Chapter One: Born as a Baby Estuarine Crocodile

Night.

Inside the pet shop by the street, darkness reigned.

In a large aquarium, a little crocodile, over thirty centimeters long, its body covered in black-spotted scales, lifted its head slightly.

Its bulging eyes glowed faintly red, like twin torches in the gloom, and within them swirled an uncanny, complex emotion.

Beside it were three others of similar size—its siblings, one might say.

Through the glass tank, one could just make out a map hanging on the opposite wall, on which, in clear letters, were the words: Xia Kingdom, Wujiang City.

So he truly was no longer on Earth, and had become a baby Siamese crocodile in a pet shop. There would be no going back.

Judging by the map’s location, the Xia Kingdom was not so different from his former homeland.

Since fate had brought him here, he might as well accept it.

Lu Chen was never one to wallow in self-pity. In half a day, he had fully come to terms with his present circumstances.

He focused his mind, and a translucent data panel appeared before his eyes.

Host: Lu Chen
Possessed species: Variant Siamese Crocodile
Weight: 0.5 kilograms
Length: 0.36 meters
Age: 6 months
Optimal temperature: 25–35 °C
Energy points: 0.1 (gained by hunting food; besides daily consumption, can also be used for self-modification. Note: Host is currently severely hungry and urgently requires food.)
Toe claw strength: 1 kilogram
Bite force: 3 kilograms
Speed: 1.5 meters/second
Other attributes: None
Mutant abilities: None
Evolution level: 1

As expected, there had been no changes.

Better to set a modest goal: escape this pet shop.

Lu Chen sighed inwardly and began to plot his route.

The tank was only forty centimeters high, but for a hatchling only thirty-six centimeters long, it was an unscalable chasm.

After all, they could not, like a gecko, cling to the glass with suction-cupped toes and climb up.

To break out from here seemed nearly impossible.

But for a Siamese crocodile with a human mind, it was hardly daunting.

Lu Chen surveyed the decorative branches at the bottom of the tank, gripping one in his jaws to try to build a vertical ladder against the glass.

He was too weak; after several attempts, he still failed.

His companions watched his strange actions, crimson eyes full of confusion.

One, the strongest of the group, seemed amused and imitated Lu Chen, seizing a branch and propping it up—succeeding on the first try.

With a hiss, it let out a low, triumphant growl.

Crocodiles have no vocal cords, but can make sounds through their respiratory tracts, conveying messages to their kind.

Seeing this, Lu Chen was elated.

Without hesitation, he scrambled up the branch.

Before long, he reached the top. Now, only twenty centimeters remained to the edge of the tank.

Bracing his tail for support, he half-raised his body, his feeble foreclaws just catching the glass rim.

With effort, his hind legs pushed, and at last he clambered over.

Thud—he tumbled onto the tiled floor outside.

Step one of his escape was complete.

Catching his breath, Lu Chen surveyed his surroundings in the darkness.

After half a day’s adjustment, he had grown thoroughly familiar with his new crocodilian body.

Not only did they possess a keen sense of smell, but their night vision was extraordinary.

Behind each eye lay a membrane, like a mirror, which reflected even the faintest ambient light into their eyes.

Thus, even in the near-total darkness of the store, he could see every outline clearly.

That was why he had first noticed the red glow in his siblings’ eyes.

Lu Chen slipped past rows of glass tanks to the shop’s entrance.

Beyond the two glass doors, a rolling shutter was tightly locked; not a crack remained.

After careful inspection, he abandoned hope of leaving through there.

He was about to search elsewhere when he heard a thump behind him.

Turning, he saw the burliest sibling had already fallen to the floor, while the third was struggling to climb out.

What on earth…?

Lu Chen had not expected his companions’ learning ability to be so strong. One demonstration, and they all understood how to use the branches to escape.

He decided to ignore them, and scurried on his tiny legs toward the sink in the shop’s corner.

The drainpipe there was nearly ten centimeters wide—enough for him to wriggle through.

Before entering, Lu Chen glanced back to see the other three had followed.

These little fellows… he was speechless.

He shook his head and let out a low growl, signaling for them not to lag behind.

Then, he slipped into the pitch-black drain.

Relying on the body’s instinctual memories, Lu Chen understood: in the wild, young Siamese crocodiles possessed a strong sense of group cohesion.

This allowed them to better benefit from the protection of adult females, and to spot predators or coordinate hunts more effectively.

Even so, their survival rate was less than two percent.

Lu Chen had no idea what these siblings were thinking, but they were certainly stubborn, daring to follow him into escape.

