Cat 254: Lost a Leg

Chapter 254 Lost a Leg

The only living person in Jiangnan Town—this was a very clear hint.

Wei Liu wanted to use this living person to survive, but why couldn’t he distinguish between real people and living people? Was it because everyone else was made of paper, making it impossible to tell who was truly alive?

Gu Wenzhu and He Yuanle couldn’t follow Yan Jiyun’s reasoning quite as quickly. He Yuanle was still stuck on the fact that the entire town’s population were paper people.

He Yuanle, who always carried a small bag, put away the book and asked Yan Jiyun, “How did you deduce that everyone in the town was made of paper? And how did you spot the difference between Liu Jingxi and Wei Liu?”

Yan Jiyun replied, “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a process of elimination.”

Ninth Master wasn’t sure of all the details either. “I’d like to hear more about it. Jiyun, explain your reasoning.”

Yan Jiyun looked at Ninth Master, mindful of his NPC status, and carefully chose his words. “First, it starts with Liu Jingxi.”

Just as he’d told Wei Liu before, this town was inescapable.

Liu Jingxi, for instance, wanted to leave but couldn’t find a way. When Yan Jiyun first arrived, they’d climbed the mountain together but were turned back—those Liu family members watching them proved it, as did Liu Jingxi and his companions’ instinctive avoidance of the pond.

To a normal person, a mere pond wouldn’t possibly pose a real barrier to leaving town. One could simply fill it in, but the townsfolk acted as if it was something to always be circled around; psychologically, they had a deep-seated need to avoid it, one that didn’t require words but came straight from the heart.

Then there were the Liu family matters. Aside from Ninth Master, Liu Jingxi was the NPC he interacted with most in this scenario. Yan Jiyun not only distinguished him from Wei Liu through the sound of his footsteps, but also by their character traits and scent. This last detail, of course, he’d never share aloud.

Thirdly: the deaths of Liu Jinghao and Cheng Liang, one by drowning, the other burned alive. Cheng Liang’s face had been scorched beyond recognition, yet the Cheng family property was untouched. In fact, Yan Jiyun had run an experiment himself—he set fire to Old Master Cheng’s house, and it burned with unnatural speed. If not for the “paper” element, no ordinary building would have gone up so quickly.

So it wasn’t just the townspeople—even the houses in Jiangnan Town were made of paper.

The copy of “The Great Soul Return Method” they found wasn’t complete; it only pertained to people. Where the buildings came from was still a mystery in need of investigating.

If the whole town was paper, this likely wasn’t part of the normal mortal world at all, but an artificially carved-out realm—a place created by someone’s hand.

The existence of paper people was easy to infer. From the moment Yan Jiyun entered the scenario, nothing about it seemed normal. So much was out of sync: modern cars but no corresponding communications or electrical devices. The whole town had electricity, yet he never saw a single power line—wasn’t that bizarre? It was best to assume something supernatural was at play.

Gu Wenzhu and He Yuanle both suspected this was a supernatural scenario; they’d encountered plenty of odd occurrences while doing their own tasks.

Now that Yan Jiyun had explained his reasoning plainly, everyone had a clear direction and knew how to proceed, rather than scattering and losing track of their purpose. In a way, what Yan Jiyun did was to flesh out the background for the scenario.

Of course, all these deductions depended on the current clues—they’d need more evidence as they continued to search.

So long as they didn’t know why Wei Liu turned the whole town into paper people, they couldn’t yet leave.

With the newly acquired mysterious treasure in tow, the four left the tunnel and returned to the Chen family’s cemetery.

No obstacles had blocked their path to the treasure; if Yan Jiyun hadn’t infiltrated the Liu family, they might never have gotten this secret manual.

Still, it was useless for now—all the townspeople had already become paper.

He Yuanle was excited. “Let’s go look for the only living person!”

Ninth Master suddenly asked, “If paper people and living people are indistinguishable, how are we supposed to find the one living person? And where did this living person come from?”

Yan Jiyun thought, This really is a problem: “We’re just like a living person ourselves, so it would be easy for the living person to hide among us.”

Gu Wenzhu added, “We can’t exactly go around testing everyone with water or fire. Living people are also afraid of those.”

Yan Jiyun saw this was the scenario’s cleverness. Instead of turning the players into souls or something else, it made them paper people, while still giving them all the traits of the living. Who would have expected the story to twist this way? Still, if you thought deeply, it was possible to work it out.

He glanced at the current player count by habit: “Another five players are gone.”

Whereas before there had been ninety-five, now there were five fewer.

Ever since Wei Liu left, the number of players had kept dropping.

Gu Wenzhu connected the player deaths to Wei Liu. “Could Wei Liu be behind this? Paper has a shelf life. Ordinary paper people might not realize what they are, but if someone does, can they drive out other souls and seize paper bodies—just like soul-snatching in cultivation stories?”

Yan Jiyun nodded. “Your theory is solid. Otherwise, Wei Liu couldn’t have survived this long—and if his body’s damaged, he’d need a new one.”

Noticing how in-sync Yan Jiyun and Gu Wenzhu were, Ninth Master said, “So why don’t we go look for the dead? See if anyone’s body was taken over.”

