Chapter 33: Meteorite Approaching

Li Ao loved cardboard boxes.

After having his sleeping box nest wrecked by Xun last time, he ran off to the living area again and gathered up all the boxes there.

Early in the morning, the little cat happily sat inside a box, gnashing his teeth like a stapler—click click click—punching holes in the cardboard. He was trying so hard his eyes squeezed shut.

The little monster learned by example, but clearly, his teeth were way more efficient than the little cat’s. The little cat could only leave two tooth marks at a time, while the little monster chomped off a whole chunk in one bite.

The two box-demolishing machines ruthlessly went click click click right there.

“…” The robot, who had come to discuss something with Li Ao, heard the noise before even entering and thought moles had appeared on this barren planet Aurilion.

“Li,” it started to say, only to see the little cat’s happy stapling motions stop.

Blood trickled down from the short-legged cat’s mouth, and those two sharp fangs were left embedded in the cardboard.

The little cat stared blankly at his teeth. Happiness slowly drained from his face until he abruptly looked up in horror, lisping through his gappy mouth: “Li Ao no teeth nao!”

The little monster quickly hopped over to comfort him. The robot lifted the little cat’s face and pried open his mouth. “You’re not toothless.” Though he really was missing them, Silver Wing wiped the blood from his face and calmly said as it looked at the pitiful, whiny little thing, “You’re just shedding your baby teeth. New ones will grow in soon.”

“Shedding toof?” Once the little cat confirmed it wasn’t from eating too much candy, his mood improved a bit, but he clammed up.

After all, Fierce Cat had his pride—a lispy voice was something Fierce Cat couldn’t stand.

So young, yet so face-conscious… The robot carried him to the living area to deal with the teeth and delivered a calm, cruel electronic verdict: “You’re singing for the audience today.”

The little cat pouted. The little cat was incredulous. The little cat thought this machine was too mean—making him go to work when he was like this?

The robot explained: “A meteorite is about to crash into Aurilion…” It did its best to explain the situation to the little cat, including how bad guys were trying to catch them, so they couldn’t just blurt out the wormhole coordinates.

Seeing the little cat’s dazed eyes, it thought he hadn’t understood. In reality, Li Ao got it—he used to watch TV with Grandma every day and knew dinosaurs went extinct from an asteroid hitting Earth. And as for getting caught by bad guys, Dong Xixi had been through that!

Little cat got it. He wasn’t confused; he was worried. “What about Aiai’ang’ang?”

He hadn’t even filled it with big trees and tomatoes yet—how could it get blown up?!

The robot patted his little head, unsurprised that his first worry wasn’t himself, but the planet. Because that’s the kind of cub he was—he worried about it, about the little monster, about the xenoids, about those sanity-draining plants, about too much garbage polluting the environment.

There was nothing he didn’t worry about—chatty and nagging—but that’s what made him such a good little cat.

“So we need Xixi to get here fast. The kinetic energy from his battleship is enough to destroy that meteorite, so Aurilion won’t get hit and explode.”

“Xixi…” The little cat remembered that super handsome man and shyly shuffled his feet. “Then… nao sing song ba.”

With his gappy teeth, he’d agreed to sing, but now the robot worried he might sing off-key. Its gaze shifted to the little monster, red light flashing in its electronic eyes.

The black-furred chestnut ball tilted its head in confusion.

*

This Dawn League session, restarted after a decade, left audiences dissatisfied with both its content and contestant quality.

[Aside from Little Cat Bro and those three Delphi contestants, what’s the difference between the others and cannon fodder?]

[Too lazy to watch. Five people team up, four injured one crippled, and they only killed one D-Rank xenoid. I’m seriously worried about the Federation’s future.]

[What does the Federation have to worry about? (sneer) Even if this session’s Federation collapses, a new one will rise. Worry about humanity’s future instead.]

[Bold words upstairs. Checked—yep, not from a Federation member star…]

[Yeah, plenty of planets in the universe, but advanced civilizations are rare. Those low-level ones that can’t even do planetary migration get wiped out by a few xenoids, let alone xenoid variants.]

[Dawn League basically scooped up humanity’s best talents in recent years, right? And this is it? I’m really worried if humanity even has a future.]

[Not as good as a cat with five-centimeter legs!]

[A bunch of keyboard warriors talking big—who are you to judge? How old are you? Killed any xenoids? These contestants are max 22—basically cubs compared to cosmic average age.]

[Yeah… It’s not that this session sucks; it’s the Overseers babying them like nannies. They pulled back a bit and it got way better.]

