Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

"..."

Mo Zi gently closed the door. The flickering candlelight in the room made her shadow long and slender.

Before she could recover, Xiaoqing sat up and looked at her with concerned eyes.

"Sister, did you just fight with the boss lady? Are you okay?"

Mo Zi shook his head slightly, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the tiny cracks remaining on the edge of the ice fan.

"No, it's okay. Her strength is average."

Although he said this, there was no sense of ease in his tone.

"Ah? Sister, you actually think it's normal?"

Xiaoqing opened her eyes wide, full of disbelief.

"The boss lady's whistle stick and iron chain attacks are fierce and are well-known in the Dazong area. How could it be..."

"..."

Mo Zi interrupted Xiao Qing's words, a trace of solemnity appeared in his ice-blue pupils.

"Her moves may seem ferocious, but they avoid vital points at crucial moments. Don't you find that strange? If she really wanted to intimidate me, she could have seriously injured me with the attack she just now."

She paused, recalling the old scar on the boss lady's face. The lingering chaotic aura startled her.

"Also, the aura of chaos emanating from her...although it's very faint, it's real."

Xiaoqing took a breath of cold air.

"Chaos aura? But she doesn't look like she's colluding with An!"

“That’s exactly what I’m confused about.”

Mo Zi walked to the window and looked out at the dark night. The streets of Dazong were eerily quiet, like the calm before a storm.

"Her knowledge of the Red Snake Hall and the White Tiger Hall goes far beyond the surface. Her reaction to my questioning, and the deliberately exposed old scars... every detail seemed to be guiding, yet also concealing. To say her strength was average was simply because she wasn't using her full strength."

Xiaoqing frowned.

"Then can we still trust her?"

Mo Zi was silent for a long time, the ice fan in his hand flashed a cold light,

"Hold still for now. Since she chose to bring us in, it means she still has some use for us. But from now on, be extra careful. This lady boss is definitely not simple. She may know more secrets about the Chaos Key, the Dazong secret treasure, or even An."

A gust of night wind whistled past the window, making the window frames creak, as if telling them that the impending crisis was far more complicated than they had imagined.

……

The oil lamp flickered on the wooden table. The proprietress slumped in the worn armchair, and the iron chains fell to the ground with her movements, making a crackling sound.

She stared at her right hand, which was covered with blue veins. The ice-blue mark on her wrist was exuding a coldness - that was the mark left by the edge of the ice fan when she had just fought with Mo Zi. The coldness climbed up along her blood vessels, and it was even more painful than an ordinary wound.

"This little girl from the Shen Sect really hits hard."

She scoffed, a complex expression flashing across her single eye. Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed the mark, and her memory was involuntarily pulled back many years.

At that time, she was as fierce as Mo Zi, fighting in the streets of Dazong, and was a partner fighting side by side with the hall masters today.

But power is like poisoned honey, sweet and tempting but corrosive to the bones.

The ambition of the White Tiger Hall, the ruthlessness of the Red Snake Hall, and the sinisterness of the Black Claw Gang caused the former friendship to fall apart in the face of chaos and interests.

She tugged at her collar, revealing an old scar on her collarbone. The dark red lines wriggled strangely in the candlelight.

That was the mark left by the erosion of the power of chaos during an operation to encircle and suppress the minions of Dark, and it was also the fuse that led to her breaking up with her former companions.

"I've been pretending to be crazy and stupid for so many years, but a junior has seen through my flaws."

She grabbed the wine jug on the table and took a big gulp. The spicy liquid burned her throat, but it was nothing compared to the bitterness in her heart.

The proprietress knew that Mo Zi's seemingly casual probing was actually a relentless pressure. The calmness and calculation in that girl's eyes were somewhat reminiscent of her own past.

The chain suddenly shook violently, and she slammed the wine jug on the table in frustration:

"who cares!"

But as soon as he finished speaking, he couldn't help but take out the token of the Black Claw Gang.

The metal surface still retained the warmth of Bai Tang's palm during the day, giving this object, which symbolizes chaos and betrayal, a sense of the mundane.

The cry of a night owl was heard outside the window, and the proprietress looked out at the dark Dazong Street with her one eye.

The power of the Red Snake Hall is stirring in the dark, the spies of the White Tiger Hall are as dense as a spider web, and the cats of the Black Claw Gang who are in collusion with An may bite out a fatal bite at any time.

She touched the whistle at her waist, thinking of the clumsy but serious way the little guys from the Xingluo squad repaired the inn, and a faint smile unconsciously appeared on the corner of her mouth.

"That's all,"

She murmured to herself,

"Chaos Key, Da Zong Secret Treasure... In this chaotic world, someone has to shake things up."

The oil lamp suddenly burst into flames, illuminating the fierce light that had rekindled in her eyes.

"Let's see, are these little guys able to overturn Da Zong's heaven, or are those hypocritical fellows the first to bury themselves in the abyss of power?"

……

Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the newly pasted window paper, casting mottled shadows on the ground.

Wu Song sat alone in the corner of the room, holding his whistle stick. The sound of the iron chain falling was particularly clear in the silence.

The copper bell occasionally made a small sound, but it could not dispel the gloom in his eyes.

He stroked the marks on the whistle stick that had been carved over the years. The lines of varying depths seemed to hide the hustle and bustle of the past battles.

In the past, disciples of the sect could be seen practicing boxing and kicking everywhere on the streets, and the shouts and the sounds of weapons clashing intertwined into an exciting melody.

The stone lions in front of the clan's mansion stood with their heads held high, the wind chimes on the eaves tinkled, and even the air was filled with the passionate spirit of the fists.

But now, the tattered wine flag outside the window flutters in the wind, and the broken walls are filled with a chaotic and foul smell, which is very different from the scene in my memory.

"I returned home, but why did my home become like this?"

Wu Song murmured softly, his throat seemed to be blocked by a hard lump of chaos.

He gripped the whistle, the chains rattled,

"Where did the Da Zong in my memory go?"

Where have all gone now, those companions who once sweated together in the martial arts arena, those cat food shops with fragrant aromas wafting through the streets and alleys, and those elders who still kept the lights on late at night to guide the younger generations in practicing boxing?

My thoughts involuntarily drifted towards that "her".

At that time, she always liked to tie a bright red ribbon to the whistle stick. As she performed her moves, the ribbon fluttered like a cluster of dancing flames.

They often practiced under the old locust tree in the sect. Her laughter was clearer than the chirping of cicadas in the tree. Even as sweat slid down her cheeks, her eyes were surprisingly bright.

"When we become the most powerful disciples of the Da Zong, we will travel all over the Cat Land together!"

She waved her whistle and made a promise, and the copper bells on the iron chain shook the locust flowers off the tree.

However, on the night when chaos descended, the old locust tree was dyed red with blood.

Her whistle was cut off by An's minions, and when the bright red ribbon fell, she protected him behind her.

"Stay alive...show us what a Da Zong should look like..."

The last words dissipated in the chaotic roar, leaving only half of the broken whistle stick, which now lies quietly in Wu Song's bag.

"And why is she gone again?"

Wu Song stood up suddenly and slammed his whistle stick heavily on the ground. The gust of air created by the blast overturned the candlestick on the table.