Cat 138: The Cat Escapes

Chapter 138: The Cat Escapes

To this moment, Yan Jiyun still didn’t understand what kind of instance instance B was.

Supernatural? Zombie apocalypse? Fantasy? Mystery?

The rolling shutter door was still being hammered, the racket numbing everyone’s ears and nerves.

He’d thought that running into the supermarket would let them escape the things outside, but he hadn’t counted on their apparent intelligence—even hunting them down inside.

Shi Yan muttered, “This just goes on forever.”

He Yuanle, still shaken, carefully asked the two experts who’d hauled him in, “What are those? Ghost hands?”

Lan Mo replied, “That’s right; with the right items, we can destroy them.”

He Yuanle said, “What if we don’t have the right items?”

He voiced exactly what Yan Jiyun was thinking: as someone who’d gone into five instances and four times picked the wrong starter kit, buying useful items just seemed impossible.

Shi Yan answered, “There’s still a way—if you know a little Yin-Yang technique.”

He Yuanle: “…”

With Lan Mo and Shi Yan, he didn’t dare brag about how he always used his wits to clear instances. Otherwise, with just a couple of glances, they might leave him to be devoured by ghost hands.

None knew where the ghost hands came from or were going.

Crouched among the snack racks, Yan Jiyun wondered if these ghost hands had anything to do with those NPCs in the music building.

All his encounters in this instance so far pointed to “Ouija games,” “wishing at Mirror Lake,” then the five players—Han Ruibai, Cheng Su, and the others—and now these blue-black ghost hands. Undeniably, this was a supernatural mystery scenario.

He prayed he wouldn’t run into any horror-movie ghosts—his tender heart couldn’t take it.

If the ghost hands could speak, they would surely be roaring for them to come out and fight, pounding the door in relentless rounds. If anyone was resting upstairs, they’d be down to curse them out by now.

Lan Mo and Shi Yan whispered, “This can’t go on. The ghost hands will only gather in greater numbers until they break the door down.”

Shi Yan nodded, “Yeah, need to think of something. See if there’s anything inside the market to block them.”

Yan Jiyun spotted lighters at the checkout, and nearby, a mop leaned against another display. Setting the mop head on fire—could that work against those ghost hands?

Lan Mo and Shi Yan were both thinking in terms of “occult methods” to handle ghosts, not fire. Yan Jiyun knew time was short—he hopped up onto the register and pawed at the box of lighters.

The supermarket was unlit, so Lan Mo and Shi Yan didn’t notice, but He Yuanle’s eyes caught the lighter.

Raising it, he brightened, “Bro, why don’t we try fire?”

Yan Jiyun breathed a sigh of relief. He Yuanle really did use brains, not brawn; as soon as he spotted the lighter, he’d had the idea.

But was He Yuanle a truly high-level player, or just high-level for an easier instance? He suspected the guy’s weeping was always fake; not once had he seen him shed a real tear.

Acting weak worked to lower player defenses in-game, but Yan Jiyun wasn’t buying it—he always wanted to stuff a rag in He Yuanle’s mouth when he started the waterworks.

Lan Mo was already at the mop-and-rags display.

Fire plus mop—should be effective.

Yan Jiyun quietly retreated to the shadows; his hint had done its job.

Now he just had to watch Lan Mo and Shi Yan deal with the ghost hands—they had much more experience here.

With fire and a mop, they first poured oil over the ghost hands that were about to smash the window. Lighting the mop and poking it out through a gap, the ghostly hands immediately recoiled from the flames and oil, sizzling and fleeing from fire on contact.

Yan Jiyun leaped up to the highest racks to watch the battle. He guessed the hands weren’t fleeing the pain of burning, but the glow itself.

Ghost hands feared the light.

Whether Lan Mo and the others noticed remained to be seen.

Mop still burning, the pounding at the door gradually faded.

Sure enough—they caught on quickly.

Shi Yan said, “Maybe they’re not afraid of fire itself, but of the light?”

Lan Mo agreed, “Let’s get more mops over here.”

He Yuanle said, “I’ll look for a flashlight!”

Shi Yan kept pressing the burning mop to block the window. As the mop was reduced to embers, some ghost hands began crawling back again.

Yan Jiyun’s guess held: ghostly hands did fear light, though perhaps only firelight, not electric.

