A Guide to Raising Snake Spirits - Chapter 11

When Guanyue Xi saw who had arrived, he offered a smile that was significantly more genuine than the one he’d given the blonde boy. “Why are you over here? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I heard Teacher had subdued a frenzied Sentinel. I was worried you might be hurt,” the grey-haired Sentinel said. As he spoke, he smoothly and inconspicuously stepped into the space between Guanyue Xi and the young Sentinel.

“How did you even find out?” Guanyue Xi asked, slightly surprised. How was everyone so well-informed? It was one thing for this random blonde kid to pop up, but Shiraishi Hare was an amnesiac who had only just set foot in the Tower. How was he this sharp?

“I was chatting with a classmate. He recommended the Tower’s forums to me, and I happened to see a post about you.”

Well, that is an unexpected level of social competence for someone who looks that brooding. Truly, you can’t judge a book by its cover, Guanyue Xi mused.

In truth, Shiraishi Hare had arrived a few moments before he actually spoke. He had simply stopped behind the Guide to observe, his eyes narrowing at the sight of a young Sentinel with messy blonde hair and a sloppy posture standing far too close to his Guide.

He felt a surge of irritation, though it remained within the bounds of his self-control. This is the Guide you marked, his Sentinel instincts snarled in the back of his mind.

He had read about the possessive side effects of bonding in a textbook a few days ago, but experiencing it firsthand was far more visceral. No—it was bone-deep.

Shiraishi Hare lowered his head to hide the darkening swirl of emotions in his eyes.

The black-haired Guide glanced at Shiraishi thoughtfully.

Meanwhile, the young Sentinel, Liu Cang, felt a sudden chill down his spine. He could smell it instantly: the Sentinel pheromones clinging to Guanyue Xi belonged to the grey-haired man in front of him. A closer sniff revealed a dormant but terrifying sense of aggression radiating from the stranger. Judging by the scent alone, this was at least a high-level Sentinel.

Driven by a powerful survival instinct, Liu Cang blurted out, “My name is Liu Cang, and I really do have serious business! You’ve heard of the Ghost Catching Competition, right?”

“I have,” Guanyue Xi replied. But seeing the blank look on Shiraishi’s face, he turned to explain: “The Ghost Catching Competition is a multi-player team event the Tower hosts every year. That’s not its official name, but because of the format, everyone calls it that. You asked where my profile picture was taken—that was when my team won back in the tenth grade.”

Guanyue Xi turned back to Liu Cang. “But if I recall correctly, only students can enter. Why look for me? You want some off-field coaching?”

Liu Cang leaned in with a conspiratorial air, shielding his mouth with his hand. “I have inside info. Word is the Ghost Catching Competition is being overhauled this year. Teachers are allowed to participate now.”

Hearing this, Guanyue Xi understood the play. A team that managed to recruit a teacher would have a massive advantage. But would the Tower really allow something that would so obviously break the competitive balance?

Then again, it was always the students who suffered the most during rule changes. Whatever bad luck came of it wouldn’t fall on his head.

And honestly? He was intrigued. Guanyue Xi hadn’t won the competition by luck alone; he genuinely loved the game and had spent a lot of time studying it. His mind was made up.

“Is that so? Do you have any solid confirmation?”

Liu Cang looked regretful. “Not yet. The Tower keeps its secrets tight. It’s a miracle I managed to dig up even that much.”

Guanyue Xi nodded. “Alright. I’ll think about it. How many teammates do you have so far?”

“I have one Guide partner. Her mental level is B+, but she’s an expert at these kinds of games and we have great compatibility. My physical stat is A-rank, and my mental level is B.”

“So you’re just one person short if you include me?”

Seeing that Guanyue Xi seemed interested in joining, Liu Cang beamed and immediately began to suck up to him. “Exactly! Does Teacher have anyone in mind for the final spot?”

The reason he’d gone to such lengths to track down Guanyue Xi was the sheer scarcity of Combat-type Guides. They were nearly as rare as S-rank Guides. S-rankers were usually snatched up into teams the moment they appeared, but Combat-types were less obvious—their specialization wasn’t always explicitly listed on their public profiles. He’d gambled on finding one, and it looked like he’d hit the jackpot.

“Let me think.”

Guanyue Xi adopted a pensive look. The Sentinel was standing right there, and the Guide was tempted to ask Shiraishi if he wanted to join. However, he didn’t know Shiraishi’s personal interest in games, nor did he fully understand the extent of the man’s abilities.

Shiraishi Hare asked, “What are the rules of this competition?”

“And who is this brother?” Liu Cang asked, unable to place Shiraishi. He looked like a student, but could a student mark a teacher? He didn’t look much like a teacher, either.

When he’d checked Guanyue Xi’s public profile, the “Bond Status” column had been listed as “Single.”

Maybe they’re just brothers who don’t look alike, and the scent mingling is just because they live together? Liu Cang wondered, weighing the possibilities.

