"Master Jiro, let me handle this. My method's more efficient."
Zed wasn't showboating—his approach minimized effort while affecting the entire Puffer Whale school.
"Ah, right. With a Saiseiya present, why bother?" Master Jiro chuckled, sheathing his Knocking Gun.
Zed produced a vial of potent paralytic agent. A single drop dispersed into the seawater, spreading rapidly—within ten seconds, every creature within a kilometer radius stiffened. The drug's efficacy scaled with target strength, but against Puffer Whales (whose Capture Level reflected capture difficulty, not combat prowess), it rendered them inert. Unconscious, they couldn't self-poison upon harvest.
"Your Saiseiya tricks are handy for this," Master Jiro remarked. His own wide-range Knocking could achieve similar results but felt excessive—like "nuking mosquitos."
Zed conjured calorie-forged kitchenware—a colossal colander-spoon—to scoop the paralyzed Puffer Whales. Thousands of post-spawn adults filled his utensil. Overharvesting posed no issue; the Beach Cave's limited space staggered spawning cycles, and surviving eggs ensured proper reproduction. As a Saiseiya, Zed's calculations were precise.
"Master Jiro, how many do you need?" Zed asked, gesturing to the immobilized Puffer Whales.
"Just enough for Fish Fin Wine and a gift to Granny Setsuno. This jar'll suffices." Master Jiro produced a collapsible container, its folded form deceptively compact.
Zed began transferring the fish, then halted. "Wait—the Paralysis Drug lasts only thirty minutes. They'll revive soon."
Golden micro-spikes materialized around him—miniaturized chopsticks honed by Gourmet Cells. They darted through the Puffer Whales, performing precision Knocking to suspend metabolic functions. Without killing them, this kept the creatures dormant post-paralysis. Pre-Food Honor, such a feat would've overwhelmed Zed; now, it flowed effortlessly.
"Your Knocking's improved, though still unrefined. Visit Granny Setsuno once you've mastered Food Honor," Master Jiro approved, watching the spikes' ballet. By human standards, Zed's skill was exceptional—but the old master's standard stood stratospheric.
"Thank you, Master Jiro!" Zed stowed the jar, pulse quickening. This wasn't casual guidance—it signaled formal apprenticeship.
"Enough pleasantries. I'm off." Master Jiro hefted the jar—now brimming with hundreds of Puffer Whales—and vanished, leaving Zed to the remaining thousands.
Alone in the Cave
Zed summoned another swarm of calorie-forged chopsticks. This time, they slit throats, not pressure points. His System Space couldn't store living matter, necessitating swift kills.
Cooking Puffer Whales demanded surgical precision: each poison sac and gland hid uniquely, requiring bespoke dissection. For Zed, locating them posed no issue—his Gourmet Cells mapped toxins instinctively—but preparation could wait.