The Azure Cloud Sect, once a humble mountain sect known for its quiet herbal gardens and mediocre swordsmanship, had recently acquired a terrifying new guardian.
It slept on windowsills. It chewed on spirit herbs.
It annihilated intruders with yawns.
Its name? Whiskers.
To the humans, Little Snow.
To the spirit beasts of the realm? The Sleeper Who Judges.
To himself?
"I'm just trying to nap, man."
Whiskers was having a great morning.
A warm breeze tickled his fur. The sunlight hit just right. And someone—probably that skittish disciple who always stuttered around him—had left a full basket of grilled rainbow fish beside the koi pond.
Each one wrapped in lotus leaves. Lightly salted. Still warm.
Whiskers purred.
"Finally," he muttered, licking a paw and dragging it over his ear. "This sect is learning priorities."
He nestled against a flat sun-baked rock and took a delicate bite. The flavor hit him like a memory from a past life—rich, smoky, touched by qi, slightly lemony.
"Perfect," he declared, tail swishing lazily. "Do not disturb."
Of course, that's when the dueling began.
Across the garden, a pair of disciples faced off in the Airblade Courtyard, swords drawn and qi flaring. Their robes fluttered in the wind, and the very air around them shimmered with pressure.
"Senior Brother Feng!" one shouted, stance steady. "I challenge you for the right to court Junior Sister Mei!"
"Then prove your sword is worth her time, Jin!" came the response.
Whiskers, mid-munch, paused.
"…Are they really fighting over a girl right now?" he muttered.
The two launched into the air, spiritual swords clashing mid-sky with a CRACK that echoed across the courtyard.
Whiskers flinched. A fish flopped out of his paw.
"…That's it."
The battle escalated.
Senior Brother Feng summoned a storm of flying blades. Junior Jin unleashed his Crane-Soaring Palm, which looked impressive but missed completely and set a tree on fire.
The air buzzed with sword qi. Pebbles lifted off the ground. A rare spirit flower wilted under the pressure.
Worst of all? The wind knocked over Whiskers' basket of fish.
The last fish—his favorite, marinated sun trout—rolled into the pond.
There was silence.
A single, guttural sound followed.
Mrrrrrrowwwww.
The disciples froze mid-air.
"What was that?" Jin whispered.
"Sounded like…" Feng paled. "Oh no."
Whiskers stood.
Eyes glowing faint gold.
Tail twitching with righteous irritation.
"YOU."
Jin and Feng bowed mid-air so fast they nearly broke their spines.
"G-Great Snowy One!" Jin cried.
"We didn't see you there!" Feng added. "W-We meant no offense!"
"You knocked over my fish," Whiskers said flatly. "I was mid-bite."
"We'll… we'll catch more!"
Whiskers narrowed his eyes. "You've offended the law of napping and mealtime."
Golden qi surged from his paws, spiraling around him in rings of pressure.
The sky darkened.
Birds fled.
A turtle playing a flute fainted.
And then… he meowed.
Loud. Echoing. Filled with ancient, divine irritation.
MEEEOOOOOW.
The wave of sound hit the courtyard like thunder.
Both swords snapped in half. Their spiritual cores shattered. Jin and Feng were thrown backwards—gently, yet decisively—into a wall of flowering bushes.
Petals rained down.
The koi pond bubbled with qi.
And the sun trout floated back to the surface, glimmering.
Whiskers walked over and calmly retrieved it.
He took a bite.
"...Acceptable."
Later, the Sect Master received the full report.
"So… you're telling me the cat interrupted a flying sword duel, shattered two weapons, and restored a dead fish to life... by meowing?"
"Yes, Sect Master," said Elder Mei, voice flat. "He also broke a bamboo fence with his tail and healed a tree with his sneeze."
Sect Master Wu pressed a palm to his forehead.
"We're doomed."
Meanwhile, in a cave not far from the Azure Cloud Sect, spirit beasts gathered.
Foxes. Deer with glowing antlers. Giant lizards with runes etched on their scales. Even a lazy snake coiled on a throne of moss.
At the center was a small scrying pool—within it, the vision of a white kitten devouring a spirit trout with glowing golden eyes.
"...That's him," whispered a phoenix chick.
"The Cat Monarch," breathed the fox. "He rises."
"We must offer tribute," hissed the snake.
Back in the garden, Whiskers curled up again, belly full, paws tucked beneath him.
Peace had returned.
Sunbeam acquired.
Fish reclaimed.
Disciples silenced.
As he drifted into sleep, a faint rumble echoed in the mountains to the west.
But that was a future problem.
For now, he dreamed of tuna skies and belly rubs.