Weakest Beast Tamer Gets All SSS Dragons

Chapter 709: Chapter 709 - Taming the Fifth Year - Round-up - 2

The watcher was pale. Trembling. Blood still dripping from his cut ear, the minor wound somehow more terrifying than a major injury would have been because it demonstrated such precise control.

Zhao could have killed him... But had chosen the ear instead as a statement.

’I see you, I hear you and I can end you whenever I want.’

”And if you thought you could avoid the new lie detection system, you were very wrong.”

The recent implementation of truth-verification techniques made lying under interrogation nearly impossible.

While Zhao spoke, roots were already surrounding the watcher. They coiled around his legs, his torso, his arms, forming a tight cocoon that immobilized him completely.

The man tried to struggle. Tried to protest... His mouth opened but only whimpers emerged, fear having stolen his ability to form coherent arguments or threats.

Ren kept moving among the unconscious and semi-conscious bodies, creating similar cocoons for each attacker. The roots emerged from the ground as if they’d been waiting for orders, wrapping quickly.

The wood control was artistic in its precision. Each cocoon perfectly sized for its occupant, tight enough to prevent movement but loose enough to allow breathing.

All the cocoons closed.

Except Jin’s.

Ren stopped in front of the Strahlfang heir, who was still somewhat conscious despite the brutal beating. Jin’s eyes, swollen and bleeding, stared at Ren with impotent hatred.

All the rage that had driven him here. All the grief for his brother. All the obsession that had consumed 4 years of his life.

None of it mattered now.

He’d lost...

Completely and humiliatingly.

Ren gave him a few extra slaps.

Not punches. Slaps...

The kind of humiliating smacks you used with poorly-behaved children, not with serious enemies.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The sound echoed through the tunnel. Sharp and disrespectful. The ultimate insult to someone who’d built his entire vendetta on notions of honor and family pride.

”This,” Ren said softly between slaps, his voice carrying more weight than any shout, ”is so you remember...”

Slap.

”So you understand that next time you want to fight...”

Slap.

”You’d better bring an army.”

The words weren’t a threat.

They were statements of fact...

Some people were just on different tiers of existence.

Then Jin’s cocoon closed too, roots wrapping around his beaten face until only another vegetal lump remained in the collection.

Ren had also enclosed the other wounded adults, extracting them from their hiding spots with roots that extended through the lateral tunnels. Eight additional lumps formed, each containing an adult attacker with feathers still buried in their flesh.

Twenty-four cocoons in total.

All the root cocoons connected to Ren’s Hydra.

The beast had approached silently, its two heads observing its master’s work with what could be interpreted as reptilian approval. The intelligence in those eyes suggested it understood exactly what was happening, that it wasn’t just following orders but participating in justice.

Ren had formed a hook of intertwined roots, reinforced with wood mana that glowed with soft green light. The structure was complex... interwoven fibers creating something stronger than steel, flexible enough to absorb shock but rigid enough to support enormous weight.

It connected to the Hydra’s tails, and from that hook hung twenty-four long and resistant roots, each one connected to a different cocoon.

The Hydra could hold all twenty-four cocoons and drag them while walking, like a fisherman dragging a net full of particularly stupid fish.

The mental image was almost comical. A two-headed serpent beast pulling a train of human-shaped root packages through tunnels designed for spider monsters.

”Let’s go,” Ren said simply, and the group set in motion.

♢♢♢♢

Thus, the group finally traveled without further interruptions.

They crossed back through the spider tunnels, where the weavers watched the strange parade but didn’t interfere. Perhaps they recognized Ren from earlier. Perhaps they simply found the spectacle too bizarre to process. Or perhaps they understood on some instinctive level that these humans had earned safe passage through demonstrated competence.

The massive spiders clung to their webs, mandibles clicking in what might have been conversation or might have been simple anxiety.

They emerged onto the plains, where the grasses seemed to bow slightly with the wind, as if greeting Ren specifically.

Or maybe that was just Klein’s imagination, projection of awe onto natural phenomena because at this point he wouldn’t be surprised if the environment itself had decided Ren was worth respecting.

They crossed through Yino city, where merchants stopped mid-negotiation to stare open-mouthed at the parade.

Beasts and students loaded with silk that glowed with quality even from distance. And twenty-four cocoons being dragged by a multi-headed Hydra.

The street traffic literally stopped. Carts halted, pedestrians pressed against building walls to let them pass. Children pointed and asked questions their parents couldn’t answer.

Someone started clapping.

Then another.

Then a third.

Soon half the street was applauding, though Klein suspected most of them had no idea what they were celebrating. Just that it looked impressive and therefore deserved recognition.

Ren ignored the attention completely, leading his group forward with the same calm expression he’d maintained throughout everything.

Like dragging two dozen captured assassins through a foreign city was just another Tuesday.”

♢♢♢♢

A while later...

They were almost leaving Yino City.

”What the hell...?” a vendor muttered, his wares forgotten as he stared at the procession passing through his street.

”Don’t ask,” his companion responded wisely, years of surviving close to the border of the city having taught him when curiosity wasn’t worth the trouble. ”Just... don’t ask.”

The advice was sound. Sometimes in places where two territories met, where politics tangled with commerce and military posturing, the smartest merchants were the ones who learned to see nothing, hear nothing, and definitely ask nothing about strange parades involving noble children and suspicious root-wrapped packages.

Children ran alongside the group, pointing excitedly at the Hydra and asking questions their parents refused to answer.

”Mommy, why does the beast have 2 heads?”

”Don’t point, dear.”

”But Mommy, what are those green lumps?”

”I said don’t point!”

”Are those people inside the...”

”We’re going home. Now.”

The parade continued, equal parts triumphant procession and bizarre spectacle that would fuel tavern stories for months.