Cat 124: The Final Stage

Chapter 124 The Final Stage

Back in the Demon Forest, the system had also suddenly announced which player had found the exit, but at that time the focus hadn’t been on finding an exit; the message was about who had boarded a vehicle.

Now, after all their effort to find the way out, the game simply broadcast the news—truly, a vile, sadistic system.

Fortunately, the lazy system hadn’t announced who had found the correct exit.

Another crucial detail: the system prompt referred only to the exit of Angel City, not the exit of the game itself.

So even now, Angel City was not the final level.

Curled up in his “litter scooper’s” arms, Yan Jiyun mused: this game is truly despicable.

Chu Mo scoffed as the system chime ended, voicing Yan Jiyun’s inner thought: “The game really is petty.”

Qi Feng said nothing, but his silence was agreement.

Chu Mo returned to the matter of their temporary teammate: “What about Yan Jiyun? No idea if he’s made it in.”

Qi Feng, trusting the new kid, said, “He’s clever. He’ll probably come once he sees the system prompt.”

Chu Mo was puzzled: “Still seems odd. All three of us made it back through the array to Angel City, but only he’s nowhere to be found.”

Qi Feng shook his head—the new kid was mysterious as well. “Whatever happens, let’s hope he shows up soon.”

They’d already lingered after returning in hopes the new kid would catch up, but he was still nowhere to be seen—their own actions had already been plenty conspicuous.

Chu Mo had to consider the worst: “You don’t suppose something’s happened to him?”

Yan Jiyun: …

Chu Mo, can’t you be a little more optimistic?

What if I’m already inside the clock tower?

Right now, Yan Jiyun was steadily nestled in his caretaker’s arms, unable to do anything that would let them know where he was.

Qi Feng kept his cool. “Let’s find the exit first.”

Chu Mo looked up. “I checked the first floor—nothing special. Best bet is the roof.”

Supporting the black cat in his arms, Qi Feng turned and started up the stairs, Chu Mo following close behind.

They wasted no time, shooting upward at full speed—easily among the first few to reach the top.

Yan Jiyun eyed the endless stairs—at least twenty stories, which meant nearly seventy meters high—and for the first time knew what bliss it was to let someone else carry him up all those flights.

Go, Litter Scooper!

Go, Chu Mo!

You’re almost at the rooftop.

Even Qi Feng, with his endurance, began to tire after so many stairs; these were not only steep, but with no breaks.

Chu Mo was nearly spent, bent double and gasping. “Damn it, why force me to climb so many stairs?”

Qi Feng didn’t answer. After catching his breath, he pressed on. He was carrying at least ten kilos of “sweet burden.”

Yan Jiyun nestled on his chest, counting his heartbeat. One, two, three—Qi Feng’s heart rate barely broke a hundred even after ten flights of stairs. No wonder veteran players were in a class of their own.

At last, they reached the rooftop. Even Qi Feng had to pause before crossing the final stretch, while Chu Mo’s legs were nearly numb.

Yan Jiyun, meanwhile, had enjoyed an easy ride. He poked his head up and saw an enormous wall-mounted clock.

Behind the face, the gears and springs were stilled.

The clock tower, naturally, was all about time. But this was a two-meter-wide face; the hands didn’t point anywhere near the actual time.

The dial was rusted, ringed with cobwebs—long neglected.

At last, the meaning of the twelve digits became clear: they needed to unlock the code to the world outside.

The Chinese zodiac was always about order, and the numbers must correspond to time.

Chu Mo stared at the clock in silence: “I remember Yan Jiyun said it was arranged by order of entry?”

Qi Feng stood in a dark corner. Chu Mo, intent on the clock, hadn’t noticed the little black head poking out of Qi Feng’s arms.

Qi Feng gently pushed it back down. “Let’s try it.”

Chu Mo didn’t hurry to adjust the time, but first carefully surveyed their surroundings. Qi Feng also began to ponder the standard time indicated by the clock.

A line of words caught their eye on the right side of the dial.

Chu Mo read it aloud: “You have only three chances to adjust the clock. After three, the mechanism will break.”

From his place in Qi Feng’s arms, Yan Jiyun silently cursed: no wonder this dog of a game is so good at making life miserable for players.

With the threat of breaking the clock, they’d have to be twice as cautious.

Qi Feng summed up his deductions: “Rat and Tiger should be first and last. Horse comes before Dragon. Pig and Dog are paired, so are Ox and Sheep, Rooster and Monkey, Rabbit and Snake—”

Chu Mo suggested, “Could that be the order for the hands?”