[Can’t ignore others’ efforts just cuz a few standouts. Delphi folks have Crystals of Delphi—what’s that if not cheating? They shouldn’t compete with normals.]

While the internet raged, Dawn League reached its finale. Only the last test remained.

Qin Mian had high, sharp cheekbones, a head of white hair, and a stern, serious aura that made her seem unapproachable. But she was undoubtedly a responsible leader.

“Don’t get down. Dawn League is friendship first—making students realize war’s brutality is the goal.” The elderly lady encouraged her subordinates. “Prep the final cultural assessment, then rank the top three.”

“Ma’am!” A subordinate asked: “Other contestants are fine, but what about that cat? How’s he taking the culture exam?”

A rare smile cracked Qin Mian’s stern face. “Isn’t there the little cat’s stream?”

“Ding dong—” Audiences who hadn’t seen the little cat streamer for two or three days got a live alert.

[Slide-tackling in!]

[Damn, you guys are fast! One alert and bam—over a million already?]

Li Ao appeared on the round stage, bowed to the viewers. “Everyone hao.” He flattened his mouth right away, trying hard not to slur: “I… am… Li… Ao.”

[…]

[Hahahahaha—why’s he got a lisp?]

[He was fine a few days ago hahaha, what happened?]

Li Ao had learned to read barrage by now. Mocked by everyone, the aggrieved little cat opened his mouth, showing it wasn’t a lisp—he’d lost teeth.

[Aww, poor thing, don’t be sad! Our baby’s just shedding teeth.]

A little cat pathetically tilting his head up to show his teeth—this sight was cuteness overload for humans.

[No laughing! Anyone who laughs gets AI-kicked!]

[Okay okay, no laughing. Hahaha—]

AI alert: [User detected being rude to little cat streamer. Removing you for 5 minutes.]

Star Network AI went full protective dad mode, so all barrage the little cat saw were praises.

[Baby so awesome! Baby teeth gone, new ones come—more yummy food ahead!]

[Means our little cat baby’s growing up!]

[Yup, shedding makes it whistle when talking.]

This little cat Li Ao had never been cooed over by so many at once. He got shy, turned, and summoned his little doggy.

The two little ones held hands. Little cat said: “Today… sing little cat song for everyone.”

[… Sorry, tried to hold it, but—hahahahaha—]

AI: ^ ^ Out you go.

Little cat rubbed cheeks with Xun. “Sing with nao oh.”

The little monster, who had the lyrics memorized perfectly, gazed adoringly, waiting for little cat’s tutorial.

Li Ao took a deep breath. “La la la~ Little cloud in sky fly la~”

Xun’s voice was almost identical to the little cat’s—of course, the non-lispy, on-pitch version. “La la la~ Little cloud in the sky flies~”

“Ground little river flow la~ Bugs fly bugs fly~”

“Ground’s little river flows~ Bugs fly, bugs fly~”

[Sorry, apologies, but—hahahahaha—]

AI kept booting the laughers—boot one, another joins, joins and laughs, AI had never been so busy… Truth be told, it wanted to laugh too.

And so, one teaching one singing, amid the cheers and laughter, the wormhole coordinates were stealthily passed via the little monster’s lyrics.

“Your Majesty.” Shen Que paused. He’d known Isiris so long, but this was the first time seeing such obvious amusement on the man’s face.

The golden-haired emperor pulled his gaze from the gappy-toothed little cat, arched a brow at Shen Que—what?

The smile vanished in a flash. Shen Que reported: “Techs decoded the wormhole coordinates from the lyrics. ETA to Aurilion system in three interstellar days.”

“Mm.” Isiris stood. “Full speed ahead. Go fetch the cat cub.”

Little cat didn’t know lion daddy was coming. He was tired, sat on the ground swinging his little feet, done singing.

But before he could rest, AI notified: [Little cat streamer, official connection request. Accept?]

The stream had too many connection requests, so AI screened—only big tippers or official ones got in the queue.

Li Ao blinked, instinctively glancing back at the robot.

Star Network was regulated by The Federation after all. Previously, a federal department had tried to connect and pry the planet’s coordinates from the little cat’s mouth, only to be directly blocked by the robot.

The Federation had no choice. Although Star Network belonged to the government, they preached so-called democracy and couldn’t force a streamer to accept their connection without reason.

After communicating with the AI to confirm the identity of the incoming signal, the robot nodded at the little cat.

Li Ao grinned with his little mouth. “Accept!”

[Eh, why accept the connection? Who’s on the other side?]

[!! Isn’t this the head of Dawn League? What are they up to?]

