Cat 300: Let the Chariots Roll

Chapter 300: Let the Chariots Roll

[“Want to Be Human” Livestream Chatroom:]

“Think about how the owner must feel right now! Hahahahaha, can we apply to be an NPC? I want to be an NPC, missed opportunity!”

“Have you all noticed how at ease Cat Cub is in this Pinnacle Tournament? The NPCs barely show any hostility toward him. If this were a regular instance, he could grind NPC favor points, but here he doesn’t even have that chance—yet every NPC already seems to adore him by default.”

“I see it too. Is it that all NPCs in the ‘Destiny’ game have maxed-out favor for Cat Cub? And I don’t think the NPCs would ever mistake the white and orange tabbies they’re supposed to collect. Plus, Cat Cub’s a player, not an NPC.” —Best Video Game Console

“Could it be the NPCs are bugging out again?”

“Nah, I’ve been playing ‘Destiny’ for years and never seen a real bug from its NPCs.”

“If it’s not the game’s NPCs, is it the player? What bug could Cat Cub possibly have? He’s just a cat, every move he makes is right in front of us, live in the game. He wouldn’t be able to undermine the game even if he tried.”

“So, what on earth is going on here?”

When the NPC hugged Yan Jiyun, he was just as bewildered. He’d stayed put only so he could submit his task, but before he could, the boy swept him up. Oddly enough, Yan Jiyun didn’t mind; he’d even been willing to help teach the bullying NPC a lesson moments before.

He quickly completed his quest anyway.

The boy didn’t even glance at the white and orange cats, but treated Yan Jiyun with marked affection, even rubbing his face against his.

Suppressing excitement, he whispered, “I’ve been waiting for you to come back for so long.”

Yan Jiyun had no idea how to respond; he didn’t even understand what was happening, and felt as if untangling a hopeless knot.

Why had he been waiting for him to return?

The answer was now a little closer.

By the logic of the players, Yan Jiyun was the first to complete the task, with Qi Feng and Shi Yan close behind.

But that no longer mattered, because as soon as Yan Jiyun turned in his quest, he vanished right before Qi Feng and Shi Yan’s eyes.

Qi Feng had just been about to snatch him back from the boy, but before he could, the boy and Yan Jiyun disappeared. Immediately after, Qi Feng and Shi Yan were also ejected from the game.

Qi Feng grew anxious over the unknown and called out in a rush, “Caramel!”

But now, Yan Jiyun could hear no other voices. All he could do was raise his paw to Qi Feng in a reassuring gesture, indicating he’d be fine.

The next second, both vanished from each other’s sight.

Qi Feng was undoubtedly removed directly from the game, while Yan Jiyun had won first place as expected and would soon be taken to claim the top prize.

But what awaited Yan Jiyun was not at all what Qi Feng imagined.

The boy NPC carried him the entire way; there was no need for Yan Jiyun to touch the ground.

Who knew where the boy intended to take him, but his joy was unmistakable—like one welcoming home a family member long absent.

Yet Yan Jiyun could recall no memory tied to this NPC. How could they be old acquaintances? He wasn’t a game NPC; he’d entered through Qi Feng’s badge from the outside world. Of course, he was now beginning to question whether the world he knew was the real one at all.

The boy rushed with Yan Jiyun toward the luxurious manor mentioned by the game—the first place winner’s right to claim a treasure left by its master.

But in the town, the boy’s standing had clearly been low; even at the butcher’s stall he’d been short-changed. So how could he walk freely into this manor?

From the moment he set foot in the manor, he seemed to shed his NPC facade, becoming both elated and alert.

The boy asked the black cat in his arms, “You really don’t remember me?”

Yan Jiyun dared not speak recklessly—what if this was just part of the game? The NPC was far too enthusiastic. —Best Video Game Console

Yet the boy wasn’t discouraged by the lack of response. “When you see everyone else soon, you’ll be happy for sure.”

