Cat 218: He Died?

Chapter 218 He Died?

[To Be Human] Live Stream:

“What’s happening to the kitty? Is he going to become a real paper person? The printer should only output paper, right?”

“I want to know which function the shopkeeper just pressed—scan?”

“Seems like it was scan. Will this hurt the cat? He can barely stand.”

“Has any player tried switching rapidly between being big and small before? I checked the veteran players’ streams—no one seems to know how the printer works. Has no one ever made it this far?”

“Probably because they all spend the first ten-plus days dealing with monsters and doppelgängers—no one even considered the possibility of escaping this place.”

“Did their fear levels disappear when they left the crystal ball? They’ve been out of the mall for a few hours now, but no one’s mentioned anything about fear values.”

“I think it’s gone. The kitty came in later and can’t see the key stats of this instance.”

“If that’s the case, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t match this instance? He can move freely outside its rules—maybe the game can’t kill him.”

“What do you mean?”

Yan Jiyun’s body collapsed without his control, but he didn’t lose consciousness completely; he only felt his head slam into Qi Feng’s chest.

Damn it, had he been shrunk?

If he was shrunk, would he remain unconscious like the two robbers? If his experience card’s time ran out, would he revert back to a cat?

If he didn’t wake up before the card expired, there was a good chance Qi Feng would discover his true identity as “Caramel.” But that couldn’t be helped—so be it, let it become their secret, which might even improve their survival odds in the game.

Before he could reflect further, his consciousness was swallowed up by darkness—

He felt his mind floating, drifting, unable to open his eyes, his ears filled with unintelligible, chaotic noise. The cacophony was maddening.

He had no idea what was happening outside, or what state he was in now; he only felt his body extremely light, and the absence of dreams suggested he wasn’t merely asleep. He told himself he mustn’t fall asleep—the instance was too dangerous. As a cat, he could only sleep soundly when absolutely safe; at all other times, he maintained a vigilant edge, never truly at ease.

How long he lingered in this muddled state, he couldn’t tell. It was much like the time he’d boarded the subway exhausted, slept clutching his backpack, half-conscious with the station announcements and chatter or the screech of brakes in his ears.

It lasted a long while, tormenting but oddly physically comfortable, as if his body was sinking into a soft mattress.

Noisy as it was, his body felt so good that he wanted to drift off to sleep.

[To Be Human] Live Stream:

“Damn, the kitty’s not going to fall asleep like this, is he? Cub, wake up! Your owner is in danger!”

“Who’d have thought the shopkeeper would be so hard to handle!”

“And they didn’t expect the printer could be Bluetooth-controlled.”

“This tiny gift shop is carrying way too much. If they clone a few more people, I’ll suffocate from watching.”

“They finally got out of the gift shop!”

“Why isn’t the kitty waking up? Did the printer suck out his consciousness?”

“So the scan function scanned the kitty’s mind? Is he a vegetable now?”

“But didn’t someone say earlier that the cat isn’t compatible with this instance? How long can the printer really control his mind?”

“Ugh, my head’s itchy now, as if I’m growing a brain. How can you tell Scan is targeting the mind?”

“You see enough of these games, you get a sense for it. If the cat can break free, he’s as good as a top-tier player!”

Most viewers who rarely watched the high-level instance streams didn’t really understand if Yan Jiyun’s mind was still there. He was just sleeping.

At that moment, noise still assaulted Yan Jiyun’s ears. He struggled, trying to break free, his mind growing clearer.

Strangely, as his consciousness cleared, he still couldn’t sense his body. He couldn’t open his eyes or move at all.

He’d had this terrible feeling before—after he died and became a spirit roaming with no place to settle, floating in nothingness, his consciousness finally anchoring itself in a newborn stray cat.

Why was it happening again?

Had the printer pulled his soul from his body?

Wait—a flood of memories surged back—there was nothing else he could do, so he strung the events of this instance together in his mind.

This was an awareness world—his consciousness, not his soul, had been extracted. He nearly let his past experiences mislead him. His consciousness had been pulled out, but that also meant he could shift it elsewhere.

What about his duplicates?

He’d turned human, but did they revert to normal cat size?

Focusing his mind, Yan Jiyun used his usual trick to search for his copy cats. Perhaps the real and copies shared a magnetic link—he found nine replicas and, spotting Little Nine without a collar, directed his awareness into it, fusing perfectly.

Once he could control Little Nine’s body, he realized all nine cats were huddled together in a transparent crystal ball, with Su Qiuming inside as well.

