Meet Fat Cat Again

Su Qing asked the apprentice who spiked his tea, but he dodged, stretching lazily. “Gonna grab wine for Master. Maybe if he’s in a good mood, he’ll teach me a trick or two.”

It clicked for Su Qing.

The apprentice’s real name was Liu Xiaofeng, nicknamed “little apprentice” because he was Master Wang’s disciple. By day, he did odd jobs and served tables; after hours, he practiced cooking.

Su Qing didn’t know Master Wang well, but his red face and thick neck screamed drunkard. Learning under a boozer couldn’t be easy for Liu Xiaofeng.

Yet he never complained, always slouching lazily. If Su Qing hadn’t seen his knife skills, she might’ve bought his act.

Young as he was, Liu Xiaofeng’s knife work was stellar. He could slice potatoes blindfolded, threads fine enough to pass through a needle’s eye. His jerky was paper-thin, translucent; his tofu bloomed fuzzily in water; his minced meat was flawless, free of bone or gristle.

Masterful knife skills.

He must’ve endured serious hardship to hone them at his age.

Rumor was, those skills made the “no disciples” Master Wang take notice, accepting him as an exception. That’s how Liu Xiaofeng stayed at the tea shop, earning a place to eat and sleep.

Otherwise, scrawny and underage, stingy Lin wouldn’t have hired him.

Since he wouldn’t spill, Su Qing didn’t press. She chugged the leftover tea, bloating her stomach, recited the *Clear Mind Technique*, and left.

Today’s high-class guests meant even the hall served 15-spirit-stone Awakening Tea Elixir.

Su Qing drank it all.

Nice—more free spiritual qi.

With no urgent tasks tonight, she headed to the cliff to finish her training.

Maybe it was the tea binge, but the knot in her body felt looser.

Energy surged, with nowhere to go.

She was close—so close—to inducing qi and transcending mortality.

This progress was faster than expected, thanks to the sword qi burn from the Carefree Sword and the soothing waters of Mirror Lake.

Unbeknownst to her, daily factors helped: Sword Mountain’s abundant qi, cafeteria spiritual food, the main peak’s refining winds, and her daily qi-replenishing pill. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

These threads wove a web, propping up her meager innate talent.

Landing at the Sword Sect was her luck.

Though the knot had loosened, it persisted. That final step could take rogue cultivators a lifetime.

Su Qing figured she needed a catalyst. For now, she could only train and wait.

Another night sleeping with the *Clear Mind Technique*.

Tianning and the Red Rust Sword were still absent. Tang Yueling, unusually, wasn’t meditating but weaving a sword tassel.

—

Friday, work-study day at the cafeteria.

Today’s menu: fried foods. Su Qing arrived early to help.

Fried fish, chicken, meatballs, eggplant, and lotus root sandwiches. Her job: transfer the chef’s fried goods to a perforated tray, flip to drain oil, and sprinkle seasoning.

In ancient times, fried food was a luxury—oil and ingredients were costly, batter tricky to perfect, oil temperature finicky, and without spices, flavor fell flat.

Not at the Sword Sect’s first cafeteria. Master Li, today’s chef, moonlighted as a pill refiner, wielding fire with alchemical precision. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

He knew exactly how to prep ingredients, their frying order, when to season, and when to pull them.

In spare moments, he fried discarded fish heads and tails to a crisp, golden perfection, sending Su Qing to deliver them as free bar snacks to the wine counter.

Su Qing was awestruck. Li beamed, “Not bad, huh? Still got it!”

The kitchen auntie laughed, “If you’re into pill refining, watch him. His technique’s pro-level.”

Su Qing nodded. “Master Li’s got chef vibes.”

She cooked herself, but with lots of ingredients, she got flustered. Li was seamless, effortless.

Delivering the snacks, the wine vendor—an old man—tossed her a fruit. “For Li.”

She pocketed it, too busy to eat.

Back in the kitchen, everything seemed normal—tables, chairs, all in place, but—

“Odd.” Su Qing checked the tray, muttering, “Missing a fried fish…”

She was methodical, seasoning eight fish per tray.

One was gone.

Maybe the auntie or Li took it.

But why just one?

“Maybe I miscounted.”

She pinched flour from a sack, dusting a thin layer near the fried goods.

Grabbing the wine gourd, she walked out, calling, “Master Li, I delivered the snacks. The wine guy sent a gourd for you!”

Strolling normally, she suddenly spun, eyes locked on the table.

An orange fat cat crept toward the fried goods. Catching her gaze, it froze, fur puffing, doubling in size.

“Meow—!!”

