Cat 190: Sin City

Chapter 190: Sin City

“Ahhh, four cats—wait, with cat cub there are five! Can I apply to the game to adopt a copy-cat cub? Cool and adorable, their dominating aura is overwhelming. It’s just too cute!”

“Exactly! So cute. I’m not even watching this stream as a horror game anymore—as long as cat cub is here, I’m happy, and now my joy is multiplied!”

“Damn, I want to know how the level-5 streamer gets out of the game. Did little black lead him out?”

“Probably not. Even though top-tier instances are rare, there are plenty of discussion threads on the forum—apparently, he triggered a storyline and entered this copy’s cruelest side-quest, the Christmas Arcade. The only way out is if there’s inside-outside cooperation. He could have teamed up with another player, but that player ended up sucked into the game too, so couldn’t help his owner escape. So, when owner was on the verge of dying, cat cub got tricked into this instance by the game. Feels like the system is playing a big game—trying to pull all the high-level instance veterans into the top copy and kill them all?”

“Makes sense. I read a summary: apparently everyone who entered this time is a guild leader or something. Other players called them leader or vice-leader.”

“But why would the system do this? What’s it got to do with playing in the instance versus running a guild outside? The game can’t take a joke?”

“Maybe the game’s been running too long, too many high-level players, but not enough top-instance ones, so it’s pulling them all in deliberately.”

“Maybe it’s year-end—the game’s got a KPI to hit.”

“That KPI theory is crazy, but disturbingly plausible.”

The uproar in the streaming room gave Yan Jiyun no encouragement at all. The newly-tamed little black cat No. 2 stood behind him, while he was left to face two cats identical to himself, each matching him in size and every other respect.

These two were different from the previous ones: their eyes carried a viciousness the others had lacked.

It was as if, from the first moment, they knew exactly who their target was.

This time, Yan Jiyun didn’t attack first—he didn’t yet know how formidable these two would be.

Switching to human form now wasn’t practical either. Catching one at a time was manageable, but two at once was far more complicated, and with no handy tools outside the bubble tea shop to tie them up, he’d have to win with feline prowess alone.

First, he needed to see whether these copies were identical in temperament, or if there was individual variation.

No. 2, still dazed from the thrashing, stood to the side, while the other two let out sharp cries. Yan Jiyun himself remained silent.

The two black cats’ voices dropped to a low growl as they drew nearer and nearer.

Every bit of Yan Jiyun’s focus was locked in. The right-hand cat was a little more impatient—it pounced first, raising its right forepaw, a move Yan Jiyun immediately spotted.

Cats react in about 0.1 seconds; as its paw shot out, Yan Jiyun’s struck like lightning, slapping it square across the face and knocking it off balance.

The left-side cat seized the chance to attack, moving quickly—but Yan Jiyun wasn’t unprepared. As it lunged, he ducked and pinned it to the ground, swiftly striking its face several times, leaving it dazed and unable to retaliate for a long moment.

The two fearsome new cats were instantly overwhelmed—something they obviously hadn’t expected; it didn’t match their inherited memories at all.

If they could speak, Yan Jiyun would probably tell them: memories can be deceiving. Copy-pasting isn’t always useful—not even a soul can be duplicated in full.

Refusing to submit, the cats got back on their feet and bared their fangs, but Yan Jiyun, having just dispatched three—his own momentum surging—completely suppressed their spirits, driving them into steady retreat.

Sensing there was no longer any real threat, he dropped his guard. He didn’t even have to hiss; a glance, a gesture, and the upstarts bowed their heads.

Now knowing they couldn’t defeat him, they wanted to flee.

Yet, in their minds, the instinct remained to challenge him, even while their bodies wanted to cozy up to this more powerful black cat.

Watching him approach, the two cats hesitated, then, simultaneously, mewed: “Meow?”

Yan Jiyun glanced from side to side, shrugged, then looked back, signaling for all three to follow.

To lead a pack of little brothers, you need to dominate not just in strength but also in finding food!

He’d noticed earlier there was a pet store selling cans of cat food nearby—full of displays, unstaffed. After two fights, he was starving; now was the time to eat.

Who’d have thought the first order of the day after earning subordinates would be to feed them canned food?

Arriving at the store, the cats had to pass by several bodies. The black cats, noses twitching at the scent of raw meat, were stopped each time by Yan Jiyun. He refused to let his copies eat human flesh—he wouldn’t be able to look at meat again for a year if they did!

