Shrink

A dense purple-black radiance enveloped it, and within that light, countless tiny spatial rifts appeared and vanished in rapid succession.

Li Yan’s eyes narrowed. He took half a step back, every muscle in his body tensing. He could sense that the life-form within the sphere of light was undergoing a fundamental leap.

The radiance came quickly and vanished just as fast.

The mass of purple-black light suddenly contracted inward, swallowed whole by an invisible black hole.

The corridor fell utterly silent.

Only the damaged crystalline structures embedded in the walls silently testified to the terror that had just unfolded.

The tension finally eased from Li Yan’s muscles, but his bell-like eyes remained fixed on the spot where the light had disappeared, still filled with shock.

Chen Guan was staring at the same place, his heart pounding like a drum.

When the light faded, what appeared there was not an even more fearsome beast, but a… tiny leopard.

It was smaller than an ordinary housecat, its entire body a deep, shadowy purple. Its fur was as smooth as the finest silk, while the pitch-black patterns across it were so faint they were almost invisible, like a distant galaxy.

Only the tiny diamond-shaped thunder crystal set in its forehead proved that it was no ordinary creature.

It lowered its head in confusion and looked at its slender, delicate paws. Then it tentatively took a step forward, only for all four short legs to give way beneath it, nearly sending it sprawling.

It still hadn’t adapted to its shrunken body.

The imposing majesty of a descending monarch had been washed away completely, leaving behind only a comically clumsy little creature.

Baobao shook its head and finally accepted reality. It raised its head, its golden slit pupils passing over Li Yan before locking onto Chen Guan.

That familiar scent—the smell of grass after rain.

The next moment, it opened its mouth and uttered a syllable far clearer than before, its voice soft and babyish as it echoed through the silent corridor.

“Hungry.”

“Chen Gua… I-I’m hungry.”

As soon as the words left its mouth, its stomach let out an exceptionally well-timed growl.

Chen Guan: “…”

Li Yan: “…”

The earth-shaking spectacle from before contrasted far too sharply with the tiny, mewling kitten now begging to be fed.

“Meow.”

When Chen Guan failed to react, Baobao meowed again, this time with an unmistakable note of impatience and grievance.

It moved its short little legs and stumbled over to Chen Guan’s feet, then expertly rubbed its slightly shrunken head against his trouser leg.

Like a warm ball of fur begging for affection.

Only then did Chen Guan crouch down and extend a finger to poke Baobao on the head. The fur felt unexpectedly soft.

Holding the warm, pliable little creature in his arms, Chen Guan’s mind became a complete mess.

Should he correct its mispronunciation first, or deal with its pressing hunger?

In the end, he didn’t feed it right away. Instead, he asked the question that concerned him most.

“What did you just call me?”

Baobao lifted its head. Its golden eyes were clear and utterly innocent. After thinking for a moment, it struggled to produce that syllable again.

“Chen… Gua.”

“Wrong.”

Chen Guan’s expression darkened.

“My name is Chen Guan. Guan, as in a coffin.”

He pointed at himself and enunciated each word carefully.

“Not ‘Gua,’ as in watermelon. Say it again.”

“Meow?”

Baobao tilted its head, unable to understand why the pronunciation of a single word mattered so much. But seeing Chen Guan’s serious expression, it obediently opened its mouth.

“Chen… guan.”

The pronunciation was much closer, but still not quite right.

Why did this kid keep thinking about food?

“It’s guan. The first tone.”

Chen Guan patiently taught it, just like someone teaching their own child to speak.

“Chen… Guan.”

This time, the pronunciation was finally correct.

“That’s right.”

Only then was Chen Guan satisfied. He reached into his storage space and pulled out a roasted beast leg, still sizzling with grease, holding it out to Baobao.

The storage space was the best preservative there was. Whatever condition something was in when it went inside was exactly how it came out.

“Correct answer. Here’s your reward.”

Baobao’s eyes lit up. It bit down on the meat, and its tiny body unleashed a swallowing force completely disproportionate to its size. The roasted meat, larger than its own head, vanished in the blink of an eye.

It smacked its lips, licked them clean, and gazed up at Chen Guan with watery golden eyes.

“More.”

Its pronunciation was clear, and its logic perfectly sound.

Chen Guan glanced at its round belly. He felt somewhat helpless, but still took out another, slightly smaller piece.

“Last piece. You just woke up, so don’t stuff yourself.”

“Mm-hm.”

Baobao nodded vigorously and once again devoured the meat in a whirlwind.

Li Yan had witnessed the entire scene from beginning to end. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

It could speak human language and freely control its size. How could this still be considered a Void creature?

This was clearly an entirely new, never-before-recorded intelligent species.

Li Yan had seen Void creatures mutate before. Devouring their own kind to strengthen themselves, growing extra claws, developing thicker carapaces—these were all perfectly normal.

But this new species’ first official words had been spoken to correct its master’s name, successfully earning itself a piece of roasted meat in the process.

Everything about it felt so unreal.

“What… what exactly is going on with it?”

Li Yan pointed at the little cat, which had finished both pieces of meat and was now contentedly sprawled at Chen Guan’s feet, snoring softly. He finally asked the question he had been holding back for a long time.

“Probably a side effect of advancing,” Chen Guan replied casually, making up an answer on the spot.

After all, he had no idea what had happened either. He would probably have to consult an evil little kitty who preferred not to reveal its name.

Chen Guan bent down and picked up Baobao, whose drowsiness was beginning to return.

The little creature felt as light as a ball of cotton in his hands.

He weighed it in his arms, then placed it on top of his head before looking up at the spiral staircase leading to the twenty-fourth floor.

“Teacher, let’s keep going.”

“Heh heh heh.”

Deep within his consciousness, Baal let out an amused chuckle.

“This little thing digested the power of the Void, and then you forcibly twisted its evolutionary path. Now it’s become a bizarre stitched-together hybrid.”

Although Baal didn’t possess the same specialized understanding of small animals as the White Tiger, as a veteran player of Earth Online, he naturally had a pretty good eye for these things.

“Its original spatial abilities were far too crude. They can’t compare with Guan Jinyue’s. They might have been useful as support, but now that it’s fused with the power of the Void, its potential is limitless. Tsk, tsk. This is something that little girl Guan Jinyue could beg for and still never obtain.”

“What do you mean?” Chen Guan asked inwardly.

“It means you should take good care of it.” Baal contentedly kept him in suspense. The main reason was that Baal himself wasn’t certain, and he was afraid of losing face if he turned out to be wrong.

Chen Guan didn’t ask any further.

Ahead of them, the final stretch of stairs leading to the top of the tower had already come into view.

During the time they had spent talking, Chen Guan had already instantly slain every monster along the way.

He admitted that the monsters had some interesting mechanics, but unfortunately, his stats were even better.

At the end of the staircase lay a dazzling sea of starlight.

The two of them stepped out from the stairs.

The scene before them suddenly opened up.

They were standing on a massive circular open-air platform. Beneath their feet was a smooth black-crystal floor polished like a mirror. Above their heads, close enough to touch, flowed a slowly drifting purple river of stars.

At the very center of the platform, a colossal red crystal more than ten meters in diameter pulsed like a beating heart. With every throb, it sent out invisible ripples into the depths of the Void.

And beneath that enormous crystal, a throne hovered silently.

Seated upon it was a figure.

It was a humanoid figure clad in black armor, which gave Chen Guan a small start. There weren’t many monsters that looked so much like humans.