But they didn’t know who had died or who’d been taken over—the other players were all strangers to them.

That was when Yan Jiyun remembered a teammate: “Let’s look for Qiu Xi first! Maybe someone near him’s been targeted.”

Ninth Master was once again disgruntled. “Who’s Qiu Xi?”

Yan Jiyun pulled him by the hand, heading for their car. “A friend of mine. We need to find him right now.”

He Yuanle protested, “Wait, aren’t we supposed to look for Wei Liu and the living person?”

Yan Jiyun replied, “We’ll search for all of them—but first, let’s regroup the team. We still don’t know what’s going on; the players’ situation is getting more dangerous by the minute.”

Gu Wenzhu agreed, “I’m with you. We should find Qiu Xi first.”

They hadn’t been ignoring Qiu Xi; there’d simply been no trace of him, nor had he contacted them. Who knew what he was caught up in.

If the player count hadn’t changed so suddenly, Yan Jiyun wouldn’t have worried so much about his teammates, but Qiu Xi really had been missing for too long. This was already the fourth day, with the fifth fast approaching.

With the scenario halfway done, time was running out.

But there was another problem: how to find Qiu Xi?

Yan Jiyun turned to Ninth Master. “Do you know anyone at a newspaper?”

Ninth Master replied, “I have a newspaper myself. Why?”

Yan Jiyun said, “I want to put out a missing-person ad—and I might need your people for help as well.”

Even though Jiangnan Town was inhabited by paper people, their world and era were based on the Republic of China. Nowadays, you’d advertise on social media, circulate flyers, post online— but back then, the quickest way was a newspaper ad and calling on all sorts of local characters for help.

Ninth Master answered, “I’ll help, but what’s in it for me?”

By now, they sat together in the car. Yang Er obediently took the driver’s seat.

Smiling, Yan Jiyun leaned in closer. “So what do you want out of this?”

Ninth Master set a hand at Yan Jiyun’s waist, pulling him against his chest so their faces nearly touched. “What do you think I want?”

With a hand pressed to Ninth Master’s chest, Yan Jiyun thought, Any closer and we’ll be kissing—and said as much: “If we get any closer, I’ll kiss you.”

That was exactly what Ninth Master wanted. He nodded, deadpan, “That’s certainly one way.”

Tilting his head, Yan Jiyun teased, “But what else would you want?”

Ninth Master was undone by the way Yan Jiyun cocked his head and blinked at him—so much so, he couldn’t help kissing him lightly on the eyelid.

He smiled slyly, “The more you owe me now, the more you’ll owe later.”

Yan Jiyun blinked again. “How will I ever repay you? Planning to sell me off for cash?”

Ninth Master squeezed his slim waist. “You’re so thin, you’d fetch nothing. Better stay with me—you can pay as you go.”

Yan Jiyun’s mind raced and he made a bold promise. “Fine, when all this is over, anything you want—if I can do it, it’s yours.”

At worst, he’d just have to transform into a cat and let him pet his belly a while. Nothing wrong with that.

He had no idea how Ninth Master had entered the game to begin with. When he left the game, all these promises would surely stay buried in the scenario anyway—so it didn’t matter.

Ninth Master drew in a silent breath, pinching the back of Yan Jiyun’s neck with his fingers. “Agreed. A gentleman’s word can never be recalled.”

Yan Jiyun: “It’s a deal.” He even proactively wrapped his arms around Ninth Master’s neck, realizing this was the best way to handle him.

Whenever he acted affectionate, Ninth Master grew even happier, agreeing to anything. Yan Jiyun almost felt like a femme fatale.

Tsk, this gay Ninth Master NPC really has a thing for his face; putting on a show together wasn’t so bad, after all.

With one deeply invested and the other just playing a role, the pair made an oddly harmonious match—even Yang Er felt a faint envy. Ninth Master was, after all, an admirable man: steady, wealthy, not a brute, strikingly handsome, and carried himself with poise. If only he’d been a woman, Yang Er might have been moved. But—Ninth Master was definitely a man, and that was a step too far for him right now.

They returned quietly to the city center. Ninth Master mobilized his people, everyone carrying Qiu Xi’s portrait and searching every street and alley.

Surprisingly, it didn’t even take an hour after distributing the freshly printed posters before they found Qiu Xi.

He was brought in on a wooden board to Yan Jiyun’s temporary quarters.

It was no wonder Qiu Xi had been missing for four days—he’d had rotten luck. Upon entering the game, he’d immediately fallen into the lake, and when he finally managed to crawl ashore, his leg was inexplicably gone. He’d been rescued by some locals, but for four days, all his eating, drinking, and other needs had been managed in bed. If Yan Jiyun hadn’t had Ninth Master launch a search, it was likely they’d have never found him before the scenario ended.

When Qiu Xi saw them, he burst into tears, activating his comms chip. “Boohoo, Brother Zhu, my leg’s gone. I’ll be crippled for life!”

Yan Jiyun looked at his leg, then instinctively glanced down at his own. “That’s so tragic.”