Cat 117: The Obstacle Race
by CristaeChapter 117: The Obstacle Race
Yan Jiyun thought he’d just be sitting here betting on horses to earn points, but no sooner had he figured out the betting systems than the game yanked him into a race.
He was a rider who’d only just learned to ride leopards and tigers. He could ride horses a little, but he had no experience with horse racing at all.
The system, ever malicious, had even prepared racing silks and a steed for him.
Backstage, Yan Jiyun spotted a set of racing silks with his name on them and put them on without hesitation.
His role as a jockey was set, but the system didn’t assign him a horse—instead, an NPC led him to the stables to choose.
There were only three horses: one chestnut, one bay, and one dapple gray.
They were all clearly purebreds, but Yan Jiyun didn’t recognize them. After circling once, he chose the bay that snorted at him.
He looked the horse over, up and down. “You seem like a good sort.”
His reason for choosing it was simple. This horse showed the most emotion, while the other two wouldn’t even spare Yan Jiyun a glance and exuded arrogance.
The race was about to begin.
Yan Jiyun never expected to be a racing jockey, but being unfamiliar with the horses, could he win?
The answer was no—Yan Jiyun honestly wasn’t much of a rider.
His last time on a horse was just that—last time—and those had been gentle, well-trained mounts at a riding club. Now he was supposed to compete in a race—an entirely different animal.
The horse in his hands was called “Chasing Wind.” The name was decent enough.
He patted the bay’s head, negotiating, “Chasing Wind, let me try you out first. Don’t get any ideas.”
As he approached, he’d spotted the race rules posted beside the barn.
The system laid out the information for them, but you still had to live to use it.
Horse Racing Game Rules:
- There are three races in total, each with a ten-minute interval.
- The three events are: speed race, obstacle race, and cross-country.
- Players must place in the top three in the speed race, top two in the obstacle race, and first in the cross-country.
- Players cannot change horses during the events; if violated, there’s a risk of being thrown.
- Unexpected dangers may occur during the game. Please be careful~
This was a gaming rule set he knew all too well.
He needed to get on good terms with his temporary teammate, and fast.
He led Chasing Wind from the stable for a practice ride.
Fortunately, Chasing Wind was in a decent mood and didn’t kick or shy away.
Though he was clearly discontent with the rider, Yan Jiyun managed to climb onto his back without trouble.
Yan Jiyun rode in circles in the paddock, getting a feel for the horse and trying to settle in.
After a few rounds in the small arena, he began to get his bearings.
A judge came over to confirm the starting order, while his fellow jockeys limbered up nearby.
When they saw Yan Jiyun’s unfamiliar posture on horseback, they started to snicker.
“Looks like we’ve got a rookie today?”
“Is it that guy over there?”
“That’s him. Look at how he mounted—amateur hour. He thinks he’s winning today?”
“He’s just here to fill out the numbers. The winner is sure to be someone else, anyway.”
Yan Jiyun heard every word these NPCs muttered behind his back.
Was this a game or a palace intrigue drama, given how petty it felt?
No matter how these NPCs sneered, his priority was to build rapport with Chasing Wind.
The horse was strikingly well-built, with a gentle disposition and a soft coat.
It was well-fed and tame. After a bit of test-riding, Yan Jiyun found he could get a light trot out of him with no resistance—well-trained, as was to be expected from a racehorse.
Let’s hope his name matches his skills.
The name might have been a cliché, but worlds better than “Caramel,” his old mount. The two breeds were evidently different—Caramel was cute, Chasing Wind was all style.
He wondered if Qi Feng and Chu Mo had made it into the same race. Scanning the track, he couldn’t spot either of them.
Clearly, neither had entered the Horse Gate with him.
The guide never actually promised they’d be in the same game once they crossed the Horse Gate—yet another pitfall of this place.
Maybe something went wrong during the teleportation, or maybe the guide planned it. She had asked if they wanted to go together, but never answered whether they’d actually wind up in the same Zodiac Gate. The system never missed a chance to trip up the players.
Given the game’s nasty habits, if they really could join the same match, it would only be some cutthroat player-versus-player scenario. Now it was another solo challenge, much like the Rat Gate.
But Qi Feng and Chu Mo had already told him that only the Tiger Gate was a true casino; the other Gates were closer to standard game stages.
