Chapter 76
Big Cat?
Hearing Su Ci’s words, A-Yan blinked in surprise. After a moment, his gaze shifted to Number Two’s room.
Was the “big cat” referring to the fully beastified Number Two?
Though A-Yan wasn’t particularly interested—his mind was still on the sprouted seeds waiting to be planted in the soil—he quickly caught the meaning behind the faint gleam in Su Ci’s dark eyes.
So, after a brief pause, A-Yan pointed toward Number Two’s room and mouthed a single word: Cat.
This earned him another gentle pat on the head from the young man, who lightly ruffled his hair.
A-Yan’s lips curled into a soft grin, his black-and-red eyes brimming with joy and affection.
As long as Su Su’s happy, I’m happy too! he thought. Planting the seeds can wait a little longer.
Thus, the two of them made their way to Number Two’s room. After a simple verification process, the metal door slowly slid open.
*
Inside the Room.
The Crimson Flame Tiger, sprawled on the floor and sound asleep, twitched its ears at the faint sound of the door unlocking. Its ear tips pivoted toward the entrance.
As the metal door creaked open, the tiger’s golden eyes blinked open, its gaze turning toward the doorway with cautious vigilance.
After nearly being sedated earlier that morning, it had become hyper-alert. Any being that opened the door was met with an instinctive hostility.
However, when the figures outside came into view, the tiger’s pupils constricted.
It leaped to its feet, lowering its body into a defensive crouch. The fur along its back stood on end, transforming it into a massive puffball. Its ears flattened against its head like airplane wings.
Every fiber of its being tensed, radiating the unmistakable threat of a cornered predator.
Su Ci tilted his head slightly, observing its reaction with interest.
The Crimson Flame Tiger took a cautious step backward, a low growl rumbling from deep within its throat. The sound carried an undercurrent of menace, though it lacked the earth-shaking power of its full-throated roar.
Clearly, last night’s events had left a lasting mark on its psyche. Even now, the psychological shadow of Su Ci’s wrath hadn’t dissipated.
Standing beside Su Ci, A-Yan frowned at the tiger’s response.
The next moment, the young man took a single step forward, entering the room.
A-Yan watched as the once-menacing tiger froze, startled by the movement. In a panic, it turned and darted its gaze around the small room. Finding no escape, it ducked its head and attempted to wedge itself under the bed.
The bed, far too small for the tiger’s size, began to lift as it squeezed beneath it, leaving its large, furry rear sticking out in plain view.
“…”
A-Yan stared at the quivering tiger hiding under the bed, his confusion giving way to realization.
So this is why Su Su calls it a big cat.
It certainly didn’t resemble a tiger—though A-Yan couldn’t recall ever seeing one, he just knew this wasn’t how a tiger should behave.
Su Ci, for his part, seemed thoroughly entertained by the display.
The sight of the once aloof, cool-headed red-haired boy reduced to this… fluffy mess sparked a mischievous glint in his eyes.
If Number Two realized this was what he looked like in his fully beastified state, Su Ci mused, what would he feel?
Probably a lot of complicated emotions, he thought, suppressing a chuckle.
Without a word, Su Ci walked further into the room and pulled a chair over to sit down.
A-Yan’s gaze shifted between the trembling tiger and Su Ci, his mind drifting to last night. He remembered how the red-haired boy had keenly guessed his identity, leaving him with a sincere “Take care” before rushing off to confront the monster.
A-Yan pulled out a piece of paper and wrote: Su Su, can Number Two turn back?
He handed the note to Su Ci, who glanced at it but didn’t immediately respond.
Of course Number Two can change back.
While Su Ci’s understanding of beast-blood humans was still shallow, his experience in guiding the juveniles to suppress their bloodline powers gave him confidence. As long as the bloodline power within Number Two could be restrained and his human nature restored, he should be able to revert to his original form.
However…
Su Ci wasn’t in a rush to do so.
After all, it wasn’t feasible to have him step in every time something went wrong. The land had yet to recover, and his soul power wasn’t as boundless as it used to be, no longer something he could wield or waste without restraint.
Now, it needed to be used where it truly mattered.
