Cat 102: The Black Cat’s Principles

Chapter 102: The Black Cat’s Principles

What exactly was the “Peak Tournament”?

Yan Jiyun remembered reading in the game rules that, after the beginner-level instances, there would be various irregular competitions and events.

But entering an unknown battleground in just three days was far too sudden.

He had no concept of what the “Peak Tournament” entailed.

Around him, the players just out of the instance had already moved past discussing how Yan Jiyun had posed as an NPC; now everyone was chattering about whether they had received a Peak Tournament ticket. Guild recruiters who had been planning to poach newcomers at the instance gate also put their efforts on hold for now.

Yan heard players all around him asking one another if they’d gotten a ticket.

Ding.

Two unread messages appeared in his friends list.

System notification: You have two unread friend messages.

He opened them—messages from Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi.

Gu Wenzhu: Out of the instance? If possible, let’s meet—I have some information about the Peak Tournament.

Qiu Xi: Did you get a Peak Tournament ticket?

Yan replied with a time and place to meet.

He went back to his rented apartment first, intending to open his reward package.

After each beginner instance, he usually had plenty of down time—enough to meet the caretaker and check up on him. But he hadn’t expected to be thrust into an unknown situation as soon as he got out this time.

He’d been so busy gathering information about the instance that he’d forgotten there was a monthly event above the beginner level, and the system had offered no details at all.

Back in his personal space, Yan Jiyun immediately asked the system for details about the Peak Tournament, but got only the generic reply that it offered valuable rewards and could increase individual combat capability.

Yan Jiyun asked, “Is there a risk of death?”

System youth voice: “Not necessarily. It depends on the rules for the round you enter. If you’re lucky, you might enter a match where all players can survive; if not, you might be in a round where only one person can clear it.”

Yan: “Is it a player-versus-player competition?”

System: “Not always. Some are team battles, some are solo, and some are PVE battles—meaning you just have to defeat the NPCs to win.”

Yan: “…”

After all that, the system still hadn’t told him what format this month’s tournament would take.

Judging from his past experience, all the information he’d managed to buy before an instance usually turned out useless. He was tempted to just give up on information gathering altogether.

He opened his inventory and found the ticket—it was black, stamped in the corner with the system’s special raccoon mascot.

Yan asked, “Does everyone get the same ticket?”

System: “No, there are seven colors. Players with the same color will be grouped together for the competition.”

Yan: “How many people in each group?”

System: “Different formats require different numbers. This information is confidential and cannot be disclosed.”

Everything else he asked received the same confidentiality answer.

Three days wasn’t much time.

He lingered a while in his private quarters, then, wearing a mask and hat, went out. Many other players on the streets dressed the same way; he hardly stood out.

Inside the instances, players fought for resources and points, and conflicts were common. Such disguises were just self-protection.

Yan didn’t have time to check the beginner instance rankings or other trivia. He needed to meet Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi and see what news they had about the Peak Tournament.

Both Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi had advanced to the beginner-level instances before Yan entered his last one; they should still be on their rest break between starter and beginner instances, not having faced a beginner instance themselves. He was, for once, ahead.

He arrived at their appointed meeting place—a quiet, somewhat secluded restaurant.

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi were already there, earlier than he’d expected.

It had been some time since they last met, and both of them had changed—Gu Wenzhu seemed more outgoing, Qiu Xi more confident.

“You both look well,” Yan greeted them.

Gu Wenzhu poured him water, laughing gently. “You seem to have put on a bit of weight since last time.”

Yan touched his face. “…”

Had he gotten fat?

Surely not!

He’d eaten normally at the zoo—six meals a day wasn’t that much, was it?

Gu Wenzhu went on, “Thanks to your advice, I’ve found a way to manage my leg issues—doing my best not to hold the team back.”

Qiu Xi pointed at their throat and, to Yan’s surprise, managed to produce a voice: “Me too.”

Yan wasn’t particularly surprised. He’d expected them to adapt quickly—just not this quickly and well.