Yan Jiyun wondered if it would have been quicker to split up and each tackle a gate—all would have to clear the games and retrieve info cards, though. There was no way to guarantee success.
Still, he had gotten something useful from the Tiger Gate.
He hadn’t grabbed an info card, but at least he knew what mattered in the Tiger Gate.
Other players racked up points at every game but never caught the boss’s attention. He, on the other hand, was noticed after winning ten rounds of dice—a clear sign that getting ten straight wins unlocked the most important info.
Boss Ruan was the casino boss, and his specialty was dice. The heart of the Tiger Gate was the dice table.
Qi Feng and Chu Mo must have realized this, too, explaining why they’d left right away.
Veteran players—always sly, keeping the truth to themselves.
He’d only figured it out now that he’d had a moment to think; before, he’d been too busy running for his life. Otherwise, how to explain why Qi Feng could rack up a million points without being hunted, while he was forced to play for his life after just a mere hundred thousand? So it was about the ten-win condition or the points threshold.
But what did the dice actually represent?
A number?
But dice had six faces—a six-digit code? But which digits did he need?
The judge called him to the starting line, breaking his train of thought. He sat tall in the saddle, putting the pieces of information aside for now. The rest could wait until he had the Horse Gate’s info card in hand.
If the process was spelled out this clearly, it wouldn’t be easy.
The sunshine floodlit the course, warming him, but when he glanced at his rivals he caught the gleam of reflected silver.
Yan Jiyun: … What the hell!?
Were those weapons? Was this supposed to be a race or a duel to the death?
He’d known this game was sinister, but such an obvious clue was nothing but a huge trap waiting for players to fall in.
He had nothing prepared for this. What was he supposed to do?
His name was on the list, clear as day. He couldn’t just turn back into a cat and compete in feline form.
There was a task—and it had to be completed if he wanted the info card.
Damn. The race would start any second, and there was no chance to find armor for protection. The lousy system had disabled everyone’s items, clearly so players could be helpless here, mere lambs to the slaughter.
The judge was clearing the staff from the track.
This was the 1,200-meter speed race.
The race officially began.
Chasing Wind snorted and pawed the ground, good-tempered with Yan Jiyun’s presence but lacking patience, stamping nervously.
Yan Jiyun had watched horse races, but never ridden in one—a total rookie thrown into the deep end.
He just needed to place in the top three this round.
He reassured himself: he’d ridden tigers and leopards, so what was a horse?
The tension was palpable—those same NPCs who’d mocked him now flanked him left and right, putting him even more on edge.
He couldn’t afford to risk injury just because he’d stocked up on ointments; the wounds on his back could only be temporarily stilled in-game, not truly healed until he left the Pinnacle Tournament.
He led Chasing Wind into the starting gate.
Bang!
The gate burst open, and Chasing Wind bolted onto the track. Yan Jiyun lowered his body, clutching the reins.
It was their first time working together—he could only use what he’d learned with tigers and leopards to handle Chasing Wind.
Unlike the talking mice, this horse was simply a horse—no conversation possible.
A speed race was a pure test of velocity. All the horses surged forward at full tilt.
Yan Jiyun patted Chasing Wind, whispering, “Chasing Wind, steer clear of them. They’ve got weapons—they’ll hurt you or me.”
He wasn’t sure if the horse understood, but Chasing Wind started to intentionally distance himself from the others.
A horse that understood Chinese—perfect!
Yan Jiyun grew more excited. If he and Chasing Wind could coordinate, all the better.
“Pass them!”
He squeezed his legs against the horse, keeping a tight hold on the reins.
1,200 meters was a mid-to-long distance race for a horse. On the first turn, Yan Jiyun felt another mount nearly brush his right side.
He caught sight of the blue-and-white silks—this rider carried a dagger!
He and Chasing Wind hadn’t gotten far away from the pack, and he saw the glint of steel in the rider’s right hand—a dagger, ready to swing at any moment.
What to do?
“Chasing Wind, faster—just a little faster!”
He was in fifth place—not enough to qualify for the next round.
“Chasing Wind, pass number seven from the side!”
Number seven wasn’t wielding any weapons—Yan Jiyun decided it was safer to pass on his side.
Chasing Wind accelerated again.
“Good job, Chasing Wind!”
They climbed to fourth place, now barely half a length from third.
