Cat 267: Shot by an Arrow

Chapter 267 Shot by an Arrow

[Be Human] Live-Stream Chat:

“Holy crap! The cat just straight-up revealed his identity to Ninth Master!”

“Ninth Master must have figured it out by now. In this instance he’s just an NPC, not a player anymore, so he isn’t bound by logic—especially since the setting itself is so illogical and unscientific.”

“Hahaha, the cat’s cover is finally blown! It wasn’t as earth-shattering as I imagined, but it happened—and I’m genuinely happy about it.”

“The cat’s secret was bound to come out sooner or later. I’m more worried about how they’ll escape this instance. I’m so nervous—the fire’s almost on top of them. If they don’t leave soon, the cat will end up nothing but ashes.”

Ninth Master had already been suspicious of Yan Jiyun’s identity, but when Qiu Xi suddenly blurted out that Caramel was their cat, it was odd.

Yan Jiyun wanted to explain, but at the moment, he didn’t have the means to speak.

But he didn’t need to—Ninth Master already had the answer in his mind.

Yan Jiyun and Caramel had never appeared together. If a soul could pass from one paper person to another, surely it could also pass from a paper person into a paper animal.

Yan Jiyun had kept emphasizing he had nine lives!

Ninth Master tightened his hold on Caramel, who was struggling in his arms, gazing down at the cat as if hoping for confirmation. But the fire in Jiangnan Town was raging and time pressed on.

Yan Jiyun thought that with things this obvious, Ninth Master should be able to deduce it.

He’d never appeared in human and cat form at the same time, and had repeatedly mentioned his nine lives. Now, with Qiu Xi reminding them of the relationship between him and Caramel, it should be clear. Outside the instance, the truth might have remained hidden, but here, within the illogical setting, and with Ninth Master’s intelligence unbound by usual player routine, the answer ought to come easily.

Still, Yan Jiyun felt a bit anxious.

Ninth Master’s gaze lingered on Yan Jiyun for several seconds, complex and unreadable. “We’ll settle accounts later.”

Yan Jiyun cocked his head, puzzled: Settle what accounts?

The fire sweeping westward was gaining speed.

Seeing Caramel, Qiu Xi grew anxious. “What do we do? Can Brother Yun make it out?”

Ninth Master spared a glance for the black cat in his arms, who was pretending to be utterly indifferent—how did he manage it? Ninth Master, for once, allowed himself a longer reply: “He’ll be fine. Everyone from that group made it out; there’s no way Yan Jiyun would be left behind. I trust him.”

Qiu Xi nodded vigorously. “Yeah, Brother Yun’s always strongest when he’s on his own.”

Their car didn’t go much farther before reaching a bridge they couldn’t cross; blocked, they had to continue on foot.

Forced to abandon the car, they broke into a run.

Worried Caramel might vanish again, Ninth Master carried him close. Yan Jiyun was perfectly happy with this—he didn’t have to run and could spend his energy thinking of a way out.

Now, Ninth Master was running with a cat in one arm and Qiu Xi—his body half-gone—under the other.

On the west side of Jiangnan Town, rivers snaked everywhere and boats dotted the banks—but if every building was made of paper, so too must be the boats.

No sooner had this occurred to him than he heard screaming from some players who’d boarded a boat. Their vessel, having barely traveled ten meters, caught fire from a blaze leaping out of a nearby building. In a flash the boat was gone, and the players splashed into the water. Moments later, they floated face-up—soaked sheets of paper on the current. Three more player counts blinked away.

Yan Jiyun’s sharp nose caught the scent of burning lamp oil amid the chaos.

For Qiu Xi, a disabled arrival in this instance, it was the first time he had witnessed a player perish. It reminded him of his own arrival—gone in a flash, painless, unfeeling. Better, he thought, than being slain by a horror NPC; at least these deaths were peaceful enough.

Yan Jiyun saw it too, and reached a clear conclusion: land was blocked, water was blocked—what escape route remained?

Jiangnan Town was built in a ring, with the back mountain far from the west.

Perched on Ninth Master’s shoulder, Yan Jiyun scanned their surroundings, searching for a flaw in the game’s boundaries.

If breaking through the scene itself was impossible, perhaps the answer lay with a person.

The most unique individual in the entire instance was Cheng Xueying—the only human.

But there was someone else: Ninth Master himself. He should have been a player, but had entered the game in some other way.

Yan Jiyun recalled he could get nosebleeds—yet paper people, even when cut, would not bleed. Could it be that Ninth Master was Qi Feng himself?

Without warning, Yan Jiyun swiveled and, when Ninth Master was distracted, gave his hand a sharp scratch!

Ninth Master barely flinched, more surprised than irritated. “Why did you scratch me all of a sudden?”

If Caramel was Yan Jiyun’s feline form, then his actions must be deliberate.

Why?

Ninth Master, limited by the instance setting, couldn’t distinguish player from NPC. Yet he knew one thing—his hand was bleeding. Was this how Yan Jiyun (as Caramel) had identified Cheng Xueying as human?

Otherwise, how had Yan Jiyun known Cheng Xueying wasn’t a paper person?

He remembered exploring the Liu household with Yan Jiyun absent, but Caramel running around everywhere in his place—how had the cat managed to run from his house to the Liu house? Next, Yan Jiyun appeared and Caramel vanished. Only one explanation remained, matching his previous suspicions: Yan Jiyun and Caramel were one and the same.

Now, Caramel was testing him again, checking his true nature.

Ninth Master stared at the fresh blood welling on his hand. “I’m human? Why?”

Qiu Xi was equally puzzled; his knowledge was limited and his thinking straightforward: “Does it mean only humans can leave here? Paper people burn or dissolve, so they can’t get out at all. If you’re human, maybe you can take us with you?”

