Strength Attribute Point

Returning to the cold, silent Slytherin dormitory, Skofot locked the door behind him. Leaning against the cool wood, he let out a soft breath.

Tonight's "haul" was pretty good, though the process was a bit... tooth-aching.

He subconsciously touched his wrist, then licked his teeth.

Habitually, he summoned the system panel, his gaze sweeping over his Emotion Points balance before landing on the day's shop refresh.

[Today's Items: [Strength Attribute Point -- 10 Emotion Points]]

Skofot froze.

Strength Attribute Point?

And only 10 Emotion Points?

The price was so low it felt like a system malfunction sale.

The various cards he'd bought before, with their diverse functions, cost dozens or even hundreds. This, which directly enhanced a basic attribute, was actually this cheap?

He stared at the number, his heart uncontrollably speeding up.

Strength... the most direct, purest physical power.

For him, this meant more self-preservation ability, less reliance on those cards with obvious side effects, and, when necessary, more effective... physical persuasion.

With almost no hesitation, a wild thought took shape in his mind.

Buy! Buy as much as possible!

He currently had 1490 Emotion Points.

Deducting 100 as a necessary emergency reserve, he would invest the remaining 1390 points entirely!

"Purchase Strength Attribute Points, 139 times," he commanded the System in his mind.

[Emotion Points -1390]

[Emotion Points: 100/100]

An indescribably vast surge of heat instantly exploded within him!

It was as if countless streams of scorching lava were surging and roaring through every blood vessel, every muscle fiber!

His bones emitted a faint yet dense hum, like fine steel being repeatedly hammered by invisible mallets.

A violent ache and tearing sensation swept through his entire body. He let out a muffled groan, involuntarily dropping to one knee. His fingers dug deeply into the old carpet beneath him, veins bulging on his forehead as cold sweat instantly soaked his inner shirt.

This pain far exceeded his imagination, ten, a hundred times more intense than the side effects of switching any card!

He felt like an overinflated balloon, about to burst at any moment.

After an unknown amount of time, the surging tide of energy gradually subsided, transforming into a heavy, incredibly fulfilling sense of power distributed evenly throughout his limbs and torso.

He slowly stood up, flexing his arms and legs. A strange feeling of lightness and weight, intertwined in a way he'd never experienced before, washed over him.

It felt as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted, yet also as if he could casually lift a thousand-pound object.

He walked to the bedside, a four-poster bed made of Hogwarts' ancient, hard oak.

He extended his right hand. His originally pale, slender fingers showed no significant change, but he could feel the power contained within them, like a dormant beast.

First, he gently touched the bedpost with his finger, then covered it with his entire palm and squeezed slightly—

"Crack..."

A clear, crisp sound of wood splintering echoed sharply in the silent room.

He released his hand and saw that on the solid oak bedpost, as thick as a bowl, were five distinct finger imprints, and spreading out from the center of the imprints were spiderweb-like cracks.

Wood shavings rained down.

Skofot looked at the bedpost on the verge of breaking, then down at his own unharmed hands, which didn't even have a red mark, and remained silent for a full three seconds.

Immediately, an indescribable, almost euphoric emotion surged through him.

Worth it!

So worth it!

1390 Emotion Points for this level of power increase was practically robbing the System!

He had initially worried that this amount of Emotion Points wouldn't be enough, but now it seemed that was completely unnecessary.

This strength, while not yet enough to move mountains and overturn seas, was definitely sufficient to deal with ordinary wizards... or rather, when "physical communication" was needed.

He carefully controlled his strength, propping up the bedpost he had damaged, and used the quilt and other items to vaguely conceal the cracks.

He hoped the ancient furniture was sturdy enough to last until his graduation... or until he accidentally exerted too much force again.

After finishing this, he lay back down on the bed, feeling the surging yet completely controlled new power within his body, the corners of his mouth rising uncontrollably.

Tonight, despite being bitten (he bit someone else) and spending almost all his accumulated Emotion Points, the result... was unexpectedly satisfying.

He closed his eyes, carrying the newfound understanding of his own strength and a sense of "exceeding value" satisfaction, and fell into a deep sleep.

The next day, the Hogwarts Great Hall was as boisterous as ever, sunlight streaming through the tall windows onto the four House tables.

On the Slytherin side, students were enjoying breakfast, conversing in low voices.

Skofot held his plate, his gaze calmly sweeping across the long table, finally landing on Draco Malfoy, who was currently taking small sips of oatmeal while boasting about something to Crabbe and Goyle.

Without hesitation, he walked straight over.

Malfoy was in the middle of an excited speech when he suddenly felt a shadow fall over him.

He looked up and saw Skofot standing before him. The smugness on his face instantly froze, replaced by a hint of imperceptible panic.

He instinctively flinched back.

"Leoqi? You..."

Before he could finish speaking, Skofot had already bent down, his movements so fluid they seemed practiced countless times. One hand went under his knees, the other wrapped around his back. With a slight lift—

"Ah!" Malfoy let out a short yelp.

He was lifted into the air, held horizontally!

The surrounding Slytherin students were stunned, spoons frozen mid-air, chewing stopped, watching the scene in disbelief.

Crabbe and Goyle's mouths hung open, bread dropping from their hands onto their plates.

Skofot, as if oblivious to the astonished gazes, carried the stiff, pale-faced Malfoy and turned to walk to his usual secluded seat. Then—

—he sat down, placing Malfoy directly onto his lap, like settling a large doll.

"Eat," Skofot said, gesturing with his chin towards the plate in front of Malfoy (which he had conveniently brought along). His tone was flat, as if this were the most normal arrangement in the world.

Malfoy was completely dazed. Blood rushed to his head, his cheeks flushing crimson with both shame and fear.

In his entire life, he had never suffered such a humiliating disgrace!

To be picked up like a doll and placed on a man's lap, and a dangerous one like Leoqi at that?!

"Let go of me! You lunatic!"

He struggled, flailing his limbs, trying to get off Skofot's lap, his voice shrill with agitation and humiliation.

However, the arm holding him was like an iron hoop, unmoving.

Skofot wasn't even using much strength, merely holding him steady.

Sensing Malfoy's fierce resistance, Skofot frowned slightly.

Trouble.

With a thought, the [Rabbit Rhymer] Card was instantly unequipped, switching to [Scavenger].

Without deliberately releasing Killing Intent, a cold, spine-chilling sense of "wrongness" enveloped Malfoy in his arms like an invisible mist.