The same cat that stole her goose leg.

Freaked out, it yowled, belly jiggling, then spoke human words. “How’d you spot me? I used the Breath Concealment Technique!”

Despite Yuanbao’s talking, Su Qing wasn’t used to it. Rubbing goosebumps, she said, “I know how many fish I took.”

“And you speak human!” she accused. “You understood when I told you not to eat my goose leg!” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

“What’s this human babbling about?” The cat shook its head. “Hmph, no proof it was me. The goose leg flew to my mouth! The fish vanished itself!”

Caught red-handed, it still acted shameless, snatching the fattest fish and leaping for the windowsill.

Su Qing didn’t care. Against a normal cat, she’d grab it. A spirit beast? No chance—she couldn’t beat it.

Getting pummeled by a cat would be too humiliating.

She covered the flour with a tray, elbow pinning it, smiling. “No worries, I’ve got the culprit’s tracks. That’s enough to report.”

The flour bore clear plum-blossom paw prints.

This cat’s practiced moves screamed repeat offender. Su Qing shouted, “Auntie—!”

The cat’s fur bristled. “Meow, human, stop yelling!”

It hopped off the sill, sulking, and spat the fish onto the table, nudging it into the tray.

“Fine, take it back!” it grumbled. “I’m just a poor little kitty—don’t mess with me.”

No more “this meow, that meow.”

Su Qing kept the tray pinned. “Not your attitude earlier. This fish has your slobber—returning it’s useless.”

The cat snapped, “Keep it, don’t keep it—what do you want? Oh, you’re mad about the goose leg. Petty human! Humans are so petty!”

Su Qing had let the goose leg go, but since it brought it up, she wasn’t letting it slide. “Whose spirit beast are you? Who’s your master, letting you steal from the cafeteria? Keep this up, and I’ll tell the auntie, make your master write an apology and clean with you. Embarrass you both!”

At “auntie,” the cat stood straighter, attitude shifting. “Okay, my bad. Don’t be mad.”

Its round eyes played pitiful. “What’ll make you let me off? I’m poor, no spirit stones. I was starving.”

Su Qing wasn’t really mad, just stone-faced to scare it. Otherwise, this cat would climb all over her.

Arms crossed, cheeks puffed, she looked unforgiving.

Her act didn’t work. “Cruel human,” it said. “Guess I’ll offer something else. I’ve got skills—how about I teach you a trick or two?”

She watched it bounce around, claws flailing in a mock air-fist routine.

“I can swallow huge fish. My claws can crack the ground. My tail—super thick, super big—can snap a tree in half!”

Spirit beasts that spoke usually had some skills, but this cat’s antics reeked of unreliability. Su Qing wasn’t buying it.

She lifted the tray, wiping the paw prints. “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

Tossing the slobbery fish to it, she said, “Eat and go. Don’t bother my work. Steal again, and you’re done.”

The fish returned, and the cat’s eyes widened, tail shooting up. “Knew you wanted my skills! But your frail human body—small head, long torso, no fangs, no claws, no tail—can’t learn them. I’ve got one trick for you, though.”

“The Breath Concealment Technique!”

Sprinkling seasoning, Su Qing didn’t look up. “Sounds useless. You used it, and I still caught you.”

“You found a gap and traced the vine to the melon!” it huffed. “If I stole from the fresh-fried bucket, not the seasoned tray, you’d never know. Too bad, this meow loves pepper-salt fried fish!”

Fair point.

It had moved silently. Without her fish count, she’d have missed it.

The cat bragged, “My technique has three levels. Level one: those a realm above you won’t spot you. Level two: two realms above. Level three: no flaws, and even three realms above can’t see through you.”

If Su Qing reached Qi Refining and learned level one, she’d evade Foundation Establishment cultivators; level two, Golden Core; level three, Nascent Soul.

“Sounds impressive,” she said, eyeing it. “But I’m not stealing chickens or dogs.”

“Just an example!” The cat, a true thief, squirmed. “Learn or not?”

To humor it, she said, “Learn.”

The cat got cocky, claiming being its disciple was an honor, its technique not easily taught. She’d need to offer tribute—twenty, no, thirty chicken legs daily.

Classic nose-to-face climber. Who knew how its master raised it?

Su Qing, done seasoning, carried the tray. “Never mind, I’m out.”

The cat yowled, dropping to ten legs, five, one, then leapt, hugging her ankle, meowing, “Please, learn it!”

So, Su Qing learned the Breath Concealment Technique. Skeptical of its magic, she still used her Lingpass to buy it a chicken leg.

What could a human do against a cat’s charm?

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