Cat 174: The Joint Conference

Chapter 174: The Joint Conference

After leaving the scenario, Yan Jiyun received so many system notifications that they exceeded the number he cared to read—he postponed checking most of them.

Qi Feng quickly looked him over and found he was uninjured.

He had exited the scenario faster than the others; before long, everyone who’d entered together had come out—Lan Mo, Shi Yan, Gu Wenzhu, Qiu Xi, He Yuanle—but there was no sign of Yan Jiyun.

Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi were as concerned as Qi Feng about this.

No sign of him.

But Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi were used to Yan Jiyun’s mysterious ways.

Before they separated, Qi Feng asked, “Does Yan Jiyun always vanish this quickly?”

Gu Wenzhu shook his head. “Not always—maybe he had something urgent and didn’t have time to say goodbye.” Even as he spoke, both received a message from Yan Jiyun: “Just heard from him—says not to wait up.”

After the Hide-and-Seek scenario, they had seen him at the exit.

Qi Feng let it go; he’d wanted to add Yan Jiyun as a friend, but since the other had left, so be it.

Of course, what he really wanted to know was why Caramel carried the scent of ointment.

The night before they exited the scenario, both Yan Jiyun and Caramel disappeared at the same time. Odds were, they’d been together then.

Still, Yan Jiyun left so fast that Qi Feng wondered if he was avoiding him, fearing a confrontation about taking Caramel away.

Tsk—he’d ask next time.

Yan Jiyun, nestled in Qi Feng’s arms, listened with his heart pounding, barely daring to move.

Everyone was exhausted, longing to sleep for days. They split up at once.

For the next two days after leaving the scenario, Yan Jiyun felt unwell, sleeping almost nonstop to recuperate.

Qi Feng noticed, and after they returned he bought medicine with system points, but since Caramel kept sleeping, he took Yan Jiyun to the real world and to the vet. The doctor found nothing wrong except fatigue, suggesting rest.

Reassured, Qi Feng let Caramel live a glutton’s, lazy life—eat, sleep, repeat.

On the third day, Yan finally felt restored, having replenished the energy and spirit the scenario had drained.

Perhaps due to being a different species, his constitution was unlike Qi Feng and the others; their body changes were trivial, but for him it was different—a human form simply couldn’t adapt as quickly, and afterward, fatigue hit him hard.

He wondered if he was still growing, thinking he might have lost weight.

Upon waking, he crept onto the scale to check his weight.

What the—this electronic scale must be broken.

The data auto-synced to Qi Feng’s phone. As Yan stepped off, a message popped:

[This weight record differs significantly from the last. Does this record belong to you?]

Qi Feng tapped “Yes,” guessing Caramel had stepped on the scale by mistake.

When Caramel padded down the stairs, Qi Feng asked, “Did you gain weight? Now you’re up to 14.5 jin.”

Yan froze. Could you say that to someone?

He hadn’t gained weight—it was muscle mass! He was leaner, understood?

Stretching on the windowsill, Yan was in no hurry to enter the next scenario—there were seventeen days before then.

Qi Feng was less hurried still. They both slept till nine, ate breakfast, then Qi Feng browsed the news while Yan sprawled in a sunbeam on the sofa.

After a while, Qi Feng switched on the TV, silent for ages. Yan’s ears perked up.

The news featured unusual deaths overseas, reminiscent of recent domestic cases—people dying suddenly at home, with no trace of foul play. Insiders knew it was related to “Destiny.” The game’s coverage spanned the globe, but Yan had never seen a player of different hair or skin color inside. Was the system racially selective? Or did it, like real-world games, create region-based servers?

Propping his chin on his paws, Yan wondered: What was the operational principle of “Destiny?”

It was clear this game wasn’t human-made—was it extraterrestrial? Developed by aliens? It just didn’t make sense otherwise, and Yan for one did not believe in gods.

After several scenarios, he’d picked up some rules—“Destiny,” like any game, had bugs; the system ran updates.

The Mermaid scenario had appeared seamless, with a whole clear main line, but the real bug was in the “Teacher Qu” boss.