Qi Feng trailed off, sensing some mismatch: “We thought the door and password sequence were linked, but now it’s a clock—we’ll have to rethink it.”

Yan Jiyun was even more anxious than they were; with other players climbing fast, if they didn’t solve it soon, there’d be a fight for access!

Time was running out.

He racked his brains, hating that he couldn’t speak up.

Yan Jiyun poked his head out again, too quick for Qi Feng to stop him.

Chu Mo blinked. “I was just thinking your chest looked odd. Why are you carrying an NPC?”

Seizing on Chu Mo’s logic, Qi Feng played along. “Thought I’d see if I could take an NPC out of the game.”

Chu Mo realized his line of thinking. “Trying to crack the system’s rules? If you succeed, make sure to notify Central City.”

There were players who left by scoring points, and players who tried to break the system—a whole underground network.

Maybe that explained why Qi Feng had spent three years in the game without topping the leaderboards?

In any case, Chu Mo lost all interest in Qi Feng’s hidden cat.

Yan Jiyun found some amusement in watching his caretaker lie so earnestly—and especially that Chu Mo believed him. Lucky for him—if Chu Mo tried taking a cat too, might his secret be exposed?

But there was no more time for distractions.

If they had the zodiac order, then plug in the corresponding digits.

Players had assumed the code was just for the info cards and numbers they’d found—who would have guessed it linked to a clock!

The Chinese zodiac order was: Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, Pig.

Rat is first, Pig is last.

Qi Feng and Chu Mo, after trading with other players, had gathered all twelve numbers.

But how did any of it correspond to the clock?

Yan Jiyun couldn’t solve it either.

He’d come clean in front of Chu Mo, and now openly observed the surroundings, with Qi Feng tailing him.

Qi Feng, most at ease, was thrilled—nothing could please him more than finding his cat in the tournament.

Yan Jiyun noticed a game board on the back wall, with twelve zodiac animals, each one raised just a fraction.

He stared at the chessboard, and Qi Feng, following his gaze, spotted the barely concealed board.

“We use the zodiac sequence here,” Qi Feng mused.

Chu Mo, still fixated on the notice, turned to spot the game board as well.

On first entry, they’d seen only the clock, and assumed everything was about adjusting the hands, with the chessboard as a red herring.

After confirming the zodiac order, they pressed each corresponding symbol in sequence—double-checking at every step.

Yan Jiyun tensed on their behalf.

From Yan Jiyun: Rat, Tiger, Horse; from Qi Feng: Pig, Dog, Ox, Goat, Rooster; from Chu Mo: Monkey, Snake; Dragon they’d found together; from another player, Qi Feng had traded for Rabbit.

Their combined entry order: Rat, Rabbit, Pig, Dog, Goat, Ox, Monkey, Snake, Rooster, Horse, Dragon, Tiger.

As the last Tiger tile was pressed, the clock’s second hand started moving with a series of clicks.

Their solution worked!

The second hand moved—but what about the minute and hour hands?

Yan Jiyun, pretending to nap, still scanned the surroundings for some trigger device.

Nothing else but the chessboard.

So how to handle the other hands?

Qi Feng and Chu Mo divided up the work and searched the top floor for more mechanisms.

The zodiac sequence seemed simple, but each step had been hard-won.

With his cat in his arms, Qi Feng searched the rooftop.

With the tower sixty meters tall, no one else was going to reach them for at least a few moments—the advantage of speed.

It was vital to get inside before others arrived, lest chaos ensue.

Players like Fu Guangming would sabotage the code at the first opportunity.

The top floor had three distinct areas.

First was the main bell; second was an exhibit of clockwork parts—really more of a mechanics museum. The third held clocks from different worlds, set to those worlds’ current times; some had already stopped.

These must correspond to the minute and hour hands.

Maybe the “three times to adjust the clock” rule meant once for each hand—try more than once, and you’d lose your chance.

If anyone made three mistakes, all hope of leaving Angel City would be lost.

It looked like a single-player puzzle, but was in truth a cooperative one: any infighting escalated the difficulty.

Traps lurked everywhere.

Thankfully, only ten or so hours had passed, and most players hadn’t found the solution—otherwise Yan Jiyun and his companions wouldn’t have made it here.

Except—two people and a cat.

What was the display of clockwork parts for? Was it tied to the digits?

Yan Jiyun recalled Qi Feng and Chu Mo’s digits—0, 2, 4, 9, 1, 8—but he hadn’t learned the rest.

And as for the second room—the world clocks—what was their purpose?

Digits, zodiac, clockwork, timepieces.

With the zodiac out of the way, where were the numbers used?

