Chapter Nineteen

The Savage Marsh Giant Lizard stared at the large-eyed creature before it. It was not of its kind; its genes told it that once discovered, it would be eaten—regardless of whether the other was a kin or not. Yet, there was something strangely kind about the creature’s demeanor. The lizard craned its head, tentatively opening its jaws to fake a bite at the chicken leg. After a few attempts, it realized this being posed no threat. Finally, it opened its mouth wide, clamped down on the chicken, and began tearing at the meat, shaking its neck vigorously.

Cheng Yuan watched as the giant lizard finished the chicken leg, leaving only a bare bone. He withdrew the bone, closed the chemical drum with a net, and wondered if he could catch a few more such monsters as candidates for his second creature.

Back in the dormitory, Cheng Yuan began arranging his bed. His mother had prepared everything thoroughly, and with the bedding provided by the school, it was an easy task to get everything in order.

The little tiger was already dozing off. Cradling the noodle-like cub, Cheng Yuan eyed its disheveled fur, running in tufts from belly to back. If they were at home, the cub would have long been licked clean by the adult tiger. Here, though, no one would do so. As its trainer, Cheng Yuan could not let it sleep in such a state.

He fetched a brush and groomed the little tiger. By the time he finished, the cub had already fallen fast asleep. Cheng Yuan tossed the collected fur into the trash and lay down to rest. Not long after he drifted off, the other dormmates returned. “I met a senior today—she’s even shorter than my sister! At first glance, I thought she was a teacher’s child who got lost. Ridiculous!”

At that moment, someone noticed Cheng Yuan sleeping soundly on his bed. “He’s asleep so early!” The little tiger, roused by unfamiliar voices, opened its eyes, glanced at the newcomers, then at Cheng Yuan, and burrowed back under the covers. A boy could not help but remark, “That’s kind of cute.” The others nodded in agreement. “We should get some rest too.” “Yeah, we’ve been running around the dungeon and campus all day.”

A horde of monsters, especially the four largest, looked bewildered as they were herded into the room, sprawling everywhere except the entryway. Xu Hao glanced at his own steely, toothy Feral-Toothed Crocodile, then at the soft little tiger curled up beside Cheng Yuan. For a moment, envy flickered in his eyes. The crocodile looked at its trainer climbing into bed, then at the monsters covering the floor, and called out to Xu Hao.

“What are you afraid of?” Xu Hao grumbled, as the crocodile lowered its head. With a sigh, he patted the bed. “Come up here.” The Feral-Toothed Crocodile brightened, bounding joyfully onto the bed, thumping its feet and swishing its tail before burrowing under Xu Hao’s blanket.

Feeling something sharp poking his side, Xu Hao reached over to adjust the crocodile’s head. “Sleep like this.” With the creature lying contentedly beside him, Xu Hao finally felt satisfied. “Now sleep.”

The monsters on the floor snorted in disdain, then closed their eyes. The next morning, Cheng Yuan rose, washed up, brushed the little tiger’s fur, then left with the chemical drum and fishing gear. Arriving at the cafeteria, he found that the seniors from Xichuan University were already eating, though only a few had their creatures with them. One wore a miserable expression as he brushed the fur of a massive golden retriever. The retriever’s tongue kept lapping its trainer, leaving him drenched—quite literally.

Cheng Yuan knew this would be his fate soon enough. Grooming the little tiger was easy for now, but as it matured to its adult stage, or worse, reached the king tier at five or six meters—or even over ten meters for the giant individuals—brushing its fur would take half a day, especially if it was as affectionate as this retriever.

He sighed at the thought, but with the system at his side, Cheng Yuan knew such chores were inevitable. The little tiger, meanwhile, was wrestling with its steak. Barely over a meter long, its teeth, enhanced by golden enchantments, could easily crush bones. Unfortunately, this was no ordinary steak, but meat from a Savage Highland Yak—a monster species from the snowy highlands, whose adult leaders could easily command herds to battle disaster-class monsters. Even after being killed and pressure-cooked, the flesh was too tough for a little gold-ranked cub.

The cub’s teeth gnashed and tore, its claws pinning the yak’s head as it yanked back, trying to tear off a bite-sized morsel. Suddenly, with a crack, the steak flew up—accompanied by a gleaming white tooth—before landing with a smack back on the table.

The little tiger’s commotion drew plenty of attention. Cheng Yuan, startled, wondered how the steak had managed to fly. The cub stared at the fallen meat in shock, then looked up at its trainer and began to whimper. After a moment, it felt something odd in its mouth.

Cheng Yuan noticed, “You seem to be missing a tooth.” He reached out, gently pried open the cub’s jaws, and inspected its mouth. As a trainer, he was familiar with the cub’s health. Feeling around the gap, he found a milky-white hard nub. “You’re shedding your baby teeth!”

He checked the rest—many were loose. Looking around, he soon found the lost tooth on the ground. Placing it on the table, he reassured, “Don’t worry, you’re just changing teeth. The new ones will grow in soon.”

The little tiger relaxed, trusting that if its trainer said so, it must be true. Looking at the steak, Cheng Yuan understood what the cub wanted. He took out a special knife, sliced the meat, and fed it piece by piece.

This king-tier monster meat was a tremendous boost for the cub—after digesting it, it might even level up. The golden retriever monster eyed Cheng Yuan’s actions, then barked at its own trainer.

The trainer was dumbfounded. “You want steak too? And you want me to feed you? Brushing your fur already exhausts me!” Cheng Yuan and his little tiger quickly finished eating and set off for the dungeon, fishing gear in tow.

At the site, Cheng Yuan retrieved a book that had been drying overnight. Now crisp and clear, the writing was legible. “All I want is to fish in peace. Why do these damned church people keep following me? It’s so annoying. I can’t even kill them outright. So annoying, so annoying. (*￣︿￣)” The delicate script and the little emoticon beside it struck Cheng Yuan as rather adorable. He read on, expecting a diary, but soon came upon a chapter titled “Wind-Chasing Step,” a lightness skill.

It dawned on Cheng Yuan—this was a skill book.