Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Chapter 713: Chapter 713 – Taming the Fifth Year – Before Losing Courage

The second trip passed more quickly now that they knew the exact path.

The marks Ren had left were easy to follow even in the semi-darkness of the tunnel. Perfect guides that eliminated all doubt about direction… Since blackish tunnels where trees had absorbed the mana-infused silk stood out clearly against the surrounding white.

Ren’s preparation transforming again an impossible terrain into a simple commute.

They reached Silver 1 ring without incidents, the spiders recognizing their previous passage and keeping their distance.

The massive weavers had learned. These humans weren’t prey to be ambushed. Weren’t intruders to be driven out. They were something else… attacking them would be a fatal mistake.

Mutual respect… The spiders stayed in their webs. The humans stayed on their path. Everyone was happy with the arrangement.

But just as they started to speed up their pace, they heard voices.

“Please! Help!”

“We’re trapped!”

The sounds echoed through tunnels, distorted by silk-covered walls and complex acoustics until determining exact direction became difficult.

It sounded desperate… The particular tone of people who’d been in danger long enough that hope was fading.

Ren sighed, recognizing the situation immediately.

But maybe it wasn’t a bad thing…

♢♢♢♢

They found two of the five teams that had originally followed them.

These were the ones who’d been trying to copy his strategy without really understanding how it worked. Like watching someone perform a complex technique and thinking you could replicate it by mimicking surface movements without grasping the underlying principles.

They found them at the beginning of Silver 1 ring, exhausted and fighting three weaver spiders.

The students looked terrible. Clothing torn from brushing, faces pale with fatigue and fear. Movements sluggish from hours of constant tension and adrenaline crashes. Their beasts were in similar condition…

The spiders circled them with the patience of predators who understood their prey was already beaten. No rush to attack. Just steady pressure, waiting for the inevitable moment when exhaustion became too much and defense collapsed.

But they were yet to be in real danger, the tutor and watcher were still there. And Ren decided to help anyway, so a minute later…

“How did you end up here?” Ren asked after having dispersed the spiders with a casual pulse of wind mana.

“We tried to follow your strategy,” one of the leaders admitted, shame coloring his voice. “But we got lost after trying to go over the top… We came down and found these kids from another team who’d tried to break through walls and they explained it wasn’t possible… We’ve been going in circles for hours trying to find the exit.”

The confession showed the recognition that they had ended understanding too late that what looked simple when Ren did it was actually the result of preparation, knowledge, and capability they didn’t possess.

The two tutors and two watchers assigned to these groups sighed and made faces like they were trying to “show patience” to the poor kids to avoid helping and disqualifying them for incompetence… But in reality, they wouldn’t be able to find the exit easily either.

The adults were almost as lost as the students. The three-dimensional nature of weaver forests defeated normal navigation techniques.

“And our backpacks are barely half full,” another added miserably, gesturing to the pathetically light loads. “There are only small patches of good quality. It’s too difficult to find decent fabric.”

Because they didn’t understand the aging process. Didn’t recognize which silk had undergone proper maturation versus which was too fresh or too degraded. Couldn’t identify the optimal zones where humidity and mana concentration created ideal conditions.

They’d been randomly cutting whatever decent silk they found, quantity over quality, hoping volume would compensate for inferior product.

It wouldn’t.

Ren observed them for a long moment, calculation running behind his eyes.

Helping them would cost time. Time they could spend gathering more silk, maximizing their own profit. The pragmatic choice was to show them the black tunnels and point them toward the exit and leave them to manage on their own.

But they could also be leverage… Extra carrying capacity.

And leaving students alone when he could easily extract them felt wrong….

He sighed again.

“We’ll get you out,” he decided. “But you’re going to carry.”

“Carry?”

“We’ll have extra silk that can be transported with your help. If you want us to guide you back to the exit with no more spider fights, each of you carries at least five backpacks of our material with your beasts.”

The offer was generous considering the alternative was staying lost in spider territory until the exam ended or they ran into so many spiders that actually killed them. Transporting five backpacks was nothing compared to the value of safe extraction.

The two teams exchanged glances, then nodded vigorously.

“Yes! Of course!”

“Whatever it takes to get out of here!”

Desperation made the decision easy. Pride was worthless when measured against survival. They’d become pack animals for Ren’s expedition and count themselves fortunate for the opportunity.

♢♢♢♢

So the second trip ended with not only Ren’s group loaded to the limit, but also with ten additional students carrying extra material.

The evaluators startled at first, more people meant potential complications, different materials to assess, disruption of their streamlined processing.

But then they almost cried with joy when they saw that everything was still the same first-quality silk.

More volume but no additional complexity. Just multiplication of an already-solved problem. Their favorite kind of extra work because it wasn’t really hard work at all, just repetition of established processes.

“You’re going to make us rich,” the middle-aged evaluator told Ren with a good feeling. “The processing commission on this volume…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t need to. Everyone understood that evaluators received a small percentage of total value processed.

Ren had created a situation where everyone won. His team got wealthy. The lost students got rescued and some commissions too. The evaluators got easy money.

Win-win-win scenarios were rare enough that people noticed when they happened, since no party felt bad about them.

♢♢♢♢

The third trip passed without problems.

By this point, Ren’s team had perfected the system. They knew exactly where to cut, how to pack, how to maximize space in their backpacks without damaging the delicate fibers.

Efficiency born from repetition. Movements becoming automatic, coordination requiring no verbal communication because now everyone understood their role completely.

The hours passed in a blur of constant activity. Cut, roll, pack, load. Move to the next site. Repeat.

A rhythm that was almost meditative. Physical labor that let minds wander while bodies performed practiced tasks. Some students hummed. Others chatted quietly. Klein mostly stayed silent, thoughts occupied with everything that had happened and what he needed to do next.

When they were almost ready to start the journey out of the tunnels for the third time, the sun was low on the horizon. They had maybe an hour of light left before it became completely dark for the third day, but they had more than enough time to be back.

“This is the last trip,” Ren announced as he finished the final preparations.

The words carried finality. The end of something that had been simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating. Three trips in just over two and a half days, crossing territory that should have taken weeks to navigate safely, gathering wealth that would help define their cultivation and futures.

Just before everything was completely stored, while Ren was finishing arranging the last details, Klein approached.

His expression was serious. Not nervous exactly, but tense with something he’d clearly been carrying for a long time.

The weight of confession about to be spoken. Of secrets that would change dynamics once revealed. Of trust that could be broken or strengthened depending on how the next few minutes went.

“Ren,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the beasts getting loaded and students celebrating their hauls. “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

Ren turned, observing him with that complete attention he gave when something actually mattered. Not casual interest but focused analysis, reading body language and tone to assess importance.

“Now?”

“Yes… Now.” Klein swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Before I lose the courage.”

The confession hung between them. Admission that whatever Klein had to say required courage, which meant it was something difficult.

Ren studied his expression for a moment, thoughts running behind those eyes that always seemed to see more than they should.

Then he nodded. “Alright… Speak.”