Yan Jiyun struggled to jump from Qi Feng’s arms, but the “litter scooper,” unwilling to be separated from his cat after all they’d been through, simply held on tighter.

Helpless, Yan Jiyun stopped struggling and just stayed put.

He didn’t have enough information yet.

Wait.

He remembered that the clue from the Tiger Door was dice; could that tie into the clockwork room?

From experience with mechanical escape rooms, what did they usually find?

Nothing fit.

Qi Feng, too, saw nothing special in the mechanic’s display, and went into the clock room.

Chu Mo, surrounded by clocks, was stumped. “It’s too much—the digits just don’t seem to relate to these clocks.”

Qi Feng’s gaze swept the clocks, settling on one that didn’t move. “Why isn’t this one working?”

Chu Mo hesitated. “Maybe it’s broken?”

Qi Feng shook his head. “Not necessarily—maybe there’s more to it.”

Chu Mo sighed. “If only Yan Jiyun were here too—his mind’s quick, he’s full of wild ideas.”

Yan Jiyun: … You’re the crazy one.

Qi Feng agreed. “He’s smart, no doubt. We owe a lot to him for piecing together the inter-door patterns.”

The caretaker seemed to think highly of his brains; Yan Jiyun felt a little glow of pride.

There were twelve clocks on the wall, each labeled with its date of manufacture—from the Middle Ages to the 21st century, but the precision of these dates was probably meant to mislead.

Examining each clock, Yan Jiyun noted that nine worked, but three had stopped, and their hands pointed at the wrong times.

On closer inspection, the unmoving clocks lined up with the digits Qi Feng and Chu Mo had found.

Clock one: hands at 0:08;

Clock two: hands at 2:01;

Clock three: hands at 4:09.

None had a second hand.

If there were twelve digits, then there should be three matching clocks.

Qi Feng, locked on those clocks, had a knowing look, as if he and Yan Jiyun had arrived at the same conclusion.

Yan Jiyun thought, My “litter scooper” is solid.

He pointed to the 4:09 clock. “Chu Mo, pick this one.”

Chu Mo was still comparing the three clocks—he’d figure it out, given more time. “Why?”

Qi Feng replied, “Only 4:09 matches the zodiac’s time. If the twelve clocks represent different zodiacs, do you remember what time the big clock outside is stopped at?”

Chu Mo nodded. “9:09.”

Qi Feng agreed. “That’s right. Angel City is medieval Europe, so the big bell would follow E Country’s time, but maybe these clocks follow Chinese time? Of all these, only one matches the correct Chinese time.”

Chu Mo was puzzled. “Why Chinese time? It could be any country—many times could match.”

Yan Jiyun, paws on Qi Feng’s collar, laid his chin on them—perhaps Chu Mo hadn’t caught on yet.

Qi Feng explained, “But don’t forget—there’s no dragon in the Western zodiac, but our side instance had dragons. Only the Chinese zodiac includes the dragon. That’s why I picked this broken clock.”

Yan Jiyun, in his mind, nodded approvingly—his caretaker always managed to articulate precisely what he’d been thinking!

Yes, only the Chinese zodiac uniquely included the dragon, and only this clock’s time corresponded. If you didn’t look close, you’d miss the link.

With Qi Feng’s explanation, Chu Mo understood. “So the six other digits are red herrings.”

“Most likely,” Qi Feng said.

Yan Jiyun’s ears perked, straining to hear the approach of players below.

Qi Feng, noticing, felt his cat’s ears twitch, the tips brushing his lips—a ticklish sensation.

He knew whenever Caramel’s ears pricked up, he was listening in, so he warned Chu Mo, “The other players are getting close. We need to solve this before it turns chaotic.”

Chu Mo nodded, suddenly thinking Qi Feng also had keen hearing. Why was he the only one not picking up the sound?

They manipulated the clocks; of all of them, only 4:09 would budge. Following the direction, they rotated it gently.

Yan Jiyun heard the grind and whir of gears.

Chu Mo ran out to confirm—the minute hand was moving. “Qi Feng, we did it! All that’s left is the hour hand.”

The trio stood before the clockwork exhibit.

Yan Jiyun quietly observed left and right.

Chu Mo joked, “This NPC kitten you caught is unusually quiet.”

Qi Feng boasted, “He’s quiet, gentle, smart, and never causes trouble.”

Chu Mo failed to notice Qi Feng’s bragging switch was now fully on. “Not bad looking, either.”

Normally taciturn, Qi Feng blurted, “His eyes are green, you know? Black-rimmed, sharp, best build of any I’ve seen.”

Chu Mo kept it polite. “You’re very observant.”