If Number Two could rely on his own willpower to regain control, allowing his human nature to once again overshadow his beastly instincts, it would prove his resolve and talent. Su Ci wouldn’t mind teaching him the method to tame his bloodline power in that case.
This was, in essence, a test.
For now, though, this little tiger was quite adorable. Whether human or beast, both were simply living beings in Su Ci’s eyes, with little distinction between the two.
So, whether Number Two could reclaim control of his body was entirely up to him.
As Su Ci pondered, the Crimson Flame Cub, hiding under the bed, noticed that nothing seemed to be happening. The fur that had bristled along its tail began to relax, and its paws, which had been tightly clasped over its head, slowly lowered.
Still… nothing.
Realizing this, the little tiger grew bolder and cautiously turned its head to peek into the room.
From its vantage point, it could only see Su Ci’s pair of work shoes and the slender, human legs clad in gray-blue workwear.
The tiger froze.
Though those legs appeared frail and easy to snap, its mind was instantly flooded with memories of last night.
That terrifying pressure—just recalling it made the cub tremble uncontrollably.
Perhaps being fully beastified heightened its sensitivity to such bloodline suppression. Of all the juveniles, the Crimson Flame Tiger harbored the deepest fear of Su Ci, with the most pronounced reaction.
Even the youngest Number Five and the herbivorous Little White Deer, though initially frightened, had since managed to interact with Su Ci more normally.
But the Crimson Flame Tiger? Just seeing Su Ci made it want to run. The thought of even inching closer to him didn’t dare cross its mind.
Su Ci’s mere presence, seated quietly, was enough to subject the cub to immense pressure.
So scary… so scary…
The tiger instinctively wanted to cover its head again. Now it pressed its belly and limbs flat against the floor, as if hugging the ground tightly could bring some semblance of safety.
Yet the oppressive silence in the room lingered.
The longer the silence stretched, the more suffocating the atmosphere became in the cub’s perception.
Unable to endure the mental strain any longer, the tiger opened its mouth and let out a sound meant to intimidate:
“Meoww—”
The intent was clear, but the sound? It was more of a feeble whimper, betraying its lack of genuine menace.
A-Yan crouched down, tilting his head to peer under the bed. Seeing the tiger’s cowering posture, he thought to himself:
This big cat… is actually kind of cute?
Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the connection between this bumbling tiger and Number Two just didn’t seem to align.
“Meoww?”
The Crimson Flame Cub, still crouched under the bed, let out a curious sound. Its nose twitched as it sniffed in A-Yan’s direction, seemingly catching onto something.
Noticing this, A-Yan found it rather intriguing.
This tiger, silly as it looks, can it actually sense me like Number Two does?
In this aspect, he could glimpse a shadow of Number Two within the tiger.
The absence of immediate danger, coupled with the cub’s youthful curiosity, emboldened the creature. Slowly and cautiously, it wriggled closer, sticking its head out further from under the bed.
As it shifted, its previously exposed rump finally squeezed a little further into the confined space under the bed.
However, this caused its body to contort into an awkward, exaggerated arc due to the limited space—its tail stuck out while its head peeked out from the other end.
Luckily, as a feline, its natural flexibility prevented it from straining its back.
A-Yan watched its antics with amusement, curious to see what it would do next.
Among all the cubs at the nursery, A-Yan had spent the most time observing Number Two. Although it had been a one-sided interaction—he couldn’t be seen or touched—he had silently accompanied the red-haired youth the longest.
In his impression, Number Two was temperamental, volatile like a stick of dynamite ready to explode at the slightest spark. The boy always seemed to be on edge, constantly angry at something or someone, and it made him notoriously difficult to approach.
Past caretakers often confided among themselves, lamenting how hard it was to deal with Number Two. His strength made him intimidating, but it was his temper and lack of cooperation that truly made him unmanageable.
But recently, something about Number Two had changed.
A-Yan couldn’t pinpoint when exactly, but it seemed to have started after Su Su brought him back from the medical purification center. Since then, Number Two hadn’t lost his temper even once. In fact, there had been three separate occasions where the boy had sensed A-Yan’s presence.