Gu Wenzhu had made the comment for his benefit, a subtle invitation to team up.

They were a tacit, comfortable trio. If he picked teammates for an instance, Yan would choose them. But for now, he couldn’t form a team—he had to survive the Peak Tournament first.

He trusted them, but wary of eavesdroppers, he lowered his voice. “Did either of you get a Peak Tournament ticket?”

Both shook their heads.

Gu Wenzhu caught on instantly. “So you did.”

Yan liked talking to Gu Wenzhu—easy, straightforward, no miscommunication. Some people just made life more comfortable; he’d once thought he’d never find friends like that, but here they were.

He answered openly, “Yes, I did. I have to enter the Peak Tournament in three days.”

Qiu Xi, after showing off their new speech function, fell silent—this cost points to use, after all.

The restaurant owner knocked and served their dishes; they paused the conversation.

All the food was served at once, and the owner discreetly left.

Yan saw there was a fish on the table—the dishes were all mild and simple, clearly ordered to suit his tastes.

Gu Wenzhu said, “Last time I noticed you only ate fish, so I made sure to order one here. I checked—the chef used to work at a five-star restaurant before joining the game, and every time he’s in an instance, a gang of foodies protect him so they won’t lose his cooking skills.”

Yan accepted this kindness with grace. “Food and drink, after all, are what life’s about. No matter how much you make, the first thing you spend it on is eating well.”

Qiu Xi nodded vigorously.

So true.

They veered back on topic.

Gu Wenzhu, picking up his chopsticks, said, “While I was gathering info on the beginner instances, I overheard a few things about the Peak Tournament.”

Yan: “What did you learn?”

Gu Wenzhu: “Players for the tournament are randomly drawn from everyone above the starter level.”

Yan paused mid-bite. “So you mean both beginner, intermediate, and even top-level players all enter the tournament together?”

Gu Wenzhu nodded. “Except those in the very top tier. The random draw helps prevent guilds from gaming the system by entering as teams.”

Yan shared what he knew. “Not always. I asked the system: tickets come in seven colors. If guildmates all got the same color, they could end up grouped together.”

Gu Wenzhu shook his head. “It’s possible they just get the same rules or format, not necessarily the same arena. There must be more subdivisions within a color.”

Yan: “Right. This game’s always tricky.”

Qiu Xi wrote in a notebook: You’re up against a lot of high-level players this time.

Suddenly, the fish in Yan’s mouth tasted bland. He sighed. “Yeah. It’s a shot in the dark.”

Gu Wenzhu tried to cheer him up. “Don’t lose hope yet. Qiu Xi and I haven’t entered beginner instances, so in these three days we can help you dig up more tournament info. Maybe your luck will turn.”

Yan also shared advice from his own beginner-instance experience: “True. You’ll be headed in three days, same as I go to the tournament. By the way, beginner instances are way harder than the starter ones. When you enter, don’t be tricked by the task list—watch the NPCs closely. Some missions are traps…”

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi jotted it all down.

This meal was important—it might be a long time before they could all gather again, and it was always possible one of them wouldn’t make it to the next meeting.

Yan disliked this kind of parting, but it was unavoidable.

They cleared every plate, and parted ways before nightfall.

Yan had secrets; Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi, sensing this, asked nothing.

The sudden Peak Tournament had thrown off his plans.

Gu Wenzhu’s news was important—and made Yan anxious. He’d never expected to be unlucky enough to be chosen for the competition.

He was a newcomer, and would be thrown in with players who might have cleared more than a hundred instances. It’d be like walking into a lion’s den.

Whatever small delight he’d felt after clearing the last instance was instantly replaced by gloom.

His apartment wasn’t far from Qi Feng’s place. He could check on Qi Feng’s status in the main pet bar.

[Currently online.]

Qi Feng had last exited an instance the same day Yan entered his first. This time, he’d gone in five days before Yan entered the beginner trial. Qi Feng’s instances often lasted about two weeks—this one, he’d cleared in ten days, which was pretty fast.

