The Flower Of The High Mountain Turns Into A Cat And Is Picked Up By A Human Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Snowflakes drifted down, the world was a blanket of white, and the cold, like a maggot clinging to bone, attached itself to every inch of the body.

The white cat huddled beneath the car. It was snowless here, but drafty, and the surrounding cold caused its body temperature to gradually drop.

Its round pupils reflected the small patch of sky visible from beneath the car, making everything appear flat and stunted.

The cat’s range of movement was tiny; this space beneath the car was its entire world.

“Meow.”

A meaningless sound.

“Meow.”

“Meow.”

One sound after another echoed beneath the vehicle.

“Meow.”

“Meow.”

The sound gradually weakened, like fading warmth, shattered by the sweeping cold wind.

Slowly, the sound became dry and thin, and the white cat’s voice was filled with emotion.

“Meow.”

So cold.

“Meow.”

So cold.

The snow piled up in a thick layer.

A night passed.

Tong Youchun dressed completely, rubbed his hands together, and pushed open the door.

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t budge.

The ankle-deep snow made it difficult for the outward-opening door to move freely. He used some force, bumping his body against it. The door opened, but it also provoked a weak, thin cry.

“A cat?”

Tong Youchun frowned, his thick, dark brows furrowed. He stepped onto the snow and looked behind the door. A white cat, trembling, was squeezed behind it, its blue eyes cloudy and lifeless.

Tong Youchun cursed under his breath. The sudden snowfall had already made him irritable, and now he saw a long-haired beast first thing this morning.

His eyes darted around, and a sudden good idea formed in his mind.

He turned back inside, retrieved a broken bowl filled with leftovers, and tossed the scraps behind the door as charity.

“Chirp, chirp, chirp…”

Tong Youchun smiled without warmth. “Eat up.”

The white cat smelled the food. Before its stiff thoughts could resume operation, its body instinctively lunged forward, ravenously swallowing the spoiled food and scraps that had been sitting for who knows how many days.

Kicking the white cat’s scrawny back with the tip of his shoe, Tong Youchun enjoyed the sight of the weak creature’s base posture for a while, then left for work, satisfied.

After a day of labor, he returned, stepping on the half-collapsed, compacted snow. Tong Youchun glanced over and saw a white cat covered in snow by the doorway.

Seeing him return, the white cat let out a soft cry, showing both closeness and confusion.

As he got closer, he could see the white cat guarding a bowl with its body. The soup had soaked the white fur on one side of its body, freezing it into a matted clump.

Tong Youchun tentatively nudged the cat with the tip of his shoe. The white cat didn’t dodge. He laughed as he kicked the cat’s abdomen with his toe.

It was quite soft.

That foot lifted the white cat slightly. Only a layer of fur separated its most vulnerable internal organs from the dirty shoe surface.

The next day, Tong Youchun opened the door and saw a living creature squatting by the entrance. Seeing him emerge, it immediately started meowing ingratiatingly.

One cry after another, like calling a soul back.

Tong Youchun thought this, then crouched down irritably and reached out to grab the white cat.

However, the white cat dodged backward when it saw him approach.

He gave it a meal, yet it still wasn’t friendly. Truly a beast.

Tong Youchun held the broken bowl and poured out some leftover cooking oil and rice grains, tossing them by the door.

The white cat rubbed against his trousers in surprise, then buried its small furry face in the broken bowl, enjoying the “delicacy.”

This repeated for five days.

The white cat went from avoiding his outstretched hand to no longer deliberately evading it, until, when petted, it would rub its head against his palm.

The time was ripe.

Besides, Tong Youchun didn’t have the patience to pretend to be a good person anymore.

He retrieved a chain from the storage room.

In the evening, Tong Youchun brought the leftovers as usual, making two “chirp” sounds like calling a dog. The white cat immediately ran to his side.

While the cat was swallowing, Tong Youchun gently stroked its neck with a tender touch, and then—”Clack”—the chain was fastened.

The white cat lifted its head from the broken bowl.

“Meow.”

