Cat 293: Carousel Bumper Cars
by CristaeChapter 293 Carousel Bumper Cars
In the ordinary world, a carousel always has a central pole anchoring the horses, but here, the horses are completely suspended, floating slightly above the ground, yet arranged in orderly circles, one after another.
Suddenly, the carousel platform began to move. The horses’ legs started to gallop, and the players atop them swayed violently as if riding real horses. Some desperately hugged the horses’ heads, some clamped their legs tight around the horses, and others searched for the functions the little girl had mentioned, but found nothing at all!
Now that Yan Jiyun was in cat form, he couldn’t possibly cling to the carousel like the other players, hugging with arms and legs. He stared at the large hole left by the fallen horse head, belatedly realizing this wasn’t the game scaring him—it was offering him a way out! He could climb into the opening! The perfect gaming console.
Inside the horse’s neck was not hollow but held a platform about fifteen centimeters wide, enough for Yan Jiyun to stand on.
Seizing his chance, Yan Jiyun dove in without wasting a second—who knew what other cat-killing traps might appear? His horse seemed none the lesser for missing its head; in fact, it now had a cat’s head instead, perfectly making up for the loss.
Qi Feng, who had been watching Yan Jiyun closely, finally breathed a sigh of relief. At least he no longer had to worry about Yan Jiyun being thrown from the carousel; his little paws would never have held on to a horse’s neck. The missing head, it turned out, was just right.
Once settled, Yan Jiyun’s mind raced.
The abrupt shattering of the horse’s head certainly made it seem like something had gone wrong, and it did give him a scare, but now he saw it for the blessing it was. It really felt as though he had unlocked some secret code. Considering his usual misfortune, the way this horse head split apart was both conspicuous and deliberate, as if designed specifically so he could sit safely inside, not be thrown off by the ride.
If David giving answers and accurately matching up NPCs who favored black cats were all of the same origin, then this could hardly be coincidence—someone must be helping him from behind the scenes. But who could it be? In the game, he knew only other players and NPCs. There was no one else.
The carousel’s speed began to increase.
Some typically stout and confident players’ faces were turning ashen. They’d survived so many dangerous dungeons, never expecting they might perish at the hands of a carousel game.
A player shouted, “Didn’t they say every horse had a special function? Where is it?”
“Find it quickly before the carousels take off!”
“Damn, I’m so dizzy, I can’t take it, I’m going to puke.”
“It’s just a few laps and I’m already sick. Damn it, why do carousels even exist?”
“Well, it’s Children’s Day—a kid’s favorite game.”
Yan Jiyun was in the inner ring, which spun less widely than the outer horses, but the dizziness was no less; he was a cat, after all, and cats could get dizzy too.
While he battled his churning stomach, the little girl cheerfully called out, “Nine minutes and twenty seconds to go, keep it up, everyone~”
All the players riding the carousel were groping along their horses, searching for the so-called special function.
But the little girl’s voice never ceased. She continued to needle at their nerves: “Ah, just one more minute to go—get ready for the first round of high energy~”
What was the first round of high energy? Did it mean something like the “danger ahead” warnings in horror movie bullet comments? If it was worth a warning from the little girl, it was probably more than just high energy—it was practically nuclear.
No one knew what lay ahead.
Yan Jiyun and Qi Feng, top of their qualifying group, indeed received a big bonus, but inside the bonus were no protective items, only attack tools and a pile of points that couldn’t yet be used!
He had been happy to receive the items, but now the situation felt like a bone stuck in his throat. This game still reigned supreme in tormenting its players. The perfect gaming console.
Someone fumbled around and actually found the function menu on their horse.
“There really is a function! Mine is—”
The voice cut off abruptly.
Just what kind of function was it that couldn’t be shared?
Yan Jiyun had no idea who the speaker was, just that someone nearby had found their skill. Regardless of what it was, he wanted his own. He couldn’t reach the front or back, so he patted the horse’s neck with his paw.
Suddenly, a blue screen-like menu lit up inside the horse’s neck, a few lines of text displayed, angled perfectly for Yan Jiyun sitting inside.
[Don’t share your skill with other players.]
Yan Jiyun was eager to see what he had gotten.
[Skill: Smoke and Mirrors]
[Uses: 1]
[Skill Range: Group (20 players)]
[Duration: 30 seconds]
The details were thorough, though the description didn’t spell out what “Smoke and Mirrors” actually did. Still, it was a group attack skill—quite interesting.
The carousel spun faster and faster. Less than thirty seconds remained until the little girl’s promised “high energy moment.”
All the players frantically searched for their skills.
The carousels were close enough that players could see how others accessed their skills.
Soon, everyone had found their skills.
Yan Jiyun tucked his head deep into the horse’s neck. By the time the others caught on, the cat that almost caused two titans to come to blows had vanished from sight.
Qi Feng calmly found his own skill while keeping Yan Jiyun in his peripheral vision, relaxing once he saw him disappear into the horse’s neck.
