The snow leopard took a step back, avoiding Chi Zhou’s hand.

His hand met nothing, but Chi Zhou wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. He simply shrugged, a hint of amusement in his smile.

“Pretty wary, aren’t you?” Chi Zhou studied those jade-green eyes. “Did Xia Ye teach you that?”

The office floor was covered in a soft carpet, its fine fibres as plush as a layer of clouds.

Chi Zhou simply sat down on the carpet and patiently met the snow leopard’s gaze. The snow leopard exhaled through its nose and gave a soft cry, as if to tell him that he was wrong.

“Quite perceptive, aren’t you?” Chi Zhou remarked. “No wonder you’re an SSS-class spirit animal.”

After leaving the colonel’s office, Chi Zhou had immediately sent the assessment report to the military academy.

The Special Operations Department had held a brief emergency meeting over it.

Although Chi Zhou was their leader, the others didn’t blindly follow him. One of his subordinates questioned whether it was really appropriate for the Special Operations Department to issue an assessment report directly when none of them had even met Xia Ye.

“I understand why you’re being cautious,” Chi Zhou said. He had always treated his subordinates gently. “But this is the Alliance’s first Dark Guide. The colonel and the Social Administration Bureau are both watching him closely.”

Silence settled over the conference room.

The Special Operations Department spent most of its time on the front lines and had never paid much attention to the political situation within the Alliance.

In recent years, however, they had begun to realise that things couldn’t continue this way. While they devoted themselves entirely to fighting extraterrestrial contamination, ambitious factions had already carved up the Alliance among themselves and were now beginning to reach their hands into the Special Operations Department.

They genuinely had little interest in worldly glory, but no one could tolerate a bunch of people who knew nothing about the front lines trying to tell them how to do their jobs.

“I’ve already met him,” Chi Zhou added. “The breadth of his Mental Domain is fully within the SSS-class range.”

After a brief discussion, the Special Operations Department finally reached a consensus and decided to bypass the Social Administration Bureau and issue the assessment report themselves.

They knew perfectly well what a gamble this was. Everything rested on whether Chi Zhou had judged correctly. Once the report was released, everyone would naturally assume that Xia Ye would join the Special Operations Department after graduation.

“Don’t worry.”

After the report was sent out, Chi Zhou rose from his seat at the head of the table and walked out of the conference room.

“I’m giving a lecture at the academy tomorrow. I’ll invite him to participate in Operation Codename XII. You’ll get to see what he can really do soon enough.”

According to Chi Zhou’s plan, he was going to keep Xia Ye behind after tomorrow’s lecture and invite him to participate in the operation.

He hadn’t expected the snow leopard to come looking for him first.

Sitting on the soft carpet, Chi Zhou idly ran his fingers through the carpet fibres, his hand stopping just short of the snow leopard’s paws.

“What made you come looking for me?”

He asked casually, looking at the snow leopard.

Its jade-green eyes were fixed on his hand. As his long, knuckled fingers brushed through the carpet, the fibres fell neatly in their wake before springing back up again.

Chi Zhou wasn’t a guide, but during the long years he had spent alone, he had picked up a few tricks for dealing with spirit animals.

The snow leopard watched him curiously, its gaze glued to his fingers as a soft rumbling sound came from its throat.

Chi Zhou reached under the coffee table and casually pulled out a cat wand. A fluffy bundle of feathers was tied to the end, bobbing through the air as he gave it a few lazy flicks.

The snow leopard’s eyes immediately lit up. Its jade-green gaze locked onto the toy, and its paws shifted restlessly against the carpet. It was clearly itching to pounce.

Chi Zhou deliberately stopped moving, letting the feathers drop onto the carpet and quivering softly.

The snow leopard couldn’t resist any longer.

It tentatively reached out a paw and pressed down on the edge of the feathers.

The smile at the corner of Chi Zhou’s lips deepened, looking distinctly mischievous.

The moment the snow leopard caught the feathers, Chi Zhou finally moved. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the cat wand skidding across the carpet.

