Chapter 206 (Extra 6): The Little Gray Cat and Little White Wolf Spirit Forms

Jian Mo and Wu Jiong returned to the lakeshore to wait.

They sat in the woods at dusk, watching ripples glitter across the surface, planning to slip under once the passage opened again.

Jian Mo rested his cheek on his knees and looked at Wu Jiong sideways. “What a wild experience. Think we’ll ever get to do this again?”

Wu Jiong reached over and laced their fingers. “We can stroll by the lake more often. Who knows—maybe we’ll figure out a pattern.”

“I still think it’s a fluke,” Jian Mo said.

“I’m not so sure,” Wu Jiong replied. “I just don’t know the cause.”

As they spoke, a round shadow bloomed across the water.

Anyone else on the shore would have thought it was a cloud’s reflection. Only they knew—it was their way home.

Jian Mo sprang up, tugging Wu Jiong’s hand. “Come on. Into the lake.”

Better to slip in before the patrol noticed them, or things could get complicated.

This time they didn’t bother taking off clothes or shoes—if they ended up somewhere strange again, at least they wouldn’t have to scrounge for outfits.

Hand in hand, they swam toward the dark patch—awkward as anything, but neither dared let go for fear some accident would separate them.

Fortunately the shadow wasn’t far. After a short swim they drew close.

Jian Mo glanced back. “The patrol’s out—let’s—”

Wu Jiong didn’t answer. He just pulled Jian Mo under and pushed through the shadow, then surfaced.

It felt like slipping through gel for a heartbeat—then water was just water again, and that peculiar viscosity seemed like a trick of the mind.

The instant they broke the surface, Jian Mo swept his gaze along the bank.

No houses for patrollers—good. They’d left that timeline!

Joy flared in his chest, but before he could smile, two animals burst up beside them.

A gray blur came at his head—Jian Mo yelped, dragged Wu Jiong aside, and splashed away.

The animals bobbed up, paddling innocently: a fluffy long-haired gray cat with a sweet face, and a pudgy little white wolf. Both floated in place, occasionally pawing the water, four bright eyes fixed on Jian Mo and Wu Jiong.

A bad feeling pricked Jian Mo. He edged back with Wu Jiong. “Where did the kitten and wolf pup come from? Don’t they look… familiar?”

Wu Jiong’s brows knit. “The little gray cat looks like you. The little white wolf looks like me.”

Jian Mo’s scalp tingled. “Don’t tell me we’ve jumped to another timeline where these are our kids?”

He even palmed his own belly—his reproductive canal still hadn’t fully healed; he couldn’t have birthed anything. Maybe parallel worlds worked differently?

“Let’s get ashore first,” Wu Jiong said.

They swam for land. The kitten and wolf pup followed.

At the very moment their feet touched bottom, the gray kitten flashed into a streak of light and slipped straight into Jian Mo’s body. The white wolf turned into white radiance and flowed into Wu Jiong.

Jian Mo’s beast ears popped out—thick and soft. They twitched: pure startle.

He and Wu Jiong locked eyes. “You saw that, right?”

Wu Jiong nodded. “I saw.”

He frowned at the ground; a pale glow rose from him, gathered, and condensed into a little white wolf on the earth.

The pup blinked up at them with glossy black eyes, lifted a hind leg to scratch an ear, and yipped, “Wao-ao—”

Oh no. Adorable. Jian Mo stared at the pup. “What is going on?”

“It feels like the little one is part of us,” Wu Jiong said. “Try calling your gray cat out. Focus and summon it.”

“Okay… I’ll try.”

Jian Mo drew a deep breath and pictured the kitten he’d just seen.

A haze of gray light seeped from him, and the little gray cat took shape on the ground, tipping its round head back to meow at him. “Mrrp.”

“It really came out?”

He crouched to pick it up—and found it had a real body: warm, soft, fur sleek beneath his fingers. The kitten licked the back of his hand with a rasp of barbed tongue.

Jian Mo, speechless, held the cat up for Wu Jiong to see. “Look.”