Wait, Su Qiuming hadn’t returned to human form? He knew Qi Feng; he’d never leave a teammate to die like this, even a former rival. So why was Su Qiuming still stuck?

Yan Jiyun observed the crystal ball, listening to the faint noises of fighting outside.

How had the shopkeeper’s phone turned the game around? How long had the fight lasted? Where was his body now?

He tried returning to his own body as before, but something blocked him. He was stuck in Little Nine.

Damn, what was going on?

When his time ran out, he’d turn back into “Caramel” cat—right in front of everyone. That would scare them all to death.

How long had it been since he passed out?

The duplicate cats had no system—he couldn’t check a thing.

He couldn’t ask Su Qiuming either; he seemed to be evading the conflict.

He had to figure out how to find his body—if he could get near, maybe he could avoid a dramatic transformation from man to cat.

But trapped in the crystal ball, he needed a way out.

How did Su Qiuming and the nine cats get in here?

As he pondered how to find Qi Feng, the crystal ball suddenly shuddered. What was happening outside?

Who was fighting whom?

Last he remembered, hadn’t Qi Feng’s group subdued the shopkeeper?

Su Qiuming, curled amid the wheat-like stuffing, flinched as the movement tugged at his wound, biting down to muffle his pain.

There was another person in there as miserable as he was. Everyone else had returned to normal, but only he remained hidden here.

Stuck and unable to leave, Yan Jiyun crouched by Su Qiuming, wondering how he’d gathered all nine cats.

The copy cats, like him, knew how to avoid danger. What grudge existed between Su Qiuming and Qi Feng?

Steadying his breath and waiting for the pain to subside, Su Qiuming’s complexion was bloodless, his lips white with agony, yet not a sound escaped him. He was a hard man, able to endure. Yan Jiyun thought if it were his wound, he’d definitely be howling.

“You’re Caramel, aren’t you? You think I’m pretty miserable too.” Su Qiuming managed a bitter smile, his face ashen. “I’ve never been a burden to others before. I miscalculated—never thought this instance would nearly kill me.”

Yan Jiyun inched closer. Truth be told, Su Qiuming was in a bad way. He could smell blood—the wound must’ve reopened in the chaos. Yan Jiyun knew what that felt like.

“Surprising, isn’t it, that Qi Feng keeps a cat—let alone brought you into the game.”

“First time I’ve seen an animal in an instance. Let me guess how you got in?”

“You don’t have your own tag—you must share Qi Feng’s. Or maybe the game let you in specially.”

“If I ever make it out, maybe I’ll try bringing a cat in too. At least I’d die less pathetically.”

“But still, not a total loss. If I die here, at least there’s Qi Feng’s cat for company. Never thought I’d have a death like that.”

Yan Jiyun rolled his eyes at him. He wasn’t ready to die; was Su Qiuming giving up already? Didn’t he trust his teammates’ strength—even after working with Qi Feng for so long? If he didn’t think Qi Feng would come back for him, that was something else entirely.

Privately, Yan Jiyun found it surprising that Su Qiuming could be so talkative.

Noises outside only grew louder—a whole shelf toppled. If not for the angle of the crystal ball and a pile of plushies in front, they’d have been crushed.

He looked up. A giant figure loomed overhead.

Even as a cat, he could tell the difference between a giant and something else.

He recognized the person who pushed down the shelf—he remembered the sleeve color. None of them, not even the shopkeeper, wore sapphire down jackets: only the brat had a jacket that color.

Something was very wrong. Hadn’t the brat been knocked out and woken by them earlier? Why was he like this now? What had happened in the short time he lost consciousness?

The brat had grown enormous—how? Did the shopkeeper’s phone do this?

Never, ever underestimate an NPC in a high-level instance.

Qi Feng’s team must be fighting the now-gigantic brat—he was more than a meter or two taller than an adult, almost at the ceiling, but his bulk made him clumsy.

Most likely, the brat was under the shopkeeper’s control, attacking Qi Feng’s team. Or maybe it was simply his role as an NPC.

Now what?

Yan Jiyun couldn’t get out, and Qi Feng’s group was tied up with the brat, unable to free them.

Crouching in the crystal ball, Yan Jiyun peered through a crack, grateful for the fallen shelf—the view was clear.

He waited for Qi Feng’s fight to end.

He regretted missing this battle, most of all not being able to see his owner in action.

