Chapter Seven: Claws

Cheng Yuan gazed at the little tiger cub wearing its golden armor vest. The burst damage was indeed impressive, but domesticated ones usually couldn’t rival their wild counterparts. Human breeding preferences were to blame: in the wild, Golden-Armored Tigers strove to master every skill—claw sharpening, gold element enhancement, even those skills considered trivial. Monster trainers often advised against wasting time on such abilities. Yet, wild monsters trained indiscriminately from a young age, play-fighting with siblings and learning from their mother’s demonstrations, practicing anything that came to mind.

Once they reached sub-adulthood, tiger cubs would be driven out by their mother to become wandering tigers. Most wanderers hadn’t yet reached the king class, so the pressure of hunting and hiding forced their ambush skills to progress rapidly. After several years surviving the harsh wilderness, those who didn’t perish would mature and gain the strength to compete with other king-class monsters for territory.

In those territorial battles, their frontal combat skills would also improve. Thus, wild Golden-Armored Tigers became all-rounded warriors: masters of ambush, stealth, and direct confrontation. Their attack logic was simple—if a sneak attack would save trouble, they’d do it, perfectly embodying the feline’s sly nature. If discovered, they’d switch instantly to a berserker’s fury.

Modern monster trainers, however, focused on a single skill tree: all-out offense, aiming for one decisive ambush rather than endurance or versatility. In the life-or-death struggles among wild monsters, domesticated and wild Golden-Armored Tigers seemed like two distinct species. The cub was still sharpening its claws. Cheng Yuan put down his book. Should he follow the training methods of other trainers? He could, but saw no reason to.

He realized that while trainers’ methods produced high burst damage, they sacrificed many skills that wild Golden-Armored Tigers prided themselves on—such as Tiger Roar and its advanced form, Thunderous Tiger Roar; the Run skill and its upgrades, Pursuit or Charge; and the ultimate tiger melee move, Tiger Descends the Mountain. Golden Armor itself was rare among wild tigers, but nearly absent in those bred by trainers.

Why bother training defensive skills for ambush? Cheng Yuan glanced at the cub sharpening its claws. With the skill upgrade system in place, there was no harm in training everything—perhaps his monsters could surpass even their wild kin. He set an ambitious goal: to master every skill to its highest level.

After half an hour of claw sharpening, the little tiger reached out and swiped at Cheng Yuan, who was reading. He heard a tearing sound and, putting away his book, saw several gashes in his pant leg. The cub immediately froze. Checking the status panel, Cheng Yuan saw its level had risen to six; the Claw Sharpening skill had vanished, replaced by Hooked Claw, and it had gained a new innate ability called Tempering: when attacking hard objects with its claws, their sharpness increased.

This innate trait intrigued him. Sharpness in some respects meant penetration—attacking tough materials triggered Tempering, and paired with the passive gold enchantment, it was a counter to heavily armored monsters. He examined the Hooked Claw skill, which was practical: a claw structure aiding big cats in securing themselves to large prey.

What would the max level of this skill be? Cheng Yuan wasn’t sure, nor did he know how to upgrade it further. He rubbed his eyes—there was still time for a nap before the afternoon battles, best to recover as much as possible.

An hour later, Cheng Yuan rubbed his eyes and looked at the little one sleeping like a limp noodle in his arms. Youth was wonderful: fall asleep at the drop of a hat. He glanced at the projected match schedule, found a spot, sat down, and closed his eyes. Not quite time yet.

Just as he was about to doze off, he heard someone calling his name, “Cheng Yuan, please come to arena eight, it’s your turn. Cheng Yuan, are you in the main hall?” The male teacher at arena eight called with a loudspeaker. Cheng Yuan quickly scooped up the still-sleepy tiger cub and hurried toward arena eight. “Here, I’m here.”

He pushed through the crowd and arrived at the arena. “I’m Cheng Yuan, here to compete.” The teacher nodded, picking up his notebook. “You may begin.” Cheng Yuan sized up his opponent: a pudgy boy. But where was his monster? Cheng Yuan placed his cub on the field; the little tiger instinctively curled up into a ball. Cheng Yuan grabbed its waist. “Get up, sleep later.” The cub stood on all fours, bewildered. The teacher eyed the golden armor vest hesitantly. “You can’t bring equipment, student.”

Cheng Yuan replied, “That’s a skill.” “A skill? Impossible. Remove the equipment, that’s the rule.” “Alright.” He removed the golden armor and looked at his opponent. “Where’s your monster?”

The pudgy boy grinned, his face matching his awkward stance. Suddenly, a black shadow descended from the sky, swift as lightning—a cold flash, and the tiger cub was knocked flat, its four paws in the air and several scratch marks added to its body. Cheng Yuan looked up, finally noticing a black bird with a forked tail circling overhead. “Some kind of swallow-type monster?”

The pudgy boy was quite pleased with himself: at the cub stage, flying monsters were invincible against ground-bound ones. Cheng Yuan observed the circling swallow and his tiger cub; though it was knocked over, its defenses were unbroken. The attack wasn’t strong enough, which was manageable. His cub had two powerful passive abilities—one strike could be fatal. Previously, it hadn’t noticed and got taken down by surprise.

To sum up their relationship: he could make countless mistakes, but if the opponent made just one, it was over. Cheng Yuan spoke, “Activate golden armor on your back, keep your eyes on it, and when it dives, hit it with your claw.”

The pudgy boy scoffed. Golden armor was a skill reserved for adult monsters—how could a cub use it? Then he saw golden light shimmer on the cub’s back. Even the teacher was startled: the cub really could use golden armor—how was that possible?

The pudgy boy shouted, “Swallow, dive attack!” The teacher was amazed. Two talents capable of using adult skills at the cub stage, appearing in the same arena—it was a battle of dragons and tigers.

Cheng Yuan and his tiger watched the accelerating swallow in free fall. When it closed to just five meters, Cheng Yuan commanded, “Use your claw, knock it down.” It seemed perfectly timed; as the cub raised its paw and swiped downward, the swallow crashed straight into it.