Chapter Fourteen

Such bedtime conversations between Cheng Yuan and the little tiger happened every night. To Cheng Yuan, the little tiger was not a pet, but rather a proud and innocent young boy—yes, a boy. Ever since their contract allowed for a heart-to-heart connection, Cheng Yuan had been certain of this. Moreover, the monsters of this world were not like the beasts of his former life; their intelligence was often proportional to their strength. Except for a few brutes who relied solely on brawn, most powerful monsters were far from lacking in intellect.

To borrow the dramatic phrasing of certain monster scholars: humans choose wisdom first and then gain strength, while monsters opt for strength before developing wisdom. From beginning to end, monsters stood as equals to humans, declaring themselves the rulers of nature with their raw power.

Thus, Cheng Yuan never regarded the little tiger as a mere pet, but as a being with whom he could communicate on equal terms. Their nightly exchanges, in the eyes of both Cheng Yuan and the little tiger, were more like two brothers chatting before bed. Soon, both would drift off to sleep. Cheng Fu, watching for a long time, still could not understand why the little tiger worked so hard. As a King-tier trainer, the feedback he received from his monster already made his physical prowess comparable to that of an ordinary adult-stage monster. To put it simply, if Wu Song could fight a tiger, then so could Teacher Gan.

He could hear Cheng Yuan talking to the little tiger, though he could not make out the little tiger’s part. But from Cheng Yuan’s words, Teacher Gan gained some insight. “It seems that Cheng Yuan’s perspective on monsters differs from that of most people.” Cheng Fu and his wife turned to him. “Please, go on,” they said. Sensing their curiosity, Teacher Gan patiently explained, “Your child doesn’t see the little tiger as a pet.”

Cheng Fu asked in confusion, “Isn’t that normal?” Teacher Gan shook his head. “Do you remember how you regarded your contract monster when you first formed your bond?” The couple thought for a moment, then their eyes widened in realization. Indeed, that was the case.

When trainers first form contracts, they generally feel a psychological or even physical sense of dominance over their monsters. After all, treating a puppy as an equal is impossible for most adults. Typically, equality in dialogue is founded on strength, but people rarely see a puppy as an equal, especially since cub-stage monsters are truly infants, while the human side is already mature, both mentally and emotionally.

During this period, trainers tend to treat their monsters more like playful pets, sometimes even manipulating them, for in real combat, a cub-stage monster is no match for a terrifying upright ape. True equality usually arises at the adult stage, for a kitten-sized tiger and a three-meter-long adult tiger are worlds apart; strength changes both sides’ mentality, making the contract fundamentally equal.

Some adult-stage monsters have poor relationships with their trainers precisely because of conflicts that erupt at maturity. From the cub’s perspective, you bullied me, and now, with similar strength, the arrogance of humans and the ferocity of monsters collide, sparking conflict.

Prompted by Teacher Gan, the couple recalled how their child and the little tiger interacted at school—waiting patiently, taking the tiger out to play on weekends, and sharing the same daily routine. Cheng Fu thought of himself and Nana, both still at the cub stage, and realized that “plaything” was an apt description.

Teacher Gan went on, “To view monsters as equals, to maintain a steady mind, and to encourage their monsters—this is rare even among King-tier trainers. Cheng Yuan treats the little Weijin as he would a close companion. No wonder the little one works so hard.”

Such an attitude is exceptional even among top trainers. Teacher Gan nodded. “Mr. Cheng, now that we’ve clarified the reason, it’s getting late. I’ll take my leave.” “Let me drive you,” Cheng Fu offered. “No need, my monster is waiting for me outside.”

Time passed, and two days had gone by since the home visit. During this time, Cheng Yuan was inexplicably praised as a model student. He was watching the little tiger lick its paws when he noticed something new. The “Scratch” skill had reached its maximum level, triggering an unexpected change. Upon reaching level eight, the little tiger acquired a new skill: Golden Claw. Its innate talent, Agility, meant heightened sensitivity with claw-based skills and an increase in bodily flexibility.

This seemed normal, but more changes followed. The skills Scratch, Run, and Bite linked together, resulting in the mastery of a new skill: Pounce. The skills Scratch and Sharpen Claws also interacted, creating another new skill: Razor Claw.

Cheng Yuan was utterly stunned. Wild and domesticated Weijin White Tigers both possessed these skills, but he had never expected them to be acquired in this manner. He’d always wondered, during his readings, why some skills were neither inherited nor listed among those gained by leveling up. Now he understood—this was how they were triggered. He also recalled that wild Weijin White Tigers exhibited group skills, as some scholars called them, but perhaps that was not entirely accurate.

A single scratch skill could trigger two new skills—this was beyond Cheng Yuan’s expectations. Now, the little tiger had more skills to practice than ever. At first, Cheng Yuan had worried about the lack of skills to train; after all, cub-stage monsters couldn’t go dungeon-crawling, and leveling up became increasingly difficult. After reaching adulthood, monsters with low potential or poor talent often gave up, simply because the resources required for leveling became insurmountable.

Now, these skills were more than enough for the little tiger to train until adulthood. Moreover, Cheng Yuan sensed there would be many more new skills gained through such interactions.

As he was pondering this, class monitor Wang Ningning lightly tapped his desk and said with a smile, “Monthly exam is coming. I’ve improved a lot this month, so don’t you dare lose to me.”

She glanced at the little tiger, her eyes full of astonishment. At level eight, the little tiger was nearly a meter long, much bigger than the Explosive Domineering Turtle. They had formed their contracts only a day apart—how had the little tiger grown so large? Wang Ningning couldn’t figure it out.

Cheng Yuan took out a comb, and the little tiger immediately rolled onto its side atop the desk, sprawling across both their workspaces. Cheng Yuan said, “So, shall we compete?” As he spoke, he ran the comb through the little tiger’s fur.

Wang Ningning recognized the confidence in Cheng Yuan’s eyes. The tiger’s size spoke for itself. While largest did not always mean strongest, greater size almost always meant greater combat ability.

At level eight, the little tiger already outclassed every student in their grade—except for the repeating students. Among his peers, he was invincible. Where he’d previously thought the Explosive Domineering Turtle’s defense was too tough to break, now, with the little tiger’s fiery claws, a single strike would easily shatter its defenses.