Ages slid by like sand through fingers, and that locked fate kept replaying. Worlds split from the timeline like ice cracking across a frozen river. Mo Rain tried again and again; destiny was a script carved into bone—unchanged, inescapable.

But lately I noticed something odd. I visited a parallel world, and that world didn’t end because of Hakoen. It drowned under the sea...

When Mo Rain mentioned it, Ouyang’s shoulders went stiff. He stared at the window like it held a storm.

Meow—Mr. Ouyang, is the moon that pretty? Hell Lord Christo blinked, baffled. To her, the moon had no research value; it was only a painted disc.

The others turned when Christo said that. They caught Ouyang’s embarrassed look, and comprehension flashed like sparks.

Yeah, the moon is gorgeous. Wonder if a certain someone will feel like surfing again while he gazes at it?

Dufei’s tone dripped with yin and yang. Back then, that guy surfed so hard the tide swallowed a world.

Excellent. Dominant. Devila, the vampire cat, paced with dainty steps, tail swishing like a metronome. A chance to kick a man when he’s down? He wouldn’t miss it. Ouyang tricked him often; seeing that awkward face felt like cool rain on summer dust.

Mo Rain watched the inexplicable cats and the milk-silver moon beyond the curtain. Was the moonlight really that riveting? And what was with those weird lines? None of it made sense.

Ouyang still stared at the window, mood a tangle of thorns. Technically he was Mo Rain’s senior. These brats couldn’t stop undercutting him in front of a junior? Let him posture a bit—tear him down after he’d basked.

I admit it’s all the moon’s fault. The night too lovely, you too gentle. In that heartbeat, I only wanted to grow old with you...

A certain black cat lifted his head toward the glass-bright moon and burst into song. Devila and the others clapped paws to ears on instinct. Even Saya went pale, retreated to a shadowed corner, and covered her ears with shaking hands.

Mo Rain and Hell Lord Christo, clueless onlookers, froze for two or three seconds. Then Mo Rain foamed at the mouth and collapsed like a felled reed. Christo, strongest of them, held out for ten seconds more. Ouyang’s demon-note poured into her ears like molten lead; her body shivered, then she toppled too.

Ouyang drifted in his own voice, drunk on it. The moon was too beautiful...

After a long while, Ouyang finally finished the high note.

Huh? Why are you all down? He scratched his head like a puzzled bear. See? It’s the moon’s fault...

If it kept going, Dufei and those shameless teammates would’ve told Mo Rain about Ouyang’s surfing incident. That would be awkward. As the First Cult says, seniors exist to be worshiped by juniors.

Ouyang was Mo Rain’s senior. He couldn’t let a junior see that pile of black history.

So he used his finisher without hesitation. He rarely used it, because when this move came out, the sky shook and the earth groaned. In the past, his singing was just ghosts wailing—ugly but survivable. Now his strength was greater, and the wail grew monstrous. Even if Dufei and the rest covered their ears, it was useless; his shriek had become a Rule and seeped straight into their souls.

The next morning...

They woke with a haze of pain, like hammers wrapped in cotton thudding behind the eyes. With their level of power, headaches were a myth.

Meow, Ouyang, get out here!

Dufei rose on two feet, swaying like a drunk tower ready to topple.

Meow... Hell Lord Christo rubbed her eyes. Then memory struck like a cold bucket; every strand of fur stood on end like needles.

In short, a past they didn’t want to revisit.

You trash, what’s with those looks? Fallen for my voice? Fine. For old times’ sake, I’ll humble myself and give you another—

No!

Stop!

Boss, I was wrong, don’t open your mouth!

Dufei dropped flat, hugging Ouyang’s leg like a drowning man clutching driftwood. Dignity evaporated like mist in sun. The room erupted as they scrambled to stop another ghost-wail. Luckily, a knock came from the door.

Sister Saya, Sister Mo Rain, are you up? Breakfast is ready...

Yulithilis’s voice floated in like wind through chimes. Mo Rain, who’d spent the night unconscious on the floor, rubbed her temple and opened the door.

It had to be said: Ouyang had held back last night, keeping the sound from leaking. Otherwise, that demonic song—strong enough to make Hell Lord Christo foam—would’ve cracked the world like thin ice.