Lan Mo’s group found torches and batteries, shone the beam through the glass, but the ghost hands paid it no mind.

Perhaps because electric light had no heat?

Yan Jiyun didn’t see any main light switches in the small market; it was surely designed that way.

So besides torchlight and fire, the only thing that worked was heat; the crucial distinction was temperature, not brightness.

The three players piled up all the towels, mops, anything with cloth—all doomed to be burnt. A toss of burning rag kept the hands away. After a time, the ghost hands no longer came near.

But the shop wasn’t a textiles warehouse—the pile of rags would burn out soon enough. The cold dark would last until morning, when sunlight and the day’s warmth would return.

There were still several hours until dawn; the market’s resources would buy only an hour or two.

All three were still occupied with fighting the ghost hands, not searching anywhere else.

The supermarket had a second floor. Yan Jiyun hopped down to check it out.

There was no separation between levels; the cat ascended with ease.

Upstairs was more merchandise, while the ground floor was mostly snacks and daily goods.

At the top of the stairs, Yan Jiyun meowed twice to attract attention.

Lan Mo, thinking this little black cat might be Brother Feng’s, but suspecting it could be just an NPC, said to Shi Yan, “I’m going to see if the little cat has a clue for us.”

Shi Yan and He Yuanle had already realized the black cat had led them here and didn’t assume it was a cat-player. They worked in tandem to keep the fire and ghost hands at bay.

Upstairs, Lan Mo saw the black cat hopping around among the feminine products.

Clearly, it was enjoying itself, bouncing in the mountain of soft tissue, meowing in contentment.

Yan Jiyun saw him, then hopped deeper in, exploring beyond daily goods into hardware.

Not much fabric up here, but maybe some hardware would be useful for fending off the next wave.

Yan Jiyun had never played a full supernatural instance, but he did his best to help.

Lan Mo followed, eyes fixed thoughtfully on the small cat. “Caramel?”

Yan Jiyun’s paw nearly slowed, but in the dark, Lan Mo couldn’t notice—the cat didn’t react to that name.

He muttered, “Maybe it’s not Brother Feng’s cat.”

“Yeah, Brother Feng’s would never be alone—someone would have it with them. Otherwise, pure bad luck, what with it being chased by so many ghost hands.”

Yan Jiyun’s green eyes glinted in the gloom: Brother, another word and I guarantee you’ll end up as unlucky as me.

Any misfortune would do, just don’t jinx him. Black was just fur, not a curse.

Determined to make peace with his own coloring, Yan Jiyun decided not to take offense at anything Brother Feng’s friends said.

Lan Mo even called his name a second time.

“Caramel? Caramel?”

Still no reaction—he must not be Brother Feng’s cat. Just an NPC.

“Forget it, let’s deal with these ghost hands first; black cats are par for the course in these types of instances.”

Yan Jiyun hadn’t expected Lan Mo to be so sly, trying the name twice; he almost answered out of instinct.

He knew Lan Mo meant him no harm, but as Brother Feng’s teammate, Lan Mo would know of him. He couldn’t guarantee even Qi Feng would risk everything for him, let alone a friend once-removed; trust had its limits.

He continued to play the NPC, hopping in and out of the miscellany and fading into the darkness.

Lan Mo found some hardware—pipes and such—to make into weapons for when the burnables ran out.

Minute by minute, the night crept forward.

The ghost hands never tired; human endurance waned.

The three decided to take shifts resting.

Yan Jiyun found a hidden nook, curling up, half-dozing, while keeping an ear on the surroundings.

Suddenly, something shifted overhead—he jerked his head up to see a ghost hand crawling silently on the ceiling beams.

He jumped from one rack to another, making noise to wake Shi Yan from his blanket nap.

He perched high, staring intently at the ceiling. Shi Yan flashed his torch, the sleep instantly gone from his eyes: “Lan Mo, these ghost hands got in somehow!”

Lan Mo followed his beam. “I just did a sweep—no breaches. Every other window and door is sealed except this one. Huh?”

They’d only tossed burning things out the window—not enough time for anything to sneak in.

Yan Jiyun watched He Yuanle, now unusually quiet.

Strange. He Yuanle was never this silent.

On the ceiling, ghost hands multiplied—one, two, three…

Both men were focused on the ceiling, but Yan Jiyun kept his eyes on He Yuanle behind Lan Mo.