This shift had upended A-Yan’s understanding of him entirely.
A-Yan turned his head, his gaze landing on Su Ci, who sat calmly in the chair.
The young man’s expression was gentle, and the soft light from the ceiling bathed him in a serene glow. It gave him an unassuming, warm aura, entirely different from the terrifying ferocity he had displayed the previous night.
A-Yan understood—it was all because of Su Su.
Not just Number Two’s transformation, but his own happiness too—it was Su Su’s presence that had made it possible.
Yet, the simplicity of this newfound happiness often left A-Yan feeling uneasy. It felt almost too good to be true, fueling a nagging insecurity deep inside him.
He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if he were to lose Su Su’s guidance and affection.
Su Su is the light that broke into my darkness…
No, that wasn’t quite right.
Even though A-Yan couldn’t remember his past, he had an unshakable feeling:
Su Ci wasn’t just any light. He was the light A-Yan had been waiting for, chasing after, all this time.
And now that this light had finally shone upon him, how could he bear to lose it again?
With that thought, A-Yan stood up resolutely.
He couldn’t afford to waste time being playful anymore. He needed to focus on learning the formations Su Su had taught him. Only then could he be of true help—only then could he become someone Su Su could rely on.
Su Ci observed the Crimson Flame Cub for a while. Seeing it stubbornly refuse to emerge from under the bed, he let out a yawn, feeling his drowsiness creeping back.
Maybe I should just nap here before heading out to plant the seeds?
His gaze fell on the tiger’s plush, clean, and fluffy fur. The thought struck him: That would make an excellent pillow… or even a cuddly bolster. It’d definitely be comfy…
As he idly weighed whether such an action might scare the poor creature out of its wits, his attention was diverted by A-Yan.
The boy, who had been crouching on the floor studying the tiger, suddenly stood up. His dark red eyes held a mix of eagerness and unease as he walked briskly over to Su Ci.
Thinking something might have gone wrong, Su Ci raised a brow in mild concern, but when A-Yan reached his side, he fished out a notebook from his spatial button.
Flipping it open, A-Yan revealed a page filled with neatly drawn formation diagrams.
Su Ci blinked.
A-Yan’s diligence, even during downtime, made him, someone naturally inclined toward laziness, feel a hint of guilt.
Taking the notebook, Su Ci began recalling the material he’d previously taught.
Since their first lesson, Su Ci had left A-Yan to practice independently. He hadn’t assigned formal homework, trusting the boy’s innate talent and self-discipline.
For A-Yan, Su Ci preferred a freer, “wildcrafted” learning approach, allowing the boy to paint his path on the blank canvas of his mind however he saw fit.
The only instruction Su Ci had left was to approach him with questions when necessary.
In Su Ci’s mind, mastering the foundational aspects of formation theory should take A-Yan at least a month.
By comparison, even the top-tier prodigies in the human race, those who had already grasped the basics of divine script, typically needed at least a year to truly begin understanding formations.
Understanding divine script was merely the foundation; formation theory was an advanced application, demanding exceptional insight and talent.
To Su Ci, who had lived an unfathomably long life, a month or even a year or two felt like no time at all. He was more than willing to wait.
But as Su Ci examined A-Yan’s questions, he couldn’t help but let a flicker of surprise cross his usually placid expression.
A-Yan couldn’t speak, but he could write.
He had drawn two different formation diagrams in the notebook—one following Su Ci’s provided template to meticulous perfection, while the other deviated slightly based on what felt “right” to him.
Next to these, he planned to write down the source of his confusion. However, before he could start, Su Ci placed a gentle hand over the boy’s small one, stopping him.
A-Yan tilted his head up, confusion flickering in his dark red eyes as he looked at Su Ci.
“I already know what you want to ask.”
Su Ci studied the two formation diagrams on the page. With just one glance, he discerned the subtle differences and immediately understood A-Yan’s doubts.
Su Ci hadn’t expected A-Yan to find his unique path so quickly.
Indeed, every individual had their own way to tread.
This was especially true for beings like them, each wielding distinct powers.