Wu Jiong’s big hand came down to scritch the kitten’s head—and Jian Mo felt fingers rub his own scalp, a pleasant shiver fanning up from his tailbone.

He jolted. “!”

“You can feel it when I pet it?” Wu Jiong asked.

“Absolutely. Here—let me touch your pup.”

He passed the kitten to Wu Jiong, then stroked the little white wolf.

The pup lolled a pink tongue, tail whipping like a metronome and even wiggling its butt. “Wao-ao!”

Jian Mo had never met a wolf pup this exuberant. Even chubby little Zhoudao would seem reserved next to this one. Of course—Wu Jiong loved him; Wu Jiong’s manifested pup would love him too.

Wu Jiong cradled the kitten, studying it. “Amazing.”

“I think so too,” Jian Mo said. “Also—the gray patch in the lake is gone.”

Wu Jiong looked back at the water. No trace of a passage. “Maybe it only appears around dusk, and vanishes quickly.”

“Could be. What now—take a look around?”

“Let’s. See what kind of world this is.”

They tried to recall the manifested wolf and cat, but they weren’t very practiced. The moment they relaxed their focus, the little ones popped back out. After a few attempts, they gave up.

So be it. Tag-alongs weren’t the worst thing.

“Can you still transform?” Jian Mo asked.

“I can’t,” Wu Jiong said. “But I can make the white wolf bigger.”

He looked at the pup.

Under his gaze, the little white wolf swelled to the size of a giant wolf—exactly like Wu Jiong in beast form.

There was one difference: when Wu Jiong beast-shifted his tail usually hung low; the spirit wolf’s tail spun like a propeller, tongue lolling—more Samoyed than dire wolf.

Watching that tail made Jian Mo’s mood lift without thinking.

“Come on,” Wu Jiong said. “We’ll ride.”

The giant wolf crouched to let them climb up.

At the same instant, the gray kitten sprang from Jian Mo’s arms, bounded up in two, three hops, and perched primly on the wolf’s head like a sitting hen.

Jian Mo gaped. “Where did it learn that?”

“Instinct, maybe,” Wu Jiong said. “Let’s get on.”

He helped Jian Mo up, then mounted behind him.

Pressed back against Wu Jiong’s chest, astride a wolf that was also Wu Jiong, Jian Mo felt oddly giddy. “I never imagined… us… like this. Wild.”

“Me neither,” Wu Jiong said. “Riding my own beast form.”

“Like a dream, right?” Jian Mo laughed softly. “Where to?”

“Let’s scout nearby. There might be people—or a town.”

He urged the wolf forward. They hadn’t gone far when several people with bows came sprinting toward them. “Guides? Are you Guides?”

Their speech was in the beastmen tongue, but with a heavy accent.

Jian Mo and Wu Jiong didn’t catch the first sentence; they stared from the wolf’s back. Even the kitten on the wolf’s head blinked uncertainly at them.

The newcomers seemed puzzled by the awkward silence. “We’re Sentinels requesting aid. Our teammate was attacked by cloud-scorpions—his spirit form is close to collapse. We urgently need a powerful Guide!”

“Wait, we can’t—” Jian Mo began.

But they’d already made up their minds. “You must be a strong Guide and Sentinel. Please, come take a look—please!”

Jian Mo, as a physician, could never refuse a plea like that.

Seeing the tiger-eyed man near tears, he exchanged a look with Wu Jiong and nodded. They might as well go—learn about this world as they helped.

The runners brightened and led the way. “He’s just ahead. His spirit form is collapsing—we didn’t dare move him.”

The giant wolf easily matched their pace.

“Do you have any medicine?” Jian Mo asked as they ran.

“There’s medicine for spirit-form collapse?”

“I don’t have any on me,” Jian Mo said. “Do you?”

“We don’t either.”

They crested a low hill and saw the fallen man. His companions hovered, frantic.

Next to him sprawled a massive, octopus-like creature—only its eyes were rolled back and its dozens of tangled tentacles were knotted together, some tied two or three times over. The whole thing lay there like a ruined seafood platter.

No wonder they said the man was dying; one look and Jian Mo felt the same.