Suddenly, He Yuanle dropped his lighter, his eyes glassy, a weird smile curling his lips. Raising his hands, he lunged to choke Lan Mo.

Good grief, now He Yuanle was really possessed.

Lan Mo had been on alert, and as He Yuanle’s hands reached for his throat, he twisted and blocked with his elbow.

Drawing back, he kept his cool, stating, “Shi Yan, looks like he’s possessed.”

Shi Yan nodded, “Probably happened en route—while we weren’t looking, he let in a few more ghost hands. Who knows how many are inside now.”

Lan Mo gestured at the possessed He Yuanle. “Let’s deal with this one first.”

Yan Jiyun had never seen anything like this; he had no idea how to handle it either, but chose to observe—maybe Lan Mo and Shi Yan knew what to do.

He Yuanle looked truly strange now. His mouth hung unnaturally open, a boyishly young face twisted into something warped and sinister.

Shi Yan coolly asked, “Do we just kill him?”

Lan Mo answered, “Not sure I could.”

The thing inside He Yuanle sneered, “You think you can kill me?”

No sooner said than done, he grabbed a faucet head from the goods and swung at Lan Mo, who had to dodge, aiming to drive the evil spirit out without harming He Yuanle.

Yan Jiyun crept from one rack to another for a better view among the scattered knickknacks—plenty of room for a nimble cat to maneuver.

Lan Mo fought the possessed He Yuanle; Brother Feng and Lan Mo had, before entering the instance, prepared with supernatural supplies. Lan Mo first dodged, then circled to knock He Yuanle unconscious from behind.

Yan Jiyun could see Lan Mo’s careful intent—not wanting to hurt He Yuanle, but to subdue the “ghost.”

The possessed He Yuanle attacked, Lan Mo defended, inching closer to Yan Jiyun’s perch.

But the ghost-enhanced He Yuanle was freakishly strong. Even when Lan Mo counterattacked, he took blows; this sort of entity was far beyond normal human means.

Yan Jiyun stayed ready to bolt—as two people drew the danger, the ghost hands ignored him, letting him focus on watching the possessed He Yuanle for any weakness.

By the meager beam of hand torches, Lan Mo and Shi Yan struggled to spot anything. Yan Jiyun’s motion-tracking was better—he scrutinized every move.

And sure enough, he noticed something.

In battle, the “ghost” avoided red objects.

Yan Jiyun started leaping from rack to rack, deliberately toppling a red flag onto the possessed He Yuanle—who shuddered slightly on impact.

The commotion drew Lan Mo’s attention.

So, the thing feared red.

Yan Jiyun recalled scenes from supernatural horror flicks he’d watched. Looking around, he spotted a box of red sewing thread and needles and kicked it to the floor. Lan Mo must have seen the move and suspected the cat was a true NPC, placed there by the system to drop hints.

Lan Mo shoved the possessed He Yuanle, knocking him into an unstable rack (the market owner was cheap). As He Yuanle tumbled, Lan Mo scrambled to the box of red thread, pulling out an entire spool.

As the possessed figure lunged, Lan Mo wound the red thread around his wrists and arms.

He Yuanle convulsed violently, but Lan Mo kept winding, trying to tangle him up completely.

But the red thread did the trick; He Yuanle went limp and collapsed. The thing possessing him must have left.

Rummaging, Lan Mo tossed more red thread to Shi Yan. “Red string works—see if it stops the ghost hands too.”

Fire and warmth only frightened them, didn’t destroy them.

Shi Yan tied screws to a length of red thread, flinging it at the ghost hands. Wherever it touched, the hands fizzed and sizzled, dropping from the ceiling—purple-black flesh charred upon contact and vanishing by the time they hit the floor.

Red string was incredibly effective.

The key was matching the counter-item; or, if they’d brought the right props from the start, that would work too.

Yan Jiyun realized this matched a previous experience: back in his first newbie instance, he’d stopped the main character’s bleeding with the right “item”; the red string was like a high-level bandage. Game or not, most puzzles could be solved with careful scavenging.

Following this process, Lan Mo and Shi Yan purged the market of ghost hands.

As the thing left He Yuanle, the monsters outside vanished too.

Yan Jiyun glanced at his quest window. What was the connection between Main Quest 1 and everything he’d experienced so far?

What, in the end, was the true main plot?