Tong Youchun laughed. “The little beast is quite alert.”

He kicked the broken bowl away. The soup spilled onto the snow, leaving a trail of dirty stains.

The white cat realized the danger and tried to flee, but it was restrained by the chain. It extended its claws, constantly scratching at the chain around its neck. When its efforts failed, it became anxious and reactive, letting out a harsh, sharp cry.

“I fed you so many meals, I didn’t let you starve, and you, you beast… dare to show me your claws!”

A vicious glint flashed in Tong Youchun’s eyes. He grinned, extended his foot, and violently kicked the white cat away.

The white cat was yanked by the chain around its neck and fell to the ground, its body twitching slightly, blood seeping from its mouth and nose.

“Meow…”

Everything was blurry.

Crystals fell from the sky.

It was snowing again.

Tong Youchun approached, humming a tune. The white cat moved its limbs but lacked the strength to escape.

A muddy sole landed on the white cat’s hind leg.

The white cat instantly regained strength, instinctively struggling, but its hind leg was firmly pinned and crushed.

“Pah—”

Foul-smelling saliva landed on the snow.

Tong Youchun hadn’t intended to play with it until it died immediately. Looking at the cat’s deformed leg, he nodded in satisfaction, then wiped the attached fur and blood clean on the snow before returning inside.

Cold air poured into its heart and lungs.

The white cat stared with hollow eyes, enduring the pain radiating from its body, especially its leg. It curled into a small heap on the snow, its pristine white fur stained with dirt and oil.

Blood flowed from the wound.

Carrying away its meager body heat.

It was in this white silence that Bai Chendeng’s consciousness emerged.

So cold, so painful.

Am I going to die?

A cat cannot open a chain.

I will likely freeze to death this night.

Strange…

What is a chain?

Am I… a cat?

So tired, I don’t want to think anymore.

What is thinking… anyway?

Bai Chendeng was trapped in the shell, his soul on the verge of shattering. He waited for death to descend countless times during this difficult winter night.

Why did it turn out like this?

I clearly…

This shouldn’t be my ending…

The white cat died.

An ordinary cat, with little brain capacity, living only by instinct. Severely injured and losing body temperature, under the restraint of the iron chain, there was no possibility other than death.

The next day, Tong Youchun opened the door and saw the white cat frozen stiff.

He had thought this white cat would last a few more days and bring him a little more amusement. He hadn’t expected to overestimate it; it had died so quietly.

As Tong Youchun retrieved the iron chain, he accidentally glimpsed something.

He focused his eyes and noticed fine, dense shallow marks on the chain.

They indicated that the cat had struggled with all its might before death.

Perhaps in a final burst of energy, it had scratched and clawed at the iron chain countless times with its front paws. Unless it tore its own neck, it could never escape this bondage.

“Tch—”

“Bad luck.”

At the Bureau, Heng Yuze submitted his application.

Director Fang looked complicated.

“Are you ready?”

Giving up a peaceful and stable life to join the Bureau, training himself relentlessly, disregarding his own safety countless times—all to learn that one technique before the deadline.

Heng Yuze bowed. “Thank you for your care over the past year and a half, Director, and thank you to Minister Liu for the divination.”

“Mhm. The time has been told to you. Hurry back; don’t let him wait too long.”

Pu Tao sat leaning against the steps of the doorway, looking at the clear, washed sky, recalling his first meeting with Bai Chendeng.

Back in Kuju Village, he had secretly guided the students to play the role of the limping Hero Bai fighting the wicked villagers, delivering information to Bai Chendeng. When they first met, Pu Tao faced the difficulty of being uprooted and transplanted, and Bai Chendeng’s appearance scared the villagers away.

Bai Chendeng had saved him, but at that time, hadn’t his Grapevine also saved Bai Chendeng’s life?

The first time—the very first time he saw Bai Chendeng, the white cat’s neck was scraped raw, exposing flesh. One leg was injured down to the bone. The extent of the abuse it had suffered was unknown. At that time, the cat’s eyes were like withered life, dry and shattered.

