Other Flavors

Chapter 36: Other Scents

The elevator doors slowly slid shut. Inside, Xiang Kun held little chubby Liu Shiling's hand, standing on one side with her mother, while Ms. Yang stood on the other, clutching the leash of her beloved dog, PINKIE.

However, the husky was no longer its former energetic self. The dog had curled into a tight ball, pressing itself into the corner of the elevator as if trying to merge with the wall, ignoring every tug and shout from Ms. Yang.

Huskies are often called "derps" because they are prone to fits of madness, act foolishly, have poor obedience, and love to cause trouble or destroy furniture. Along with Alaskan Malamutes and Samoyeds, they are collectively known as the "Three Idiots of the Sled."

In reality, however, neither the husky nor the other two sled dog breeds are low in intelligence. Sled dogs were originally working dogs domesticated by Siberian nomads; when pulling sleds through snowstorms, their ability to discern direction is superior to that of humans, which is why the lead dog often has to make its own decisions and choices.

Therefore, sled dogs have low obedience not because they don't understand their owner's commands or intentions, but because they believe they are smarter than their owners, prefer to act on their own, and the owner has failed to establish enough authority to suppress them. Or, they are simply being mischievous to achieve their own ends.

The husky raised by Ms. Yang was clearly poorly trained. Forget about it viewing her as its master; it likely didn't even consider her an equal, let alone a superior.

Xiang Kun knew the husky hadn't intended to attack the little girl; it just wanted to play. But in that situation, had she been pounced on, the psychological shock alone would have been significant, not to mention the risk of falling and getting hurt.

Ultimately, if a dog isn't well-trained, it's the owner's fault.

However, while Ms. Yang couldn't control her pet, Xiang Kun could.

Back when he frequently "patrolled the streets" at night, he would occasionally encounter stray dogs, feral cats, or people walking their dogs in the middle of the night.

He discovered then that whenever those cats or dogs noticed him, if he held his breath, tightened his muscles slightly, and exuded a fierce aura, they would immediately shrink back, flee, or even flatten themselves against the ground, even if he hadn't made a single move.

He once encountered a Labrador that had been let off its leash by its owner. It ran over to sniff him, but after one look from Xiang Kun, it collapsed onto the ground, too terrified to move. Even when they met again the next day, the dog—despite being on a leash—would immediately flatten itself and act submissive the moment it saw Xiang Kun, refusing to move no matter how hard its owner pulled.

At home, Xiang Kun had experimented on the meat rabbits he bought; they, too, would tremble and curl into balls in fear.

Yet, this seemed ineffective against birds. The pigeons in the square and the sparrows on the walls completely ignored his "intimidation," and when he tested it on chickens and ducks at the wet market, they didn't pay him any mind either.

Xiang Kun guessed that this was because cats, dogs, and similar animals possessed more sensitive sensory organs, allowing them to perceive intense danger through the pheromones he emitted.

Regardless, he could be certain that from now on, Ms. Yang's husky would take a detour the moment it saw him or the little girl.

The little girl held Xiang Kun's hand, curiously poking her head out from beside his thigh to look at the husky "facing the wall" in the corner of the elevator. The shock and fear in her eyes gradually dissipated.

"If you aren't afraid of it, it will be afraid of you," Xiang Kun said, patting the little girl's head.

Shiling's mother looked at Xiang Kun, then at the suddenly cowardly husky in the corner, feeling a bit puzzled. She had seen it clearly from the side; the dog seemed to have been "scared" just by glancing at Xiang Kun.

The elevator soon reached the first floor. By the time Xiang Kun had led the little girl and her mother out through the building's electronic gate, Ms. Yang still hadn't managed to pull her beloved dog out of the elevator.

After leaving the residential complex and saying goodbye to the little girl and her mother, Xiang Kun started off at a brisk walk, breaking into a run after ten minutes.