When the door swung wide, Yulithilis saw nothing but chaos. Cats. So many cats. The house had been conquered by the star-folk of Meow.

Chairs lay in pieces, splayed like broken ribs. A vase on the table exploded into glittering shards. A quilt had been clawed open; cotton drifted down like slow snow.

Chaos everywhere. True, perfect chaos. A clump of cats rolled and tangled, stacked like a wobbling pagoda. A black cat was crushed at the base. On the second tier, a plump gray cat. Above that, a calico, then a red-flecked cat. On top sat a white cat, perched squarely on the red-flecked one, a book in paw, lazily flipping pages as if sunlight were honey.

Cats... Where did all these cats come from? Last night, besides the woman named Mo Rain that Saya brought back, there weren’t this many cats.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was: none of those cats seemed afraid of the Black Cat. Others might not know, but Yulithilis knew the terror coiled in that black fur. If they weren’t afraid of him, did that mean they were just as terrifying?

She knew she shouldn’t ask, but the words slipped out. Um... Lord Black Cat, are those cats your family or your friends? Yulithilis also knew the Black Cat hadn’t truly fought; this was plain animal scrapping. The Black Cat wasn’t even afraid of the Flame Lizard. If he actually fought, the Duke’s estate would be the first to go.

Meow... call them my friends, I guess...

From the very bottom, Ouyang’s voice came thin as a flattened bellows.

On the second layer, Dufei wasn’t so polite. Girl, go fetch the best salted fish for your lord! As a Realm God, Dufei didn’t bother with Ouyang’s everyday courtesy toward mortals. When he looked at ordinary people, there was always a tilt of pride—mostly buried under his clowning.

Dammit, you vampire bat, your fangs are poking me. Even as a cat, Devila’s vampire fangs hadn’t gone. Because Dufei was broad and heavy, he took responsibility for pinning Ouyang. Devila sat on Dufei as backup, in case Dufei alone couldn’t hold Ouyang down.

In truth, Dufei blamed Devila wrong. The mess came from the calico above Devila wriggling nonstop.

Even White Cat couldn’t stand it. Hey, Hell Lord, stop swaying. I can’t read like this. The cat on top sat pretty and spoke like a scholar sipping tea. Devila’s temper flared at that tone.

Stupid cat. Get down now. The “stupid cat” was clearly aimed at White Cat. But Hell Lord Christo took it personally—her true form was a cat too.

Meow—did you just call me a stupid cat...

Christo bristled and flipped in place. White Cat lost her seat, dropped, and crashed onto Devila. Momentum carried Devila’s fangs straight into Dufei’s skull.

And the scene fell into chaos again.

—

At the dining table, the servants thought this breakfast was strange. No—extremely strange. Four chairs along the long table held cats. Each cat lifted its chin like a little emperor surveying mountains. Especially the white one, with a white napkin tied at the chest, knife in the left paw, fork in the right. Lethally cute.

There were actually five cats, since one black cat was cradled in the arms of the girl named Saya, not seated like the others.

Then... honored guests, please enjoy your breakfast... Yulithilis’s voice trembled like a candle flame. From Saya and Mo Rain, she’d learned these cats were as terrifying as the Black Cat. Including the Flame Lizard, six beasts together could flatten a kingdom.

Meow, the salted fish is mine. No one touches it! Dufei finished the declaration, sprang into the platter, and licked every fish with a broad tongue. Devila, a clean freak, looked ready to retch. He didn’t even like salted fish, but the sight turned his stomach.

The ones least able to tolerate it were White Cat and Hell Lord Christo—true cats. Their love for fish ran like a river, nothing like Dufei and Devila’s.

Unforgivable! Black mist rolled over Christo like stormclouds. White Cat’s eyes went red, a hair from going feral.

Meow, you fat fool, go die! White Cat launched at Dufei. Christo followed on silent paws. Two true star-cats were about to show a fake cat what feline wrath meant.

Watching from the side, Ouyang only shook his head. He pointed a paw at the sashimi platter, then opened his mouth. Saya picked up a slice and placed it between his fangs. Bliss draped him like a warm shawl.

See? What are these idiots doing? Can’t they just eat? Ah, days like this—so sweet... Ouyang chewed fish and swayed his tail like a whisk. For all the leisure, a chill ran in his bones.

The journey would start early.