Leopard's New Skill

Chen Guan stared at the screen, his thumb hovering above it, not in a rush to reply.

The leopard got up from the floor, sidled over to glance at his phone screen, then yawned and padded over to the corner to lie down.

It had grown stronger, not smarter—human text was still too difficult for it.

Better to catch up on sleep.

His phone buzzed again.

[White Tiger: Oh, right. Finish the apple. Don’t waste it.]

Chen Guan set the phone down by his pillow without replying. White Tiger still couldn’t let go of his apple.

He glanced at the coffin in the corner.

What to do about the coffin?

If he showed up at a gray-hat organization carrying a coffin on his back, he wouldn’t even need to introduce himself. The image alone would be attention-grabbing enough to have his name practically written across the sky.

The problem was: if he didn’t bring the coffin, what did he do?

The leopard, sensing his distress, padded over and rubbed against Chen Guan’s leg.

Master was in trouble. Nap time would have to wait.

A spatial rift appeared before Chen Guan.

“You mean I can put it in there?”

The leopard nodded obediently.

“What about living people?”

The leopard nodded again.

Chen Guan thought for a moment, then grabbed a live chicken and tossed it into the spatial rift.

Better test it on something else alive first. If there were no issues, then he could invite Old Me in.

If that chicken came out alive, Chen Guan would have to give the leopard major credit. Picking up this leopard had been a steal—a proper growth-oriented leopard material.

It wasn’t for nothing that he’d put in the effort.

The leopard curled up in the corner, a spark of purple arcing across the tip of its tail from time to time, looking like it had fully adapted to the changes its new body brought.

While waiting, his phone buzzed again.

Chen Guan flipped it over.

Still White Tiger.

[White Tiger: 3 PM, that alley off West Gate. Second Noodle Shop. I’ll wait for you there.]

[White Tiger: Don’t be late.]

Chen Guan didn’t reply. He locked the screen. He was surprised White Tiger hadn’t barged in.

Also, hadn’t he said “a couple of days”? He hadn’t even blinked.

Chen Guan lay back down on the bed, closed his eyes for a while—not really sleeping, just letting his mind drift as he waited for time to pass.

When he opened his eyes again, the light outside the window had shifted from pale gray to full daylight.

He sat up, washed his face, and changed clothes.

As he reached the door, he glanced back at the coffin propped against the wall.

He walked over to the leopard, crouched down, and patted its head.

“Give it a try.”

The leopard opened its eyes, lifting its head groggily.

Chen Guan pointed at the coffin, now empty inside.

“Put it away.”

The leopard looked at the coffin, then at Chen Guan, and finally gave a wary glance toward its own form. It stifled a yawn and stood up briskly.

A dark purple spatial crack split open beside the coffin, wide enough for it to pass through.

The coffin tilted slightly, then was swallowed whole.

The rift sealed shut. The coffin was gone.

The room suddenly felt a lot more spacious.

Chen Guan looked at the empty corner, then back at the leopard.

“Still inside?”

The leopard nodded.

“What about the live chicken?”

The leopard nodded again, its tail swishing smugly.

Chen Guan thought it over, still uneasy, and had the leopard open the rift again to spit the chicken out.

The spatial crack reopened, and both the coffin and the chicken came tumbling out, landing steadily in their original spots.

A clump of chicken feathers now sat on top of the coffin lid. The chicken was indeed still alive, flapping its wings as it jumped down from the coffin, clucking twice as it wandered around the dorm room.

Alive.

Chen Guan picked up the chicken, inspected it, and confirmed the spatial rift was safe for living things.

But he still wasn’t completely convinced, so he chose to step inside himself.

Chen Guan walked into the spatial rift—coffin in one hand, chicken in the other.

The temperature inside was a few degrees cooler than outside, the light dim. The spatial boundaries blurred and stretched into the distance, their end invisible.

Chen Guan stayed inside for about three minutes.

Sensation was normal. Breathing was normal. Energy flow was normal.

The environment inside the rift had no observable negative effects on living beings—even an ordinary chicken was still kicking.

And more importantly, it seemed the rift wasn’t restricted by the distance between him and his body.

He stepped back out.

The leopard crouched by the rift, looking up at him, its tail sweeping the floor, its expression carrying a hint of a request for praise.

Chen Guan smiled genuinely and reached out to pat its head.

“Good job.”

The leopard’s ears perked up, its mouth slightly open, small fangs showing, looking pleased.

Chen Guan checked the time.

A little past 10 in the morning.

Still about five hours until White Tiger’s 3 PM meeting.

He sat back down by the bed. The phone screen was still lit up, White Tiger’s message still lingering on that line about not being late.

Chen Guan didn’t reply to that message.

He exited the conversation, scrolled through his contacts, paused on An Changqing’s name a moment, then scrolled past.

White Tiger’s business wasn’t suitable for a third party to know right now, at least not yet.

Besides, since White Tiger had said it wouldn’t interfere with school matters, there was no need to tell An Changqing.

He shut the screen, leaned back against the headboard with his eyes closed, and began to organize what he knew.

What White Tiger had asked him to do wasn’t complicated on the surface, but there were still a bunch of details left unexplained.

That was White Tiger’s way—he always spoke in halves, hiding the other half. If you didn’t press him, he wouldn’t bring it up. And even if you did, he might not tell you everything.

The trick to dealing with him was simple: don’t rush. He’d eventually say whatever needed saying, sooner or later.

Like he’d said before, the stubborn White Tiger needed a guiding subordinate.

The leopard yawned in the corner, curled into a ball, its purple fur looking even more striking in the sunlight.

Chen Guan glanced at it, then pulled another apple from the bag.

His third one.

The apples White Tiger had brought were indeed good—and it turned out they were all sweet.

He ate as he thought, tossing the apple core into the trash bin forty minutes later.

For the next few hours, he didn’t go out. In the dorm, he observed the leopard’s basic state once more.

The leopard’s speed had clearly increased. Although it didn’t yet have true spatial displacement abilities, there was already a faint moment of spatial jump at the start of its movement—if that ability developed, the future looked promising.

Lunch was in the cafeteria.

The school hadn’t officially started yet, so few windows were open, and there were barely any people. He took his tray to a corner, sitting alone for once without running into anyone he knew.

When he finished eating, it was 2:40 PM.

Chen Guan crossed the campus, heading toward the West Gate.

Outside the West Gate was a small alley.

The alley was short, visible from end to end.

The second noodle shop.

Not the second shop on the street—its name was actually “Second Noodle Shop,” a pretty run-down place that most people would probably never find.

Between him and White Tiger, who was the real student at this school?