“Oh, this is Shiraishi Hare. For now…” Guanyue Xi paused, choosing his words carefully. “He’s a Sentinel I’m currently compatible with. He’s in the Special Class and just started, so he’s not familiar with the local events.”

“What’s his physical grade?”

“The same as yours. Physical A-rank, Mental B-rank,” Guanyue Xi said with a straight face, lying through his teeth with a pleasant smile.

Shiraishi’s physical stats hadn’t been officially tested yet, but Guanyue Xi’s gut told him the man’s true rank was only going to be higher, not lower.

As for the mental rank, Shiraishi’s mind was still recovering, making it impossible to get an accurate reading—it was probably hovering around C-rank at its most fragile. But even if he was lying, what was Liu Cang going to do about it?

The grey-haired Sentinel played the role of a handsome mute, leaning into his intimidatingly cool expression. He simply nodded along; a man with a face like that carried a high level of natural credibility without saying a word.

Liu Cang bought it hook, line, and sinker and began explaining the rules.

“The basic setup involves three factions: Neutral, Hunters, and Ghosts. Each has different victory conditions. It’s a four-person team format, but the Tower usually adds a twist to the rules every year.” Liu Cang gave a wry smile. “It usually ranges from a thousand-player Battle Royale to small-group PK rounds. To win, you need strategy, luck, and raw power.”

Through their mental link, Guanyue Xi felt the Sentinel like a large, expectant dog resting its head on his lap and staring at him. He didn’t speak, but he was staring intently.

The Guide went quiet for a moment before accepting the signal. “Leave a spot for Shiraishi Hare. The next one is still a few months away, right?”

Liu Cang was hardly going to say no to that. After exchanging contact information, he left, humming a happy tune.

Guanyue Xi turned to Shiraishi. “Come on. Let’s get some lunch.”

The Tower’s cafeteria offered a wide variety of meals, but a Sentinel’s hypersensitive taste buds meant they usually couldn’t even handle salt. Most were stuck eating bland, tasteless mush.

Looking at the white, porridge-like liquid in front of Shiraishi, Guanyue Xi’s conscience pricked him again.

“If you want to try other foods, I can actually help you regulate your five senses.”

A Guide can help a Sentinel manage their sensory input—this was mentioned in the Introductory Guide to Special Species.

The higher a Sentinel’s mental power, the more precise their control over their own body, and the higher their resistance to Guides. High-level Sentinels might not need a Guide’s help in daily life, but they would always seek one out for combat.

A Guide can seamlessly push a Sentinel’s senses to the absolute limit for the battlefield while simultaneously shielding them from the sensory overload that would otherwise cause a breakdown. They are a Sentinel’s comrade-in-arms and their protective barrier.

However, handing over total control of one’s senses to another person is something not every Sentinel can stomach. Some Sentinels—those with extremely narrow compatibility ranges, immense power, and paranoid personalities—choose to become “Dark Sentinels” instead.

Guanyue Xi hadn’t brought it up before. Even though he specialized in mental attacks, managing senses wasn’t difficult; he’d just been hesitant because he didn’t truly know Shiraishi’s background.

If a Sentinel’s will was strong enough, there was a chance they could influence the Guide in return. He wasn’t about to perform a deep link with a stranger.

But since the initial bond had already happened, those concerns were moot. He still felt a bit awkward about it—the bond hadn’t exactly been voluntary, after all—but he decided to make the offer anyway.

Shiraishi Hare nodded, and Guanyue Xi had him pick out something he actually wanted to eat.

In a single breath, the Sentinel’s senses were taken over by the Guide. It was Shiraishi’s first time relinquishing control. Guanyue Xi left his other senses alone, focusing solely on carefully dampening his sense of taste.

At the first bite, the Sentinel’s eyes lit up. He proceeded to demolish five portions of food with the speed of a whirlwind.

Guanyue Xi sighed as he looked at the tower of clean plates on the table. He was starting to get used to Shiraishi’s appetite.

After lunch, Shiraishi headed to his next class. Guanyue Xi had work of his own; he wanted to take this chance to visit the Tower’s public library.

The library was silent and grand. Although most data was now stored digitally, the Tower had preserved the original wooden bookshelves and spiraling floor-to-ceiling staircases, giving the space a sense of historical weight.

Guanyue Xi focused his search on “Mental Fusion” and “Sentinel.”

But it was bizarre. There were almost no papers published on the subject in the last fifty years. Even for an obscure topic, it was impossible for there to be nothing. It was as if every trace had been deliberately erased, leaving only a few useless fragments.

Guanyue Xi searched for the entire afternoon. Finally, he gave a long, exhausted stretch and rubbed his neck.

He gave up. His curiosity had reached its limit for the day. He’d deal with it later.

His graduation exam was over. As long as he played the role of a teacher for two years, his future was secure. The Sentinel’s rut had passed, and life was finally getting back on track.

Sometimes, minding one’s own business was the key to a long life.

…

Inside a Communications Circuit class, Liu Cang received a notification. He surreptitiously checked his terminal under the desk.

Shiraishi Hare: Hello.

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