Cat 99: The Ultimate Quest

Chapter 99: The Ultimate Quest

Yan Jiyun had only spent a day in the zoo and wasn’t familiar with its roadways. Given a few more days, perhaps he’d have gotten his bearings, but tonight, in the dark, with no guide, he wasn’t sure where he might drive.

He wondered whether Dr. Zhou, by monitoring the cameras, had realized just how tight things had gotten for him.

Two cars were still trailing doggedly behind. Once they’d seen just how well Yan Jiyun could handle a vehicle—with one reckless car rear-ended and spun out—they changed tactics: no more cutting him off, now only persistent pursuit. Annoying, but not easy to shake.

He had to find a way to reach the exit Dr. Zhou had mentioned.

With no phone, he had no navigation—only his sense of direction.

He knew where the east, west, south, and north gates lay, but those were for visitors, not vehicles. Even if he found an exit, it was useless with a tail of pursuers; the commotion would only reveal his intentions.

As he pondered a solution for the cars chasing him, he heard a horn blare and a voice shout, “Jiang You! Stop! Give up the tiger and the lion!”

It was Dr. Peng, commanding him from behind. When did he manage to escape? Did Dr. Zhou lose control on his end?

Dr. Peng barked, “You think Zhou Yiqun is really working with you? You think we haven’t prepared? You’re too naïve.”

“Jiang You! I told you to stop! Turn over the tiger and lion and I’ll let you off the hook—in fact, I’ll promote you and give you a raise!”

Of course Yan Jiyun was not about to stop. That would mean handing the black panther, Orange, Kaiser, and the rest straight back to Dr. Peng—he’d be as good as personally delivering them to the butcher. After so much effort rescuing them, handing them back was out of the question.

Dr. Qiao’s car raced ahead, but then gradually slowed to fall in beside him. Dr. Qiao called over, “Chief Jiang, I’ll block them for you. Please, promise you’ll find my son! You’re the only one I can trust!”

Yan Jiyun: …

Did he really have to make such a sacrifice? Did he really know who I was? Was his trust so absolute?

Yan shouted back, “Don’t! You’ll die!”

Dr. Qiao shouted with bitter resolve, “If I can’t find my son, life or death is all the same! Whether you find his body or find him alive, please protect him and tell him his father never gave up!”

Why was he playing out such a drama at this critical moment?

Lowering his speed, Dr. Qiao wedged his vehicle between Yan’s truck and the pursuers, holding the others back.

Yan called, “Dr. Qiao, don’t! I have it covered!”

But before he finished, there was a screech of brakes and the crunch of a collision, tragic and final.

Yan Jiyun: Dr. Qiao, that’s emotional blackmail!

Alive or dead, Dr. Qiao had staked everything; not helping him find his son now would feel almost disgraceful.

Their entire interaction had lasted only minutes, and even knowing Dr. Qiao was an NPC, Yan Jiyun was moved by his desperate resolve. He was, in the end, flesh and blood.

Still, based on his current missions, what he’d learned, and the hints from Dr. Zhou, there was more to this than met the eye. Dr. Qiao’s appearance was no coincidence, but a clue.

He floored the gas, speeding toward the deepest, most remote part of the zoo—away from both pursuers and surveillance.

In a security dead zone, Yan Jiyun pulled to a stop.

He needed a moment of quiet to piece together the riddles he’d encountered, to clarify his thoughts before deciding what to do next.

First: Dr. Zhou’s brother, Patient 01, was a successful case, protected all along by his sibling.

Second: There were 202 medical files—202 patients in total. Twenty were known survivors. What happened to the other 182? Who brought them in, and who spirited them out?

Third: Was Dr. Qiao’s son among those 182 “failed” cases?

Fourth: The eight “passengers” in his truck were all people of means or strong constitution. Did the other 182 plus 12 patients all come from ordinary families?

Fifth: Dr. Zhou couldn’t have installed a zoo-wide tranquilizer system on his own—such a project needed the director’s approval, and targeted the animals that were now permanently cut off from their human bodies.

Sixth: The violent behavior in certain animals seemed purposefully induced—it wasn’t all; only some fell into madness. It wasn’t caused by medical experiments, but by attempts to control conscious animals and prevent them from running amok.