His teammates were all seated on adjacent carousels, nearly surrounded by allies. It wasn’t clear yet when they would get to use their skills. He exchanged information with Lan Mo, Gu Wenzhu, and the others: Some had defensive skills, some offensive—some single-target, some group—the distribution was very balanced.
The only thing their skills had in common was a lack of explanation—they’d have to figure them out on their own.
The personal defensive skill typically provided two uses, while group defensive skills could be used only once.
Yan Jiyun remained silent. There was no way to tell Qi Feng what skill he had unless he could leave his own horse.
The carousel kept spinning, but—unexpectedly—the speed leveled out and did not increase further.
Now the little girl’s voice rang out, excitedly counting down, “Three, two, one—let the party begin, players!”
No confetti, no wine, no music—what kind of party was this? Yan Jiyun couldn’t even muster a complaint. He quietly lifted his head to peek outside.
The scene had not changed, but he noticed the players nearby were tapping their screens, a bit of blue light seeping into the player in front of them.
Hm?
Was this the famous “high energy” moment? He could see how skills were being used—could everyone else see this too?
No, it must be different. His vision was sharper than a human’s, so he could spot the blue light. Was this the manifestation of players’ skills?
Yan Jiyun was about to crouch down again when he heard players exclaiming that they could now move around; they could switch carousels.
They’d been locked into their spots at first, but after the high-energy prompt, switching was allowed—and as soon as this option appeared, their carousels left the tracks entirely!
The horses had begun to float in the air; the blue screen on his horse’s neck had been updated with driving controls: up, down, left, right, accelerate, decelerate, brake, and so on.
Had the carousel just become a bumper-car game as well? The perfect gaming console.
Players all around couldn’t help but curse.
“The hell is this supposed to mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a free-for-all.”
“Damn it, who the hell just rammed me?!”
“These controls are messed up, I can’t steer—ahhhhhh!”
Yan Jiyun even heard someone muttering, “Left, right, left, right, forward, forward, up, up, up, up, accelerate, slow, slow, slow.”
“……”
This “party” was complete chaos.
The younger players, those accustomed to online keyboard games, quickly mastered the controls.
Yan Jiyun could only crouch on his horse’s head, scanning his surroundings.
Suddenly, another player—struggling with the controls—smashed into Yan Jiyun’s horse, knocking it askew.
Yan Jiyun had no way to keep his balance like a player. Sensing his horse about to pitch down, he slipped out from its neck and leaped onto the sideways horse’s back. As of that moment, his former horse was all but finished.
Players were riding vibrant, colorful horses, but the horses galloped over a sea of black below—a dazzling rainbow, yet a misstep meant plunging from color to black, with nothing left behind.
As his own horse teetered, Yan Jiyun leaped onto the horse of the player who’d hit him, then sprang onto another passing horse, landing squarely on its rear in under a second.
His agile, nimble movements escaped notice—all around, players were too busy struggling with their own steeds.
Yan Jiyun dared not relax. His target was Qi Feng, not far away.
But the players ahead were still unsteady with the controls, so he had to pick a reliable path.
It was chaos: horses clashing, players accidentally triggering skills and knocking themselves out.
One after another, horses were tumbling from the sky—Yan Jiyun’s heart raced with anxiety.
Qi Feng wasn’t too far—he could make it!
Crouched behind one player, Yan Jiyun’s ride shook so violently he thought he’d been hit, until a teammate shouted,
“Zhang San! There’s a cat behind you!”
Yan Jiyun quickly jumped from Zhang San’s horse to another passing by, landed squarely on its rear, teetered but kept his balance—Qi Feng and the others watching held their breath.
“Caramel, be careful!” Qi Feng could do nothing but worry. There was too much mayhem: horses colliding everywhere, skills flying; he had to avoid not just the chaos, but also surprise attacks.
Lan Mo, equally anxious, said, “Brother Feng, should I rush over and fetch Caramel?”
Qi Feng shook his head calmly, “No, focus on learning your controls—we have bigger battles ahead.”
By then, Yan Jiyun had leaped across three horses, growing ever closer to Qi Feng. Just as Qi Feng thought he was coming his way, he watched Yan Jiyun get scooped up by a passing hand.
“Caramel, sit tight,” said the newcomer.
It was none other than Su Qiuming.
Yan Jiyun had originally aimed for Qi Feng, but after a quick look around, seeing that Su Qiuming was not only close but handling his horse smoothly, he made a split-second decision: he leapt onto Su Qiuming’s horse, hooked his claws tightly into his clothes, and held on!
His thirty-minute undercover task still had ten minutes to run!
Yang Zai, Su Qiuming’s top gamer, steered with one hand and advised, “Brother Ming, don’t bother with that cat right now, it’ll just slow us down.” The perfect gaming console.
Su Qiuming only shook his head. “It’s just a cat—it won’t slow me down. Besides, we’ll win this game, with or without it here.”
Yan Jiyun clung to Su Qiuming’s clothes, thinking, Perhaps we really will win this time~