Though it was just a projection, seeing it up close made Qin Mian realize that this little cat was truly adorable.

“Hello.” She squatted down. “I’m Qin Mian.”

White hair—must be an elder. The little cat, who respected the old and loved the young, stood up straight, raised his head, and greeted her: “Nyao.”

A hint of a smile leaked onto Qin Mian’s serious face. She placed the test paper in front of the little cat. “Ready? The exam is about to start.”

Ready for what? The little cat was stunned, not understanding why he still had to take an exam even after starting work.

“Wait—” The little cat wanted to stretch out his paw to cover her mouth and make her take back her words about the exam, but of course, it failed.

“First question: What is the connection between the multiple vacua of string theory and the origin and structure of the universe?”

The little cat glanced at the paper, unable to understand a word she was saying. But she was clearly waiting for his response. Hesitant and trembling, he bared his claws. “5?”

Qin Mian… slightly raised her hand to cover the smile at her lips, cleared her throat. “Very good answer. Then, second question: How does quantum entanglement produce action at a distance without any transmission of matter?”

Very good answer means he’s right? Emboldened, the little cat puffed out his fluffy chest. “Pi (3.14)!”

“Third question, wormholes…”

[This is too much, way too much. How can you give a six-year-old kid questions like this? (crying-laughing)]

[He’s just a cat! (screaming) I couldn’t answer these!!]

[No choice, other league players get questions like this (laugh-cry).]

Even though Little Cat Bro dominated, piercing a xenoid’s heart with one sword. He had a fatal weakness—illiteracy.

The illiterate little cat grew more confident with each answer, blurting out: “One hundred one ten one.”

How’s that! This was a number he’d just learned—bigger than one hundred!

“Li Ao is amazing.” Qin Mian praised softly.

Her subordinate behind her was shocked, having never heard the lady speak like this before.

“Exam over. Thank you for participating.”

“Not at all!” The little cat waved his paw grandly, handing in his zero-score test paper.

[Can’t bear to look. Someone teach the kid to be smarter.]

[You ask, and it’s 1 or 2, 34567—pick whatever I want~]

[Can’t compete, just can’t. Suggest awarding Little Cat the Cuteness Prize.]

Meanwhile, as the little cat’s educator, the robot’s circuits were exploding with the urge to rush in and spank the cat’s butt.

If he didn’t know, just say so—who taught him to make stuff up? And he looked so smug, thinking he was clever!

So what? Fierce Cat was just that confident. (Tail flicked up)

His golden-brown tail was fluffy like a feather duster. Walking on the sandy ground, Li Ao lisped to the little monster with his leaky teeth: “Call the Cow Monster over, okay?”

After two or three days of control, his speech was still a bit comical but much improved.

Xun blinked, releasing an invisible pressure instantly. He linked to a low-level xenoid in the nest, summoning it to the little cat’s side.

“Machine is so weally lazy.” The little cat unhappily dropped his tail. “Slacking off.”

The tomato patch had a bumper harvest, and Li Ao planned to pick them all today. He’d wanted the robot to help, but Machine refused.

“Big lazy Machine.”

The little cat’s mutter was interrupted by the sound of Zolax walking. He jumped up, waving his paws. “Cow Monster, here here!”

This C-Rank xenoid had suffered massive trauma. Though its exterior had healed, its size was now two-thirds smaller—about the size of an elephant.

It lumbered heavily to the little cat’s side, listening to his commands, lowering its horns to plow the ground.

Over there, Mantis Monster No. 1 had grown new limbs and was holding a small bucket in its mouth, waiting for the little cat to come pick tomatoes.

“One.” The little cat rode on Xun’s head as the two little ones worked together to harvest. “Two.”

The steady thump-thump of tomatoes hitting the basin was nonstop when Li Ao suddenly froze.

“Xun…” Confusion crossed his face. “Do you feel like the ground is shaking?”

“Li Ao!” The little monster had naturally noticed. His scarlet pupils contracted. “Up in the sky.”

What about the sky? Li Ao instinctively looked up and saw a massive object appear in the blue sky that once held two suns.

The meteor that should have arrived at Aurilion in five days… had come early.

The terror of the colossal object made Li Ao’s heart race. He squinted hard, staring at the approaching meteor. It was so enormous the little cat couldn’t describe it, occupying nearly half the sky. Even from the ground, he felt the heavy oppression from above—like a giant hand pressing on his chest, leaving him breathless.

The crust trembled violently from the intruder star’s gravity, emitting a hum. If not for the planet’s consciousness controlling its core, the planet would instantly suffer catastrophic earthquakes and eruptions from the intense shaking.