Seventh: For patients and animals still alive, maybe the two could be restored; but for the dead, there was no hope. Dr. Qiao’s son might well be one of the zoo’s “berserk animals.”

The “failed” cases he found in the archive were likely a cover: every one of those “failures” had become a conscious animal.

And there could only be one person behind it all—the zoo director, who had remained unseen from the start.

All his “passengers” were now quietly waiting for directions.

He smiled at the panther and Xixi. “Wait a moment—I need your help with something big next.”

This instance, from start to finish, wasn’t about solving the zoo’s problems—it was about the zoo’s “human” problem.

Now Yan Jiyun knew exactly what he had to do.

He slid open the panel between cab and cargo area. “Alright, let’s have a meeting. We’re about to pull off something huge. If we succeed, you’ll never be at anyone’s mercy again. If we fail—no, we won’t fail!”

“First, we need to rally all the animals and destroy every spray nozzle in the zoo within half an hour.”

“Second, we’ll all meet at Tiger Mountain in thirty minutes. Can you do it? If you understand, smack the truck.”

Meng Changsheng was the first to respond, visibly excited ever since the high-speed chase—he couldn’t help revealing his true nature.

Next came Kaiser, just as enthusiastic, followed by the panther, and then all the other animals. Clearly, word had gotten through.

It was a brief but effective council. Yan hadn’t yet opened the doors. Instead, he picked up the radio and pressed the button.

“Director, I know you’re listening.”

“I know who you are.”

“You’ve been watching all of this since the beginning.”

“Soon, it will all be over.”

He had declared war on the director—and then drove toward the tiger enclosure, letting Orange and the white tiger out.

“See you soon!”

Meng Changsheng was still baffled after getting out: …

Isn’t Jiang You an NPC? Why is he targeting the director?

And why does he talk like a player?

Could Jiang You be a player too?

But hasn’t the system assigned him related tasks, like helping deliver blood samples? Impossible!

He’d played eight rounds and never seen the system assign unique quests to players.

Impossible. He couldn’t be a player!

And yet—

He was openly challenging the director!

And who was the director, anyway?

If he really was a player, how did he know so much, so far ahead?

Yan Jiyun sent the panther to the leopard enclosure, Xixi to the aviary, and, aside from the slightly injured wolf cub, all the conscious animals—as well as player Meng Changsheng—were off the truck.

And after that, chaos swept the zoo.

Spray nozzles hidden in treetops were torn down and smashed by the animals.

Yan Jiyun knew there were 202 special animals in the park.

At yesterday’s meeting, he’d seen the quarterly financial report: revenue was much higher than other city zoos. There never was a financial crisis.

In previous management meetings, the operations chief mentioned that the online public had high praise for the zoo. Visitors returned, fascinated by how smart the animals acted—many believed they understood human speech.

In the end, the director had used Dr. Zhou for personal gain—a transaction, perhaps.

He parked near the leopard enclosure, waiting for the panther’s return.

He didn’t know how the rest of the plan would play out—life, and plans, change with every turn.

He could only hope the panther, Orange, and the others were trustworthy.

Eventually, Meng Changsheng and Orange appeared, shockingly efficient.

Under Orange’s authority, a row of tigers lined up, their presence intimidating.

The lions, from a nearby zone, arrived next—not a large group, but all accounted for.

The wolf king and queen came third.

Fourth was the brown bear, with several other animals.

Fifth was Xixi, leading a noisy flock.

In the final minute, the panther emerged at the head of its band—every leopard present and accounted for.

Whether or not there were other players, it was clear the majority of animals could comprehend the conscious animals’ orders—otherwise, such swift assembly would be impossible, confirming his suspicions.

As long as their own conscious minds hadn’t slipped into madness, they could heed the call of their kin.

Looking back, ever more animals had joined them—even the elephant had brought its companions.

Could it be that every animal in the zoo had undergone experimentation?

The players hidden among the animals were at a loss; wasn’t tonight supposed to be about catching animal thieves?

This was far more sinister than last night’s zoo-wide animal riot.

Now, all the animals were lucid, clearly about to do something big.

