Leopard's Change

【Host: Su Cheng】

【Intelligence: 9】

【Charm: 8】

【Stamina: 8】

【System: "The perfect man has no self; the divine man has no merit; the sage has no fame."】

【Status: Archery Champion, Son-in-law of the Ji Family】

【Club: Social Practice Club】

【Wealth: 183,200】

【System Skills: Time Stop, Path of Asura, Animal Realm】

【Charm Talent Skill: Abyssal Charisma】

【Intelligence Talent Skill (Adaptive): Sensory Enhancement】

【Intelligence Talent Skill (Analytical): Detachment from the Mundane】

【System Items: Mystic Cigarettes (Hard) 8/pack, Mystic Cigarettes (Soft) 15/Ring-Head Blade, Red Potion, Mystic Glasses】

【Ding—】

【Attribute Talent Skills Unlocked】

【Intelligence has reached 9】

【Talent Skill 1: Memory Enhancement】

【Talent Skill 2: Observation Enhancement】

【Talent Skill 3: Imagination Enhancement】

【Talent Skill 4: Analytical Enhancement】

【Talent Skill 5: Judgment Enhancement】

【Talent Skill 6: Adaptive Enhancement】

【Ding—】

【Congratulations, Host has acquired Talent Skill: Analytical (Enhanced)】

"View skills."

【Intelligence Talent Skills】

【Analytical Enhancement: Detachment from the Mundane】

【Passive: Your expressions and emotions can be actively controlled, appearing natural and genuine, making it difficult for others to discern your inner fluctuations.】

【Active: When activated, closing your eyes allows you to discard subjective emotions and perceive everything objectively.】

"This passive skill..."

As Su Cheng read the description, before he could react, he instantly became aware of his own emotional shifts.

The experience was utterly novel—the deeply buried superego in his subconscious suddenly seemed capable of taking control of his body.

It was as if a third-person perspective had emerged in his mind, allowing him to foresee his own emotional changes and expressions, transforming him into more of an observer.

"Did the skill activate immediately?"

Su Cheng stood up and walked straight to the bathroom. Staring at his reflection, he noticed his face now showed no trace of emotion.

If his emotional state had once been easily influenced by external factors, now he could self-monitor, maintaining constant awareness of his emotional ebbs and flows.

He could even control his emotions—like embarrassment.

At the thought, a memory of an awkward moment flashed through his mind.

Instantly, his face flushed slightly, his body instinctively reacting—his head lowered, his heartbeat quickened, as if overwhelmed by discomfort.

"Is this what 'genuine and natural' means?"

The next second, Su Cheng returned to a calm and composed state. He touched his still-warm cheeks—the earlier embarrassment and blush had vanished without a trace, replaced by serenity and rationality.

"This ability is even more comprehensive than the poker-face glasses."

After briefly acclimating to the change, Su Cheng turned his attention to the active skill. The description stated that activating it while closing his eyes would allow him to discard subjective emotions and view everything objectively.

A simple sentence, yet packed with implications.

For example—what was "objectivity"?

Objectivity meant observing things from an outsider's perspective, free from personal biases, emotions, or will.

In short, he could analyze any issue without emotional interference, like a detached bystander.

As the saying goes: "Those involved are confused; those outside see clearly."

Overthinking often clouds judgment, whereas an outsider grasps the bigger picture.

"You could call it a 'God's-eye view.'"

Su Cheng pondered. In the past, he might have eagerly tested the skill, but now he hesitated, opting for caution.

He knew such a state had pros and cons. Activating it recklessly might plunge him into a detached, self-alienating realm, risking total disconnection from reality.

"The name says it all."

He glanced at the skill's title—"Detachment from the Mundane." Those four words perfectly encapsulated its effect: transcending worldly attachments, becoming an aloof observer.

"Just one minute!"

Finally, Su Cheng decided to activate "Detachment from the Mundane," intending to objectively review his past and future.

But he took precautions to avoid losing himself.

His measures were simple: setting an alarm and calling over the dog, Da Huang, from the balcony.

If the alarm failed, Da Huang would tug at his clothes to snap him out of it.

Preparations complete, he sat on the sofa with Da Huang curled at his feet. A timer on the coffee table was set for one minute.

"Detachment from the Mundane—activate!"

With a thought, a peculiar sensation surged through him. His mental acuity multiplied instantly, and his memories flashed like lightning.

Tracing origins, a single thought spanned the world.

Now, he stood above the atmosphere, suspended between life and death—no right or wrong, no emotions—entering a transcendent state of selflessness.

He could vividly perceive every shift in his past self, even the emotional fluctuations of every living being in his memories, sensing their true thoughts.

It was as if his life had been written into a book, every detail laid bare before him—details he’d never noticed before.

But he didn’t stop. His thoughts expanded endlessly.

The world dissolved into symbols before his eyes. Nothing escaped his hyper-rational, ultra-objective gaze. The essence of everything—even the most convoluted, interest-laden complexities—was laid bare.

Yet even after seeing the truth, it all seemed trivial.

Past conflicts, relationships, disputes—all now felt insignificant.

Next, his mind raced through countless possible futures, simulating alternate paths his life could take.

Loneliness. Emptiness.

His own foolishness. Humanity’s folly.

He could feel his soul withering—yet he remained unmoved. Without emotions, life and death were mere concepts.

Everything could be accepted. He had reached a state of desirelessness, seeking only transcendence.

Outside, only ten seconds had passed.

The alarm hadn’t sounded.

Da Huang hadn’t moved.

Su Cheng remained seated, eyes closed, his aura now ethereal. To any observer, he would seem divine—a detached deity, free from worldly cravings.

However, this feeling wasn’t pure. If he had to describe it, his current state was a fusion of humanity and divinity—an indescribable contradiction.

An inner battle raged, a tug-of-war between the two. His humanity was constantly suppressed by divinity, yet it refused to yield, entwining, resisting, and struggling defiantly.

And instinct was the fiercest aspect of his humanity.

His hands trembled uncontrollably, his lower body stirring with desire as his human side sought release.

But instinctual urges are often fleeting. In an instant, the fire subsided, leaving calm in its wake.

Humanity was swiftly overtaken by divinity, the shift happening so fast that it nearly consumed him entirely.

Then, suddenly, a dark figure flew in through the window, landing squarely on his shoulder.

It was Yaya.

Tilting her head, she blinked in surprise at the motionless Su Cheng, her little head turning curiously.

But the next moment, her eyes widened as she noticed the telltale softening beneath his pants.

A worm?

She cocked her head again, studying Su Cheng, who remained with his eyes shut. Without hesitation, she hopped onto the sofa, stretched her neck, and pecked straight at his crotch.

Su Cheng jolted awake with a yelp, his consciousness snapping back. Now, fully human again, he shuddered at the thought of his earlier state. If Yaya hadn’t intervened, he might have ascended to godhood.

"You saved me. Love you, Yaya."

He nudged the nearby golden retriever, Da Huang, with his foot and lifted Yaya to nuzzle her against his cheek.

Yaya and Da Huang exchanged baffled glances.

But clever Yaya quickly caught on.

She realized that pecking his crotch was the key to making him happy.

Nearby, the equally sharp Da Huang, having witnessed Yaya’s move, came to his own conclusion: he must’ve been kicked because he hadn’t bitten Su Cheng. So, without delay, he opened his jaws and aimed for the same vulnerable spot.