The four cats rushed into the store, and Yan Jiyun ducked behind the front counter to shift back to human form. To his surprise, all three cats watched him with awe and admiration in their eyes.

Cans lined the wall in neat rows.

In this top-tier copy, Yan Jiyun enjoyed true freedom to eat as much as he wanted.

He opened three premium-brand meal cans, setting them in front of the three cats. One tried to nudge itself sideways, but he pushed it back to the middle.

Yan Jiyun said, “Number three, line up, or I’ll confiscate your can.”

Besides food, there were plenty of interesting things on the shelves: he picked out three different colored collars and fastened them around the necks of his three black cats.

No. 2 got white, No. 3 green, No. 4 yellow.

He chose a red one for Qi Feng’s little black—as a marker. That way, he’d always know which was which.

Everything was well stocked at the store, so Yan Jiyun had a can himself—nobody shortchanged.

Cats understand strength—whoever is strongest is boss. True, there will always be a few who aren’t convinced, but—feed them, and their loyalty follows. The boss can catch prey, after all, and they can’t: for now, there’s nothing else available in the mall.

Singlehandedly, Yan Jiyun had tamed the black cat villains. There was no more fear of being ambushed—they were under his watch, and if any step out of line, he’d beat it back into place. No. 2, who had already been bitten, avoided him a little.

If not for his human soul, perhaps he’d be as submissive to instinct as these cats; thankfully, he retained his rational mind.

With his new subordinates properly tamed, Yan Jiyun led them back toward the arcade.

But as they went, No. 3 (green) and No. 4 (yellow) heard human voices and ducked away to hide, while No. 2 (white) stuck with Yan Jiyun. Maybe it decided being near him was safest.

There were people nearby—their feline hearing made this plain.

Yan Jiyun guessed they must be replicas, hunting for main bodies. He wondered how many replicas would be spawned for a player.

If he got three cats, did others end up with three doubles too?

With copies multiplying like this, even the strongest player wouldn’t stand a chance.

Yan Jiyun avoided a confrontation, scooping up No. 2 (white) and hiding under a cosmetics counter.

He heard two familiar voices—

“Qi Feng is at D Tower, fourth floor, right? Let’s go find him.”

“Yeah, let’s meet up and talk things over.”

Chu Mo and Wen Ye.

They were heading the same way as before.

But Chu Mo and Wen Ye had already known where Qi Feng was earlier. Why hadn’t they gone then?

Clearly, these were newly created replicas.

Their memories coincided with those of the originals—this bit of conversation was almost word for word.

“Sweet Christmas” was truly terrifying: the replicas carried memories up to the moment of their creation—utterly impossible to defend against.

If Yan Jiyun hadn’t spotted the difference and run up to “recognize” Chu Mo, he’d have been deceived instantly.

A cold sweat broke out down his back.

Aside from his three black cats, there were 29 other replicas.

It seemed that the number of human player replicas corresponded to the count of online players. Why he had three was unclear—maybe some twisted sense of game humor.

The fake Qi Feng hadn’t even been dealt with; now there was another threat in play—horrifying.

Yan Jiyun could feel genuine fear at last—his mental pollution dropped by two more points.

[Sanity Pollution Value: 97]

The lower the value, the greater the contamination; crossing a certain threshold, people would go mad.

He suspected most players were driven insane by their own replicas: unable to distinguish originals or gain their team’s trust, murdered and replaced, until no one knew who was real. Even if only one player survived, eventually a flock of replicas would hound them to madness.

So this was what a top-tier instance was.

No. 3 and No. 4 trailed the two replicas, which he allowed rather than stopping them. Keeping a low profile was best.

Dividing them up worked to his advantage.

Each cat, clone or not, carried a unique scent.

For example, Chu Mo and Wen Ye were marked with little black’s scent, while their replicas would carry those of No. 3 and No. 4. So no matter how perfect the disguise, or how exact the memories, a cat’s nose would never be fooled.

No. 3 and No. 4 approached the two fake players, rubbing their legs to transfer their own scent before scampering away.

Cleverly cautious, the cats instinctively marked the replicas.

No. 3 and No. 4 inherited his and little black’s wariness—they’d never cozy up to a replica for long.

Now Yan Jiyun needed to return to D Tower to find Qi Feng. The two replicas knew exactly who the real Qi Feng was—they were on the hunt. If Qi Feng emerged from a mission and wasn’t careful, wasn’t it likely he’d be ambushed?

