Cat 326: No Player Can Log Out

Chapter 326: No Player Can Log Out

Yan Jiyun was not at all surprised to see that face before him.

Though now gaunt beyond recognition, Yan Jiyun could still tell it was Su Qiuming, wasted away to skin and bone.

Yan Jiyun crouched before him, observing him closely.

He had long suspected that Qi Feng had broken with Su Qiuming so abruptly because he realized something was off about him.

Yan Jiyun had warned Qi Feng before: there were people “above” among the players, and Su Qiuming’s identity was thus highly suspect.

The game would never allow a player to become too outstanding. In the past, Qi Feng was immediately revered the moment he appeared—he founded a guild, became the true center of the players; at a word from him, countless others would follow. The game must have feared his power, and so assigned him a highly compatible ‘friend’—Su Qiuming.

Yan Jiyun squeezed through the iron bars and leaped onto Su Qiuming’s lap, stepping lightly along his thigh.

If nothing else, Su Qiuming was likely the protagonist of this instance.

If he rescued him, would that mean freeing Su Qiuming’s NPC consciousness?

Yet Su Qiuming had always been self-aware; he was both a player and a watcher, a monitor installed amongst the players by the game itself. How had he also become the protagonist of this instance?

Then it struck Yan Jiyun: this instance was aimed at Qi Feng, not at himself!

It was meant to test whether Qi Feng would stand by and watch his friend perish—another cleverly crafted trap set by the game.

Meanwhile, the livestream audience was baffled by the game’s shifting NPC appearances.

[‘Want to Be Human’ Livestream:]

“To this point, how come there still hasn’t been a quest prompt from the game?”

“Not only is there no quest, doesn’t this NPC look awfully familiar? I swear I recognize him from somewhere.”

“Exactly! He’s so familiar! Wait, let me take a closer look!”

“It’s Su Qiuming!”

“But isn’t Su Qiuming a player? How did he end up inside the instance? How could he appear here?”

“I’ll check his stream!”

“I’m back—Su Qiuming’s stream is also down. Their last instance bugged out as well; all the players were ejected by the system.”

“What is going on? The devs better not just play dead—come out and explain!”

“Is it possible there’s a major issue with the game?”

“Will we ever see Kitten again? I’ll die without Kitten!”

“No need for despair, maybe it’s just a server hiccup…”

“You don’t even believe that yourself. In all these years, the game’s never had anything like this happen.”

“Enough, enough—everyone, look, the devs just posted an announcement!”

Back in the game, Yan Jiyun was still pondering the real reason for Su Qiuming’s appearance here, and what consequences would follow his rescue. He knew nothing of what was unfolding outside.

Still, as instances everywhere began collapsing in turn, he was sure the game would react. This too was part of their plan—he simply hadn’t expected to run into Su Qiuming inside the instance.

As the little black cat sized him up, a trace of hope flickered amid Su Qiuming’s despair. Though his body slumped against the wall, his eyes followed the cat’s every movement.

Yan Jiyun shifted left, then right, observing.

Through these tests, he realized Su Qiuming was only feigning despair—probably to throw off Dr. Jiang, who intended to experiment upon him.

Was this just one facet of Su Qiuming’s consciousness?

Could it be that the game split off part of his mind and trapped it here, while the “real” Su Qiuming’s consciousness was also incomplete outside?

Whether complete or not, it made sense either way. If his consciousness was incomplete, it would also explain how the system controlled him, having him perform certain tasks as arranged.

After a short while, the pursuers finally caught up—loyal ability-user security guards in Dr. Jiang’s employ.

They shone flashlights into each cell, one by one, finally coming to the room with the man inside.

Yan Jiyun crouched in the shadows at Su Qiuming’s side—completely black, obscured by the angle and darkness. The guards failed to notice him.

The flashlight beams faded, and the guards retreated.

“Nothing on sub-level one!”

“Nothing on sub-level two!”

“Try searching elsewhere! Under no circumstances can anyone else find their way here before Dr. Jiang!”

Once the ability-users moved on, Yan Jiyun stepped from the shadows. He looked for a more spacious spot right in front of Su Qiuming, and, before the man’s eyes, transformed back into human form.

The man, still gripped by despair, now simply stared, dumbstruck.