Every time he went to see Qi Feng, Yan prepared for it to be the last.

Qi Feng always entered advanced-level or higher instances.

As night fell, Yan took advantage of the darkness to transform back into a cat and sneak to the closed pub.

By right, since the caretaker was out of the instance, the pub lights should have been on—but strangely, it was pitch black, with no sign of life, and even Lan Mo was missing.

Yan’s mood, already low since receiving his ticket, plunged lower. Where were they?

Had they gone out to look for him?

He checked the tournament countdown.

[Peak Tournament begins in 02 days, 20 hours, 03 minutes, 05 seconds.]

He still had two days with the caretaker—time to enjoy more fried fish, and maybe die without regrets.

He crouched by the pub’s door, waiting for Qi Feng, but for some reason, the place remained dark, no one coming or going.

He retreated to a corner, waiting, killing a few mosquitoes, but saw no sign of Qi Feng.

After half an hour, a group of ten or so men rushed across from another street corner.

Yan overheard them whispering about Qi Feng.

A short man, about 1.65 meters in height, said, “Vice-President Fu, our people caught Qi Feng over by the starter instance exit—that’s where they’re staying!”

The vice-president was average-looking in a brown leather jacket—a face you wouldn’t notice in a crowd. He replied casually, “They snatched our NPC in the last instance. Blow this place up—let’s see if they don’t come out!”

The group started hurling and smashing things at the pub. Then someone tossed a bomb inside—a loud blast destroyed the entire building.

Yan had already leapt to a neighboring rooftop when he saw them moving. As the blast wave surged over, he ducked behind a wall and barely escaped the wreck.

These players were disgusting. Beaten by Qi Feng inside the instance, now they came outside to throw their weight around?

Were top-level players really this low?

Vice-President Fu and the short man answered Yan Jiyun’s silent question as they talked.

“The president got played by Qi Feng in there. Nearly didn’t make it out. Let’s give him a lesson. Get everyone on Qi Feng and his team—don’t let a single one escape.”

The short man grumbled, “Vice-President, if only the system let us kill people.”

Fu sneered, “All the better it doesn’t. We’ll stake them out at their entrance portals—harass them constantly, chase them like rats, keep me updated. I don’t believe we can’t wear them down. Without the right info, entering advanced instances is suicide—for them, death’s a matter of time.”

Short man: “You’re right, President.”

He assigned several to monitor Qi Feng’s group and report every move, making their lives miserable.

“Our guild has plenty of points; they’re few—let’s see whose resources last.”

Fu grinned savagely. “Smart, that’s the spirit.”

Yan frowned. Qi Feng must have appeared by the beginner-instance exit because of him. He suspected Qi Feng could track his instance entry and exit—but not the specifics, or he’d never have waited at the starter instance for Yan’s cat. Judging by usual player timelines, he’d just finished his fourth run, and should’ve been coming out of the starter instance.

No one could have guessed his cat not only turned human, but had jumped from three runs straight into the beginner level.

It wasn’t Qi Feng’s fault. Who could imagine their pet cat becoming an infinite-stream player—or that, before becoming a cat, he’d originally been human?

Staring at the shattered pub, Yan burned with anger. How could they say such heartless things?

Instances had their own rules—these people, just because Qi Feng competed with their president, destroyed his property outside? Incredible.

No pub, and his caretaker hunted down by these thugs—Yan couldn’t accept it.

He himself had never bullied his caretaker—what right did these riffraff have?

Yan’s rage soared, but he kept his wits. He wanted payback. Quietly, he followed the vice-president.

If he didn’t teach these jerks a lesson, he’d take their surname!

Yan trailed them from a safe distance of two to three hundred meters, tracking by the sound of their footfalls.

The vice-president was clearly experienced—he paused and shifted his route repeatedly on the way home. The more instances you survived, the more your senses sharpened; this man’s sixth sense was keen.