And as for the keeper on top of the truck—what was his plan?

Yan Jiyun grabbed a loudspeaker and shouted, “To the administration building! Move!”

The bewildered players: To the admin building? Why?

Isn’t he just a keeper? What’s he doing?

What’s in the admin building?

Why is that his target?

Are keepers always this bold now?

Could he be a player?

But weren’t all the players animals?

With their side-quests unfinished, the players were still confused.

Regardless of whether they came solo or teamed up, the inability to speak meant players couldn’t coordinate at the critical moment.

Yan Jiyun had no time to explain—saying too much would only stir suspicion, maybe even sabotage his plan; there’s truth in the old saying—a single bad apple spoils the barrel.

Each animal displayed its unique skills, nearly half the zoo’s population surging toward the admin block in a grand wave.

Yan Jiyun drove up front, with the panther in the passenger seat. Xixi was busy leading the birds and couldn’t return for witty banter.

He found a microphone on the truck and recorded a looping audio clip:

“Tonight, the final showdown at the admin building—don’t miss your chance! You too can protect the zoo’s peace.”

“Join us! Tigers, leopards, lions, elephants, brown bears—just missing you!”

“Come on, little friends! To the admin building with us!”

Players: …

This theatrical display—was the driver a player or an NPC?

Damn it, how come he could turn human again, while the rest of them were stuck in animal shells?

With that, Yan Jiyun, leading hundreds of animals, charged the admin complex.

Who could have guessed that the keeper, who’d just escaped a moment ago, would launch such a wild endgame?

[“Want to Be Human”] Livestream:

“So epic! So cool! Damn, I can only shout that Little Cat is cool! Please, can I have a protagonist like this in my life?”

“Everyone’s busy praising him, but look at his management style. He delegates everything—leopards, tigers, lions all help manage their own squads. Leadership potential, right there.”

“I don’t care, I just want to cheer—this is the moment I wanted all along, and it’s really happening.”

“Boss battle incoming?”

“Hurry! Go! So exciting! I love this! (First-person!)”

“Am I the only one obsessed with that loudspeaker broadcast? Priorities, folks.”

Yan Jiyun felt like a “rebel” leader now, and as he thought this, his truck and the animal army had already filled the admin plaza.

Bright lights shone in the admin area.

Blocking their way were the zoo’s security guards; behind them stood the keepers, then Dr. Peng and Professor Fang, with Deputy Director He up on the administration balcony.

She gripped a bullhorn. “Jiang You, what do you think you’re doing?!”

Security held electric batons, keepers wielded tranquilizer rifles. Their numbers swelled—easily a hundred strong.

Without a word, Yan Jiyun drove straight ahead. The assembled ranks scattered before the truck, their formation in disarray.

With the truck clearing a path, the animals followed suit—charging into the human defenders.

In this instance, neither Deputy Director He nor the director were good people. Their only goal was profit—and if unchecked, they would carry out experiments on ever more victims, like Dr. Qiao’s son, who came in as a patient and ended up an experimental subject.

Dr. Zhou was just a doctor; he didn’t recruit patients. Only the director could arrange all this.

So the only person Yan Jiyun needed to confront was the director—the deputy’s role was just a red herring.

Here, every answer was veiled in ambiguity; pick the wrong thread and the truth slipped away.

Driving into the admin courtyard, Yan leapt down as staff busied themselves trying to hold back the animal assault.

The panther, Orange, and Kaiser closed in protectively.

Chaos swept the grounds—even the birds attacked, pecking eyes with unerring brutality. Yan had no doubt his side could hold these opponents off.

He led a pack of large animals toward the second admin building.

Some players followed him in.

On night one, the animals rioted passively; tonight, it was active rebellion. Something was deeply wrong.

This was the only building he’d never explored, unsure what might be waiting inside.

Dr. Zhou was nowhere in the crowd.

Suddenly, from above, a white form crashed to earth—a thunderous impact that nearly stopped everyone’s hearts.

Yan Jiyun rushed over, fearing a body.

But—no. It was a dummy.

Over it hung a doctor’s coat with Dr. Zhou’s name badge—a warning.