Yan Jiyun was thinking the same. Out of try cards, he could only express it through Qiu Xi’s mouth.

Ninth Master smiled. “So I’m human? Why didn’t I know before? Strange, why am I human?”

Yan Jiyun thought: Because you’re an NPC who showed up out of nowhere—you never belonged to this instance.

He still didn’t understand why things were this way. Maybe it was tied to Destiny’s pet system, or related to the development of this new instance.

So far, of all the game information he’d gathered, no player had truly uncovered the rules. Finding a loophole wasn’t going to be easy.

Yan Jiyun glanced at Ninth Master, resolving they had to get out. He had the feeling this was the closest anyone had come to a game system bug since the launch of the new instance.

Ninth Master said, “If that’s so, I’ll get you out of this town.”

Qiu Xi asked, “Boss Qi, how did you get to Jiangnan Town?”

For an instant, Ninth Master looked lost. “How did I come to Jiangnan Town? I remember I was—”

He suddenly couldn’t remember at all.

Qiu Xi, suddenly shrewder, realized something was off: “Then do you remember how you made your mark?”

Ninth Master went silent for two seconds. “I don’t.”

Yan Jiyun licked the scratch he’d just made, and Ninth Master, jolted from the haze of failing memory, realized: no wonder Caramel licked his lips, it was a kiss.

“My memory is fading. More and more, I can’t seem to recall things. Whatever happens, before I lose it all, I’ll get you out of Jiangnan.”

Yan Jiyun wondered how, exactly, Ninth Master planned to get them out.

Standing atop the arch bridge, with fire raging on both sides, Ninth Master’s mind flashed on a scene: “I remember coming from a dark place.”

Qiu Xi voiced Yan Jiyun’s thought: “Where?”

Yan Jiyun was getting anxious. They were here already—there was no way back.

What did Ninth Master mean—a dark place? Had he explored it before?

A new clue surfaced, unconnected to any established information about the instance—absolutely baffling.

Yan Jiyun told himself to stay calm. As an NPC, Ninth Master had to have some tie to the puzzle.

Now they stood atop the bridge. Ninth Master, tall as he was, let Yan Jiyun leap onto his shoulders and perch, scanning all sides.

Aside from them, there were a few players who’d followed Yan Jiyun this far, trailing after.

The fire couldn’t reach this spot just yet; with luck, they could survive here for now.

Suddenly, Yan Jiyun spotted several cargo ships moored ahead—different from the small ones that burned before. He recalled Ninth Master once mentioned being in the shipping business. Did that mean he could get them out via river?

He patted Ninth Master’s shoulder, signaling him to look at the cargo boats.

Enlightenment dawned in Ninth Master’s eyes. “Let’s board. These are my company’s ships.”

No sooner had he started down than a figure emerged from a cabin—his most loyal subordinate, Yang Er, rushing toward them with excitement. “Ninth Master! Hurry, get on board—the fire’s coming!”

Yan Jiyun let out a low, warning growl at Yang Er.

Ninth Master reacted immediately. “You’re not Yang Er.”

Yang Er’s face stiffened. “Ninth Master, how could I not be?”

Yan Jiyun felt he’d missed something—the partner Ouyang Pei worked with, the teacher who’d been resurrected!

Ninth Master said, “Yang Er would never smile so disgustingly.”

Yang Er clicked his tongue. “Still recognized by you. Planning to leave Jiangnan Town, are you? How about I give you a ride?”

Though Ninth Master’s memories of his own life in the town were vague, his recollection of discovering the paper-people secret with Yan Jiyun and the others was crisp.

He replied, face hard, “My cat doesn’t like you. No need.”

But Yang Er laughed. “You don’t get a choice.”

Ninth Master asked, “And if we get on, we’ll burn up just like those before us?”

Yang Er smiled. “Smart. How could anyone leave this town? This is paradise—here, you can live forever. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Ninth Master’s eyes darkened. “All you’ve done is trap everyone here. Your vengeance is already complete. Jiangnan Town lies in ruins—its people long dead.”

Yang Er countered, “That’s not nearly enough. I want them to stay here and suffer the torment of human relationships forever—parents with a favorite child, brothers at war, maids seducing young masters. Someone dead today, another crippled tomorrow. I love watching them tear each other apart for their own interests—it’s too entertaining!”

With that one glance at the foreign language teacher wearing Yang Er’s form, Yan Jiyun understood all his doubts.

Everything was meant to punish the people of Jiangnan—their twisted relationships magnified and used for torture. No wonder every family seethed with hidden agendas; the teacher had simply blown up their worst traits. He was the mastermind behind it all.

But Yang Er didn’t know Ninth Master was a real human.

Ninth Master had no patience for chatter. He set Qiu Xi down and snatched up an oar from the ground, swinging it at Yang Er where he stood on the boat.

Enraged, Yang Er barked, “You think you can stop me?”

He pulled out a weapon—incendiary bolts—set them aflame, then fired his crossbow at Ninth Master and Yan Jiyun!

Ninth Master leapt for cover behind the bridge’s arch.

In that split second, he felt the weight lift from his shoulder—a black shadow, Yan Jiyun, had jumped from the bank onto the boat.

Caramel! Yan Jiyun!

Yan Jiyun, seizing the moment of chaos, scrambled aboard and knocked over the oil lamp burning in the hold.

Bursting from his hiding place, Ninth Master cried anxiously, “Caramel, come back!”

But Yan Jiyun wasn’t reckless—he doubled back at once, sprinting from the stern to the bow, then leaped to the shore and into Ninth Master’s arms!

At the same instant, a fired bolt struck—and Ninth Master took an arrow meant for Yan Jiyun.

With a roar, the boat went up in flames. Yang Er, caught by the fire, had no time to scream—his scream was all that remained of him.