It would make sense if there was a single scenario boss you could exploit—but here, the system had flowed with the player’s discovery, putting the boss’s main story front and center, and even compensated with extra rest time—a clear sign of a bug.

Since the system could glitch, where and when had the bug first appeared?

He longed to return to human form and discuss all this with Qi Feng.

Within the Mermaid scenario, he’d discovered something new—Teacher Qu said that even in his subconscious world, Yan could speak as a cat, and indeed, he could. Could he speak human in cat form in the next scenario too? Worth a try.

After finishing the news on his tablet, Qi Feng glanced at Yan lazing on the couch.

He’d seen, on leaving, that Caramel’s affinity link had reached 20—if they entered another scenario together, it would go higher.

The system didn’t specify when affinity increased; probably, it rose the more often they worked together, as teamwork and tacit understanding improved.

He didn’t want to be controlled by the system or be pulled into scenarios, but somehow, with this cat around, he felt less resistant.

He realized this time he hadn’t suffered any post-scenario depression—he was in good spirits.

He looked at Yan. “Caramel, we’re going in this afternoon. Promise me you won’t run around or leave your new owner’s side.”

Yan didn’t get why “new owner” was stressed—was Qi Feng suspicious?

Surely he hadn’t pegged the new owner as “Yan Jiyun”?

From one perspective, he wasn’t wrong.

Yan began to worry—if Qi Feng asked his human form if Caramel was with him, what could he say? He’d have to play it by ear.

With their bond, and the implications of affinity, his previous intentions for independence now seemed questionable. Many plans would need updating.

He’d rushed back into cat form last time without thinking. If he re-emerged as a human, and Qi Feng tried to add him as a friend, should he accept? If so, how would their friend system display his sub-account?

On the third evening after returning, Qi Feng took Yan Jiyun back into the game, to his personal space, before heading to their temporary quarters.

If Qi Feng suspected his new owner was Yan Jiyun, he showed no concern about anyone coming to claim Caramel—in fact, he seemed ready to have a serious “cat-raising” talk. Yan hoped Qi Feng’s guess was wrong, and that he wasn’t quite as smart as he feared.

Unable to access the system outside, Yan finally began reviewing three days’ worth of rewards after getting back into the game.

While Lan Mo was scrambling for new scenario information, Yan sprawled in their plush hotel, opening his super gift pack.

Last time he’d received affection-boosting items; who knew what he’d get this time?

Yan kneaded his paws, hoping for luck.

Lan Mo looked up and saw Caramel kneading his pads. “Feng-ge, why is your cat making bread? That’s weird.”

Yan pretended not to hear; Lan Mo really ought to keep quiet more often.

Qi Feng defended his cat: “Don’t make a fuss. Maybe his paws got dirty—he’s always been fastidious.”

Lan Mo didn’t dwell, given his total lack of feline experience.

As he stared, Yan’s gift pack opened:

Congratulations! You have received: Tuna x2;
Congratulations! You have received: Sardines x2;
Congratulations! You have received: Beef patties x2;
Congratulations! You have received: “Juvenile Teacher Qu Assist Card (30 min)” x3;
Congratulations! You have received: “Adult Teacher Qu Assist Card (30 min)” x3.

Assist cards?
So there would be battles in other scenarios.

But he hadn’t seen much fighting prowess in Teacher Qu—such a bookish type, what would he do?

Still, thinking of seeing the class monitor again made Yan happy—the little one was adorable and embroidered beautifully.

He had no idea what NPC strengths might be, nor what rewards others got.

Whenever Lan Mo and Qi Feng were together, conversation flowed.

Lan Mo suddenly asked, “Feng-ge, did you see Yan Jiyun when you got out?”

Qi Feng: “No.”

Lan Mo: “It’s a shame we couldn’t add him—we owe him for getting us out.”

Qi Feng, checking his system, replied absentmindedly, “You have Qiu Xi as a friend, and Yan Jiyun teams up with him a lot. If you need him, ask Qiu Xi.”

Lan Mo: “I tried. Qiu Xi says he hasn’t seen him either—guy’s a mystery.”

Qi Feng nodded. “Indeed.”