[Want to Be Human] livestream:
“Whoa, there’s actually betting in the stream now. I just put money on our kitten to win!”
“Ahhhhh, go kitten!”
“Kitten’s already experienced the speed of riding a leopard. Even a horse isn’t as fast as that—he’ll pick up racing in no time.”
“Whoa, he just overtook third place!”
“I used to think horse racing was boring—never went to a race. Now I get it: I just hadn’t found a horse and jockey to root for. Betting now, I’m putting everything on the kitten!”
“Am I the only one worried he’ll get hurt? I saw another player run the racing game before—he made the top three, but got stabbed in the thigh, blood everywhere, and sucker-punched in the head. He passed out from blood loss before the second round even ended, and when he collapsed, another horse trampled his skull to death.”
“It’s that brutal?”
“Are you blind? One of the jockeys just tried to stab our kitten with a dagger!”
“Crap, second place just went for him! No! Kitten, dodge!”
Yan Jiyun ducked aside just in time, narrowly avoiding the other rider’s knife.
He’d just wanted to overtake second place, but the other went straight for his throat—the blade slicing past his carotid, an obvious deadly strike.
He didn’t fear, nor did he shrink back.
Trapped between wolves and tigers—how could he break free?
Yan Jiyun could only shout: “Chasing Wind, faster! Your top speed now! You’re the fastest mount I’ve ever had. Faster than a leopard or a tiger—we can take first, we will take first!”
Re-energized, Chasing Wind surged ahead with renewed power.
Yan Jiyun’s world shrank to the thunder of hooves, the howl of wind, and the rush of breath. He fell in love with the sensation of racing.
The first-place jockey whipped out a weapon too. Yan Jiyun spotted it: a pistol, drawn in readiness for pursuit.
That gun could hit his chest—or Chasing Wind. The two were partners now, in it together—he couldn’t lose either.
Yan Jiyun bent low and murmured, “Close in on first place.”
It was kill or be killed—no way he was dying today.
Chasing Wind pressed up against the leader. In a flash, Yan Jiyun had already snatched the gun from the leader’s grip.
First place had barely started to draw—the gun only halfway out—when suddenly the weapon was gone, vanished from his hand.
Yan Jiyun gripped tighter with his legs. “Chasing Wind, we did it—let’s go!”
Chasing Wind seemed to possess uncanny intuition, and Yan Jiyun sensed he could go even faster.
Their goal: first place!
They sped past the leader—then second, a length ahead—then two, then three—until they crossed the finish line!
The entire audience leapt to their feet, stunned or enraged, but none had bet on this horse—no one thought he’d make it, everyone’s money lost in one go.
Who would’ve thought this was the dark horse—and now, it was too late to place new bets.
Yan Jiyun didn’t care one bit about the NPC audience. What troubled him was the second event: the obstacle course.
As a cat, jumping obstacles was easy, but working with Chasing Wind would be a whole new challenge. They’d have to coordinate perfectly—and Chasing Wind would need to know the obstacles intimately. If they failed a jump or were attacked mid-way, the result could be disastrous.
Together, they’d have to finish in the top two.
After their 1,200-meter dash, Yan Jiyun dismounted and found a quiet spot on the lawn to rest, keeping a safe distance from other jockeys just in case.
But the defeated vanished from the field once the race ended.
The scene shifted—now he stood in the obstacle course arena.
Yan Jiyun patted Chasing Wind’s neck, showering him with praise: “Chasing Wind, you were amazing—the best, brightest among them. Not only are you gorgeous, but you’re a speed demon, no one can touch you. You’re the Rolls-Royce of horses, the very top tier!”
Chasing Wind snorted, acknowledging the praise and clearly enjoying it.
Taking advantage of his good mood, Yan Jiyun went on, “But now we face our greatest challenge yet. See those obstacles up ahead? That’s our next battlefield.”
Chasing Wind lifted a hoof, circling once as if to show off his prowess.
Yan Jiyun sat cross-legged to rest. Ten minutes wasn’t enough time to check the full list of competitors.
After the first round, he was sure Qi Feng and Chu Mo had never entered the Horse Gate.
If the other two weren’t in this Zodiac Gate, he could safely transform back to a cat.
If needed, he’d ignore any NPC reactions—at moments of danger, survival came first.
