Chapter 9 - Of Swords, Spirits, and a Smoking Cat

After several rounds of drinks, Ruoshui began recounting the strange, fascinating stories of martial heroes, mystical cultivators, and ancient myths that he had heard or read about over the years. His words were vivid, dramatic, and full of emotion, making the tales come alive as if the legendary swordsmen and divine beasts were right there in the room.

He had just finished telling two such stories when Chen Kunsheng suddenly sprang up and rushed to fetch ink and brush. Without a word, he began to transcribe what he had just heard, his brush gliding swiftly across the paper.

Seeing this, Xiaohua explained with a smile, "Please don't mind him, Brother Liuchen. He's doing it all for that book he's been writing."

"Oh?" Ruoshui was intrigued. "What kind of book?"

Lifting his head, Chen Kunsheng responded with unconcealed pride, "Brother Liuchen, I'm writing a book about the jianghu—a collection of stories about martial heroes, wandering swordsmen, mysterious sects, and secret legends. I've titled it Shadows of the Chivalrous Realm ("侠影"). Many of the tales come from things I've heard or experienced, and I adapt them into something unique."

"I bring the drafts to town regularly. I don't really care how much silver they fetch, but—pardon my lack of modesty—my stories are actually quite popular there. Still, I'm not one to chase fame, so I always use a pen name. To this day, no one in town knows that the man behind these tales is someone called 'The Hermit of Nine Bends.'"

As soon as he finished speaking, a system notification flashed before Ruoshui's eyes:

[Who hasn't dreamed of becoming a great hero? Who doesn't long for the passion and freedom of the jianghu? Some surrender to reality and slowly forget what the martial world means. Others, unwilling to yield, wield the brush to shape the world in their heart.]

[Achievement unlocked: Befriended a Great Writer]

[Discovered a secret of Xinghua Village: 1/3]

So this was what easy difficulty looked like—quest-related elements simply delivered themselves to your doorstep.

Chen Kunsheng even pulled out a thick stack of manuscripts for Ruoshui to read.

Xiaohua, seeing this, quickly interjected, "Dear, that's going to take a long time to read."

Chen Kunsheng slapped his forehead, "Right! Thanks for the reminder, my love. I got so caught up in our conversation I forgot the time. Brother Liuchen, it's getting late. Why don't you stay the night? We can continue tomorrow."

Ruoshui didn't really care whether it was late. In the game, time without active plot often passed in a blink. Even in the real world, he was no stranger to staying up late.

Back when he was a student, he stayed up to read novels—epic tales of magnificent landscapes, tragic romances, and serene, peaceful realms. What youth hasn't once lost themselves in a fantasy world that belonged solely to them?

Now he stayed up for work—examining code logic, hunting for bugs, optimizing program frameworks.

But since the host had offered, it would be rude to refuse and make them stay up to entertain him.

One peaceful night passed.

The next morning, Xiaohua prepared breakfast: pan-fried flatbreads stuffed with chives and eggs, served with warm porridge.

After breakfast, Chen Kunsheng said he had errands to run in town and wouldn't return until evening. Ruoshui mentioned he'd take a walk around the village and that they could continue their conversation that night.

Xiaohua packed four buns with some of the morning dishes—two for Chen Kunsheng and two for Ruoshui. "Just make do with these for lunch. I'll make something nice for dinner."

As Chen Kunsheng disappeared down the village road, Xiaohua returned to her chores, while Ruoshui began wandering the small paths of the village with no particular destination in mind.

Although no one in the village had seen him before, they didn't gawk, whisper, or point fingers. Those who made eye contact simply nodded with a friendly smile and offered a polite "Good morning" before going about their business.

The local folk were warm and humble.

Before he realized it, the whole morning had slipped by. As midday approached and smoke began rising from chimneys again, Ruoshui found a quiet alleyway, sat down, and pulled out the buns Xiaohua had packed. He munched idly, his gaze drifting to the rooftops.

Up there were the usual things: weeds, curved tiles, smoke vents—and a cat.

A cat?

The more he looked, the more familiar it seemed.

Wasn't that the same orange tabby from Chen Kunsheng's home? The one they called "Little Tangerine"?

At the moment, the cat was facing the smoke vent, seemingly relishing the steady stream of smoke that rose from it.

Was it… smoking?