Lan Mo paused his shadowboxing, suddenly gleeful. “By the way, when I looked at the points leaderboard after we came out, Caramel isn’t ranked, right? Isn’t he a player?”

Qi Feng went over and kneaded Yan’s head. “Probably a species thing—his results aren’t counted. And he can’t even understand the tasks—how could he do them?”

Lan Mo scratched his head. “But in Mingya, he was leading me to hiding places—I thought he was an NPC, not your cat.”

Qi Feng looked down at Caramel, licking his right paw. “Are you really that clever?”

Yan pretended not to hear, licking himself and planning to cough up a hairball later.

He’d have to find a way to shut Lan Mo up one day.

Lan Mo: “Feng-ge, are you listening?”

Qi Feng: “Yeah, you’re praising Caramel.”

Lan Mo knew he was clever—he’d found canned food at Teacher Qu’s, even if he hadn’t eaten any. What a shame.

Qi Feng: “Maybe he has his own tasks, just that the system delivers them differently.”

Lan Mo: “Yeah, otherwise he’d just be a pet in there. The system probably uses him to confuse players—maybe he’s meant to look like an NPC.”

As soon as Lan Mo finished speculating, there was a knock at the door.

It was Shi Yan, delivering a letter for Qi Feng.

Qi Feng: “From whom?”

Shi Yan: “The Top Ten Guilds are holding a summit. There’s an invitation and a letter from the Fleet Leader.”

Qi Feng took it, but didn’t open it. “What do they want?”

Each in their squad handled their own contacts; they weren’t many, but had broad networks and a special status in Central City.

Shi Yan had found out: “It’s a meeting about the system bugs after the Peak Tournament—they want us to help find bugs in the next scenarios.”

Lan Mo: “They’re reaching out because of our scenario mutation, right?”

Not inaccurate.

Shi Yan: “Some players who exited with us belong to them—word gets around.”

Lan Mo: “Not that the Top Ten are on the same page—neutral, radical, conservative, passive types all mixed in. You think the Fleet can unite them?”

Shi Yan: “But the Fleet is really trying—they’re recruiting lots of players with high NPC favorability.”

Lan Mo threw a gloved punch at Qi Feng, excited. “Feng-ge, can we pull Yan Jiyun and his crew into the team? No sense letting outsiders benefit!”

Qi Feng: “Contact Qiu Xi and Gu Wenzhu—invite them first.”

Lan Mo: “You got it.”

Shi Yan, impressed with Yan’s ability, wanted to speak up.

Qi Feng, stroking the now-elongated black cat, noticed Shi Yan’s hesitation. “What is it?”

Shi Yan: “I’m worried others in the guild will object to Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi.”

Qi Feng gave a soft laugh. “They won’t.”

Lan Mo: “Totally! Bring Sister Bing in and ask—Yan, you just don’t know our team well enough.”

Shi Yan had not been in the squad that long—not long nor short—but everyone was willful, and he was reserved, not mixing outside the scenarios.

Meanwhile, Yan Jiyun was enjoying himself, nearly rolling over for a belly rub.

Shi Yan: “You’re right, I don’t know the team well.” He looked at Qi Feng. “Feng-ge, about the last scenario—I have a question.”

Qi Feng: “Ask.”

Shi Yan: “Why did you help Yan Jiyun so much? If you hadn’t fed him hints, he wouldn’t have finished first.”

Qi Feng dismissed it: “Doesn’t matter who won. We were a team.”

Lan Mo nodded: “And Yan helped us too. It’s fair. Besides, our squad was very visible.”

Qi Feng: “Partly that; Yan was simply better suited to that scenario—sharp mind, and the story all centered on Teacher Qu. I was just a support. It’s also standard system practice: whichever player triggers the event, that’s who the NPCs focus on. Teacher Qu latched onto him, so I took the support role.”

Startled, Yan realized Qi Feng had shadowed his efforts the whole way as backup.

Had he not been here loafing, would he ever have realized just how much work Qi Feng had put in?

He’d wondered before why something had seemed amiss, and now it was obvious: Qi Feng had always passed on any information he gained; it was Yan who’d caught onto the NPC patterns, and so Qi Feng helped in every possible way—not standing out front, but never falling behind. Doing more might even have made things worse.