He ran at a high speed, drawing glances from passersby. Seeing him with a backpack, they assumed he was an office worker in a rush and didn't find it particularly strange.

Of course, they didn't know that Xiang Kun intended to run over twenty kilometers.

Xiang Kun didn't push himself to his speed limit; instead, he maintained a moderate pace that allowed him to observe and think simultaneously.

He had once roughly measured his 100-meter dash time, which was around 11 seconds.

For an average person, this was certainly an astonishing result—at least at the level of a national second-tier athlete—but for Xiang Kun, since it was still far from exceeding the limits of the human body, it could only be called average.

However, if it came to long-distance running, Xiang Kun felt he could easily shatter several world records.

After all, his recovery ability was simply too fast. He could run at near-maximum speed for long periods, and after reaching his limit, a short jog would restore him to full state. If he used this in a marathon, it would be practically like cheating.

While running, Xiang Kun observed his surroundings, recording the streets, shops, and other landmarks, comparing them to the online maps he had studied the night before to build a three-dimensional mental map of the area.

This was both because he would be living nearby and needed to understand the environment, and as a way to train his observation and memory.

It took Xiang Kun over an hour to reach the gym. This speed was naturally much slower than public transport, but for a run, it was a formidable result. Moreover, Xiang Kun was barely sweating and showed no signs of fatigue.

However, after spending the morning at the gym, Xiang Kun made a decision: he would no longer come here.

The young coach from the boxing gym downstairs had sought him out after learning Xiang Kun was at the gym, asking if he wanted to join their boxing club—not as a student, but as a fighter. He revealed that one of the founders of the club, the old coach who had acted as the referee during their sparring session, was willing to personally mentor Xiang Kun.

Xiang Kun thanked them for their interest but declined.

This incident made him realize that his performance over the past few days at the gym, combined with his showing at the boxing club and his hike with Tang Baona, had already drawn attention to his uniqueness, naturally inviting more scrutiny.

Although he knew that after refusing, the people from the boxing club might not pester him, the attention would remain. It was like how he had stopped using extreme heavy weights for bench presses, squats, and deadlifts, yet many coaches and members still kept an eye on his training; after all, his initial results in the "big three" had spread, and everyone was curious about how he trained.

Under these circumstances, his training at the gym would inevitably become restricted and cautious.

So, even though his membership card had just been purchased and was non-transferable—a real pity—Xiang Kun had to find a new place to train.

Fortunately, the training he was currently doing didn't rely heavily on equipment; he could do it with just his body weight.

Thus, after leaving the gym, Xiang Kun spent the entire afternoon searching within a ten-kilometer radius of his apartment for a secluded place where he could train and test himself without worry.

The spot he finally settled on was a small hill over four kilometers away from the complex.

At the foot of the hill lay an abandoned construction site. It was originally intended to be a villa complex, but for some reason, it was never completed.

The residents who had lived nearby had already moved away, and the area around the hill looked messy and overgrown, with few people visiting and even the paths being hard to find.

Once the sun set and darkness fell, the area became deathly silent. Not a single light could be seen, and looking toward the distant residential complexes, one felt as if they were lurking in the shadows, peering out at the world.

Xiang Kun was very satisfied with this place and decided to conduct his various exercises here for the time being.

Although it wasn't too far from the residential area, the interference from scents, sounds, and lights was much lower, making it perfect for training his senses.

Compared to the city and the residential area, the scents in the hills were much simpler, though to Xiang Kun, they were relatively unfamiliar.

He caught a whiff of decay and blood not far from him. Based on his analysis, it should be a rat carcass.

He followed the scent, turned on his phone's flashlight, and saw, as expected, a rat in the grass that had been gutted and killed.

Confirming his judgment, Xiang Kun prepared to leave, but he suddenly stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, carefully distinguishing the pheromones in the air.

Beyond the scent of the rat, there was a trace of something else—was it left behind by the animal that had hunted it?