Didn't it find the smoke choking? The fur on its head was visibly curled from the exposure, forming little waves. That level of addiction—it had to be a seasoned smoker. And was it getting a perm while at it? One had to wonder—did it also drink?

Sensing someone watching it, the cat tilted its head, gave Ruoshui a brief glance, and then nonchalantly turned away. A few curled tufts of fur waved elegantly with the motion, exuding a certain aristocratic charm. It then resumed its contemplative cloud-puffing.

For some reason, Ruoshui distinctly felt that the cat's glance carried a kind of disdainful majesty, as if to say, "What are you staring at? Haven't you seen a rooftop cat before? Move along. Don't disturb my peace."

He chuckled inwardly. What a peculiar cat.

He attempted to use the investigation function on it.

[Target's level is too high. Unable to analyze.]

So it really wasn't an ordinary cat…

Having uncovered no real leads all morning—and been thoroughly snubbed by a cat—Ruoshui decided to try his luck outside the village in the afternoon. He made his way toward the expansive apricot blossom forest surrounding the village.

The forest was tranquil, scented with delicate fragrances. Now and then, a breeze would stir the petals, sending them fluttering through the air like dancers in a celestial court. The deeper he walked, the denser the trees became, until even the path disappeared.

The terrain grew steeper. Just as Ruoshui was about to give up and turn back, a soft rustling caught his ear—crack, thump-thump-thump.

Following the sound, he saw a deer leaping through the woods.

It wasn't just any deer—it was snow-white, with four antlers sprouting from its head. As it bounded through the undergrowth, its antlers struck branches and bushes, causing the rustling sounds he'd heard.

[Notice: This creature is related to a quest.]

Eyes narrowing, Ruoshui moved closer, careful not to startle it.

Sensing danger, the deer turned and leapt deeper into the mountains.

Seeing it about to disappear, Ruoshui dashed after it.

Despite its awkward antlers, the deer was swift. The undergrowth was thick, and though Ruoshui was using his movement skill "Windstep," bouncing off branches and leaves in near-flight, he was barely able to keep pace.

They weaved through the trees, darting and dashing for what felt like ages. Finally, the deer disappeared around a ridge at the top of a hill.

When Ruoshui arrived at the summit, the deer was nowhere to be seen. It had vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind no tracks, no scent—nothing.

Clearly, it wasn't an ordinary animal. Could it be one of Xinghua Village's secrets?

Judging by its appearance, it resembled the mythical beast Fuzhu—a white, four-antlered creature said to bring floods wherever it appeared. If that was true, Ruoshui should've been worried.

But this region had seen no floods, only mild spring rains.

Could it be that this Fuzhu had somehow been changed—its natural tendencies restrained or redirected? Or perhaps some celestial being had sealed away its powers?

As he pondered these questions, a sudden gale swept across the mountaintop. It spiraled with unnatural force, carrying with it traces of sharp, cutting sword intent. Ruoshui instinctively stepped back.

[Notice: A quest-related character or object is nearby.]

He steadied himself against a tree, shielding his eyes and face with his sleeve against the swirling debris. Through the gaps, he could just make out a figure standing at the storm's center—balancing atop a flying sword.

The figure floated, ethereal and poised, like a celestial descending to earth.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Ruoshui found the silhouette familiar, but couldn't quite place where he'd seen it before.

Taking a cautious step forward for a better look, he suddenly realized that just ahead of him lay a deep chasm, so steep the bottom couldn't be seen. He hastily grabbed onto a tree, barely avoiding being swept over the edge.

Now closer, he could better see the figure: a man in blue robes, his long hair flowing behind him, perfectly composed even above the abyss. He focused intently, channeling energy into the sword beneath him.

The sword began to hum with excitement, its color shifting from pale blue to brilliant azure, glowing brighter and brighter.

At that moment, the man seemed to sense something. He turned toward Ruoshui's direction, a flicker of confusion and curiosity in his eyes.

Their gazes met.

And in that silent moment of reunion, who could say how many lifetimes had passed between them?

The sword beneath the man gave a joyous cry, then shot upward into the sky, carrying him into the heavens in a dazzling streak of light.

[Spirit Fragment +5]

The winds subsided. Silence returned.

Ruoshui stood still, stunned and lost in thought—not because he had missed a quest opportunity, but because of the deep, inexplicable melancholy that welled up inside him.

It wasn't a logical sadness. It rose from deep within, beyond his control, and rooted him in place.

