Chapter 41: The Cat King (End of the Fifth Watch)

Village Lowland

Under Song Nianqiang’s command, the villagers began digging the lowland. Progress was sluggish at first: for one, no one was willing to listen to the orders of two mere boys, and for another, the water in the hollow had turned foul, sending waves of stench across the area. Some of the villagers were already losing heart.

But a twist came barely a quarter of an hour later when a villager unearthed the remains of a cat. Though the corpse was caked in mud and water, it looked eerily lifelike—at a glance, one might mistake it for a living animal.

“Come quick! I’ve found something!” The man was clearly excited, shoveling the cat’s body out and laying it on the open ground. The villagers, curious, all gathered around. Song Nianqiang, hearing that something had been found, hurried over as well.

“Have you ever seen a dead cat like this? Whose cat is this? Come and take a look!” Song Nianqiang called out as he stood before the corpse. The local rascal edged closer but still kept a safe distance, wary of the fat man’s temper.

“That’s my cat—it’s been dead for four days,” the man replied with a shiver. Indeed, a cat dead for four days looking as if it were still alive was chilling. The crowd fell silent, all eyes fixed on Song Nianqiang and his companion.

“Heh, now do you believe me? Get back to work! We must dig up all the cat corpses before nightfall!” At his command, the villagers quickly resumed digging. Song Nianqiang instructed one man to lay the cat’s body atop a pile of dry wood, planning to cremate it along with the others. This was the only way to thoroughly destroy the cats tainted with baleful energy.

Soon, more villagers unearthed additional cat corpses, each as lifelike as the first—some even more animated than they had been in life. The villagers, now truly frightened, dug with renewed vigor. Before long, more than half the hollow had been excavated.

Lunch was brought by the village women, who prepared food and sent it to their men. Naturally, Song Nianqiang and the fat man, as the chief planners of the operation, received special treatment: the villagers slaughtered a chicken and made chicken soup just for them.

Some even brewed mung bean soup to help the two cool off. Though it was September, the northern heat still lingered. But Song Nianqiang had no appetite. The situation in the hollow was grave—unless they unearthed the Cat King, all their efforts would be in vain.

It was already past three o’clock. If they failed to find the Cat King by six, burning the other cat corpses would be pointless. Therefore, Song Nianqiang sent an uncle to prepare joss paper, incense, and red candles—items easily found in a small mountain village, often used for worship.

Before the pile of cat corpses, Song Nianqiang had the fat man arrange the joss paper, then used cinnabar to draw a Maoshan formation on the ground. Song Nianqiang had little confidence in confronting these cat spirits, but the most pressing task was to lure out the Cat King.

To do this, the baleful energy within the cat corpses needed to be forced out, thereby affecting the Cat King and compelling it to emerge from the hollow.

He drove the villagers away, keeping them at a safe distance from the corpses. Song Nianqiang dared not risk the villagers falling under the influence of the malevolent energy, lest he be held responsible for disaster.

The Seven Fiends Soul-Locking Array—its name alone suggested its purpose: to use baleful energy as a medium to gather souls and slowly wear them down. It was perfectly suited to this situation.

Soon, the ashes from the burning joss paper swirled into a small vortex, all streaming toward the pile of cat corpses. To the villagers’ horror, the corpses began to move. At first, the movement was barely perceptible, but as time passed, the twitching grew more pronounced—some even stood upright.

The sight sent the villagers stumbling back in terror. Yet, as the corpses moved, the baleful energy within them rapidly diminished. Thunder rumbled overhead—a muffled, ominous sound. The villagers, superstitious by nature, thought heaven itself had been disturbed and fell to their knees in prayer.

Song Nianqiang paid them no heed. Forcing out the Cat King was all that mattered. Seeing the time was right, he shouted to the fat man, “Light the fire!” The fat man nodded and quickly set the cat corpses aflame with a lighter.

Ordinarily, waterlogged corpses shouldn’t have caught fire, but there were many unnatural occurrences in the world. As soon as the flame touched the bodies, they ignited, burning swiftly.

Strangely, the fire was not the usual color but a deep green. As the corpses were consumed, the undisturbed part of the hollow began to bubble, green gas rising from the earth with a constant gurgle.

Song Nianqiang had heard of such green vapors in class, called baleful spirit energy. If handled properly, it was harmless to humans and livestock; if not, it could wipe out the entire village.

“Fatty! Hurry!” Song Nianqiang, trapped within the Seven Fiends Soul-Locking Array, could not leave—dealing with the green vapor was up to the fat man. Fully aware of its danger, the fat man grabbed a shovel and hurried to where the bubbles were most intense.

Wading through the muddy water, now up to his knees, every step was a struggle, but his resolve was steadfast, eyes fixed on the bubbling spot. Within the array, Song Nianqiang was anxious—the cat corpses would soon be entirely burned, and if the Cat King’s body wasn’t found in time, the villagers would have no choice but to abandon their homes.

“Throw in more joss paper!” Song Nianqiang seized every opportunity to buy the fat man time. Feeding more joss paper to the burning heap was his only idea, though a temporary solution at best. Hearing Song Nianqiang’s call, an uncle leapt up and tossed in a fistful of joss paper.

“Not enough!” Song Nianqiang cried out, his anxiety mounting. The fat man had reached the bubbling spot, but his first shovelful did not reveal the Cat King. The flames in the array were close to extinguishing. At his wit’s end, Song Nianqiang shouted, “If you value your lives, hurry and throw in more joss paper!” He pointed to the dwindling fire atop the corpses.

The uncle had brought plenty, wheeling over an entire cartful for fear they’d run short. Now, several bold villagers rushed forward, pitching armfuls of joss paper onto the dying flames.

With the added fuel, the fire flared up again. This time, the fat man appeared to hit something substantial with his shovel and struggled to pull it free. Judging by his effort, it seemed he might have found the Cat King’s body.

Sure enough, with a mighty roar, the fat man hauled out a cat corpse the size of a lamb. He hesitated for a moment, stunned—as were all the villagers, none of whom had ever seen a cat so large in their lives.

“Come help!” the fat man shouted, his strength nearly spent and unable to climb out of the hollow quickly.

The local rascal reacted at once, dashing into the hollow and grabbing the shovel from the fat man, then sprinting toward Song Nianqiang.

“Toss it in!” Song Nianqiang directed, pointing at the still-glowing heap of cat corpses.