The snow leopard leapt high into the air and pounced after it. Once it caught the feathers, it flopped onto the carpet and happily rolled around with the toy, completely absorbed in the feathers and little bells.

“It really is a cat.”

Chi Zhou nodded in satisfaction. “Cats love this stuff.”

His movements slowed as he reached out and scratched the snow leopard under the chin. It didn’t resist. Apparently accepting the touch, it gently rubbed its head against his palm.

Chi Zhou ran his hand over its head. Once manifested, a high-purity spirit animal wasn’t all that different from a real animal. Its fur was soft and wonderfully pleasant to touch.

“You sneaked over here on your own. Does Xia Ye know?”

Chi Zhou chatted with the snow leopard with great interest, seemingly treating it as nothing more than a little cat that had shown up asking to be petted rather than Xia Ye’s spirit animal.

The snow leopard gave an urgent little howl and rubbed insistently against his palm. Its claws tightened around the feathers, instantly crushing their soft, fluffy shape.

The gentle, affectionate purring from before had already turned into a low growl with a hint of warning.

Something seemed wrong. The snow leopard scratched anxiously at the carpet before suddenly biting down on the hem of Chi Zhou’s clothes.

The smile gradually faded from Chi Zhou’s face as he quietly studied the animal.

…Something wasn’t right.

Within seconds, Chi Zhou had reached a conclusion.

Xia Ye’s spirit animal was at risk of going berserk.

This was an extremely rare condition that would never occur in ordinary sentinels and guides. It was a special state known as hormonal dysregulation—a particular constraint unique to Dark Sentinels and Dark Guides.

Chi Zhou had suffered from something similar when he was young.

His black dragon hadn’t always obeyed him. There were times when it seemed to have a will of its own, and even moments when the black dragon had taken control of him instead.

Being a vessel for a spirit animal was hardly a comfortable experience.

When in a berserk state, the roar of his black dragon could make extraterrestrial creatures retreat in fear, while the clouds that blotted out the sky were enough to make even humans recoil.

It was the boundary between humanity and something almost divine—or monstrous.

Chi Zhou knew better than anyone what Xia Ye would face if he couldn’t control his berserk state. He had always believed some burdens only one person needed to bear. There was no reason to make someone else suffer through the same pain.

Before the snow leopard could react, Chi Zhou had already moved.

His powerful hand caught it precisely by the scruff of its neck. The growl that had still been rumbling in its throat instantly vanished, and the snow leopard became docile, looking up at him with a pair of innocent eyes.

“Only now you remember to act cute?”

Chi Zhou lifted the snow leopard with one hand and leapt out the window.

“Too late.”

Xia Ye woke up in the school infirmary.

He had no idea how long he had been asleep. All he knew was that when he opened his eyes, his limbs felt weak and his entire body was drained of energy.

The snow leopard was curled up at the foot of his bed, sprawled over the blanket and snoring away. It looked no different from an ordinary house cat.

The moment Lin Kezhi saw him wake up, he exclaimed, “Oh my god, you’re finally awake! You nearly scared me to death!”

“Was I asleep for a long time?” Xia Ye asked. “What happened…? You seem pretty worked up.”

“How could I not be? You have no idea how much happened last night.” Lin Kezhi lowered his voice conspiratorially.

“Last night?”

Xia Ye glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s already afternoon?”

“Yeah.” Lin Kezhi nodded and immediately launched into the story, practically bursting with excitement as he tried to tell Xia Ye all the gossip at once. “After you fell asleep last night, the school suddenly released an assessment report. They confirmed that you’re an SSS-class Dark Guide.”

“The group chat went completely insane. Have you ever seen messages come in that fast?” Lin Kezhi waved his hands around as he demonstrated. “Then, not long after that, Li Feile and Qiu Luo showed up and said everyone should learn from you in the future. Hahaha! I’ve known those two since we were kids, and I’ve never heard them talk like that. They’re always so damn arrogant, acting like they’re better than everyone else, practically walking around with their noses in the air.”