He tried to recall anything that might explain what had just happened, but the more he searched his memory, the more blank it became. Only when the sun dipped toward the horizon and a cold wind chilled his skin did he snap back to the present.

It was time to return.

That evening, Xiaohua cooked a splendid meal using the ingredients Chen Kunsheng had brought back from town. The warm food and laughter lifted Ruoshui's spirits, easing the emotional weight left from the mountain encounter.

As the saying goes, there's no sorrow a good meal can't fix. And if one meal isn't enough, try two.

Just like the previous night, they shared drinks and stories before retiring to bed.

[Notice: Task-related events may occur at night. Stay alert.]

Ruoshui perked up.

At midnight, under the moonlight, a sound came from beyond the courtyard wall—soft, rustling.

Followed by a low, drawn-out meow.

A very familiar one.

Chapter 8 - Blossoms in the Rain, Whispers in the Wind

It was another quiet weekend.

Ruoshui had chosen the "Easy" difficulty setting—he wasn't in the mood for grueling combat or intense survival mechanics. What he wanted was a simple quest, something leisurely and atmospheric. As a gentle breeze stirred, the parchment in his hand shimmered and dissolved into light. The system's voice, coarse and ancient, echoed around him:

[Instance Type: Seeking Immortality. Player, grasp your destiny well.]

In a distant realm, high within a secluded mountain pavilion, an old man paused over his scrolls. His fingers stiffened slightly. The barrier of the realm had just trembled—someone had crossed into this world from the outside.

He furrowed his brow. A traveler had arrived.

With no more than a flicker of thought, he summoned a servant and whispered instructions. The figure bowed and disappeared into the swirling fog.

Ruoshui was carried into the instance by a gust of wind, his robes fluttering softly as the landscape solidified around him. The system's narration resumed, its tone rough yet poetic:

[Though spring has come, a chill still lingers in the breeze. Light rain veils the mountain, draping it in translucent mist. The greenery blurs behind a soft curtain of droplets. It is the season for wanderers. The earth is damp, the air fragrant with moss and leaves. Your robe grows heavy with rain, but you do not pause, continuing along the winding path.]

Ruoshui frowned slightly.

"Why does the system voice always sound like a ghost coughing up blood?" he muttered. "This kind of poetic setup deserves a narrator with a little more class. Just once, give me a voice that doesn't make me feel like I'm being haunted."

Elsewhere in the realm, a scholarly elder dressed in indigo robes sneezed.

Following the trail that curved gently up the mountainside, Ruoshui stepped lightly, his boots leaving no mark upon the earth. The path twisted to the far side of the peak, and suddenly, the view opened.

Before him stretched a sea of white blossoms.

At the heart of the floral tide nestled a small village, quaint and quiet. Smoke curled from a few chimneys in thin spirals, and the faint barking of dogs echoed through the drizzle. The rain softened everything—colors, edges, even sound. It felt like stepping into a painting.

The system chimed in again, slightly clearer this time:

[Once more, the spring rains descend. A wandering traveler stumbles upon Xinghua Village. Though humble in appearance, it holds within it three secrets. Unravel them.]

[Main Quest Initiated: Discover the Secrets of Xinghua Village. Progress: 0/3]

With the objective set, Ruoshui continued down the path. As he approached the village entrance, dusk began to fall. Raindrops shimmered in the dying light like falling pearls.

Near the entrance stood a modest dwelling. From within, the scent of frying fish wafted outward, mixing with the petrichor of wet soil and wood smoke. It tugged at his senses with uncanny clarity—too vivid for a normal game. He briefly considered ordering fish for dinner in the real world once this instance was done.

A low growl pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned.

Perched along the courtyard wall was a cat—plump and round, with tawny-orange fur like a lion cub. It stared at him with narrowed eyes and let out a low, menacing mrrrrow, though it sounded more adorable than dangerous.

[Warning: Orange Furball's hostility level exceeds 87%. Player, proceed with caution.]

Footsteps echoed from within the courtyard. A pair of hands reached up and scooped the feline off the wall. A soft voice scolded gently:

"Xiao Juzi, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop scaring our guests."

The cat gave a reluctant mrowp of protest, but allowed itself to be tucked under an arm and carried off.

[Hostility cleared.]

The wooden gate creaked open. Standing there was a young man—early thirties, scholarly in bearing, with clear eyes and a welcoming smile. He gave Ruoshui a polite once-over, then lit up with genuine enthusiasm.