Just as the divine script Su Ci crafted differed from the script A-Yan perceived and wrote, their respective strengths stemmed from fundamentally different rules.
A-Yan, as a rule-based spirit, had an intrinsic power distinct from Su Ci’s. The formations he created were naturally shaped by this power, taking forms more suited to the flow of rules-based energy.
This step—the realization and refinement of one’s unique structure—was often where human prodigies stumbled.
Without a teacher who shared their specific power attribute, these students often had to fumble through trial and error for years before discovering the proper path.
However, A-Yan wasn’t constrained in this way.
Su Ci hadn’t wanted to stifle the boy’s creativity by imposing his own methods, and he now realized that this approach had paid off. After only a short period of simple practice, A-Yan had already stumbled upon the correct form.
This discovery invigorated Su Ci. He sat up straighter, taking the matter more seriously.
Carefully examining the formation A-Yan had devised, Su Ci noted, “There are still some rough edges—areas where it feels less fluid—but the direction is correct.”
A-Yan, who had been nervously awaiting Su Ci’s feedback, lit up at the latter half of his comment, his dark red eyes sparkling.
Su Ci offered a rare smile and began explaining.
“Formation structures aren’t fixed. The differences in power attributes between individuals make it necessary to adjust the structure. Even beings sharing the same attribute will shape their formations differently, depending on their comprehension and mastery of power.”
“To achieve the same effect, foundational structures must be tailored. That’s why the formation you’ve drawn is different from mine.”
The more Su Ci scrutinized A-Yan’s formation, the more satisfied he became.
Perhaps formations were particularly well-suited to rule-based spirits. In this field, A-Yan was truly gifted.
“Good work,” Su Ci praised. “Once you’ve refined all your formations into shapes that best align with rules-based power, I’ll move on to teaching you the second lesson.”
By then, they could delve into the assembly of formation components—a crucial skill with boundless possibilities.
“That’s where the real fun begins,” Su Ci added with a faint smile. “The combinations are infinite, and the insights you’ll uncover are endlessly fascinating. You’ll see.”
A-Yan could feel the warmth in Su Ci’s words, and his own joy became uncontainable. His bright eyes sparkled with undisguised happiness, and his grin stretched wide.
After a moment of thought, Su Ci opened to a fresh page in the notebook. He picked up the pen and wrote a single unfamiliar character in a fluid stroke.
A-Yan blinked at the new symbol, his focus narrowing in on the elegant lines as they coalesced into shape. Slowly, his expression grew more intent, and he seemed to fall into a quiet, contemplative state.
Su Ci set the pen down and patiently waited.
As the longest-lived being on Earth, Su Ci’s patience was inexhaustible, especially for those things or individuals he favored.
Moreover, Su Ci, who had walked this path before, understood how important this moment was for A-Yan.
Only after the child’s gaze regained clarity did he say, “This is the second heavenly script.”
“Biting off more than you can chew isn’t good. I hadn’t planned on teaching you this so soon, but your learning progress has far exceeded my expectations. So, consider this extra homework I’m assigning you.”
Su Ci ruffled the child’s fluffy ears. “Of course, studying formations is still your main focus. When you have spare energy, then you can practice this second script.”
After all, he might not have much time in the near future to teach A-Yan daily. So, it would be better to give him more now. When he hits a bottleneck in formations, he can practice the second script, and it might even bring him some unexpected inspiration.
A-Yan nodded enthusiastically, not feeling unhappy about having another task at all. He wished he could learn even more, so he could grow faster!
Besides, the benefits he had gained from the first divine rune made him utterly unable to resist the temptation of learning another.
“Alright!” he replied joyfully.
While they were engrossed in their lesson, the little Crimson Flame Tiger hiding under the bed had already adjusted its posture. Its round, chubby backside leaned against the wall, and the poor little bed was pushed onto its head, covering only the area from its eyes to its neck.
Its pair of white-furred paws, resembling gloves, stretched out from under the bed and pressed tightly against the ground.
The entire scene perfectly demonstrated the phrase “trying to cover up but making it more obvious.” Yet, the young Crimson Flame Tiger didn’t think anything was amiss. Hiding under the bed, with the shadow of the small bed providing cover, gave it a sense of security, and it was no longer trembling with fear.
