Your Soul Skill Is Only a Little Unusual!

"How was it, Rongrong? What do you think of your master's Soul Skill?"

A voice came from above her head.

A clear human voice, carrying a hint of smugness, came from the beak of a thumb-sized bird.

Ning Rongrong froze for about two seconds.

In those two seconds, her mind ran through a complete chain of logic.

The person had disappeared, the bird had appeared, the bird was speaking human language, the bird had that liar's voice, so that liar had turned into a bird.

Turned into a bird.

A person had turned into a bird.

The light in Ning Rongrong's eyes gradually focused.

But what welled up in her gaze was not shock.

Nor was it fear.

It was pure, nearly uncontrollable delight.

And the surging curiosity of a twelve-year-old girl, making her whole being seem to light up.

"This is your Soul Skill?!"

Her voice rose, but not in anger this time. It rose with excitement, like a child discovering a new toy in a treasure vault.

The little bird above her head proudly raised its head, puffing out its round chest. Its black-bead eyes were filled with lofty superiority.

"That's right."

The bird's voice carried an utterly unabashed confidence.

Just those two words. The admission was crisp and straightforward, without the slightest hint of modesty.

Ning Rongrong's gaze changed.

A nearly luminous glow surfaced in her almond-shaped eyes, like moonlight shining upon a lake.

The next moment, her hand moved.

Fast, precise, ruthless.

She grabbed the little bird above her head in her palm.

Yang Xing had not expected that at all.

He had already prepared his lines, intending to deliver another profound and mysterious speech once Ning Rongrong was too shocked to speak, pushing the atmosphere to its peak.

Before he could say a word, though, the entire bird was yanked down by a pair of fair, soft hands.

Ning Rongrong cradled him in her palm and brought him close to her face, examining him from every angle with the concentration of someone appraising a priceless treasure.

Her fingers gently spread open his wings, pinched his bird claws, then poked at the down on his belly.

"It really is a bird..." she muttered, frowning slightly. "The feathers are real, the claws are real, and even the body temperature is real..."

She flipped the little bird over and stared at its belly for two seconds.

"Even its belly is soft."

Yang Xing's current state of mind could probably be summed up in four words.

Didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He was a level ninety-nine Titled Douluo whose level had merely been restricted. Even after turning into a thumb-sized bird, the soul power within him was still at the level of a Titled Douluo. For Ning Rongrong, a Soul Master in her twenties, to break free of her hand would have been easier than turning a page.

But he did not struggle.

For one thing, Ning Rongrong was his disciple.

Though she was still in the stubborn denial phase, the contract had already been signed and stamped in black and white.

Since his obedient disciple had shown such intense interest in his transformation into a bird, then as her master, he naturally had to generously cooperate.

For another, he needed Ning Rongrong to thoroughly verify the authenticity of this transformation.

The more thoroughly she verified it, the faster that mental barrier of "this is just a trick" would collapse.

So Yang Xing quietly curled up in Ning Rongrong's palm, allowing her to turn him over and over, inspect him, knead him, and study him.

Every now and then, he cooperatively chirped.

His acting was on point.

After fiddling with him for about half a minute, Ning Rongrong finally reached a conclusion. She held the little bird up before her eyes and met those black-bead eyes.

"It's real." Her tone was certain. "It isn't an illusion or a deception. You really turned into a bird."

Yang Xing felt that Ning Rongrong had examined him enough.

The next second—whoosh.

The docile little bird in Ning Rongrong's hand instantly swelled, stretched, and transformed. Its feathers receded, replaced by cold skin covered in fine scales.

A huge triangular head slowly rose from between her palms.

A snake.

A large snake as thick as a python, with a triangular head and a flickering tongue.

Right in her hand.

Its scales brushed against her fingertips.

Cold. Slick.

Whoosh—the forked tongue flicked before the tip of her nose.

"Ahhh—!"

Ning Rongrong's scream nearly lifted the roof off.

Instinctively, she flung the cold thing in her hand away with all her strength.

Yang Xing's snake body arced through the air and smacked into the earthen wall opposite her, knocking down a cloud of dust.

Ning Rongrong backed into the corner. Goosebumps erupted all over her body, and her face had gone pale.

"You—you—you...!"

Her trembling finger pointed at the wall.

But the snake on the wall gave her no chance to curse. Yang Xing was absurdly nimble in his snake form. With a flip, the snake body that had been smashed against the wall righted itself and slid smoothly down along the base of the wall.

Then it slithered toward Ning Rongrong.

It was not fast. But that silent, winding visual pressure of its approach made one's scalp tingle more than a charge ever could.

"Don't come any closer!!" Ning Rongrong hopped back a step.

The snake continued to slide forward.

"I said don't come any closer!! Are you deaf?!" She hopped back another step.

The snake's head lifted slightly, and its tongue flicked out again.

Ning Rongrong turned and ran.

Yang Xing chased after her.

A person and a snake staged a chaotic chase through the shabby room. A stool was kicked over, the table was knocked crooked, and the chipped coarse pottery cup rolled off the edge of the table, shattering into three pieces on the floor.

"You damn liar, turn back—!!" "You pervert—!!" "I'm going to kill you—!!"

Ning Rongrong ran and cursed at the same time, her shrill voice echoing back and forth through the shabby room.

Then she spotted the kitchen knife on the chopping board.

Her steps halted.

She rushed over and grabbed the handle.

Then turned around.

The twelve-year-old girl gripped a rusty kitchen knife as she faced the large snake slowly approaching her. There was not the slightest trace of retreat in her eyes.

"Come one step closer."

Her voice steadied, cold and certain.

"And I'll chop you in half."

That look in her eyes was serious.

Yang Xing's snake pupils met those fearless almond-shaped eyes, and a thought flashed through his mind.

This girl... all right, if I push her any further, I really won't be able to coax her back.

Fine.

Whoosh.

The snake body shrank, bulged, and rounded out. The cold scales became soft fur. The triangular head turned into a fluffy round one.

A gray-white rabbit hopped backward with a whoosh and landed steadily on the tabletop.

The rabbit rolled over, crossed its hind legs and propped them up in the pose of someone lounging with one leg over the other. Its front paws rested behind its head, and its red rabbit eyes half-squinted at Ning Rongrong. The corners of its mouth... if rabbits had corners of mouths... curled up slightly.

"My obedient disciple."

The rabbit spoke. Yang Xing's voice came from those three-part lips, lazy and relaxed.

"What do you think of your master's Soul Skill?"

Ning Rongrong stared at the rabbit lounging with its legs crossed.

The hand holding the kitchen knife was trembling.

Not from fear.

From anger.

Smack—!

The chopping board flew out.

It struck the tabletop right beside Yang Xing's rabbit body with perfect accuracy, making him bounce from the impact.

"You—are—truly—vile!" Ning Rongrong forced out each word through gritted teeth, her cheeks flushed red. "Vile personality! With someone like you—with this kind of—perverted bad taste—"

She slammed the kitchen knife into the chopping board.

"I would rather die than become your disciple!"

Ning Rongrong took several deep breaths, and the rise and fall of her chest gradually settled.

She regained her composure.

She became that shrewd, rational little devil of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect again.

Tilting her head, she swept her gaze over the rabbit dusting itself off behind the overturned table.

"Besides, your Soul Skill is only a little unusual."