Clad now in a white lab coat, Yan Jiyun squatted before him. “Surprised?”

At this moment, Yan Jiyun was no longer himself, but the Doctor from the original zombie instance.

He’d seen his nameplate at the cell door upon entering, which listed both his name and a number—No. 01. His name was Su Qiubo.

“What’s your relationship with Su Qiuming?”

The man seemed not to have used his voice for a long time; when he tried to speak, his throat caught, no sound escaping.

Yan Jiyun handed him a cup of water. “Take a drink, clear your throat.”

Su Qiubo flinched at the sight of the lab coat. “Are you here to experiment on me, too?”

Yan Jiyun replied, “Why would I do that? I’m not that Jiang. In fact, he’d like nothing more than to experiment on me.”

Su Qiubo: “Oh, well, since you can turn into a cat, you’d actually make a better test subject.”

Yan Jiyun asked again, “Do you know Su Qiuming?”

Su Qiubo thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Never heard of him. Don’t know him.”

Yan Jiyun pressed, “Don’t you have any siblings?”

Su Qiubo evaded, “In this apocalypse, even if I did, they’re long gone.”

Yan Jiyun said, “But you do have siblings.”

Su Qiubo leaned his head back against the wall, clearly uninterested in the subject: “I just said, I don’t.”

Yan Jiyun: “Is Su Qiuming your younger brother, or your elder?”

Suddenly, Su Qiubo laughed. “Why are you so hellbent on inventing a brother for me? Strange hobby. Are you love-starved or something?”

The cell felt too cramped in human form, so Yan Jiyun turned back into a black cat, ignoring Su Qiubo’s jibes.

He broached the subject again: “Su Qiuming is your brother.”

After repeated prodding, Su Qiubo’s mood had indeed shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible, but Yan Jiyun could see despair had faded, replaced by a shadow of gloom.

Su Qiubo bowed his head and stared at the floor in practiced silence.

Yan Jiyun said, “You don’t have to answer. Do you want out of here? I can get you out.”

Su Qiubo responded, “I don’t know who you are. Why should I leave with you?”

Yan Jiyun replied, “Because we share a common enemy: Dr. Jiang.”

Su Qiubo replied, “This is Dr. Jiang’s domain. Why should I trust you? Besides, I’m not planning to leave—being here isn’t so bad. Aside from the occasional blood draw and electrical shock, it’s full meals and drink, just no freedom. Why would I want to leave?”

Yan Jiyun said, “Because, like you, I’m a lightning-type ability-user.”

For a moment, Su Qiubo was stunned.

Seeing his reaction, Yan Jiyun pressed on: “Lightning-type ability-users are rare; do you know why? I do.”

Su Qiubo retorted, “And what could you, someone lured here by Jiang, possibly know?”

Since he was willing to speak, Yan Jiyun continued: “He’s conducting experiments—targeting lightning-type ability-users specifically.”

Su Qiubo: “And do you even know why? Lightning-types protect the base.”

Yan Jiyun stretched and jumped onto Su Qiubo’s blanket, lying down. “It’s simple. He wants to become an ability-user himself. After handling so many, watching them awaken and move freely through hordes of zombies, he’s convinced he should be able to turn himself as well. He’s created serums to enhance powers—so why not use them for himself? Among all, lightning-types are the strongest. Of course he’d want to be the best. Isn’t that so, Number One lightning-type test subject, Su Qiubo?”

Su Qiubo no longer bothered to hide the truth. “You’re right. But why risk your life to save a ruined ability-user like me for no reason?”

Yan Jiyun replied, “Your power isn’t ruined at all. You’re the strongest lightning-type there is.”

If you were ruined, there’d be no protagonist.

Though this instance clearly held pitfalls for players, its real core was the rise of its protagonist—but, as always, only if the players first freed him from his cage and led him out of Base No. 1.

By this point, Su Qiubo was nearly convinced.

Suddenly, sirens wailed throughout the base: loudspeakers blared, and a system warning scrolled in crimson text.

[Attention, all players: System Alert!]

[Attention, all players: System Alert!]

[Attention, all players: System Alert!]

Message after message—proof that the system finally realized the severity of the situation.

He needed to accelerate the destruction of the instance.

Yan Jiyun was done trying to gently coax Su Qiubo’s NPC consciousness.

