Converted into inkstones, the resources they had plundered amounted to over two hundred million inkstones.
If they hadn't insisted on breaking through to Highgod by their own efforts, then with their accumulated wealth, they could have long since exchanged it for five Highgod divine sparks, allowing all five brothers to step across the threshold into the Highgod realm.
What a pity…
A hundred thousand years of fortune—stripped away in a single moment.
And they themselves were now on the brink of death.
"Not bad. I'm very satisfied with your ransom."
After checking the contents of the spatial rings, Locke reined in his emotions. He transferred all the items into his own spatial ring, then removed the bindings from the bandits' rings and tossed them down from the giant palm imprint.
"Your spatial rings—returned to you."
"I hope that the next time you come looking for me, the wealth inside them will be greater than this time."
"Otherwise, having already been spoiled by you, I might choose to kill some of you if the ransom isn't sufficient."
With that, Locke patted Little White lightly. Instantly understanding, Little White turned around and hopped away, leaving in bounding strides.
"Th-this…"
The bandit leader looked up at Locke's retreating figure, then lowered his gaze to the spatial rings lying before his brothers, confusion still lingering in his eyes.
"Did we… survive?"
"Hahahaha! Boss Tru, this time I'm completely convinced!"
"That's right, Boss Tru! That lord said he was very satisfied with our ransom. Thank goodness I didn't hesitate when you told me to remove the binding on my ring. If we'd been short even by that little bit from my ring, we might all be dead right now…"
"Hahahaha—we survived! We really survived!"
"Quiet!"
"Although that lord spared us this time, we need to learn from this. For now, let's find somewhere to recover our injuries first…"
"Mm."
After handing back the now-emptied spatial rings to his brothers, the bandit leader let out a quiet sigh in his heart.
Between a Highgod and a god, aside from the tenfold gap in divine power, the amplification granted by a Highgod artifact was also far greater than that of a god artifact.
It could be said that even a Highgod who had merely refined a divine spark—when paired with a Highgod artifact—already possessed ten times the strength of a god.
Those who had cultivated their way to Highgod through their own efforts were even more formidable.
Without a powerhouse of the same level, if the five brothers ever encountered a Highgod, there would be no chance of survival.
Thinking of the sixth Law profundity he had been unable to sense for so long, the bandit leader sighed inwardly once again.
Looks like after we plunder a bit more, I'll just buy a Highgod divine spark and refine it myself.
My potential probably ends here anyway. I'll become the shield for my four brothers—protect them until they grow strong enough.
…
Locke had no idea what paths the five god bandits he had spared would take in the future.
Nor did he fear that they might become trouble for him one day.
In this era, Locke was confident that anyone he surpassed would never have a chance to catch up to him.
Of course, the famous Paragons of later generations were another matter entirely.
Unless Locke himself obtained a Sovereign divine spark in the future wars of faith, even he didn't know whether he would ever have the opportunity to stand face to face with those beings.
After all—
Those were the invincible Paragons.
Even across more than a thousand ages, and countless years of the Coiling Dragon universe, they stood at the very pinnacle beneath the Sovereigns.
Locke glanced at Little White. Over the years, this fellow had grown rather dear to him.
When shrunken down, it was a pet.
When restored to its true form, it was a mount.
It had rendered service—and endured hardship.
With that thought, Locke's soul power rummaged through his spatial ring.
At last, he took out a black, wind-element demigod divine spark.
"Here, Little White."
He tossed the wind-element divine spark over. With a hop, Little White caught it in its mouth.
"Little White, you've followed me for many years now. Consider this wind-element divine spark a reward."
"Whether you refine it or not—that's up to you."
"W-What?!"
"This is… a wind-element demigod divine spark?!"
Hearing Locke's words, Little White's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.
In Hell, Saints were worth less than dogs—only by reaching the divine realm could one barely be considered "someone."
All these years, did Little White not want to break through to godhood?
Of course it did.
It just couldn't.
The world of magical beasts was even crueler than that of humans.
Humans were born weak, but their intelligence gave them an unparalleled advantage in cultivation. Their comprehension of Law profundities far exceeded that of other beings.
Among magical beasts, only those with divine beast bloodlines had a real chance of breaking through that barrier and becoming gods.
Naturally, true divine beasts were born at the Saint Domain and could comprehend a Law profundity upon reaching adulthood, ascending directly to godhood…
But without such lineage or extraordinary fortune, ordinary magical beasts had the Saint Domain as their absolute limit.
Little White was exactly that kind of ordinary magical beast.
Aside from a tiny handful who accidentally comprehended the final sliver of a Law profundity and ascended to godhood, the only path available to such beasts was a divine spark.
Even the cheapest demigod divine spark cost over a hundred inkstones.
To true powerhouses, that might not even be the price of a meal.
But to the magical beasts roaming Hell's wilderness, it was an unattainable, astronomical sum.
In Hell, beings were not picky about their food.
God-level powerhouses often entered the forests to satisfy their appetites, or hunted Saint Domain beasts to sell in the cities for profit…
Little White felt nothing but gratitude for having been taken in as Lord Locke's pet.
Judging from the strength Locke had displayed, he was at least a Highgod.
After all—hadn't those five formidable gods nearly been slapped to death with a single palm?
Of course, as Locke's pet, Little White had once wondered whether it might dare to ask for a reward—something that would allow it to become a demigod.
But that thought was quickly suppressed.
It was only a pet.
What if overstepping its place caused Lord Locke to grow displeased?
And yet now—Lord Locke had personally given it a divine spark.
How could Little White not be overjoyed?
With this divine spark, at most ten years would be enough for it to refine it and become a Demigod.
(End of Chapter)
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