Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

Before the mist from the body sect had dissipated, the ripples on the water surface suddenly solidified and turned into ice mirrors, reflecting the blue light that tore through the clouds in the sky.

"Why is there such a strong light? I think I saw it ten years ago..."

The old cat rowing the boat suddenly knelt down at the bow, resting his forehead against the cold planks.

"It's the Young Sect Master! It's the rhyme power of the Young Sect Master Mo Yun!"

The female cats washing clothes on the shore dropped their mallets and wept bitterly as they looked towards the lord's mansion. The water froze into icy flowers on their fingertips and fell softly onto the stone steps.

"That's the breath of the Ice Dragon! The Young Sect Master has truly broken through the realm and returned!"

The kittens ran towards the clan leader's residence, holding lanterns. The flames in the lanterns were dyed icy blue by the blue light, illuminating their tearful faces.

"The Young Master is back! We are saved!"

"Okay, we're saved. We don't have to fear Chaos anymore!"

……

Elder Na Zong Jie Yin suddenly took three steps back and bumped into the trial stele. The stele made a buzzing sound as if it could not bear the weight, and the sect patterns on its surface moved wildly as if they had come alive.

He pressed down the beating heartbeat in his chest, his voice trembling:

"This power... has already surpassed the realm of 'rhyme'! It is a might that can overturn heaven and earth!"

……

The leader of the Lu Sect grabbed the automatically turning volume, his knuckles turning white from the force. The shadow of an ice dragon on the blank page opened its huge mouth, as if it wanted to swallow the entire Wanjuan Pavilion.

He stared at the blue light, his Adam's apple rolling:

"A familiar power, are you back? But this power is a little too terrifying..."

"The history of the Twelve Sects is about to be rewritten... This isn't about rhyme power, it's about the rules that can reshape the world!"

……

The leader of the Chang Sect stood in front of the Echo Wall of Tianyin Valley. The dragon-shaped blue light hit the stone wall and rebounded with a deafening roar, which made her hair fly.

"It seems that what Ah Fei said is right. With him here, we will definitely be able to defeat Chaos..."

She looked at the uncontrollable trembling of the disciples in the valley, and suddenly let out a long cry, with tears in her voice:

"It's Qingyue who can suppress chaos! That kid Mo Yun... poked a hole in the sky!"

……

"!"

The puppeteer suddenly stood up from the meditation platform and overturned the telekinesis lamp in front of him. The blue flame rose three feet high, reflecting the turbulent waves in his eyes.

"Well, big brother, you're back!"

The cracked mind power bead in his hand suddenly burst out with a strong light. He stared at the direction of the light column and said in a low voice:

"A will that even the abyss cannot contain! This power... is enough to incinerate all chaos!"

"Brother, I'm waiting for you to lead me in the counterattack."

……

The gongs and drums at Dazong's martial arts arena suddenly struck by themselves. Wu Song pulled off his wrist guard, revealing the rhythmic lines on his forearm that were pulsating with excitement.

He looked at the stick covered in flames and suddenly burst into laughter, shaking the stone lions on the sidelines, while tears streamed down his cheeks:

"Brother Mo Yun! You finally decided to come back!"

He suddenly leaped up with his gun, the tip of the stick pointing directly at the blue light, and the gun body emitted a buzzing sound like a tiger's roar:

"The core of the Star Luo squad is back! It's our turn to beat Chaos back home!"

……

In the Hand Sect workshop, all the gears were spinning in reverse. Ling Xi pressed down on the mechanical blueprint that was about to break. The blue light from her fingertips made the lines on the blueprint come alive. Her eyes suddenly turned red, and her voice was choked with sobs:

"It's the power of rhythm that can give machines a soul... Mo Yun really did it!"

Zong Ze looked at the mechanical bird flying towards the beam of light. His usually calm voice trembled, and his palm pressed on the hot mechanical core:

"This power can break the shackles of chaos... The counterattack machine finally has the most core driving force!"

……

The ancient books in the library were scattered all over the floor. Jiligu climbed up to the windowsill using his hands and feet. Blue light reflected in his cloudy eyes, and he suddenly let out a sharp hiss.

He scratched the word "counterattack" on the ground with his claws, which were then burned into ice patterns by the blue light. His voice trembled like a candle in the wind:

"The shackles are broken... Time to let Chaos experience what it means to be truly turned upside down!"

The blue light was still flowing across the sky, and every shout from the twelve sects was filled with ecstasy and determination that had been suppressed for too long.

Under the beam of light that penetrated the clouds, countless pairs of eyes looked in the same direction, as if they had already seen a future where chaos would dissipate.

……

In the mist of the gloomy valley, Ma Buliang covered his right arm that was burned by the primordial chaos. The wolf-hair brush that had accompanied him for many years was slanted at his waist, and the brush was still stained with undried ink and blood.