Yan Jiyun: … I didn’t know I had eye liner.

Still, it felt good to be praised for his physique—he never knew he looked so good in his caretaker’s eyes.

If Qi Feng ever met actual panthers or tigers, would he be smitten with them instead?

Thank goodness those were only in beginner instances.

[Has Anyone Seen My Cat] Streaming Room:

“Bro Feng, why talk up an NPC? Praise it all you want, it won’t give you hints.”

“He never chats this much with his teammates—catch a cat, and he turns into a rambler.”

“Didn’t you see he changed his stream name recently? He could update it with each level up—last change was a month ago.”

“Hahaha I know why, but I’m not telling!”

“Same, I’m so happy! The kitten’s so cute peeking out of his jacket!”

Chu Mo kept the conversation going. “You ever keep a cat?”

Qi Feng grew circumspect. “I have one. He’s a year old.”

Chu Mo wasn’t that interested—just making conversation. “How does he look?”

Qi Feng looked down at Yan Jiyun. “Just like this.”

Chu Mo suddenly remembered his own dog. “I raise a dog.”

Qi Feng instantly lost interest. “Oh. Anyway, what information do you think the mechanics correspond to?”

Chu Mo: …

A truly abrupt change of topic.

Yan Jiyun stayed silent.

Sometimes, “litter scoopers” sounded just like proud grandparents bragging in the park.

Back to the puzzle, Qi Feng and Chu Mo quickly brainstormed about the clockwork wall.

Yan Jiyun joined them in thought—but he had a lead.

The three clocks used six specific digits, yet there was still a clue he hadn’t used: the dice from the Tiger Door.

They hadn’t found any dice in the Tiger room.

Maybe the clockwork wall wasn’t a display—it was the activation area for the hour hand mechanism. If so, finding the key piece would start it moving.

If he could think this far, so could Qi Feng and Chu Mo; surely all those parts weren’t just for show.

But what about the dice?

Clockwork mechanisms are intricate—and this was mechanical. It ran on interlinked gears.

Yan Jiyun scrutinized every cog, but each fit tightly—nothing missing or sabotaged.

No flaws.

Stumped, Yan Jiyun drooped his ears and lay on Qi Feng’s chest.

Restless, his paw snagged the shirt—a habit Qi Feng never curbed, worried about the cat losing fights outside. After their time in the game, he’d cared for them even more, keeping their claws sharp. Now his razor talons went straight through the shirt, scraping Qi Feng’s skin.

Qi Feng winced, pinched his cat’s paw. “Don’t, you’ll break the skin.”

And he couldn’t resist giving the paw pad a squeeze, quite content.

Yan Jiyun withdrew his claws.

Had he really spelled such danger?

Qi Feng turned—and Yan Jiyun caught sight of a tiny gap in the corner.

Seeing his chance, he leaped down.

Qi Feng, thinking his cat was making a break for it, hurried after—but saw he was just crouched by a little hole watching ants.

When would he tire of watching ants?

But this hole was odd.

“Chu Mo, there’s a gap here—fill it and the hour hand should move.”

Normally, the clock hands and gears were fully integrated, but here the mechanism was gapped—was that by design?

Chu Mo compared sizes. “Just the size of a die.”

Qi Feng tucked his cat back into his jacket, then produced a die from his pocket. “Let’s try this.”

Yan Jiyun: …

Just what didn’t his caretaker have stashed in his pockets?

Chu Mo gently put the die in—it fit perfectly!

It acted just like a screw.

Click, click—the whole room of gears started spinning.

The whole tower trembled.

Yan Jiyun clung to Qi Feng’s jacket.

Finally—could they leave?

[Congratulations, players have opened the final-stage entrance. All online players will now enter the last stage.]

[Tip: Defeat your opponent for ultimate victory in the Pinnacle Tournament!]

[Preparing to enter the final battleground.]

[The system is matching players…]

[You have been matched with your opponent; you will soon be transported to the final arena—]

The clock triggered the entrance to the final stage!

Yan Jiyun felt himself falling.

He saw he was separated from Qi Feng.

This time, he didn’t lose consciousness. On his way down, with no other players around, he used a five-minute experience card.

He changed to human form mid-fall, landing in a familiar arena, a rolling fog obscuring his view of the opposite side.

The system kept talking.

[Inventory unlocked. Players can purchase five items for battle. In five seconds, you will face your opponent!]

Yan Jiyun rapidly bought five items.

[Five, four, three, two, one—player, you are now entering the final arena.]

As the mist cleared, Yan Jiyun saw who stood opposite him.

You’ve got to be kidding me, you wretched game!