To this day, Bai Chendeng remains cold-hearted and detached, afraid to place hope in others.

The reason for this behavior was that, unbeknownst to him, Bai Chendeng had been injured before—a very severe, heartbreaking, life-threatening injury.

Heavy, measured footsteps approached, interrupting Pu Tao’s memories.

Pu Tao stood up, dusted off his backside, and silently opened the door to welcome the visitor.

Heng Yuze took off his backpack, covered in dust from the journey.

“How many days has it been?”

Pu Tao replied, “The third day.”

Heng Yuze’s voice was devoid of emotion. “I am ready.”

Pu Tao nodded. “All the details have been discussed with you many times. You must bring Boss back safely.”

Heng Yuze suddenly smiled.

“Don’t worry.”

Stars seemed to shine in his eyes. “Chendeng is a little Cat Immortal. He will definitely succeed.”

The Secluded Chamber was closed, and no one but Pu Tao could enter.

Pu Tao removed the restriction, allowing Heng Yuze inside.

He prayed, praying that Heng Yuze could bring Bai Chendeng back safely.

The path beneath his feet suddenly became long and distant.

Heng Yuze was about to walk toward his future, the future he had chosen.

The wind rose, and bells chimed softly.

The ethereal sound cleansed the gloom.

The person in the sedan leaned on the railing, looking down at the street scene.

On the street, the entire lion dance troupe was in position. As the first drum was struck, everyone else was drawn in, fully dedicating themselves to the performance.

The person in the sedan whispered, “It has begun.”

If one does not enter the world, how can one transcend it?

Though gifted and pure of heart, a bright pearl or fine jade is fragile and difficult to keep whole.

Although Bai Chendeng had met the basic conditions for breaking through to a Demon Immortal, his nature was truly naive. After so many years, he was still like a kitten, afraid to give his true heart, preferring to be a lone wolf.

Fortunately, his luck was too good; even this world favored him exceptionally.

One human cultivated a secret technique for him, even at the cost of his own life, planning a year and a half ago to help him overcome the Heart Demon Tribulation.

There was also the Demon Immortal with a shattered Immortal Foundation who gambled everything, placing all his remaining hope on him, revealing everything he knew and understood.

Oh, and there was himself. The previous divination had drained the aura of the national treasure he had accumulated over the years, inadvertently completing their efforts.

Bai Chendeng, what will your ending be?

Will you achieve Demon Immortal status and roam the heavens, or will you die in the unconsciousness of the Heart Demon Tribulation?

“Does that even need saying? Our Chendeng will definitely be fine! He’s so amazing, he’s the Great Cat Immortal!”

Zheng Lang and Feng Chengji set up a luxurious offering table near the Daoist temple.

Zheng Lang replied to Feng Chengji’s question, saying softly, “Our Chendeng hasn’t had it easy. Don’t think I’m just being careless, Brother Zheng, but I can tell he must have suffered something particularly horrific back then to have this passive personality now.”

“Such a good little kitty, Heaven, you must protect him!”

Feng Chengji quickly bowed. “Protect Chendeng, keep him safe, please protect him.”

Little Ju on his shoulder followed suit.

—Protect Boss, keep him safe, please protect him.

“Protect Mr. Bai!”

Yuan Zhiyi, through persistent coaxing, learned that Bai Chendeng was at a critical stage of breakthrough. He printed a photo of Bai Chendeng and burned incense in prayer.

The photo was taken from the confiscated phone of a certain ponytail-wearing woman named Zhai. In the picture, Bai Chendeng was enveloped in sunlight, with light spirits dancing on his hair and shoulders. His expression was gentle and reserved. He was speaking, seemingly addressing the doll-faced people opposite him.

After another round of prayers, Yuan Zhiyi tidied up the remaining incense, revealing a small knot.

The knot was a Peace Knot, and wrapped inside the Peace Knot was a small stone.

A stone that a certain little white cat had once ruthlessly kicked away.

He hadn’t had the heart to throw it away and had picked it up.