Chapter 65

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Chapter 65: Title

Chu Fei left the neighborhood with a dog, his parked car waiting on the roadside.

He opened the passenger door, allowing the Yellow Dog to clamber inside.

“First, I’ll take you home. We’ll get you food along the way,” Chu Fei remarked, eyeing the Yellow Dog beside him, whose tail was rigid with unease.

As the car sped forward at sixty kilometers per hour, the Yellow Dog surveyed the surroundings. Those metallic contraptions it had glimpsed earlier—now carrying human cultivators in and out—fascinated it. Though the speed posed no challenge, the marvel of human engineering ignited its curiosity, prompting it to scramble across the seats. Chu Fei watched briefly but, detecting nothing amiss, turned his attention elsewhere.

He dialed his subordinate, Xiao Wang.

“Have the kitchen prepare fried chicken and other meats—around twenty to thirty pounds. I’ll return shortly. Also, inform Professor An to stay. The new inspection device from headquarters—ensure it’s calibrated.”

Upon arriving at the Special Bureau’s branch, a dozen curious onlookers swarmed Chu Fei’s car.

The Yellow Dog stepped out, feigning ordinary canine behavior despite the crowd. These human cultivators possessed feeble cultivation, some entirely devoid of it.

“Preparations complete?” Chu Fei asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Proceed inside.” He glanced at the Yellow Dog. “Feel at ease here. They’re all under my command.”

The Yellow Dog froze, unprepared for its chosen human to wield such authority.

Elsewhere in Qiantang City’s outskirts, a black cat lounged atop a sunlit wall, bathed in dense Spiritual Energy. Its jet-black fur contrasted with snow-white paws, its tail flicking idly. Each breath drew in wisps of energy, cycling through its body before dissipating.

The cat’s golden slit pupils flashed open, recalling the cost of breaching the unstable Mountain and Sea Realm. With a resigned flick of its ear, it shut its eyes. This place would suffice for recovery. Later, it would seek a spiritual eye—a nexus where liquefied Spiritual Energy might trigger spatial expansion, as the Awakening legends foretold.

Dusk faded to night, marking the cat’s second evening in the human realm.

“Meow? Are you here?” A voice pierced the alley—the same little girl from that morning.

The black cat tensed, claws unsheathing. Had she uncovered its spirit cultivator identity? Humans rarely fought fair, and last night’s ghost cultivator ambush still haunted it.

Footsteps neared. Then, a shriek tore through the darkness—a distant cat’s cry—startling both the girl and the shadowed figure on the wall.

The black cat’s pupils constricted. As a spirit cultivator, it understood the desperate plea woven into those anguished cries—fear, terror, a cry for salvation.

Before the black cat could even react, figures bolted from the alley toward the source. Piercing wails sliced through the night’s silence, guiding their pursuit.

Hesitation flickered in the black cat’s gaze. That tormented cry belonged to kin, however ordinary. Even a mere mortal cat didn’t deserve such cruelty.

Muscles coiled, the feline launched itself across rooftops with liquid grace, its senses eclipsing human limitations. It outpaced the rushing human girl effortlessly, arriving first at the scene.

Moonlight revealed the horror: a white cat trussed with ropes, its limbs grotesquely bent. A man carved methodically into its blood-matted fur with a blade, fingers tightening around its throat. The victim’s blue eyes brimmed with silent despair.

*Ordinary. Not even a spirit.* The black cat unsheathed claws that gleamed like quicksilver. Born in the Mountain and Sea Realm, cast out after seven days, it had endured claws and fangs—but never witnessed this calculated sadism.

*Kill.*

Ears twitched at the shout erupting from the alley’s mouth. “Stop! Let it go—!”

The abuser jerked in surprise, his grip slackening as he wheeled toward the voice. A young woman stood framed in the gloom, corporate attire incongruous against the violence.

“None of your business!” he snarled, hoisting the limp cat. “Scram!”

She swallowed audibly, fists trembling yet clenched. “Release it!” Her Tier Three cultivation should overwhelm this ordinary man—why hesitate?

“Or what?” He smirked, fingers digging into matted fur.

“F*ing bastard—*you’re* the cat torturer?” She hurled her bags aside, stance shifting. “I’ll end you!”

Perched above, the black cat blinked. This gentle soul now radiated feral rage.

The man hurled the white cat at the wall—a killing throw. Black lightning streaked downward. Jaws clamped the scruff mid-air, claws finding purchase on brick. The rescue left the girl vulnerable—her wrist seized in an iron grip.

“Killed dozens of cats,” the man breathed, madness glinting. “Humans though? Let’s see—”

Her knee rocketed upward.

“DIE, YOU SICK F*!”

A sickening crunch. The man folded like rotten timber, howls echoing. The black cat’s tail twitched in sympathetic discomfort.

Panting, the girl glared at the writhing figure before turning to the wall. Her anger melted seeing the black cat cradling its charge.

*Humans… less noble than strays.* She dismissed the feline’s preternatural grace—since the Awakening of Spiritual Energy, clever animals weren’t uncommon. The Special Bureau’s bulletins had seen to that.

“Xiao Hei?” She extended a tentative hand. “Please… let me help Xiao Bai.”

The black cat assessed her—morning’s bun-giver, now bloodied but determined. It sensed the white cat’s fading spark. Sacrificing cultivation for a mortal wasn’t wise… but perhaps this human’s resolve sufficed.

Leaping down, it deposited the wounded creature.

“Thank you!” Relief warmed her voice. “I knew you understood.”

Xiao Bai flinched as she approached. A reassuring lick, a thread of Spiritual Energy, and the black cat’s commanding *mrow* stilled the trembling.

“I’ll get help,” she whispered, cradling the white bundle. Golden eyes watched her retreat, then shifted to the moaning wretch below.

Head tilted in feigned innocence, the black cat contemplated the alley. A flick of claws could end this… but let human justice suffice. For now.

The opened can of dried fish lay forgotten, its briny scent mingling with blood and regret.