“Silver Wing!” The little cat instinctively shouted the robot’s name.

The next second, the silver mech descended from the sky, scooping the two little ones into its palm and shooting into the heavens.

“Sun!” The intelligence officer rushed anxiously into the command room, forgetting to salute. “We’ve detected the meteor accelerating toward the system ahead of schedule.”

“Impossible!” An accompanying scholar shot to his feet. “Aurilion System is in a cosmic void zone with no gravitational interference from other planets. The meteor shouldn’t accelerate—it should move at constant speed.”

This was utterly impossible, as if the meteor had its own propulsion.

Isiris issued the order directly: “Immediate curve acceleration.”

“Your Majesty!” The brown-haired strategist stood to block him, his voice tense unlike his usual frivolity. “We’re traversing a wormhole. Any acceleration risks unforeseen consequences. The wormhole is inherently unstable—rashly changing speed—”

Isiris cut him off coldly, his gaze sharp as a blade. “I don’t need you telling me how dangerous it is.” He wasn’t an illiterate cat; he knew full well the potential outcomes.

He strode to the captain’s station. “Soldier, transfer command authority.”

The captain yielded the position to the emperor.

“If I led the Empire’s First Army through a collapsing wormhole with successful acceleration before, I can do it again.”

His confidence was unmatched. Shen Que silently took the vice-captain position. “Then allow me to accompany you.”

“Machine!” High in the sky, the oppressive weight of the giant object intensified. Li Ao shouted at Silver Wing: “I wanna go down!”

“No.” The mech halted, hovering midair. “The crust is humming—likely a massive quake incoming.”

“It won’t!” Li Ao was inexplicably certain. “Aiai’ang’ang is twying hawd, contwolling the cowe. And…” The little cat leaned out to look down. “They’re all on the gwound.”

Weren’t the xenoids afraid? Of course not—the fear of death was instinct. Yet they didn’t flee; they stubbornly stared upward.

Not at the nearing meteor, but at the glowing little cat.

From the filthy, dim Abyss, they gazed up at the sun in their hearts.

“Nee… ao…” The xenoids hissed, front limbs pounding their hearts.

Before this massive natural disaster, they were actually blaming themselves for failing to protect his safety.

Silver Wing fell silent and descended to the sand.

It could break atmosphere and flee the planet, but the little cat couldn’t. Without a suit, he’d die in space soon enough.

Equipped with high-precision sensors, the mech felt the rumbling tremors below. As the little cat said, the planet was exerting all its power to control its core, preventing gravitational disruption that would tear it apart and harm the little cat.

Silver Wing looked up, gazing toward the invisible Delphi.

Mother, I cannot come. Like them, I will stay by his side until death claims us all.

Li Ao closed his eyes, pressing his paws gently to the sand. The moment his pads touched the earth, golden energy spread like a dense web.

“Bang—bang—bang—” Like injected with energy, the planet rapidly expanded.

A massive shockwave erupted, invisible energy inching toward the heavens.

“Ai… ai’ang’ang.” The little cat strained to open his golden eyes. “We… together… ganbatte.”

His white wings flapped clumsily. Though he couldn’t fly yet, still chubby, that nascent power was enough to chill the world.

He was the only soul the Laws permitted rebirth, bearing power beyond reason. That unknown source was so potent, even the Laws felt contradictorily threatened.

“I still… have to go home. Grandma… is still waiting for me.” His voice was almost swallowed by the trembling, every word carrying immense determination and reluctance. All his persistence and beliefs were condensed in this moment. Every nerve, every drop of blood, every inch of muscle trembled violently.

Then, atop that round and plump back, the short wings suddenly flared up. Huge, brilliant light wings extended outward as a surge of energy—impossible to describe in words—burst forth from within him.

They broke through the atmosphere, charging straight toward the oncoming meteor. The instant they collided, flames surged outward like a flood, igniting the sky completely.

The dizziness from accelerating through the wormhole still lingered in the brown-haired strategist’s body. He gazed out the porthole at the scorching blaze—like a star exploding—and wondered if he’d passed out from vomiting. “What the hell is this… What did this meteor hit?”

Isiris’s golden pupils reflected the firelight. “Initiate capture program, activate energy shield, prepare to destroy the meteor.”

[Loading energy…]

[Target captured, analyzing required energy…]

[Analysis complete, opening energy shield…]

[Mandjet has reached safe position, power cannon loaded, 3, 2, 1—]

[Target destroyed.]