"You must be a traveler! Please, come in. It's rare to see new faces around here."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned his head and called into the courtyard:

"Xiaohua! We've got a guest! Set an extra place!"

Xinghua Village rarely saw strangers. The young man, who clearly delighted in the unusual, was visibly excited. Ruoshui, in his long robe with a bamboo staff and immortal's bearing, probably looked like something from a tale or legend.

[Hint: Speaking with Xiao Juzi's owner may reveal quest-related clues and improve affinity with Xiao Juzi.]

Ruoshui saw no reason to refuse. He offered a slight nod and stepped through the gate into a neat courtyard, where the scent of food and the crackle of firewood made the rain outside seem like a distant dream.

A square wooden table sat in the center of the main hall, with a teapot already steeping. The young man flipped over two porcelain cups and poured fragrant tea as he introduced himself.

"I am Chen Yazhi, styled Kunsheng. May I ask your name, my friend?"

Ruoshui hesitated.

Name? No problem—he'd use his in-game name. But a style name too? This instance's historical realism was impressively nerdy.

His eyes wandered across the rain-wrapped trees, the flowing mist, the magic that hung just beneath the surface—like something out of an old tale by Pu Songling.

Pu's style name had been Liuxian. He also once called himself Jianchen.

Ruoshui smiled faintly.

"I am Jun Ruoshui," he said. "Styled Liuchen."

"Ah, Brother Liuchen!" Chen Kunsheng looked delighted. "You carry the air of one who has walked far and seen much. A man of the Jianghu?"

"I travel where the wind takes me," Ruoshui replied. "I have a few small skills—perhaps I count."

Chen beamed. "Then you must carry many stories! Please, share a few with me!"

Just then, a woman entered with a tray of dishes. She was young, no more than twenty-five, dressed simply but with a grace that made the plainness seem elegant. She placed the dishes on the table and glanced at her husband.

"Dear, don't interrogate our guest before he's even eaten."

Chen chuckled sheepishly. "Right, right. Brother Liuchen, this is my wife, Mo Xiaohua. Xiaohua, this is our guest."

Mo Xiaohua inclined her head politely. "Welcome, Master Jun."

"And I you, Madam Mo."

"No need for such formality," said Chen. "Call her Xiaohua. It's what we all do."

She gave a small smile. "Then I'll call you Liuchen too."

[Affinity with Xiao Juzi +3]

Dinner was simple but inviting: stir-fried celery with smoked pork, golden-brown fried fish, soft tofu garnished with scallions, sour pickled cucumber, thick flatbread, and warm congee.

"Mountain food may be plain," Chen said as he poured wine, "but it fills the stomach and warms the heart."

To Ruoshui's surprise, it was delicious. The game's sensory immersion made the experience vivid—every bite carried texture and taste, every sip felt real. The meal evoked the flavor of countryside life, far removed from city noise or modern fatigue.

The orange-furred cat—Xiao Juzi—trailed behind Mo Xiaohua, eyes fixed intently on the fish. With practiced ease, she dropped a small piece in front of it. It chirped happily and retreated to a corner with its prize.

Chen talked while they ate. He spoke of fishing by the river, planting vegetables, and the neighbors who traded tofu for wood. But the cat, of course, was his favorite tale.

"Xiao Juzi first came to us one spring while Xiaohua was frying fish," he said, smiling. "It climbed up the wall and stared at the stove like it had never seen heaven before."

Xiaohua added, "I gave it a piece, and it never left."

The cat came back every day after that, until it made the courtyard its kingdom. Now it guarded the gate like a fierce beast—albeit one whose battles were mostly for extra fish.

"I named it Xiao Juzi," said Xiaohua, "because of its color. Like a tangerine with legs."

"It's fate," said Chen with a grin. "I plan to write The Tale of the Hearthside Orange Cat one day. Perhaps I'll make it the hero."

"Then you should include The Desk Cat Chronicles as a sequel," Xiaohua said dryly. "It sleeps on your writing desk like it owns your manuscripts."

Chen nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Author and muse, bound by destiny."

Ruoshui chuckled into his wine.

For a quiet little village wrapped in mist and petals, this place already had more color than he'd expected. He could feel it—there was something beneath the tranquility, hidden in plain sight.

Three secrets to uncover.

And something told him, the first one had just walked across the table with a piece of fish in its mouth.