CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 42 THE CAT AND THE BIRD

Wen Yan walked Old Zhao out from the front yard, smiling as he watched him leave.

Old Zhao kept looking back every few steps, dragging his feet, looking utterly aggrieved—he truly regretted it now.

Having such a powerful person living in front of them, with such strong Yang energy—even just what leaked out was enough to boost the feng shui, not block it. If only he’d known, he never would have come.

And now he even had to help investigate. After all, whoever showed up with this powerhouse and wasn’t discovered by him must also be no pushover.

With his luck, he’d be jumping from the tiger’s den straight into a pack of wolves.

"Honestly, it’s fine if you don’t want to go. If you want to run, just run. I promise I won’t stop you." Wen Yan’s voice floated over lightly from behind.

Old Zhao looked even more miserable. Where could he possibly flee to? It’s not easy to find a place suitable for him to live.

In this whole villa complex, only that one house made him feel comfortable inside.

Dragging his feet, he made his way to the side of the western villa, unscrewed his own head, used his hair as legs, and crept up the side rainpipe, sneaking a peek in through a side window.

The neighboring villa hadn’t been decorated yet, still an unfinished shell, pitch black inside with nothing at all.

Old Zhao circled the entire villa twice, peeping through every window, but never saw anyone, nor any sign of human activity—not even slightly fresher footprints in the ashes that covered the floor.

And, he didn’t sense any living human’s Yang energy either, which let him breathe a little easier—maybe the other party was already gone.

His head floated back and screwed itself onto his neck. He reached a hand into the wall, his body slowly passing through as he phased inside the villa.

Once inside, he searched it twice carefully. Not a speck of human presence, just some traces of small animals and birds.

He sighed in relief, glad it was empty—he really didn’t want to run into anyone.

He phased through the wall again, returned to Wen Yan’s front yard, and dutifully reported what he’d found to Wen Yan.

"Nothing? No signs at all?"

"Really nothing. I checked inside and out several times, really nothing—there hasn’t been any living person in there for a long time." This time Old Zhao was smart; he didn’t mention any crazy guesses or claim someone ran off, just honestly said what he saw.

"Oh, that’s fine. Go get some rest, don’t cause any trouble, behave yourself, and everyone will have a good time."

"Rea...really?"

"You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to."

Old Zhao lit up, immediately hustling around Wen Yan’s yard and hurrying back to his own place.

Wen Yan didn’t plan to give him a hard time. As Zhang Laoxi said, someone this weak couldn’t possibly have harmed anyone.

No matter what, he wouldn’t bother to pick a fight with a bunch of guys just trying to cause a scene for some white-cut chicken.

He walked out of the front yard and glanced south. To the south here, all the buildings within a few hundred meters were low—around four hundred meters away stood an eight-story building.

That’s probably where the Scorching Sun Department people were stationed. Tough gig—still working late into the night.

He glanced east, following the curving road inside the villa complex, which just let him see the villa at the far east end.

He lifted a hand and waved in that direction.

In the easternmost villa, someone who’d been spying got startled, hurriedly stashing their binoculars and no longer daring to look.

Wen Yan grinned, casually picking up a steel rod in the courtyard and grabbing his flashlight before heading next door.

The gate to the neighboring yard didn’t have a lock. The yard was overgrown with weeds, though it looked like someone had cleared it once not too long ago.

The house’s front door swung open with a tug, the inside still an unfinished shell, not even interior doors installed.

He wandered through it once, found nothing, didn’t sense any cold ghostly aura—in fact, not only were there no people, there weren’t even any ghosts.

He exited the house, checked the backyard, circled back to the front, and just saw two stray cats dart away at lightning speed, ducking far off to watch with glowing eyes from the bushes.

Wen Yan swept his flashlight over a nearby tree, spotting several night cats up there too, poking their heads out and spying on the intruder with big bright eyes.

Finding nothing at all, Wen Yan turned to leave the yard.

After walking a few steps outside the yard, he suddenly turned back and called into the yard.

"I’m Your Dad."

The quiet yard instantly erupted: birds on the roof flapped away in a panic, a few stray cats crouched in the grass puffed up and hissed at him from a distance.

The stray cats on the tree did the same—fur bristling, hissing away.

Except for one, a cat whose eyes glinted green in the dark. It shot out from behind the trunk, hissing, and leapt down from the tree.

Before it hit the ground, two wings suddenly unfurled behind its cat head. Flapping them, still hissing, it charged straight at Wen Yan.

"Ha...there really is one."

Wen Yan burst out laughing. He’d only been trying it for fun, but unexpectedly, it actually coaxed one out.

With the flashlight tucked under his arm, he gripped the steel rod in both hands, watching the flying cat-headed, bird-bodied creature and posing like an outfielder catching a ball.

The cat-headed, bird-bodied monster saw this, instantly pinned its ears back like a plane; anger and fear mixed in its eyes, and as it hissed, it screeched in a voice that sounded both pissed off and scared.

"No...no...no..."

It tried to resist the overwhelming compulsion building up inside, but a voice in its head roared: Fly over and rip up that stinking mouth of his.

It could only watch Wen Yan ready and waiting for it, as if it were a baseball flying in for a nice solid connection with that iron stick.

As it drew closer, it desperately flapped its wings, trying to dodge—only to realize it was probably too late.

At the last second, seeing Wen Yan swing the rod down, it just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

"Don’t hit me! I’ll talk!"

"Bang!"

"Ah..."

The stick struck its wing, making it scream and crash to the ground.

Wen Yan stood over it, steel rod in hand, coldly watching the creature flap one good wing, still trying to flee—cat head, bird body, bird claws, all covered in gray-brown feathers.

Even after getting smacked, it kept shrieking at the top of its lungs.

"Somebody’s abusing cats! Someone’s abuse—"

But as soon as Wen Yan stuck the steel rod in its face, its yowling abruptly cut off.

"Go on, keep yelling. Thanks to that empty building behind, there’s nobody living in the nearby houses—you can scream all you want."

"Easy, boss, let’s talk this out," the cat-headed bird stammered in terror; it never imagined Wen Yan would actually attack, and hit so damn hard.

If that steel rod had been rebar instead, it’d be dead on the spot. As it was, Wen Yan just broke one wing—probably missed the kill shot.

But it could tell—Wen Yan really would kill it without asking questions.

"Save the chit-chat. Spill it—who sent you to follow me?"

"No one...ah—" the cat-headed bird was about to deny, when Wen Yan slammed the rod down on its other wing too.

"Talk. Who sent you after me?" Wen Yan asked again, expressionless.

If he actually found something weird, Wen Yan was more inclined to trust those five oddball brothers—given their IQ, it was unlikely they’d fabricate something as dumb as "we just followed you here today."

"My patience is limited. Speak up or I’ll book you a deluxe cremation, let you skip the line, and make sure you get into the first batch tomorrow morning—might even bring you good luck."

"..."

Seeing Wen Yan’s hand twitch, the cat-headed bird shuddered violently, its psychological defenses utterly collapsing.

"Don’t kill me—Mo Zhicheng sent me!"