Whether it was a coincidence or not, the appearance of this monster rat meant one thing—free system points. Shen Ge wasn’t about to let that slip away.

Besides, so far, the rat showed no signs of generating a monster domain, meaning it probably hadn’t reached Tier 2 yet.

Still.

Even a starved camel is bigger than a horse. A Tier 1 monster was nothing to scoff at.

Shen Ge pulled out the sausages he’d bought earlier for “monster diplomacy,” tore open two more, and broke them into small chunks. Sneaking into a corner where no one was looking, he scattered them onto the market’s awning.

During his earlier point-grinding spree, he’d already fed plenty of cats and dogs here, earning himself some local goodwill.

He’d memorized their positions originally to game the system’s “outsmarting monsters” rewards—but now, they were his trump card.

“Dinnertime!” Shen Ge made a clicking sound, rousing the napping strays on the awning. As the cats scrambled for the sausages, he slipped into the fish stall.

The fishmonger was chatting with the pork vendor next door, deep in market gossip. Spotting Shen Ge, he turned with a salesman’s grin. “Looking for fish, buddy?”

“Give me the length of a song to decide if I’m in the mood for fish today.” Shen Ge replied, eyes scanning the stall.

Fishmonger: “…”

What kind of lunatic needs a whole song to pick fish?

The stall’s gutting bucket sat in a corner, now commandeered by the monster rat, which was feasting on discarded entrails. Sensing Shen Ge’s approach, it whipped around—baring jagged, bloodstained teeth in a guttural hiss.

Its eyes glowed crimson, streaks of red oozing like tears. Patchy, blood-matted fur clung to its swollen body, making it look like something out of a zombie rodent horror flick.

“How about some snakehead fish? Fresh today—I’ll slice it for you. Just grab some pickled mustard packs, boil it, and you’re golden!” The fishmonger ambled over cheerfully—then froze at the sight of the hulking black mass by his trash bucket.

“Holy hell!” Snatching a fish net, he charged forward, stomping loudly to scare it off. “Get lost, you filthy—”

Whether intimidated or just unwilling to engage, the rat darted behind the tanks and vanished into the alley out back.

“Uh, look, markets get rats, okay? Especially with all the fresh kills. But we’re clean, I swear!” The fishmonger began apologizing—only to see Shen Ge grab a brick from a nearby renovation pile and sprint after the creature.

“Damn, this guy hate rats that much?” The fishmonger muttered.

…..

The alley behind the stall led to a derelict section of the market, long abandoned by vendors due to poor foot traffic. Beyond it lay a bustling street where unlicensed peddlers hawked their wares.

Shen Ge expected the rat to flee into the crowd—but at the alley’s mouth, it skidded to a halt. Whirling around, it bared its teeth in a low, gurgling snarl.

“Heh. Size ain’t everything. You’re still just a rat—and I’ve got feline backup.” Shen Ge peeled two more sausages and lobbed them onto a rooftop.

“Hey, furballs!”

“Help a guy out!”

Sure enough, the strays already snacking on his earlier offerings perked up. At the sight of the monstrous rat, their pupils dilated—instinct overriding logic. Despite its size, the rat flinched backward as the cats pounced down, tails puffed, claws out.

“Mrowrl—”

But Shen Ge wasn’t banking on cat power alone. This was a test—for his “Immobilize” trait and his theory about monster domains.

As the cats tensed to strike, he activated “Immobilize”. His shadow twisted alive, stretching like tar to merge with the rat’s. The moment their darkness fused, the rat locked in place—

And the cats stopped mid-pounce, bewildered.

They couldn’t see it anymore.

“Bingo.”

“Immobilize” didn’t just freeze targets—it yanked them into a monster domain, rendering them invisible.

Releasing the trait, Shen Ge watched the cats re-engage instantly, creeping forward as the rat scrambled to flee—

“Eat brick!”

The projectile whizzed past the rat’s nose, smashing into its escape path. The hesitation cost it dearly. The cats lunged, one latching onto its haunches while the other went for the throat.

“Screeee—!”

What followed was a three-way brawl straight out of a drunken kung fu flick. Shen Ge waded in, delivering stomps with surgical precision—each crunch landing squarely on the rat’s skull.

His secret technique? “Foshan Shadow-Stomp of the Toes.” Never missed.

Yet soon, something felt off. The rat’s wounds from the cats knit together in real time. Its half-crushed skull reinflated like a grisly balloon. Worse—its body swelled further, muscles writhing under greasy fur.

Then—its jaw unhinged.

The mouth gaped wide enough to swallow a cat whole, sending both strays scrambling up the walls.

“Hey! Some backup you are!” Shen Ge yelled as the rat bolted for the street. Brick in one hand, he dialed with the other.

“Chenghong Road Market, peddler alley exit. Rat. Bigger than a cat. Rapid regeneration. Mouth expands to cat-swallowing size. Get here NOW.”

Deng Yuqi on the other end: “…”

Bro. You don’t have to pad our KPIs like this.

A loved-up couple strolled hand-in-hand until the hulking shadow erupted from the darkness. The man—a northerner—blinked at the creature.

“The hell is that? A bamboo rat? A piglet?”

His local girlfriend rolled her eyes. “It’s a rat, dumbass.”

The man gaped. “You southerners call THAT a rat?! Holy shit, Tom from Tom and Jerry would kneel and call it daddy!”

Suddenly, the palm-sized pests back home seemed downright adorable.