Cat 260: The Man in the Black Robe

Chapter 260 The Man in the Black Robe

If we must speak of villains in this scenario, then it is the five individuals who transformed the entire Jiangnan Town into a town of paper people that are the true culprits. The heads of the Liu and Lin families have vanished, and no one knows whether they might someday return. Everything now depends on Yan Jiyun and the others’ deductions, and he hoped Gu Wenzhu would be able to provide him with more useful information in the future.

It had already been discovered that both the Chen and Cheng families had secret passages. From this, one thing was now certain: each of the five villains’ homes likely had hidden passages as well. Yan Jiyun surmised that these five who seemed to be at odds with one another would meet and communicate in secret through these very tunnels, day after day, year after year.

Old Master Cheng had clearly constructed this particular passage inside the house, even fitting it with lamps and candleholders, so there was no worry about being in darkness.

Once they had all entered, Ninth Master led the way, holding Yan Jiyun’s hand. He made no mention of Yan Jiyun’s fear of the dark; since this was hardly the first time Yan Jiyun displayed stubborn pride, he decided to preserve his dignity. After all, in the eyes of someone in love, their beloved could do no wrong.

Beyond the entrance, the passage led into what could just as well be any study. Two large bookshelves lined the walls, adorned with vases, calligraphy, and other antiques, most of the books rare editions, all exceptionally well preserved.

Apart from the bookshelves, there was a desk and a tea table.

With light available and everyone inside, Yan Jiyun stepped forward to touch a teacup. It was still faintly warm, proof someone had been here not long ago.

Yet, for all their searching, they found no other exit.

Cheng Xueying and Liu Jingxi were both carefully looking for another way out. Only Ninth Master remained, studying a set of Ru kiln sky-blue teacups.

Yan Jiyun asked, “Are you interested in antiques?”

He remembered that Qifeng’s home was decorated with a few antiques, but he himself knew little about them—he couldn’t tell their value.

Ninth Master replied, “They’re all right. I collect a few at home. But whenever I see something beautiful, I appreciate it.”

Yan Jiyun scanned the antique-filled room, rummaged through the desk, and finally found an old-fashioned floral cloth bag in the bottom drawer.

He looked up, smiling at Ninth Master. “If you like them, you should take them all. Here, this bag is big enough to hold several sets. Which one would you like? I’ll pack it for you.”

Ninth Master feigned hesitation. “Is that really all right?” He hadn’t expected Yan Jiyun to be so straightforward, and the smile on his face was hard to contain. Although they’d been interested in each other for only two days, Yan Jiyun already knew how to make him happy.

Yan Jiyun was matter-of-fact. “Who knows how treasures meant only for emperors ended up here? They were clearly looted from others. There’s nothing wrong with our taking them.”

To him, it was no more than collecting props. What could be the harm in that?

With such a reasonable excuse, Ninth Master—delighted—gently placed a set of royal porcelain teacups into the bag.

Yan Jiyun asked, “Any others you fancy? I’ll get them for you.”

Ninth Master was hardly the polite type anyway. Otherwise, why would even the scenario’s villains act on their best behavior around him, not daring to cross him? Perhaps this town contained some notion of reincarnation, or perhaps there really was a “heavenly law,” granting them the power to turn the townsfolk into paper but also restricting them in turn—and maybe Ninth Master was that very restriction embodied.

From the shelf, Yan Jiyun picked up a doucai “chicken-cup,” and skipped over to Ninth Master. “Here.”

Ninth Master’s presence was not accidental—he was here for a reason.

Eagerly, Yan Jiyun picked out what looked to be the most valuable antiques for him. Ninth Master found his taste impeccable, each random selection a priceless treasure. Even when the bag could hold no more, Yan Jiyun tried to squeeze yet more inside.

After some time searching fruitlessly, Liu Jingxi and Cheng Xueying turned to consult them, only to see the bulging bag at Ninth Master’s feet.

Yan Jiyun only now remembered this was Cheng Xueying’s house. Pointing at the antiques left on half a shelf, he called out, “If you see anything you like, grab it quickly. Soon as someone arrives, we won’t be able to take any with us.”

Cheng Xueying hesitated, struggling inwardly before finally settling on a single word: “…Fine.”

He found a bag for himself and began gathering antiques. The act felt unexpectedly satisfying. As a Cheng descendant, he’d never known how many treasures lay hidden here. Of course, Cheng Xueying believed most had not been obtained by honest means.

Liu Jingxi quietly helped him sort through the antiques, enthusiastically and methodically.

Ninth Master, in rare initiative, reminded Yan Jiyun to return to business. “We should look for another exit. There must be more passages—Cheng Shen wouldn’t have renovated for no reason.”

Yan Jiyun said, “The renovation was to get Song Kai’s body.”

Cheng Xueying: “We’d better search quickly then.”

As Liu Jingxi tried to lift a nondescript black porcelain bowl, he discovered it was fixed to the shelf. Recalling how Ninth Master had triggered the secret passage by moving a vase, he asked, “Ninth Master, could this be another switch?”