“Guide, sir,” someone begged, “that’s my teammate. Can you save him?”

Jian Mo hadn’t expected being a Guide would also mean doctoring. He thought a moment. “I’ll try untangling the tentacles. If I can ease the snarl, he should stabilize.”

The man’s eyes lit. “You really can see his spirit form. Please.”

Only then did Jian Mo realize the others couldn’t see the giant octopus.

He glanced at Wu Jiong, who nodded slightly. “I can’t see it.”

So—only Guides, then.

Jian Mo slid down from the wolf.

The kitten hopped from wolf-head to wolf-back to thigh, rolled to the ground, shook out its fur, and pranced to the octopus.

Jian Mo wasn’t sure how to give it instructions; he pointed at the octopus, then at the kitten.

The kitten cocked its head, then pounced—pawing at a knotted tentacle.

Oddly, at the kitten’s touch the knot loosened almost by itself, the tentacle springing open as if remembering its own elasticity.

The kitten worked diligently, flicking its ears now and then. Each time it finished a strand, it smoothed it down—like combing hair.

As the kitten labored, the man on the ground visibly improved: less gray, breathing steadier.

Jian Mo stepped up and, relying on experience, listened to chest and belly. “He’s stabilizing.”

“That’s great!” his companions cried, eyes shining with tears. “Thank you!”

“Let us repay you—once we drive the cloud-scorpions back, we’ll cut the breast meat and eat to rebuild.”

Jian Mo and Wu Jiong had heard them mention cloud-scorpions earlier; they weren’t sure what they were. From the tone, they sounded… desirable?

They traded a curious glance. This world felt very different from the beastman one.

The kitten kept combing; the giant wolf shrank back to a pup and wagged in front of it, head tilted, staring.

After a while, the white pup suddenly whipped its head toward the distance and bark-howled: “Wao-ao!”

The others stiffened. “Cloud-scorpions again! Prepare for combat!”

“I’m in,” Wu Jiong said.

They made room for him, vowing, “Don’t worry—we’ll protect the Guide. Not a scratch.”

Wu Jiong nodded.

A thrumming of wings rose from ahead.

Jian Mo, still directing the kitten, glanced up—and saw a swarm of insects the size of helicopters, six or seven clustered together, winging toward them. Each bore a glossy black tail-stinger that made his skin crawl.

Gooseflesh rippled up his arms. He rubbed them and shouted, “Be careful!”

Wu Jiong looked back and signed “I’m fine.” Calm down.

As they exchanged a look, the others burst into multicolored light; spirit forms flared into giant beasts and charged the incoming scorpions.

The giant wolf held back at first—no rash moves. It studied a moment, watched how the others fought, then bounded sideways and, using its agility and seasoned hunting sense, avoided mandibles and tail, clamped the side of a cloud-scorpion—

Crunch.

One down.

The rest were tied up with other beasts, too busy to notice. But seeing a comrade fall, the swarm keened—a shrill, furious cry.

Their allies were competent; they locked the scorpions down and kept them off the wolf.

Wu Jiong’s gaze stayed cool; he steered the wolf to an edge target, leapt, and with one decisive bite—crack—down it went.

Two in a row. Everyone understood its strength now and moved to support.

Whether it was a good day or the wolf’s prowess, the fight didn’t last long. The swarm was brought down.

They urged Wu Jiong to rest, then drew knives to split the scorpions’ chests, lifting out two translucent, jewel-bright fillets from each—like lychee flesh, gleaming and beautiful.

“Cloud-scorpion breast doesn’t keep,” someone said. “Let’s roast it now—and spirit forms can eat too. We’ll feed them.”

“Do whatever you usually do,” Wu Jiong said.

They scattered to prepare. Some plucked big leaves, marinated the meat, wrapped it in leaves, coated the bundles in mud, then set them to roast in the coals.

Jian Mo couldn’t help staring—just like beggar’s chicken.

By now the kitten had nearly finished untangling the octopus; urgency had ebbed.

These people clearly had robust wilderness skills. From a few motions Jian Mo could tell the meat would be delicious.

