Chapter 117: Catching the Adulterer (Part 2)

The white cat that came later, whom Zorro called "Miss Arctic," was likely the same breed as the Puss in Boots. Yet, it was immediately apparent she was female. Compared to Zorro, she possessed a more delicate frame, longer limbs, and eyes imbued with a softer allure. Every contour of her body was gentler and more graceful than Zorro’s, instantly inspiring affection in anyone who looked upon her. Though she too walked upright on her hind legs, this Arctic cat wore no shoes—only a simple pair of tight shorts that accentuated her breathtakingly slender thighs. Her short-sleeved camisole barely reached her waist, revealing an exquisitely slim waist that stirred the imagination.

She could be deemed an extraordinarily beautiful and elegant young female cat, yet at this moment, she was weeping inconsolably, her heart shattered, utterly destroying the grace she naturally exuded. Between sobs, she choked out accusations: “Bastard! Bastard! I really believed in you! When you courted me, you pulled out all the stops, promising to love only me—just to barely get me to agree. And what happened? That passion didn’t even last six months! You grew cold toward me, and when I asked if you had another cat on the side, you refused to admit it. And now that I’ve caught you red-handed, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Zorro removed his hat, awkward and at a loss for words. His little paws twitched nervously as he prepared to explain, but unexpectedly, the female cat’s sobs only intensified.

“Mating! Mating! Mating! All you ever think about is mating! Do you think your barbed little ‘whatever’ makes me feel good? The pain it causes me—don’t you know? But have I ever refused you? Have I ever not indulged you fully? I know you always thought my fur color was ugly and that I was too slim. You prefer those orange-and-white chubby cats, don’t you? Because their big, plump behinds feel better to touch, right? But do you know I was pregnant? Over three months ago, I gave birth to two kittens, waiting for you—this faithless cat—to come home and care for us! Look at our neighbor, the Scorpion Lion—her mate is so responsible! He leaves early and returns late every day, hunting for food for his wife and kids, and spends the rest of the time guarding them at home. And you! You don’t even know you have babies and are out cheating!”

Her anger grew with every word. Tears still streamed down her face, but now they mixed with fierce rage. Her dainty paws extended sharp claws, pointing them threateningly at Catherine as she shouted:

“You only like those orange cats, don’t you? You just want their fat behinds! Fine, watch me kill this cheating cat, rip open her belly, tear her body to shreds—only preserving those two plump behind halves, freezing them so you can take them back to your den, touch them every day, do whatever you want! If you don’t come five times a day, it’s not over!”

No sooner had she spoken than the female cat lunged at Catherine like a mad tiger. Her pure white fur began to shimmer with flecks of blue light, resembling crystals embedded in Arctic ice, reflecting splendid colors and radiating terrifying icy energy. Wherever she passed, a thin layer of frost covered everything, and a mere touch shattered frozen flowers and grass into shards of ice. Her strength was formidable, and now, fueled by the wrath of a betrayed wife, facing Catherine, her power was overwhelming.

Puss in Boots gasped in shock, then panicked, leaping frantically toward the Arctic cat, shouting hoarsely: “Stop, Arctic! Honey! She’s human, not a cat! You can’t kill her!”

“Hm?”

The Arctic cat, who had just gathered a massive ice blade aimed at Catherine, suddenly froze. Her movements halted completely. Now within two meters of Catherine, the magic of “cognitive distortion” no longer affected her. She saw clearly before her not a fiery orange cat, but a genuine human being. Her mouth opened wide; the sadness, hatred, and fury vanished, replaced by an embarrassment so intense it made her dizzy.

So embarrassing—too embarrassing. She had rushed over without looking carefully, seeing her mate fawning over an orange cat, only to discover it was a human. What a colossal blunder! What to do now? She had wrongly accused her mate of infidelity, scolded him for ages, even kicked him—would he be angry? Would he ignore her from now on? A crisis! If she caused trouble like this, would he divorce her? After divorce, who would raise the kids? And how would the family estate be divided?

Yet, faced with this sudden predicament, the Arctic cat’s panic lasted only a fraction of a second before she composed herself. Though her mind buzzed with chaotic thoughts, every woman—or rather, every female cat—is a master of acting. Her large, expressive eyes darted around, and suddenly, she found a plan. Her gaze widened dramatically, her face adopting a look of disbelief and panic. She took several steps back, speaking with genuine shock:

“Zorro! You actually like the pooper scooper! You’re lavishing affection on a lowly, hairless, utterly disgusting human! And you want to mate with her! Ugh—disgusting! It’s worse than that time you went out to cheat with that leopard! You have no taste at all! A cat as tasteless as you doesn’t deserve to be my husband. I’m ashamed of you. Don’t ever say you’re my husband in public again. I’ll tell the kids their father died heroically in the battle against Simba, sacrificing himself to hunt food for the three of us…”

As she spoke, she turned to leave. Zorro, furious, quickly caught up and grabbed her tail, trembling with anger as he shouted:

“You can slander my character, but don’t you dare question the taste of handsome Zorro! That hairless freak, those ears on the sides of her face—just looking at her sickens me! If that damn dog hadn’t cast ‘cognitive distortion’ on me, making me see her as a fiery orange cat, would I even think about mating? That disgusting, greasy creature? I—phooey—!”

The Arctic cat’s body visibly trembled as Zorro seized a sensitive spot on her tail. A flash of sly delight crossed her eyes. She turned, grabbing his ear with her paw:

“Alright, husband, so you finally admit you want an orange cat! If she weren’t human this time, would you really be ready to raise the flag and march into battle? Hmph! Emotional infidelity counts as cheating too. Come home with me—I’ll show you what happens!”

Amid Zorro’s pained cries begging for mercy, the Arctic cat strode off. After a few steps, she suddenly bumped into an invisible “wall.” Cautiously looking up, she met Ling Mo’s half-smiling, half-smirking face. He said:

“Well? The married couple’s drama’s over? Just planning to slip away like this? Don’t you two have anything to explain to me?”