His guess: unearthing a long-buried secret. Students had died, and now someone (or something) was back for revenge.

Who was the avenger?

Classic campus horror always pointed to the truth behind tragedy.

He thought the “Mermaid” (Level 2) instance probably had no true supernatural element—only man-made “hauntings”—while instance B was set squarely in the supernatural, with the goal of finding the truth.

But what exactly had possessed He Yuanle and commanded the ghost hands—spirit or man?

He made a note of these questions to unravel later, point by point.

With the supermarket clear, He Yuanle was doused with mineral water and awoke with a start.

“R-rain? Why are you all staring at me? Where…where am I?”

Shi Yan: “You awake? When did you black out?”

He Yuanle began to sniffle, but Shi Yan pinched his cheek, “Just answer. Spare us the tears.”

He Yuanle protested, “I’m not a crybaby; I just react this way when I’m scared. I can’t help it. My whole body aches, all thanks to you, Lan-ge.”

Shi Yan glared. “Just answer the question.”

He Yuanle’s tears finally spilled, silent and miserable. “I remember you were dragging me toward the supermarket, and by the time I jumped in through the window, I started fading out. After that, I could hear you talking, but my body wouldn’t move, I couldn’t control anything.”

Lan Mo, kindly, said, “Shi Yan, go easy—being possessed like that is miserable enough. Still, it means your body’s weak and you’ve got too little Yang energy.”

He Yuanle hugged Lan Mo’s leg, “Bro, you’re the best. I was a preemie—always been smaller and weaker than my classmates, so I guess my aura’s weaker, too.”

Relieved, Yan Jiyun curled up in the corner. If it had been anyone else, they might not have recognized He Yuanle, but his typical mix of crying and cheer, optimism, and energy, made him distinct (unless it really was all a performance).

Yan Jiyun didn’t judge, choosing instead to watch and wait.

Lan Mo and Shi Yan weighed a new problem: should they stay in the market until sunrise, or keep moving?

He Yuanle said, “There’s food and drink here. It’s actually not bad.”

But Lan Mo and Shi Yan saw beyond just clearing the instance—they had other missions.

With ghosts stalking players at night, there might be other events happening across campus. They weren’t comfortable just resting.

Shi Yan insisted, “We need to get moving—who knows what plot triggers we’ll miss?”

He Yuanle replied, “Isn’t it too late for more story events right now?”

Shi Yan, “In supernatural instances, most plot happens at night.”

He Yuanle, “But it’s pitch-black outside. How’d we find anything?”

While they debated, Yan Jiyun quietly pulled a soft mat over and stretched out for a nap.

No way was he going outside to die in a supernatural scenario.

Lan Mo, still watching the black cat, decided, “If the black cat’s an NPC and it isn’t going out, then there’s probably nothing happening. Why don’t we rest here for a few hours? There’s plenty to eat and drink.”

Decision made, Shi Yan dropped his objections. He Yuanle happily found some marinated chicken drumsticks to feed the cat.

Yan Jiyun wasn’t hungry, but tried a few bites—too salty.

He Yuanle gave him water, sighing, “I never thought I’d be feeding a cat in-game. I’m so happy.”

Yan Jiyun lapped up water and kept wary watch over the room.

After He Yuanle’s possession, Lan Mo and Shi Yan took turns on guard.

All was quiet; no one else left shelter.

With Lan Mo and Shi Yan present, Yan Jiyun even managed to nap for a while.

Three players and a cat passed the night in the supermarket.

At 5:30 a.m., dawn broke.

A distant scream pricked Yan Jiyun’s ears. He stood alert—screams from the direction of Mirror Lake.

Stretching, he hopped to the window. He Yuanle, already awake, opened it for him.

Yan Jiyun sprang through.

He Yuanle watched in surprise as the cat vanished, then shouted, “Bro, the cat’s gone!”

Lan Mo leaped up, dragging Shi Yan to his feet. “Shi Yan, get up! Follow the cat.”

Yan Jiyun raced to Mirror Lake, already surrounded by curious onlookers.

“My god, how could a student have been so careless to fall in!”

“Horrifying. Two drownings in a month?”

Yan Jiyun slipped into the shrubs, peering through the gaps at the student sprawled on the ground.

It was surprising, and yet not. The round-faced boy from last night had drowned—one of the five who’d made wishes at the lake. Yang Pingping.

What kind of death wish had they made?