He got up from the blanket, activated the Luck Card he’d obtained in-game, and used it on Su Qiubo—items from the system wouldn’t trigger its detection.

The simplest, most direct way to awaken an NPC—also the fastest.

Suddenly, Su Qiubo felt his body turn light, as if he were floating.

Yan Jiyun realized the item was useless; he quickly stuffed other appropriate items into Su Qiubo’s mind. Though ineffective for him, these tools still worked on NPCs.

“Why am I floating?”

As he spoke, Su Qiuming crashed back onto the bed, only to find his body splitting into countless copies, their shadows swirling all around the cell.

“What the hell is this? What power do you have, exactly? Spatial? Illusion?”

Yan Jiyun had no time for this.

“If you won’t wake up, let me help!”

The clones were fruitless, so Yan Jiyun tried the next tool. He turned Su Qiubo upside down and gave him a quick shake: “Don’t you remember yet?”

Dangling from the ceiling, Su Qiubo groaned, “Alright, alright, put me down! I’m going to be sick!”

Yan Jiyun really did toss him back onto the bed, staring at him with black, gleaming feline eyes.

“What’s going on—did the system scramble your brains? Is the seal that strong?”

Still no luck.

Maybe system items just couldn’t affect him.

Dizzied, Su Qiubo watched the black kitten eyeing him beadily, clearly plotting another trick.

“Enough with your creepy magic.”

Yan Jiyun considered, retreated two steps, then began to grow—becoming larger and larger, baring his teeth at Su Qiubo. The man, now free of despair, finally decided to fight for himself.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Yan Jiyun ignored him, flashing his claws and swiping at Su Qiubo’s face.

Su Qiubo lashed out on instinct, shoving the now medium-sized black cat aside—and suddenly, a bolt of lightning as thick as a finger leaped from his hand, striking the wall.

He stared down at his palm. “I can use my power again?”

Yan Jiyun sprang from the wall and charged him once more. This time, Su Qiubo, more agile, launched another blast—a bolt as thick as an arm, this time reducing the cell itself to rubble.

Su Qiubo zapped the lock on his cell door, disbelieving as a rush of raw power returned to him.

Yan Jiyun had thought his tools had failed—the system items, after all, were powerless for himself. But on Su Qiubo, they had worked as energy boosters: he was now back to full strength.

Setting off at a run, Yan Jiyun darted on ahead, shrinking again to kitten size, while Su Qiubo followed, blasting open the locks of all the other lightning-type ability-users held captive.

Soon, all the imprisoned ability-users in the basement had been set free.

Yan Jiyun was first up the stairs. No one among the preoccupied guards noticed the small black cat making his way unhindered toward Qi Feng, who waited at the lounge entrance!

Seeing the streak of black speeding toward him, Qi Feng opened his coat wide and gathered the kitten into his arms.

Immediately after, he saw Su Qiubo, felling guards with surges of lightning.

Qi Feng showed no surprise. “So he’s the protagonist this time?”

Yan Jiyun: “Yes. I suspect he’s another conscious fragment of Su Qiuming, under system control.” When Qi Feng continued watching Su Qiubo slinging lightning with ease, Yan Jiyun batted him on the face with a paw. “Reminiscing about your lost friendship?”

Qi Feng ruffled his head. “Little rascal—so sour.”

Yan Jiyun: “…Who’s the rascal here!”

Soon enough, Dr. Jiang appeared, only to be hit by Su Qiubo’s indiscriminate blast—a head revered by all rolled senselessly to the ground.

At the same time, both Qi Feng and Yan Jiyun received another system warning from the instance.

[Critical instance error! All players will log out in three seconds—]

[Zzz—Critical collapse—All players—unable to log out—zzz—]

[Zzz—]

Yan Jiyun clung tightly to Qi Feng’s neck. Man and cat watched the world around them fragment and fade, while their own bodies, too, began to gradually vanish.

He changed back to human form and leaned against Qi Feng. “This time, we’ll have to face them head-on. Are you afraid?”

Qi Feng kissed his forehead—gentle, indomitable. “No.”

Yan Jiyun smiled. “Last time, I was pretty scared. Not anymore.”

Because now, he had so many teammates.

Their smiles faded, along with their bodies, dwindling away into nothingness—