He murmured to his companions, “Feels like someone’s tailing us.”

“Impossible,” said a lackey. “All our people here—nobody could follow us unnoticed.”

“Maybe I’m being paranoid.”

The short man had stepped away to chase Qi Feng.

Yan knew his target was vigilant, and was glad he’d kept his distance and caution. Not even a hundred glances would spot the stealthy black cat in shadow.

Their safehouse was in a quiet district; the vice-president’s office was on the third floor with a prime view.

Most apartment buildings in the central area were three stories or less. For Yan, now physically enhanced, climbing was as easy as breathing—especially with all the private lessons from the panther. He’d picked up countless new skills.

He followed the vice-president several blocks to a building about five hundred square meters in size. Plenty of players came and went—it must be a guild branch.

From a facing rooftop, Yan read the number on the gate and eavesdropped on passing players, frequently catching the same name: “New Power Guild.”

This vice-president entered and immediately began organizing people to block Qi Feng.

Yan checked his notes in the system memo: New Power Guild—ranked eighth. This wasn’t their headquarters, but the intermediate-level branch.

He didn’t get too close to their floors, but picked up plenty of gossip:

Players complained about Vice-President Fu Guangmin—an opportunist whose strength didn’t match his position, yet somehow still got promoted. Worse, his management was cruel; he’d toss disobedient players into instances and leave them to die, and if anyone quit out of protest, he’d endlessly harass them until they perished in the game.

The whole branch was full of resentment, but under pressure could only grit their teeth and obey.

“Acting for justice” was always a good guise.

Yan considered the item shop. Most tools only worked inside instances; during downtime, only everyday items could be purchased. But if Fu Guangmin could bomb Qi Feng’s pub, surely Yan could buy the same materials and craft tools of his own.

Of course, he wasn’t a chemist; he lacked that expertise—but he could use his sense of smell to locate the weapon cache.

What the panther had taught him: If you want to get something done, you need patience.

He waited until most guild members had left, then leapt from the opposite building.

While waiting, he browsed the item shop, adding needed ingredients to his cart to purchase at the right moment.

The grounds were landscaped—fake rocks, pavilions, a peaceful Chinese garden. With so many players about, no one noticed an extra feline slip through the gate during shift change.

The walls bristled with barbed wire and blades, but Yan valued his life and chose instead to slip through the front door.

The vice-president hadn’t reappeared since entering; Yan knew his office was on the third floor, an excellent vantage.

He crept along the shadows, following the strong scent to the arsenal.

No one guarded the weapons room. Yan pushed inside easily—windows closed to prevent dampness.

Among the rows of ordnance he found the same small bombs used on the pub. Tiny as bottle caps, but whoever assembled them was clearly a chemical genius—Yan had watched the entire pub bombing process.

He used his five-minute experience card to change form, deftly gathered several small bombs, wrapped them in cloth, and tucked them into a pouch.

At this hour, the room was deserted. Five minutes later, Yan switched back to cat form, slipped out with the bundle, and left smoothly.

People tend to relax their guard at night—especially for someone as unloved as Vice-President Fu. None of his subordinates would risk themselves for his sake.

Back on the opposite rooftop, Yan used an experience card again, put on a stealth suit and black mask, and pulled on gloves.

He gently withdrew a bomb and hurled it at the arsenal.

“Boom!”

Next, he lobbed one at the fake mountain.

Another explosion echoed out, shaking both the target and the building Yan stood on.

The players left behind in the branch were stunned by the blasts—let alone Fu Guangmin, who had just been smugly drawing up plans to eliminate Qi Feng.

Fu’s face turned white as he shouted, “Run! Qi Feng’s here for us!”

He stumbled downstairs, breaking a leg in the process, and a teammate accidentally knocked him crashing into a stone column—bloodied and unconscious.

Yan, seeing the miserable result, pocketed his last bomb. He turned and vanished into the night—a black shadow unseen.

His principle: you can bully him all you want, but never his caretaker!