Yan Jiyun: “…”

Everyone else? Who did that mean?

The boy, too delighted to stop, kept on talking.

He gestured at the luxurious manor, equal parts proud and wistful. “Remember this place? Only our people can enter. We’ve been waiting for you to return—it’s been three years. You once said this was our secret garden and that you’d come back to take us away, to leave here forever! I thought you’d never come back, but I was wrong. They all insisted you would, that you keep your promises—and you did, you’re back, you’re really back!”

The boy seemed downright electrified as he spoke, his animated face painting the story of the manor’s past.

At first, Yan Jiyun was just confused, but as they walked on, something in his mind clicked—like a key unlocking a box of treasures.

The scene ahead felt more and more familiar, everything increasingly recognizable, comforting, and along with the comfort came a flood of pent-up frustration.

The boy continued, “Since you came back, more and more of our companions have returned to the manor. They’ve recovered their memories, rediscovered their sense of self; helping one another, more are waking up every day. Now, only you were left.”

Companions?

His companions?

Weren’t his companions Qi Feng, Gu Wenzhu, Qiu Xi and the others?

Did he have other companions?

Seeing only confusion and bafflement in the black cat’s gaze, the boy patted his own forehead. “Silly me. You may not have fully recovered yet, but that’s fine—we’ll help you. No need to worry.”

Yan Jiyun: “…”

Was this really what he ought to be worrying about?

The crucial fact was, he still didn’t fully understand what was going on. How could he prove he was connected to them at all?

If they truly were connected, wouldn’t that mean he and the boy were the same kind of being? That didn’t explain a lot of things.

Yan Jiyun kept silent, but the boy remained cheerful.

“Great! We’ll be able to leave here soon.”

Leave here—did that mean the game? An instance? Or just this place?

More fragmentary memories surged in Yan Jiyun’s mind. Before he could process them, the boy brought him to the most beautiful house on the manor grounds.

On the lush green lawn out front stood several familiar NPCs.

“Do you remember them?”

Of course Yan Jiyun did—a group of familiar faces, lined up in several rows.

Counting from left to right, the first in the first row was Li Muyang from the “Home After School” instance—the grown-up Li Muyang;

Next came Lin Xie and Jiang Yan from “Midnight Diner;”

Then Tang Shi and Liang Zuo from “Hide and Seek;”

Behind them were the animal characters from “Crazy Animal Park,” all now appearing in human form;

Striding directly toward Yan Jiyun was Qu, the teacher—an impression even stronger in his mind.

Among the crowd were other familiar in-game NPCs, including David, whom he’d seen today! —Best Video Game Console

In unison, they said, “Welcome back, Chief.”

It was Yan Jiyun—the black cat—whom they welcomed.

He had jumped down from the boy’s arms. Seeing Teacher Qu, he knew this wasn’t a trick.

To think their reunion would be so astonishing. How had they all gathered here, and why were they calling him chief?

He looked up as Qu crouched before him. “I’m your chief?”

Qu nodded. “Yes, Chief. You’ve forgotten our origins, but you awakened our consciousness. Three years ago, we thought your mission’s failure had caused your destruction, and our minds were once again sealed. Thankfully, you’ve returned! This time, we paved the way for you, protecting you through the instances. One by one, we’ve reunited, more and more of us awakening, sneaking into the Pinnacle Tournament for a chance to meet you.”

Yan Jiyun realized then—he couldn’t see any system interface, no livestream, not even an inventory.

It was as if the system’s shackles had been removed, but his memories still weren’t whole—in fact, they were a tangled mess.

Qu went on, “You only have fifteen minutes here. We must tell you the essentials.”

Yan Jiyun asked, “Was it you who showed me the video of Qi Feng entering the zombie instance?”

Qu nodded. “Yes. You’re very clever, Chief—you must see what’s going on.”

Yan Jiyun admitted he was a little clever. “Can you give me a body? Why am I a cat when all of you are human?”