Sure enough, a complex aroma soon drifted from the fire—meaty, slightly oceany, with a faint fruity note—mouthwatering.

Hunger tugged at Jian Mo’s very soul; even while directing the kitten he kept getting distracted.

They turned the mud parcels diligently, then cracked them open and announced, “Done—let’s eat.”

They’d exchanged names by then. Someone carefully unwrapped two glistening fillets—lobster-like cloud-scorpion breast—on clean fresh leaves and brought them to Jian Mo and Wu Jiong.

“Cloud-scorpion breast is special,” the server said. “Spirit forms can eat it too. Thank you for your help.”

“I’ll have my spirit form eat first,” Jian Mo said. “Once it rests and recovers, I’ll continue smoothing your friend’s.”

They all agreed at once.

They sat to eat. The kitten and pup each got a portion. Big-eyed and curious, they sniffed and took tentative bites.

At the kitten’s first mouthful, warmth blossomed through Jian Mo’s spirit—like the mellow rush after sweets, deeply satisfying.

Strange—and strong.

The kitten clearly had its own likes and moods. After tasting, it hopped, patted the ground with its forepaws, and set to with a happy purr.

Jian Mo glanced at the white pup—already eating with gusto, edging into wolf-down-wolf-gulp territory. Thankfully the breast had no bones; otherwise Jian Mo might’ve been prepping to remove splinters after the octopus job.

Sitting close, Wu Jiong tore off a piece and held it to Jian Mo’s lips. “Try it. It’s excellent.”

Jian Mo bit down—and an indescribable flavor unfurled across his tongue: an absolute pinnacle of umami, like a rising mist enclosing him whole. He’d never imagined deliciousness could be so dominant—stoking appetite to a boil; he craved the next bite before he’d swallowed the first.

Piping hot, impossibly savory—the richness filled his mouth. The more he ate, the hungrier he got, until sweat beaded the bridge of his nose.

After one taste, he understood the kitten and pup’s urgency.

No—they weren’t urgent enough. At least they maintained manners. Humans at great food? That’s when you see true wolfing—fast, fierce, not wasting a single drop.

When they finished, people looked ready to lick their fingers—and then they actually crumpled the serving leaves and popped them in their mouths with blissful faces.

Thinking the leaves must taste good too, Jian Mo tried a bite and was walloped by bitter astringency.

Right—probably not edible, except today they’d soaked up essence from the meat.

Noticing his look, someone rubbed his neck. “The best part of a cloud-scorpion is the breast, then the tail-stinger. We can rarely afford to eat it ourselves. Sorry for losing our heads a bit.”

“Understandable,” Jian Mo said. “We almost never get something this good either.”

“We saved two pieces for you to take,” the man added. “You can have them for breakfast.”

Thinking of Qiuqiu and Ying’ao back home, Jian Mo didn’t refuse. “Thanks. We’ll rest a moment, then I’ll finish smoothing him.”

They nodded, earnest.

The patient came first. Jian Mo didn’t rest long before directing the kitten again. When the kitten tired, a dull ache throbbed in Jian Mo’s skull—but he could still manage. He wasn’t one to quit.

After a long stretch, the last knots on the octopus loosened and sprang free. Its host opened his eyes.

Jian Mo hurried over, examined him, asked a few questions. The man was conscious, though foggy—likely some aftereffects. But everything was improving; he should recover soon.

“I’m not a specialist in this sort of condition,” Jian Mo told the group. “When you get back, find someone reliable to reinforce the treatment.”

They nodded quickly.

Jian Mo glanced at Wu Jiong—time to go. Sleeping among strangers didn’t feel ideal; better to find their own place for the night.

Wu Jiong agreed.

When the others heard they were leaving, they cut off several cloud-scorpion stingers for them as payment. When Jian Mo and Wu Jiong declined the local coinage, they added two knives and two jars of spices.

A good haul.

Pleased, Jian Mo waved goodbye, climbed onto the giant wolf with Wu Jiong, whistled for the kitten, and headed off to find a place to sleep.