When Su Ci began teaching A-Yan, the tiger’s round ears, initially flattened like airplane wings, perked up attentively.
The young man’s gentle voice felt strangely familiar to it, as though it had heard it before…
This familiarity helped the Crimson Flame Tiger overcome the fear brought on by the suppression of its bloodline. It tilted its head, pushing the small bed slightly backward, revealing its crimson tiger eyes.
It cautiously peeked at the only “human” in the room.
He was sitting on a chair, just three or four meters away. His mere presence seemed to fill most of the room, making the little Crimson Flame Tiger feel like it had no choice but to huddle pitifully under the bed, too afraid to come out.
Even though the young man’s attention wasn’t on it at the moment.
The Crimson Flame Tiger stared blankly at Su Ci.
Through its limited view, it could faintly make out the characters he casually wrote on the paper. Though it couldn’t understand them, it could sense a certain power emanating from the writing.
That power frightened it, made it want to submit, yet simultaneously evoked an inexplicable desire to get closer.
It was a contradiction.
In its fully beast-like state, its brain capacity wasn’t enough to process such complex emotions, so the young Crimson Flame Tiger quickly stopped overthinking it.
It listened to the young man speaking, as though he were talking to someone.
Though it couldn’t see anyone, the Crimson Flame Tiger could sense that there was likely another presence in the room.
Neither of them paid any attention to it.
The little tiger, initially terrified out of its wits, finally began to relax after confirming this. Gradually, it started to pay attention to what Su Ci was explaining to A-Yan.
Although it couldn’t understand the content, an inexplicable instinct told it that listening more would be beneficial.
Thus, the Crimson Flame Tiger hiding under the bed also began to earnestly listen to Su Ci’s lesson. In its always-confused beast eyes, filled with the innocence and wildness of a ferocious creature, a faint glimmer of human-like contemplation began to emerge.
When Su Ci finished teaching A-Yan and turned his gaze to the Crimson Flame Tiger, he noticed it had already closed its eyes.
The little tiger lay flat on the ground with its body taut. Its round face, covered in soft fur, was etched with emotions of struggle and pain. It reminded Su Ci of the expression he had seen on No. 2’s face when they first met at the medical building—a boy fighting against his beast nature, striving to break free from the cage imprisoning his consciousness deep within his soul.
Su Ci was slightly surprised.
Based on his calculations, it should have been nearly impossible for No. 2 to suppress the fully unleashed power of his bloodline so quickly, let alone regain control over it.
But now, he was close to succeeding.
Watching the Crimson Flame Tiger’s increasingly pained expression and its determination to clench its teeth and hold back any sound, Su Ci sighed lightly.
He stood up, walked to the tiger’s side, and crouched down in front of it.
The Crimson Flame Tiger seemed to sense his presence.
The little tiger, which had tightly shut its eyes, opened them amidst its struggle and pain. Its beastly eyes were no longer crimson but had reverted to a reddish-brown hue.
In those eyes, Su Ci could clearly see the shadow of the red-haired boy.
“Meow…”
The Crimson Flame Tiger let out a weak, kitten-like whimper. Its soft, pitiful tone tugged at the heartstrings.
In the end, Su Ci raised his hand and placed his palm over the tiger’s fluffy head. A soft golden glow quickly emanated from his hand.
“Embrace this power. Sense it, control it…”
As he infused his soul energy into the tiger, helping it suppress and stabilize the violent power of its bloodline, Su Ci guided it with his voice, teaching it how to manage this process.
Just as he had once guided Lu Jiao.
However, Number Two’s situation was far more severe than that of the little white deer. Being older, Number Two had endured the bloodline’s erosion for much longer and had already passed the optimal stage for guidance. This was why he had so easily succumbed to complete beastification.
To fully suppress this volatile bloodline power, additional methods would still be needed.
As the boy gradually reverted to his human form, Su Ci’s expression turned serious, deep in thought. However, as he absentmindedly petted the thick, soft fur on the boy’s round ears, his thoughts began to drift.