This building stood apart from the others, screened by twenty-meter-tall trees. At night, not even outside lights penetrated. In the cold breeze, it was chilling and foreboding. Like the others, it had three floors, but being so surrounded by trees made it nearly invisible. Only thanks to a second glance during the day did Yan Jiyun even know it existed.

The front entrance was locked.

Some impatient player—equipped with a lock-pick tool—forced the door and rushed inside.

Yan Jiyun: …He bet those players had a quest to complete too; why else would they risk being first in line?

Guys, slow down—didn’t they notice the dummy? It was both warning and clue.

Unable to warn them that this was likely the final BOSS area, Yan Jiyun could only murmur to the panther, “Let’s not rush in—it could be a trap.”

But would players heed the warning of an “NPC”? Not likely. All eager for advancement, they streamed up the stairs.

Did they even know why? Experienced players—fearless, if nothing else.

Other players, spying the stampede, also rushed in. When only Yan Jiyun, the panther, and his loyal animals remained, even the big white tiger had followed the others.

Perfect.

Having other players in the instance just made him anxious—as if he suffered social anxiety.

He said to the panther and his group, “Let’s go. Our goal is to find the director.”

Inside, the building was shrouded in darkness—not just dim, but black as pitch.

Only then did he understand why the other players seemed to vanish the moment they entered—now he too received a system prompt.

[Ultimate Quest: Resolve the zoo’s final crisis.]

What was the true crisis?

Yan Jiyun’s first goal had been to confront the director. Wasn’t “crisis” the main quest from the start? How had things come full circle?

He was about to take a step further when a shriek rang out ahead, halting him.

He couldn’t tell what animal had made it.

Then—Xixi’s voice, unmistakable: “Shit, why’s another fight breaking out?! This building is not right—everyone, hold your breath!”

Thump, thump, thump—he saw a gorilla collapse hard, pinning a knot of players at the stairwell.

Yan Jiyun clamped a hand over his nose and retreated. At that moment, the entrance behind him shut automatically, sealed off by welded wire—even birds couldn’t escape.

That dummy must’ve been thrown down from the roof. With so many barriers, there was no other way to drop such a thing.

Yan ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath.

There was no rule that said the director had to be on the third floor.

All the scents surrounding him belonged to animals, layered with the thuds of bodies hitting the floor.

After the spectacle, no player dared push forward again, though they might once the fog dissipated.

Yan Jiyun withdrew his foot from the stairs.

“We’re not going up.”

Xixi, perched on his shoulder, cocked her head. “Why not?”

The panther and Kaiser looked to him as well. “No one said our target is upstairs.”

And the quest was to resolve the crisis. But what crisis? The destruction of the zoo?

Closing his eyes, he sifted through the cacophony of footsteps and cries, straining for something human.

The panther, following his lead, stilled its mind and listened.

Only in quiet could the truth emerge.

There—it was there: sounds apart from the chaos.

A click.

A snap.

A tap.

Switches and toggles.

A rustle—shifting objects.

And the sharp click of hard-soled shoes on the floor.

Leaning into the animals’ native gifts had been his greatest asset in this instance.

He and the panther opened their eyes at the same time and sprinted to the right side of the first floor.

The noise came from just behind a wall.

The panther reached the farthest-right door first.

It was sturdier than the others—no forcing this one open; whoever had closed it was well prepared.

Yan Jiyun pulled out his lockpick—only five uses left. Click! Opened.

He couldn’t have spent his points better—this tool could open anything in the instance, even vehicles.

The panther motioned Yan back, pushed the door ajar with one paw, sniffed, and, finding nothing amiss, shot him a “safe” glance.

That was the cool professionalism of a special forces soldier. This black skin hadn’t been his brother’s childhood wish—Dr. Zhou had projected his own dreams onto him.

Another sturdy door confronted them.

Once more, the universal key. Opened.

A third, the same. And a fourth—now the key had only one use left. “Let’s hope this is the last,” Yan muttered.

He used the universal key again.

[Advanced Tool “Universal Key” uses remaining: 0]

Click—the fifth door opened.

And before them: rows of hospital beds, each one occupied by a patient.

These were the so-called “failed” cases—nearly two hundred patients. They weren’t dead!