Lin Kezhi shook his head.

“I seriously never thought I would live to hear them say something like that… Xia Ye, aren’t you excited?”

Xia Ye coughed heavily twice. For some reason, his throat was burning terribly. He shook his head, “I figured as much.”

His gaze passed over Lin Kezhi’s shoulder and slowly swept around the infirmary. “Is the lecture over?”

“Of course. It’s already after two.” Lin Kezhi answered without thinking. “It ended around noon.”

Xia Ye seemed lost in thought. He gave a quiet “Oh.”

Then he looked at the snow leopard curled up at the foot of the bed and reached out to stroke its head. The snow leopard was always relaxed around its master. It loosened its paws, and the cat wand dropped to the floor with a soft clatter, its little bell jingling brightly.

“Where did this come from?” Lin Kezhi picked up the toy. “Is it yours?”

“It’s not mine. And it’s not a cat.”

Xia Ye took the cat wand from Lin Kezhi.

It really was an ordinary cat toy, the kind sold at any pet-supply store outside the military academy for ten Star Coins.

There was no doubt about it.

The snow leopard had gone somewhere on its own—somewhere Xia Ye knew nothing about.

“Kezhi, why am I in the school infirmary?” Xia Ye asked belatedly. “I remember going back to the dorm last night.”

“Yeah, but…”

Lin Kezhi hesitated, his eyes drifting toward the snow leopard as he struggled to find the right words.

“Instructor Chi came in during the middle of the night with your spirit animal. He said you might be unwell and needed to be brought to the infirmary.”

He lowered his voice. “He told me not to tell you he had been here. What’s going on with you?”

Xia Ye continued absently stroking the snow leopard’s head as he carefully considered his answer.

“Nothing. It’s just an old problem.”

“Really?” Lin Kezhi’s voice dropped even lower. “Tell me the truth. Is it bonding heat?”

After all, Xia Ye had called Chi Zhou by his name, and Chi Zhou had shown up in the middle of the night with Xia Ye’s Spirit Animal. Lin Kezhi’s imagination had already run through countless possibilities.

Then there was Xia Ye’s sudden fever, and Lin Kezhi couldn’t help arriving at a bold conclusion.

Could it be…?

Could the Instructor Chi everyone else could only look up to actually have a special relationship with Xia Ye?

The more Lin Kezhi thought about it, the more convincing it seemed. A Dark Sentinel and a Dark Guide—weren’t they practically a match made in heaven? The Alliance would probably arrange their marriage sooner or later anyway.

“Don’t keep me in the dark, too.” Lin Kezhi waggled his eyebrows. “I’m very open-minded.”

“It’s really not what you think. We’re not close,” Xia Ye said helplessly. “My fever is from hormonal dysregulation. Look it up in the library, and you’ll understand.”

Hormonal dysregulation wasn’t exactly a common condition, so it was perfectly normal for Lin Kezhi not to know about it.

Xia Ye had once found a doctor in District Twelve’s black market, a physician who had come from a research institute in District One and had considerable experience with the condition.

Aside from using gene suppressants at regular intervals, the best thing he could do was learn to control his spirit animal.

He had already made some progress, but whenever he exhausted too much psychic power, the snow leopard could still easily lose control.

It had probably gone looking for Chi Zhou after Xia Ye fell asleep.

Xia Ye rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. He had gone out of his way to pretend to be a stranger in front of Chi Zhou, and now this idiot had gone straight to Chi Zhou on his own.

Great. Chi Zhou definitely knew who he was now.

That was going to be awkward.

Just as Xia Ye was wondering how he could avoid Chi Zhou the next time they met at the fighting arena, there was a knock on the infirmary door.

Chi Zhou stood in the doorway, smiling as he greeted him.

“Xia Ye, feeling any better?”

—–

Author’s Note:
Chi Zhou, Master Cat-Petter (thumbs-up.jpg)
A master of cat-petting in every sense of the word


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