Still, with their company, he would not be lonely for some time.

A crocodile’s sense of smell is so acute it can detect blood from hundreds of meters away, even underwater.

The moment he entered the sewer, a riot of odors—filth, blood, decay—assaulted his nostrils.

To an ordinary crocodile, such smells were familiar, for they often fed on carrion.

But as a human, Lu Chen felt waves of nausea, nearly retching.

He forced himself onward.

The drain was shrouded in darkness, almost devoid of light.

For a Siamese crocodile with superior night vision, this was no problem; he could see everything clearly.

Beneath the tough scales of his body were countless tiny pores—specialized sensory organs that detected the slightest vibrations in the wastewater.

Thanks to this, Lu Chen made his way without much trouble, passing through the long drain into the main sewer beneath the road.

Suddenly, he shivered, his limbs beginning to slow.

Cold. Bone-deep cold.

It was early summer—outside, the night air was twenty-seven or twenty-eight degrees, perfect for a Siamese crocodile.

But deep underground, the temperature was barely twenty degrees.

For a human, this would be comfortable; for a cold-blooded reptile, it was not.

Lu Chen’s blood slowed, his limbs grew sluggish.

Behind him, his three companions grunted softly in distress.

They could not linger here. They had to get out, and soon.

Without hesitation, Lu Chen led the way forward.

Squeak, squeak… squeak!

Ahead, several pairs of beady, green-glowing eyes appeared in the pipe.

Lu Chen recognized them at once—a colony of sewer rats.

And there were many.

These rats were thriving, their bodies plump, fur reeking of rot.

Curious about these intruders, they hung back, watching, eyes glinting with hostility, sizing up the crocodile hatchlings as potential prey.

Yet, wary of the crocodiles’ size, they dared not attack—at least, not yet.

Lu Chen knew the rats were only testing them. The moment they decided the newcomers posed no threat, they would pounce.

In the chill of the sewer, the crocodile hatchlings’ combat prowess was much reduced. Lu Chen had no intention of getting bogged down with the rats.

In a contest at close quarters, the brave would win. They needed to charge through.

He opened his mouth and let out a fierce hiss.

The others joined in, their growls echoing.

The rats, startled, scattered away.

Lu Chen hurried his siblings forward, alert for any vibrations in the water.

As he suspected, the rats, finding no danger, quickly followed—clinging like burrs, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

But their hopes were dashed.

Through the faint light, Lu Chen saw the end of the pipe not far ahead.

The rush of water was loud there; the exit was not completely sealed.

He led his siblings forward, and together they squeezed out through the gap.

Splash—they tumbled into the current below.

Warm water flowed over their bodies, driving away the lingering chill.

One after another, his siblings landed safely, swimming vigorously.

Behind them, the rats clustered at the gap, squeaking in frustration.

Lu Chen quickly assessed their surroundings.

They had emerged into a cityscape river, four or five meters wide, teeming with fish.

Especially at night, when the fish were most active; the surface was crowded with them.

Without hesitation, Lu Chen flicked his tail and slipped silently beneath the water.

Instinct guided him as he swam, his eyes locked on a small bleak fish near the surface.

The little fish, unaware of danger, was swallowed in a flash as the water churned.

"Bleak, family Cyprinidae, genus Hemiculter, provides 0.05 energy points."

A new string of text appeared on the translucent screen, showing the prey’s basic information.

Only 0.05 energy points—Lu Chen was a little disappointed, but swallowed it whole with a twitch of his throat.

Crocodile teeth are built for crushing, but their mouths cannot tear or chew. When they catch large prey, they clamp down and drag it to the shore, smashing it against rocks or logs until it breaks apart, then swallow it bit by bit.

If the prey is small, they gulp it whole, letting their powerful stomach acids dissolve even the bones.

Even after one fish, Lu Chen still felt ravenous.

He targeted another.

Again, he struck with unerring accuracy—simple and efficient.

As he hunted, the other three crocodiles began their own attempts—though their movements were awkward, their timing off, perhaps only succeeding once in every ten tries.

Luckily, the river was full of small fish, and they would not go hungry.

Two fish, three… as more and more were digested, the energy points on his system panel steadily climbed: 0.85 now, nearly one full point.

Seeing his companions were also sated, Lu Chen issued a low growl and began to swim downstream.

Though food was plentiful here, they were in the bustling heart of the city—no place to linger.

If discovered by humans in daylight, they would surely be captured. As an invasive species, Siamese crocodiles had no claim to protection.

What mattered most now was to quickly find a safe refuge.