Ninth Master wasn’t one for wasted words. He went forward to inspect the black bowl, but before he could reach it, Liu Jingxi fumbled and accidentally pressed it down.

At that moment, Yan Jiyun was seated at the desk, studying an unremarkable notebook. He began leafing through its pages.

Simultaneously, the black porcelain bowl was pressed.

Yan Jiyun felt the ground slip from beneath him. “Shit!”

Before their very eyes, Yan Jiyun and his chair vanished without a trace—Ninth Master, Liu Jingxi, and Cheng Xueying were left staring in shock.

There was no time to process what was happening. Yan Jiyun had only met Cheng Shen once, and that was while rescuing Cheng Xueying. Who could have known the old man’s mind was so meticulous—not only creating a labyrinth of secret rooms but even hiding rooms within rooms?

With the world spinning, Yan Jiyun’s body tumbled uncontrollably down a flight of steps, clutching the notebook to protect his head, mind blank except for the thuds as he rolled. After about ten seconds, his body finally came to rest at the bottom.

He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings.

It was all Liu Jingxi’s fault—fiddling with things he didn’t understand. In an instant their group of four had become a solitary explorer, and all his senses were on high alert.

He had landed at the foot of a shallow ramp. The ground was packed dirt, solid but not bricked or cemented—perhaps simply tamped down with time. Ahead was a corridor dimly lit by artificial candlelight, eerily more frightening than simple darkness.

Yan Jiyun checked his player card. This round’s timer was not particularly tight, so he’d been renewing every fifteen minutes. He had five minutes left before he’d revert to cat form.

He dared not act rashly. Sitting up off the ground, he carefully inspected the steps he’d fallen down.

The landing was paved with stone. The chair he’d been sitting in was a trap. Given how close he and Ninth Master were, the latter would surely have followed at once—yet, after four minutes, there was still no sign of anyone. Clearly, the trap led to a random location with each use—a failsafe of Cheng Shen’s own devising.

Through this, Yan Jiyun became even more convinced that switching souls among paper people was no simple matter—mistakes during the process were easy. Given Cheng Shen’s selfishness, all these precautions were for his own safety.

With no sign of Ninth Master or the others, Yan Jiyun realized even if they used the same trap chair, they’d likely be sent to different passages.

He spent the whole five minutes searching the ceiling for the mechanism that had dropped him, but there wasn’t a single gap—flawlessly engineered and perfectly aligned.

Unable to find it and unwilling to waste more time, he gave up on that problem. There would be a way out—where there’s a will, there’s a way. Cheng Shen still needed to leave himself, so there would have to be an exit somewhere. More importantly, he could still breathe freely—the passage wasn’t sealed. He extended a forepaw to examine his fur and felt a light breeze, which must have drifted down the hall ahead.

Focusing, Yan Jiyun caught a faint ticking sound.

Tick, tick, tick.

The sound came from further down the corridor.

Without hesitation, he dashed toward it.

Being alone in the passage was simply too unnerving.

His figure quickly vanished from the foot of the stairs.

Following the corridor, whenever he reached a fork he memorized the turn, but he kept to the direction of the sound, reasoning it was the right way.

After three minutes, he heard voices ahead. Footsteps were only intermittently audible in this scenario—that was one trick it used to disorient. The exact mechanics of the paper people still eluded him: when there was sound, what was the cause? When there wasn’t, what did it mean? Ninth Master, for example, could still get nosebleeds, yet by their reasoning, the entire town was paper. If he scratched Liu Jingxi (who was really the paper man Wei Liu in disguise), there was no blood. Did this mean wounds caused by players would reveal the truth, exposing the illusion of the instance, while the original townsfolk as paper people were meant to deceive the players?

He understood now: when a player attacked the original inhabitants, the truth of the paper people would be revealed, while under normal conditions their behavior was indistinguishable from real people. That explained why the real Liu Jingxi and the fake one (Wei Liu in disguise) could be told apart by their footsteps. The real Liu Jingxi was an ordinary resident; the fake, as an adversary meant for the players, especially highlighted the qualities of a paper man—perhaps a hidden hint left by the scenario.

Following the ticking, Yan Jiyun reached a half-closed room. He slipped through a crack in the doorway and hid beneath a ragged bed while a half-naked man, wearing a satisfied smile, looked elsewhere. No matter how filthy the floor, Yan Jiyun had no choice but to stifle his disgust.

The man speaking was none other than Song Kai, the person they’d been searching for.

On another crude bed lay a lifeless Cheng Shen.

Between the two beds stood a black-robed figure. The robe’s hood entirely concealed the face; only a pair of vividly colored lips were visible.

Song Kai—sitting up in bed—was inspecting his limbs, laughing: “Ha ha ha, this body should last for years, shouldn’t it?”

The black-robed figure replied, “Of course. As long as Mr. Cheng doesn’t touch water within four hours, he may live in this body until its natural end. But if you touch water, all will be for naught.”

Yan Jiyun gleaned two pieces of information from this.

First, the black-robed figure was female; second, Cheng Shen had become Song Kai, but contact with water within four hours would kill him.