Shen Ge whipped out his phone and tapped it against the vehicle gate’s scanner. With a beep, the barrier arm lifted, and the sliding gates rumbled open.
Barreling down the slope was the Spectral Cat—now utterly unrecognizable from its kitten origins. Panther-sized, with a grotesque, gaping maw and rotting flesh, it looked like something ripped straight out of Resident Evil.
Though the panicked power-walking squad scattered around it, the cat’s burning crimson eyes stayed locked on Shen Ge. It hadn’t forgotten their last encounter.
With a snarl, the beast coiled its powerful hind legs and launched itself at him.
Shen Ge was ready. The moment the cat leaped, he bolted toward the gate—then suddenly jumped, grabbed the barrier arm, and yanked it down with all his weight.
CRACK!
The arm slammed onto the cat’s skull—and promptly snapped in half.
The gates, now closing, began squeezing inward.
“Please use the pedestrian gate to avoid injury,” droned the automated voice.
The metal bars touched the cat’s body—then immediately reversed direction, retracting harmlessly.
“…”
Shen Ge sighed. So much for movie logic. Not that he’d expected the gate to work. Swinging the barrier arm was just a Hail Mary—bonus if it stunned the cat, no loss if it didn’t.
He didn’t stick around to find out. Darting to a nearby stone lion statue, he glanced back just as the enraged cat charged.
Time for the Emperor’s Secret Technique: “Qin Shi Huang’s Pillar Dodge.”
Shen Ge began circling the two-meter-tall statue, locked in a deadly game of ring-around-the-rosy with the cat.
“ROAR—!”
The Spectral Cat bared its fangs, poised to strike—until Shen Ge activated [Stillness], freezing it mid-lunge.
1 second.
5 seconds.
10 seconds.
The cat could only growl impotently, trapped in place.
“Where are you now?” Shen Ge suddenly yelled—not to the cat, but to Deng Yuqi, still on the call.
“East Min Road intersection.”
“How fast?”
“About 120 kph. Why?”
“Don’t hit the brakes later!”
“What?”
Releasing [Stillness], Shen Ge sprinted across the street. The cat, freed, gave chase instantly.
Hopping over a divider, Shen Ge dove behind a parked car, initiating Round Two of Pillar Dodge. The cat leapt onto the roof, glaring down.
Then it pounced—only for Shen Ge to duck low, sliding beneath it while jabbing upward with a handful of iron skewers.
He’d snatched these from the grill during his escape—no time for better weapons. (He did mourn the lost folding chair.)
With a heave, he flipped the cat onto the car, then smashed a glass bottle of alcohol against the hood. Next, he chugged from a bottle of Nongfu Sanquan liquor—
—and spit a fireball straight at the doused cat.
WHOOSH!
Flames engulfed the beast and the car.
The cat screeched, its body seething with black smoke as it writhed on the burning vehicle.
Shen Ge, already sprinting away, hit the road’s centerline—then turned back, grinning.
“Hey. Look both ways.”
VRROOOOM!
A black sedan plowed into the cat at 120 kph, sending it tumbling into the bushes.
The car skidded to a stop, and Deng Yuqi stormed out, livid.
“Are you insane? You just stood there! What if I’d braked?!”
“You said 120 kph. Cat takes two seconds to cross. Basic math.” Shen Ge shrugged. “No brakes, no problem.”
“And if I had braked? You’d be cat food!” she snapped.
“I trusted you. You said the team’s all about ‘reliable comrades.’ I took that to heart.”
(Truthfully, he’d had seven backup plans, including reserving 3–4 seconds of [Stillness]. But flattery never hurt.)
Deng Yuqi looked torn between fury and guilt.
“GROWL!”
The Spectral Cat lurched from the bushes, wreathed in churning black mist—its body twisting, evolving again.
Shen Ge sidestepped behind Deng Yuqi, nodding solemnly.
“The stage is yours. I’ll cheer from the back.”
“…”
Ignoring him, she drew her pistol and unloaded into the cat’s skull.
“Nice stance. John Wick fan?” Shen Ge mused as she emptied the magazine, then reloaded seamlessly.
The cat collapsed, barely breathing.
But Deng Yuqi kept her gun raised.
Shen Ge eyed her weapon—not the standard-issue QSZ193.
“Wait, is that a modified XR920? Glock’s custom job?”
“You know guns?” She didn’t take her eyes off the cat.
“Just did some research.” (After drawing the Gatling, he’d binge-studied weapon specs—for academic reasons.)
The XR920, a clone of Glock’s 17/19 models, was legendary for customization. And nonexistent in China.
“These are rare here, no?”
“Frontline agents can request preferred firearms,” she said. *”Our sniper uses an MK-14 instead of the QBU-10.”*
Shen Ge’s eyes lit up.
“So if I join… I can pick any gun?”
“Within reason.”
“I want a Gatling gun.”
