
**Three soul-thread talismans.**
Placed.
Aligned.
Activated.
The room dimmed slightly as Yin energy deepened, frost-like qi creeping faintly across the bedframe and stone walls.
The fox crouched, eyes narrowing.
"Let's see how you scream."
Its divine sense pierced the jade spear first.
The reaction was immediate.
The spear *fought*.
A sharp recoil slammed back through the cord, making the talismans flare violently—but the triple-thread braid absorbed it, dispersing the backlash across the other weapons.
The glaive vibrated, sensing weakness.
The chain-whip rattled softly.
The saber's aura flared—then wavered.
The fox didn't rush.
It **pressed**.
Slow.
Relentless.
Precise.
One imprint cracked.
Then another.
The glaive's resistance shattered like thin ice, its soul-mark unraveling cleanly. The effect rippled outward—stronger than before, heavier—but still controlled.
The jade spear held longer.
It was blooded.
Experienced.
Stubborn.
The fox's ears twitched as it reinforced the flow.
"…You're resisting because your imprint reached the sixth layer," it murmured. "But you don't get to remember it."
With a final surge of Yin qi, the jade spear's imprint tore free.
Silence followed.
All the weapons lay still.
Clean.
Ownerless.
The fox opened its eyes, breathing evenly.
"…Confirmed," it said with quiet satisfaction. "This works on spirit weapons as well. Scale increases cost—not complexity."
At that moment—
Behind it, the lizard finished tearing through its **third corpse**.
Blood dripped briefly from its maw before it swallowed the last bite without ceremony.
Inside its mind—
**{System}**
**[Evolution Points Gained: +4000]**
**[Gene Extracted: Venommist Serpent]**
**[Gene Description: Venommist Serpent — A demonic snake capable of releasing corrosive poison mist directly from its body. The mist spreads silently, dulls the senses, erodes qi circulation, and lingers in the air.]**
The lizard didn't react.
Didn't celebrate.
It simply turned to the next corpse, hunger calm and methodical.
The fox settled back onto the bed, tails curling neatly around its body as it looked down at the spirit tools resting before it.
"…Alright," it muttered. "Next step."
Its gaze lingered on the **jade spear**—clean now, silent, no lingering will clinging to it. A perfect blank slate.
"Now that the imprints are gone," the fox continued thoughtfully, "it's time to make them *mine*."
For a brief moment, its eyes flicked to the remaining Yin threads and soul-thread talismans.
Then it paused.
Slowly, deliberately, it shook its head.
"…No."
Its ears flattened slightly, expression sharpening—not fear, but judgment.
"Erasing an imprint and **placing one** are two completely different beasts," it said quietly. "One is removal. The other is construction."
It lifted a paw, faint qi gathering at the tips as it weighed the idea.
"If I try to use the same linked method…" it murmured, "…best case, the imprint becomes unstable. Worst case—"
Its eyes narrowed.
"Backlash. Fragmented soul resonance. Maybe even damage to my divine sense."
The fox exhaled through its nose.
"I'm not crippling myself just because I got clever once."
It looked back at the tools, expression sober now.
"Imprinting requires patience. Direct contact. One-on-one synchronization. Forcing it through Yin-thread resonance would be like carving a formation with a hammer."
A pause.
Then a faint, self-amused snort.
"Besides," it added, "these are earth-grade tools. They deserve proper treatment."
The fox straightened, decision made.
"I'll imprint them **individually**. Slowly. Cleanly."
Its eyes gleamed—not with greed, but with control.
"One tool at a time," it said. "No shortcuts."
Behind it, the steady, methodical sounds of the lizard feeding continued—quiet, relentless—while the fox prepared for the far more delicate stage of true ownership.