On the twelfth day of summer, as the sun turned gold and the wind smelled of plum blossoms, the skies darkened.
Thunder rolled.
The Sect barrier flickered.
Whiskers did not move.
Atop his sun-drenched shrine beneath the Dao Tree, he was on his back, four paws up, tail twitching. A soft breeze rustled his fur, which shone faintly with divine light.
Then the air cracked.
Lightning exploded across the heavens.
A spiral of storm clouds churned above the Azure Cloud Sect.
And from within the eye of that cyclone… descended a massive jade-scaled dragon.
He was ten zhang long, horned, winged, coiled with lightning.
A Divine Beast of the Eastern Bloodline.
Qing Long's son.
He wore no armor—his body was his armor. His golden eyes blazed with fury.
"I am General Yu Long, eldest son of the Azure Dragon King," he bellowed. "And I have come… for vengeance!"
Disciples screamed. Bells rang. Elders gathered in formation.
Elder Mei's beard bristled.
Sect Master Wu whispered, "We're about to be turned into powdered stardust."
And still… Whiskers did not move.
Yu Long descended, shaking the very mountain.
"Ten years ago, my father sent a divine egg to the Azure Lands, entrusted to a prophecy."
He snarled.
"Three months ago, that egg hatched into a cat."
Murmurs.
A few disciples pointed at the shrine. Others ran.
"I came to test this 'sovereign beast'. I came to duel. And instead… my messenger vanished. Our storm envoy was turned into mist."
Elder Mei coughed. "You mean… the goose with a horn?"
"It was a storm crane, you fungus."
"Oh."
Yu Long's gaze turned toward the shrine.
He raised a claw.
"I invoke the Rite of Beast-Blood Judgment. By ancient law, divine to divine. Wake him. Or I will crack this mountain open."
The earth trembled as Whiskers opened one eye.
He blinked slowly. Looked at the dragon.
Sighed.
"You interrupted nap hour."
Yu Long snarled. "Stand, coward. Let the heavens see your fall!"
Whiskers yawned. Rolled once.
"I was dreaming of golden fish the size of boats."
"Stand and fight!"
"No."
Lightning arced from Yu Long's wings. The clouds roared.
Then—Whiskers lifted a paw.
The entire sky froze.
Lightning halted mid-strike. Clouds stopped turning. The world paused.
Even Yu Long's breath caught in his throat.
And then—tap.
Whiskers pressed one paw down.
The air shifted.
The dragon general crumpled mid-air, dropped like a bag of rocks, and hit the ground with a soft thud.
He didn't explode.
He didn't burn.
He curled.
Coiled.
And snored.
Elder Mei stared.
"He's… asleep."
Sect Master Wu whispered, "Did the cat just nap him?"
Xi-Xi flitted down, excited. "Master calls it Forced Slumber State. He invented it so no one could monologue before lunch."
The dragon, snoring loudly, now radiated contentment.
A smile crossed his scaled face.
Golden lightning became warm fog. His wings relaxed.
The clouds dispersed.
Hours passed.
Yu Long eventually awoke.
He sat up, dazed, eyes gleaming with dream-qi.
"I… I saw the stars purring."
Whiskers, still on the shrine, gave him a sleepy glare.
"Still mad?"
Yu Long bowed.
"I have glimpsed the Dao. I will write poetry about this day for the rest of my immortal life."
"Make it short," Whiskers muttered, and rolled over.
That night, Yu Long meditated beside the shrine, tail wrapped neatly, writing poems with lightning ink.
He composed odes such as:
"The Paw That Tamed the Storm"
"Beneath the Whisker's Gaze, I Found Enlightenment" and the cult classic, "You May Be Divine, But You're Not This Cat"
Other dragon clans sent scholars to investigate.
Two more dragons visited and were immediately napped into gentle oblivion before they reached the gates.
A new rule was carved into the courtyard:
"Divine Beasts must announce themselves in triplicate and bring snacks. Or risk nap-based judgment."