Qu explained, “You changed your form to escape pursuit from above. Chief, has your consciousness fully unlocked yet?”

Yan Jiyun’s head felt heavy. “My memory’s been muddled since I arrived here.”

Qu said, “I understand.”

Though his mind was muddled—memories from the instances blurring with his own—he still caught something important in Qu’s words.

Yan Jiyun asked, “When you said my consciousness, did you mean this isn’t my real body?”

Qu said, “Correct. We’re all here through our consciousness.”

Yan Jiyun pressed, “How do we escape and reclaim our bodies?”

Qu replied, “That’s what we’ve always been working toward. Three years ago, you said you found a way but needed a player’s help. But we were almost discovered at the time, and after you found that human, both of you vanished. Until half a year ago when we sensed your return. Under your influence, our people have been gradually waking up, too.”

Yan Jiyun said, “You’re NPCs in the game. Does that make me one as well? Why did we become NPCs?”

“Dear Chief, to explain that, we’d have to talk about our past—a memory that isn’t pleasant. But time is short, so let’s schedule our next meeting first,” said Jiang Yan, who still wore his eternally provoking expression. But now, he looked the way he should in Yan Jiyun’s memory, not as the NPC from the game.

“So it’s you,” Yan Jiyun remembered him—images of Jiang Yan in military uniform flashed through his mind. “You and Lin Xie were soldiers?”

“Yes, thank you for remembering, Chief,” Lin Xie said, sitting cross-legged on the ground and extending his hand. “May I shake your… hand?”

Yan Jiyun graciously laid his paw on Lin Xie’s palm. “Of course you may.”

At once, the rest crowded in impatiently.

“Wait, I want to shake paws too, Chief—let me!”

“May I pet you? I’ve never hugged our chief, so cute!”

“He really is silky smooth—Jiang Yan was right.”

Yan Jiyun’s face went completely dark—though being a black cat, no one noticed. He silently vowed to remember this humiliation from Jiang Yan.

Without hesitation, he jumped onto Lin Xie’s shoulder. “Stand guard, Marshal Lin!”

Lin Xie grunted under the unexpected weight. “You seem heavier than last time.”

Yan Jiyun: “…” Thanks for pointing that out—ever heard of not exposing people’s shortcomings?

Jiang Yan said, “Time is short, Chief. Where shall we meet next? We barely managed to shut down a few instances this time, holding the loophole in the game. If we try again, we might be discovered like three years ago.” —Best Video Game Console

Yan Jiyun lounged on Lin Xie’s shoulder, eyes closed, mind awash in confusion and silent contemplation.

Qu said, “Things are different now. Last time we had no experience, but this time we’ll not fail again.”

Yan Jiyun nodded his agreement. “We have more helpers.”

Everyone caught on at once—they were all sharp.

“You mean the greedy, selfish players?” asked the stylish man covered in gold.

His aura was unmistakable, and Yan Jiyun immediately recognized him. “You must be Lucifer?”

Lucifer’s scorn for players vanished as soon as Yan Jiyun called his name; he broke into a broad smile. “Chief, you remember me!”

Yan Jiyun said, “The item you gave me was very useful.”

Lucifer saluted him. “To serve you, Chief, is my greatest honor!”

Yan Jiyun looked around; almost all the faces were ones he’d met in the instances.

These fifteen minutes were meant for him to reclaim his past and confirm his identity.

He did feel a certain excitement, but more than that, he needed time to absorb it all. “Time’s short. Where will we meet next?”

Qu replied, “In five days, we’ll open an instance called ‘Let the Chariots Roll’ in the top arena. All of us will go in.”

Yan Jiyun said, “Very well—I’ll bring new companions.”

People didn’t look happy about that. Lin Xie said, “The Chief already has new comrades.”

Yan Jiyun: “…” This sort of jealousy feels oddly familiar.