Yan Jiyun could hardly stay still. He tailed the fake Chu Mo and fake Wen Ye in the direction of D Tower.

Many questions remained—ones the very first players had failed to solve, never mind him.

He’d entered this top-tier copy for Qi Feng, assuming he could just leave after a rescue. Now, that seemed impossible. His own doubles had appeared, his existence already half-integrated into “Sweet Christmas.” He’d have to wait for the instance to conclude before he could get out.

Less than a day left—if he could see it through, he’d win.

The fake Chu Mo and fake Wen Ye, eager to take out other players, swept through the arcade looking for their targets.

At the door, Yan Jiyun snagged a worker’s jacket left at the front desk, blending in like another NPC. He glanced at the machine where Qi Feng had been trapped—now flashing a victory message on screen.

Qi Feng made it out? And little black?

Excellent—they’d both escaped, with little black likely lending a crucial paw.

Now, the only real player left in the arcade was himself, plus three black cats.

Feigning a repair call, Yan Jiyun checked—there were still 31 paid credits left, so after little black joined, Qi Feng finished with just one more credit spent. Not a single action wasted.

None of the cats circled near him—another shield for his real identity.

Yet the two fake players still strode purposefully his way.

He’d never shown his player side before—in theory, these two shouldn’t recognize him, but Yan Jiyun felt tense all the same.

He knew Chu Mo’s fighting skills, and Wen Ye—taller, more powerfully built—should be even stronger. If it came to blows, he was no match.

Suddenly, the fake Chu Mo plopped into a seat at the game cabinet and barked at Yan Jiyun: “This machine is still working, isn’t it? Why the out-of-order sign? Been a while since I gamed—boot it up for me.”

Yan Jiyun replied, “Sorry, sir. This one’s under repair. Please wait a moment.”

Fake Chu Mo smirked, not buying it. He picked up the gun and hit “Start” with practiced ease. “Hey kid, you look bored—how about a round with me?”

So, the copy really did inherit his mean streak—amplified a hundredfold.

Just as Yan Jiyun was about to refuse and walk away, the system chimed in, in a voice more irritating than Chu Mo himself.

[Congratulations, player, you’ve triggered the arcade mini-game “Sin City.” Successfully escaping will grant you an offensive item as a reward. Enter?]

So, this game was called “Sin City.”

He checked—31 rounds still left.

Play? Obviously, why not? A game against replicants—that would be interesting.

Yan Jiyun’s expression brightened. He looked up at the fake Chu Mo and fake Wen Ye with a smile. “Sounds great. Let’s play together.”

The words had barely left his lips before the two replicants, No. 2 (white), and Yan Jiyun all got pulled into “Sin City.”

He didn’t fear diving in—if Qi Feng could escape, so could he.

His ace: No. 2 (white cat) entered with him.

If the replicants inherited not just their host’s but other copies’ memories, No. 2 (white) might have inherited little black’s experience—making a quick escape from Sin City possible.

This was an experiment—and a gamble.

Since the name of the game was “Destiny,” why not gamble on winning against fate?

“Sin City”—as the name implied—a place of crime and violence. Every inhabitant was either executioner or civilian. The only difference: gun or no gun.

Yan Jiyun was sucked in, and the game had begun.

All around, people brandished guns, shooting wildly.

He suspected only a replicant could start this mode—otherwise, what was the point?

Inside, both the replicants and every gunman were his enemies.

His task: find and kill the replicants.

The setting: a desert, reminiscent of the Middle East in reality.

Low mud-brick houses, with mud for cover.

Hot, dry, and if the bullets didn’t get you, thirst might.

Fifty meters away, someone was shot down, dropping a submachine gun.

Yan Jiyun pressed his back to a dirt wall—the only cover between him and the weapon. He’d be an easy target out in the open.

No time to hesitate—speed was key!

Ratatat.

Gunfire and screams of the dying echoed everywhere.

Inside the game, inside the screen—death felt all too real.

A timer in the top right: “Time to Escape Sin City”—three minutes total, with two forty-five left.

Yan Jiyun couldn’t break cover; his wall was getting thinner and thinner, the mud showering his face as it was shot to pieces.

Damn—it was impossible!

Just as he thought he’d die here, the NPCs across from him suddenly dropped, gunfire still blazing—but this time, the shots were at them, coming from his side; his teammates each took down an enemy.

Yan Jiyun seized the chance, sprinting on an angle toward the downed gun, a grin spreading across his face.

He knew—his best teammate had arrived!