Xu Yang woke up drowning.
Cold air rushed into his lungs, sharp and burning, making his chest spasm violently. He rolled instinctively, body jerking as he coughed and gasped, claws scraping uselessly against wet earth.
The ground was soaked.
Mud pressed into his fur, icy and heavy, sticking to him as rain fell steadily from above. His vision swam, blurring between shadow and pale light filtering through the forest canopy.
For a long moment, Xu Yang didn't understand anything.
Then pain faded.
And confusion rushed in.
I'm alive?
That thought barely formed before something felt terribly wrong.
His body felt… wrong.
Too small.
Too light.
He tried to lift his arm—and instead, a black-furred paw slid into his view.
Xu Yang froze.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs as he slowly raised the other limb.
Another paw.
Short. Clawed. Covered in soft, dark fur matted with rain.
"No…" he tried to say.
What came out was a weak, broken sound.
"Meow."
The sound echoed softly in the rain-soaked forest.
Xu Yang's mind went blank.
He staggered backward, hind legs slipping in the mud, until his back hit the rough bark of a tree. His breath came fast and shallow as panic finally took hold.
This wasn't a dream.
He remembered dying.
The blinding headlights.
The impact.
The sudden, crushing silence.
People didn't wake up as cats after that.
Xu Yang squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.
The forest was still there.
Tall trees loomed overhead, their leaves whispering softly as rain slid down their edges.
The air itself felt thick alive in a way he had never experienced before.
That was when he felt it.
A faint warmth deep in his chest.
Weak. Flickering. Like a candle struggling against the wind.
Instinct told him what it was.
Spiritual energy.
His heart sank.
A demon world.
A cultivation world.
The book.
Xu Yang didn't need anyone to tell him where he was. He had read enough to know what weak creatures became in places like this.
Prey.
A sudden pressure brushed against his mind.
It wasn't physical.
There was no sound, no shape just the overwhelming sensation of being observed by something vast and distant.
Xu Yang stiffened.
The rain seemed to pause.
The forest went unnaturally still.
A cold, emotionless presence pressed briefly against his consciousness.
Identity confirmed.
External soul detected.
Vessel: Non-human.
Condition: Nine Lives.
Xu Yang's heart pounded.
The presence lingered just long enough to leave one final imprint
Death is mandatory.
Then it vanished.
The rain resumed.
The forest breathed again.
Xu Yang collapsed into the mud, shaking.
Nine lives.
Mandatory death.
Whatever this world was, it had already decided how his story would end.
"…Great," he thought weakly, curling in on himself. I don't even get to complain.
He forced himself to stand.
Walking on four legs felt awkward but strangely familiar, as if his body remembered things his mind didn't. His tail swayed unconsciously, helping him balance as he staggered forward.
He needed shelter.
And fast.
The scent hit him first.
Human.
Xu Yang froze instantly, instincts screaming.
Footsteps approached through the rain—slow, careful, not aggressive.
Xu Yang darted beneath a thick bush just as a figure appeared on the narrow dirt path.
A young man.
Plain gray robes clung to his body, soaked through by the rain. A bamboo hat shielded his face, though strands of dark hair stuck to his cheeks.
He carried no sword, no visible weapon only a bundle slung over one shoulder.
Not a cultivator.
Or barely one.
Xu Yang could feel it faintly weak spiritual energy, unstable, harmless.
The young man paused, frowning slightly.
"…Huh?" he muttered. "I thought I heard something."
Xu Yang pressed himself flat against the ground, breath shallow.
The man glanced around, then shrugged.
"Probably nothing."
He took one step
Xu Yang slipped.
Mud squelched softly beneath his paw.
The sound was small.
But it was enough.
The young man turned sharply.
Their eyes met through the leaves.
Xu Yang's heart dropped straight into his stomach.
For a split second, he expected fear.
Or greed.
Or violence.
Instead, the man's expression softened.
"Oh," he said quietly.
"There you are."
Xu Yang tensed, ready to bolt.
The man crouched slowly, deliberately lowering himself so he wouldn't seem threatening.
"Easy," he said. "I won't hurt you."
Xu Yang didn't believe him.
Still, his body trembled uncontrollably, cold finally catching up to him.
Rain dripped from his fur, pooling beneath him.
The man noticed.
"…You're freezing," he murmured.
He hesitated, then removed his outer robe and gently spread it on the ground a short distance away.
"You can take this," he said. "I'll be fine."Xu Yang stared at the robe.
Warmth radiated faintly from it.
After a long, careful moment, he stepped forward.
Then another.
He curled into the fabric instinctively, body shuddering as heat seeped into his bones.
A small, broken sound escaped him before he could stop it.
The man smiled softly.
"That's better."
He stood and adjusted the bundle on his shoulder.
"I'm heading back to the village," he said. "It's close. You can follow if you want."
Village.
Shelter.
Xu Yang hesitated only a second before padding after him.
The village was small and quiet, tucked between low hills and soaked rice fields. Lantern light glowed warmly through rain-splattered windows as people hurried indoors.
No one spared Xu Yang a second glance.
He was just a cat.
The young man led him into a modest house at the edge of the village.
Inside, it was warm and simple. A small stove crackled softly, filling the room with comforting heat.
The man shut the door and sighed.
"Home."
He poured warm broth into a shallow bowl and placed it on the floor.
Xu Yang drank greedily.
As warmth spread through him, tension he hadn't realized he was carrying finally eased.
The man sat nearby, watching him with gentle curiosity.
"My name's Lin Chen," he said casually. "You don't look like you belong to anyone."
Xu Yang kept his head down.
Lin Chen smiled. "That's okay. You can stay here."
Xu Yang's tail twitched.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
Above, unseen, Heaven remained silent.
And in a small village, a cat that should not exist curled up beside a stove choosing, for now, to survive.