He’d nearly congratulated himself for taking first place, little knowing someone else was quietly supporting him all along.

Qi Feng happened to scratch Yan’s chin, and Yan bit his finger lightly in thanks.

Qi Feng thought maybe the cat disliked the pressure. “Did I scratch too hard?”

Yan changed position, curling on his knees. He still had lots to learn. In scenarios, there was no need to always rush to the front—one must not be reckless.

He had to learn from Qi Feng.

Shi Yan: “Still, he’s a rookie, yet pulls the most important NPCs—truly a rare talent.”

Lan Mo: “That’s why we should get him, right? Good character, real skill, even the Fleet can’t buy him—did you see their recruiting post for Yan? The reward’s tripled now.”

Shi Yan: “Have you found him?”

If Yan’s own teammates hadn’t found him, the Fleet had less chance.

Lan Mo had a reply from Qiu Xi and sighed. “Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi both decline for now. They want Yan’s decision first. But actually, none of us can find him—maybe he’s got his own network?”

None of them really knew Yan Jiyun, and it was pointless to speculate.

As they pondered recruiting Yan, he too considered the matter.

If Qi Feng really invited him, should he join? He’d once thought to build his own team, but after this last scenario, he was wavering. In every respect, joining Qi Feng’s squad was best.

Their team welcomed Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi; no one had thrown anyone under the bus, which proved Qi Feng’s teammates had been carefully chosen. Still, his teammates weren’t limited to Lan Mo and Shi Yan, and both Gu and Qiu had their own flaws—integrating wouldn’t be instant.

He doubted Qi Feng’s crew would reject Gu Wenzhu and Qiu Xi, but if they joined too abruptly, they’d feel awkward; better to build experience first. Another question: after this exit, did Gu and Qiu have enough points for higher-level scenarios?

Unable to work it out, Yan decided to let it be.

After reading the Fleet leader’s letter, Qi Feng resolved to attend the main-city conference the next day.

Once the team heard, they resolved to escort him.

Though a small group, they had been frequent targets of the major guilds—caution was wise.

Before the meeting, Qi Feng took Yan back to his personal space. Yan decided not to separate from him for now; he wanted to hear what would be discussed.

He guessed that the conference, spearheaded by the Fleet, would push for resource sharing among the guilds.

As a newbie, Yan couldn’t enter on his own, but with Qi Feng, he could. One didn’t gain experience only from scenarios—one learned from others too.

The next morning, Qi Feng bundled Yan into a black backpack before heading out.

Escorting him were Lan Mo, Shi Yan, and their team’s lone female—whom all called Sister Bing. Yan, peering through a gap, saw that Sister Bing wore a sharp bob, tall and imposing as any man.

Though Sister Bing eyed the backpack with curiosity, she refrained from comment today.

Their focus was the Top Ten Guilds’ joint conference.

The Fleet, as the top guild, had chosen Central City’s most luxurious hotel as the venue.

With such public, formal proceedings, guilds wouldn’t dare stir up trouble; image management was paramount.

Only those with an invitation could enter. Lan Mo and others were stopped outside.

The Fleet’s own members handled security.

As expected, they demanded Qi Feng open his bag for inspection.

Lan Mo, knowing it held a cat, objected: “Why search Feng-ge’s bag? Do you know who he is?”

The Fleet guard lifted his chin. “We don’t care who you are. Everyone’s treated the same—bags must be checked.”

Qi Feng motioned Lan Mo back, avoiding a pointless quarrel. He would not allow the bag to be searched.

Lan Mo fretted, “Feng-ge, you—” meaning, would you let them search now?

Inside the bag, Yan was preparing to play dead, but Qi Feng turned to leave instead. “If you want a search, we’ll be going.”

No sooner had he turned than someone called out his name: “Qi Feng, same old stubbornness—no wonder Su Qiuming left you.”

Through the bag’s gap, Yan saw the source—a man whose every word held a cutting edge.

Lan Mo snapped, “Are you sick? Don’t compare Feng-ge to that traitor Su Qiuming!”

Yan’s ears perked up. Who was Su Qiuming?