He was also beginning to understand the system’s prompt upon entering Angel City: “entertainment” was the name of the game.
Each of the twelve Zodiac Gates led to a different form of entertainment—some popular, some extravagant. He didn’t know what games the remaining gates held.
What was certain: every “entertainment” had been twisted to life-and-death ends. Where the game could kill, it would kill—no chances of scraping by.
After a few minutes’ rest and a mental reset, the announcer called for the next round.
But this course was nothing like a standard sports obstacle event.
Normally, horses and riders enter in sequence, departing only when the referee rings the bell.
Here, the starting point was unchanged from the speed race, but the arena was wider, with double the barriers.
Obstacle racing required utter harmony between man and horse, but he and Chasing Wind had barely had a warmup. The speed challenge was doable, but this? The thought alone was chilling. If he fell leaping an obstacle, he could easily break his neck.
He took a deep breath, offering one more pep talk: “Chasing Wind, remember: you’re the world’s fastest, strongest horse. Let’s take another first place together!”
“We haven’t worked together long, so for the obstacles, let’s go by your instincts—understand?”
Chasing Wind snorted again, answers clear.
Yan Jiyun patted his neck. “Good boy. You’re the smartest animal I’ve ever met—no contest.”
In a situation like this, there was no such thing as too much encouragement.
There were many rules to obstacle racing, but in this arena it looked more like a hurdle race—each horse and rider had their own lane.
The lanes, though, only governed the start—the rest was chaos, and nothing stopped rivals from sabotaging one another.
No point worrying about it!
At the sound of the judge’s bell, all the horses and riders surged forward—no different from a speed race in terms of chaos.
But this time there were even more horses—thirty in all.
It was Yan Jiyun’s first-ever obstacle race. As a cat, jumping obstacles would be all about control, but with a horse, he could only hope Chasing Wind’s instincts would serve them well.
The first obstacle loomed. He and Chasing Wind were still in the rear group; the other riders leapt their first poles with ease.
The first jump was standard height—nothing too tall. Chasing Wind cleared it easily. Yan Jiyun stood in the stirrups to keep from knocking his tailbone as the horse landed.
Both landed smoothly.
Success at the first jump—they raced on to the next.
On the flat, Chasing Wind could pick up the pace, but approaching jumps, timing was everything. As the rider, Yan Jiyun and Chasing Wind had to communicate at every hurdle.
Second obstacle!
They barely made it. Yan Jiyun patted Chasing Wind’s neck: “Good job!”
He didn’t want his horse to lose confidence—constant encouragement was vital, and he knew Chasing Wind responded to it.
He’d underestimated the power of words—Chasing Wind picked up speed, clearing the third jump and overtaking another rider in one fluid motion.
Next up, obstacle three. In official events, horse and rider must clear twelve obstacles in total.
Some of the jumps looked non-standard—piled with uneven rocks, far more difficult than usual.
Yan Jiyun was nervous, but Chasing Wind, bolstered by spiritual chicken soup, feared nothing—another perfect jump.
After the first two, they’d found a rhythm; all Yan Jiyun had to do was time his own takeoff as if he were a cat, and match it to Chasing Wind’s leap—their instincts aligning perfectly.
Crash!
The lead rider and his mount crashed into the fourth obstacle.
Here, there was no choice of how high to jump. The first three had been the lowest; each successive hurdle grew taller, and the constructions stranger—now stone piles, or historic fortifications of sharpened beams.
The fourth obstacle was a wide-spaced double jump over a stream in between.
No wonder the rider ahead had fallen—it was easy to come to grief here.
The lead rider missed his timing and paid the price, his horse limping badly.
The second rider cleared it.
The third crashed.
A brutal hurdle indeed.
Yan Jiyun could feel how painful it would be to fall here—every four-legged animal knew a broken leg was agony.
And now he and Chasing Wind were thundering towards that very same hurdle.
He had no energy to worry about others. Gripping the reins, he tightened his legs to signal Chasing Wind.
Not so much a signal—as a cat, he’d have jumped right here himself. Chasing Wind seemed to get it; synchronizing perfectly, ready to leap together.
Fourth obstacle, dead ahead.
Yan Jiyun lifted himself, eyes locked on the imposing barrier, reins tight, murmuring, “Chasing Wind—go!”
Chasing Wind coiled and sprang with powerful limbs!