Just as Yan Jiyun was brooding, Su Qiuming suddenly began coughing, pain ripping his wound; even worse, he coughed up blood.

With his star-quality looks, even coughing blood couldn’t mar Su Qiuming’s beauty.

Yan Jiyun couldn’t help him; he just signaled for the other cats to sit by his side and keep him company.

No wonder Su Qiuming’s mood was so low—he was already at the coughing-blood stage.

Yet Yan Jiyun found it odd. Su Qiuming was a starting player—he should have brought items, and veterans always carried medicine. There was no scent of drugs at all—had he not used any? Was his inventory all tools?

He peppered Su Qiuming’s invisible inventory with question marks. Some items could be reused; there was no way he had no self-preservation skills.

All these experienced players had tons of secrets, Qi Feng included. The Pet column had to be one of them.

The fighting outside grew ever fiercer.

Qi Feng shouted to someone, “Don’t let him damage the printer! Chu Mo, you move the printer, cover it with something soft! We’ll keep him busy!”

Chu Mo broke away, found a pile of toys in the break room, piled toys atop the printer, and even stuffed all the wardrobe’s clothes over it.

Yan Jiyun wasn’t sure this would help; if the brat smashed it hard enough, he’d still break that machine.

If the printer broke, he’d never get his mind back. If his body was removed from the instance without its mind, there was only one end—death.

Qi Feng was right to be cautious.

Yan Jiyun pressed his forepaws together in prayer, silently begging the brat not to break the printer—he needed to go back!

How much time was left on his experience card? Having no sense of time was killing him.

About five minutes later, Qi Feng’s group finally ran the brat ragged, then knocked him out cold.

Yan Jiyun breathed a sigh of relief.

The printer only worked once on the same NPC.

The giant body filled most of the shop. It had taken all four of them to take down this boss.

No one had any time to rest. Qi Yunchu hurried in, looking for Su Qiuming, carrying the crystal ball with Su Qiuming and the nine cats into the break room.

Yan Jiyun felt dizzy from the jostling. Before he was out, he saw Qi Feng gently lay his (Yan Jiyun’s) body flat on the floor. From his current perspective, “Yan Jiyun’s” face was ghostly pale, chest no longer rising, and Qi Feng’s expression was grim, eyes filled with self-reproach.

Qi Feng told Chu Mo, “Let’s start. Bring him back.”

Chu Mo said, “But we don’t know which function to use. He’s not breathing—can we really save him?”

Yan Jiyun, currently living in Little Nine: …He’s dead?

Qi Yunchu helped Su Qiuming out of the crystal ball. “Let’s turn Qiuming back first?”

Qi Feng seemed not to hear, pushed aside Chu Mo, and tried every function on the printer, one after another. Ten minutes passed—none of the buttons had any effect on “Yan Jiyun.”

No one mentioned turning Su Qiuming back to normal again.

Qi Feng stepped away from the printer, carried “Yan Jiyun” over to the wall, and propped him in a sitting position.

Calm but cold, he said, “Let’s change Su Qiuming and Caramel back first.”

Qi Yunchu asked for instructions, “Should we change the copy cats too?”

Qi Feng said, “Just change Caramel back.”

Before long, Su Qiuming returned to human form.

Qi Feng then fished Yan Jiyun (now Little Nine) out of the crystal ball, placed him where Su Qiuming had stood, and ran the printer’s enlarge function to restore him to normal cat size. But to his confusion, Yan Jiyun’s mind didn’t return to his body!

What was happening?

Was he really going to die here?

Again, “Yan Jiyun” was laid out in the middle of the break room.

Qi Feng stared hard at the printer functions. “Again.”

Chu Mo restrained his hand from pressing the next button. “But you already tried all those functions. Yan Jiyun may—”

Su Qiuming, bewildered, whispered to Qi Yunchu, “Yan Jiyun… is he gone?”

Qi Feng heard and shot him a frosty glare. “He’s not dead. Don’t talk nonsense.”

Such fierce anger from Qi Feng was rare; he seemed genuinely distraught.

His human form hadn’t known Qi Feng that long—was he really grieving for him? If so, Yan Jiyun hadn’t misplaced his trust in this teammate.

Using Little Nine’s body as always, Yan Jiyun leapt onto him; Qi Feng reflexively cupped him, hands trembling.

Yan Jiyun nuzzled his neck, his damp nose dispelling some of Qi Feng’s fear.

I’m alive. Your cat is still here—don’t be scared!