The last time he was struck by the primordial chaos, he was wielding a brush to sketch out a landscape barrier to trap his opponent. He was caught off guard and his internal organs were displaced. Now, every time he moved, his chest felt like it was being run over by an ink ingot.

He stared at the icy blue beam of light, gritted his teeth, and spun the pen tip around his fingertips.

"Don't think a little light is a big deal... Once I recover, I can paint you into the abyss with just one stroke!"

But just as he finished speaking, the tip of the pen suddenly broke with a "snap". His hand shook and he almost dropped the pen on the ground. He was so angry that his eyes turned red.

"Cough cough..."

Zhirou curled up beside him, the rice paper in her hand wrinkled by the blood. The pages that could turn into sharp blades or barriers could only barely wrap her broken ribs.

The burning pain of the original chaos had not yet subsided, and the cool energy of the ice-blue light column seeped in again, making the rice paper in her hand begin to become brittle.

"Brother...give me the pen."

Her voice was weak. When she took the wolf-hair brush, the trembling of her fingertips caused the ink to drip onto the paper, creating a blurry black shadow.

"Look, even Mo is afraid of him..."

Before she could finish her words, the paper suddenly split in the middle, as if torn apart by an invisible force. She was so scared that she quickly returned the pen.

Master Lingzuan leaned against the rock wall, with a dent in the mechanical armor on his chest. That was the mark left by the last time he protected Yiwu Kai's prototype and resisted the original chaos.

The mechanical drill in his left hand had jammed a long time ago, and he was now clumsily turning the gears with his right hand, trying to fix it temporarily.

When the power of the ice-blue light beam swept over, the screws on the armor suddenly fell down with a "ding-dong" sound, and he was so scared that he quickly pressed them down with black energy:

"What's the rush? Wait until I finish assembling Kaijia's ultimate form. Not to mention a ray of light, even if all twelve sects come, they will have to serve as my parts!"

But as soon as he finished speaking, the gear in his hand slipped to the ground and rolled into the fog. He looked at his empty palm and his Adam's apple rolled.

Huan Ye's left wing rested on her shoulder, its feathers clinging to each other in clumps. The wound burned by the primordial chaos was illuminated by the blue light, causing her to gasp in pain. However, she still managed to use her uninjured right wing to fan out a gust of wind.

"What are you fussing about? It's just a newly hatched dragon… Once my wings are healed, I can swat him into the Chaos Pool with just a feather."

Although she spoke toughly, she unconsciously shrank behind Ma Buliang - the icy power in the blue light reminded her of the feeling of being injured by the original chaos.

The flute player leaned against the wall of the stone house, the blisters on his lips bursting and forming again. The last time he played the flute, he was shocked by the primordial chaos and his throat was bleeding. Now even swallowing saliva hurt.

He looked at the beam of light, and suddenly grabbed the bone flute on the ground, wanting to play a tune to give himself courage, but just as he put it to his lips, he was ruthlessly held down by the shoulder.

"You're injured like this, and you still want to cause trouble?"

The ruthless chain circled twice in his palm. The attack of the original chaos barely hurt him. At this moment, he stared coldly at the miserable state of his companions.

"Master An hasn't spoken yet."

The inkstone in the stone house suddenly made a soft sound. An came out holding the ancient book. His eyes swept over Ma Buliang's broken pen tip, Zhirou's cracked rice paper, and Master Lingzuan's dropped gear, finally landing on the icy blue light column. He tapped the pages with his fingertips.

"If a pen breaks, you can re-dip it in ink. If paper tears, you can glue it back together. If a gear falls off...it's just the right time to get a new one."

He bent down to pick up the broken brush that Ma Buliang had dropped on the ground, and dabbed the tip of the brush with Chaos Ink. The broken end slowly healed.

"Draw a 'welcoming guest picture'."

Then he pointed at the torn paper in Zhirou's hand.

"Frame it with your paper."

Ma Buliang took the pen and felt a familiar warmth from the pen shaft; Zhirou unfolded the new rice paper with trembling hands, and the black air and the fragrance of ink entwined together.

Master Lingzuan's eyes lit up, and he suddenly took out a spare gear and snapped it onto the mechanical arm:

"I'll carve a picture frame!"

In the fog, Twelve Shang's breath was still weak, but it gradually became more lively because of these few words.

Ma Buliang picked up the brush and dipped it in ink, Zhirou spread out the rice paper, Master Lingzuan turned the gears, and Lian Huanye endured the pain and used his right wing to fan away the mist blocking the paper.

An leaned against the door frame, watching them busying themselves under the illumination of the ice-blue light, a slight ripple flashing in his eyes.

"You're back……"

The more dazzling the light was, the more fierce the eyes of these injured guys became - just like a burning charcoal fire, which, when blown by the wind, emits even more intense sparks.

The beam of light in the distance was still running, but in the valley, the rustling sound of a pen tip scratching across rice paper and the clicking sound of gears turning could be heard, mixed with the suppressed breathing of the flute player, as if quietly preparing the prelude to a duel that was destined to come.