The Paralyzed Paladin and the Black Cat

I am Murphy, a noble black cat.

My human servant used to be the Chief Paladin of the Holy Church, and every meal he served me was top-tier salmon.

Now, his spine is shattered. He’s paralyzed in bed, charged with the crime of "colluding with the demons."

The Saintess, Elena, strutted in on her high heels to force him into signing a confession, cursing him as a "dead cripple who can't even manage his own piss and shit." His former deputy wants to step over his body to seize power, and has even ordered him to be burned alive.

Well, just so I can secure my future meal tickets, yours truly will just have to step in and clear his name, meow~

Chapter 1

"Achoo—"

The cold, musty stench of this dump is an absolute blasphemy to my noble feline nose.

The name's Murphy.

As you can see, I am currently a black cat with a sleek coat, an agile build, and a (self-proclaimed) supremely noble bloodline.

But right now, I can only resort to curling up shamelessly like a boneless caterpillar into a black disk, resting on the chest of a man named Arthur.

Don't get the wrong idea. I have no transcendent, cross-species master-pet bond with him.

It’s purely because, in this drafty, run-down wooden cabin, this bastard’s chest is the only thing left that still gives off a bit of warmth.

Arthur. Full name: Arthur Pendragon.

A month ago, he was the radiant "First Paladin" of the Holy Church. Everywhere he went, little nuns in white robes would scream in adoration, and the daily tribute he offered me consisted of premium salmon freshly caught from the polar ice seas.

But now? Not only has a bucket of dirty water named "colluding with the Abyssal Demons" been dumped on his head, but the tendons in both his hands are slashed.

Even worse, on the Abyssal battlefield, his lumbar spine was forcibly snapped by higher demons, leaving his lower body completely paralyzed. He's now a half-dead cripple, just lying on a bed waiting for death.

"Hah... cough, cough..."

Just listen to that weak wheezing. It’s annoying the hell out of this cat.

I flicked my tail in irritation, snapping it right across his pale but still devastatingly handsome face.

Arthur couldn't even dodge. He just managed to twitch the corners of his mouth, squeezing out a faint voice from his dry throat: "Sorry, Murphy... making you starve with me."

Hmph, at least you have some self-awareness, kid.

If it weren’t for the fact that your fur-brushing technique was second to none, yours truly would have packed up my cat bed and run away over night.

Just as Arthur tried to touch my ear with the one right finger that could still slightly move, the dilapidated wooden door let out a teeth-grinding "creak" and was pushed open.

It was a woman.

Sporting fake-looking blonde hair and wearing the Holy Church's overly complex, flashy Saintess robe. The heavy stench of her perfume drilled straight into my nose with the cold wind, making my stomach churn in disgust.

Oh, Elena.

The hypocritical woman who used to orbit Arthur day and night, calling him "Brother Arthur" this and "Brother Arthur" that, but behind his back, wouldn't even spare me a single glance.

Thump! Out of pure revulsion for the perfume, almost purely on instinct, my hind legs kicked off Arthur’s chin. Using the momentum, I executed a flawless mid-air spin and zipped straight under the dusty bed.

"Brother Arthur, are you feeling any better today?" Elena’s high heels clicked against the rotting floorboards.

Pinching her throat, she made her voice disgustingly sweet, like honey laced with poison, as she approached the bed with fake sympathy.

Bored out of my mind under the bed, I yawned and tried to use my paw to shake the dust off my whiskers in disgust. Instead, I accidentally bumped into a discarded "Recording Crystal."

This thing was perfectly round; it made a great ball to roll around.

I stuck out my right paw and playfully batted at it out of habit.

Click.

The slight touch caused a faint, eerie blue light to flash inside the broken crystal.

Then, a very pale halo surfaced on it.

I tilted my head. This ball lights up?

So, with peace of mind, I dragged it between my front paws. While playing with my new ball, I perked up my ears to listen to the commotion above.

Up above, Elena pulled a parchment scroll from her wide sleeves like a magic trick and gently placed it by Arthur's pillow.

"Brother Arthur, don't be stubborn. If you just sign this confession admitting that it was your command error that led to the defeat, Archbishop Cyril will mercifully plead with the Pope to spare your life." She sighed, putting on an impressively heartbroken act.

Dead silence.

A few seconds later, Arthur's hoarse but bone-chillingly cold voice rang out from the bed.

"Stop acting, Elena. There’s no one else here. Drop that disgusting facade."

"Sign the confession and admit my 'command error'? I think you guys just want me to completely solidify the charge of 'colluding with the demons.'"

Arthur's voice wasn't loud, but every word felt like a knife. "The ones who truly colluded with the Abyssal Demons, leaked my marching route, got my spine broken by a Demon General, and caused the total annihilation of our army... wasn't that you and that hypocrite Cyril?!"

The room went completely silent.

"...Heh."

Elena's disgustingly sweet voice vanished in an instant.

She sneered, the holy maiden mask she had been wearing ruthlessly ripped away, her tone turning acidic and vicious: "You're finally smart for once. Too bad, being smart at a time like this will only make you die a more miserable death."

"You think refusing to sign will do anything? Do you really believe the Church will keep you around?"

While expressing her extreme displeasure, she irritably pulled an exquisite crystal ink bottle from her storage ring and slammed it down with a "bang" on Arthur's rickety, broken bedside table.

To make matters infinitely worse, the spot where she placed it was right on the very edge of the nightstand.

At that exact moment, underneath the bed, my pupils dilated massively, and every muscle in my body instantly tensed!

It was a bottle. A bottle on the edge!

Half of the bottle's base was even hanging off the cabinet.

For a cat, what did this image represent?

It represented the call of the laws of the universe! It represented an indelible faith etched deep within my DNA! It represented an irresistible physics experiment!

I absolutely had to knock it to the floor!

"I'm warning you, just be a good little scapegoat!" Elena snarled off her mind, pointing at Arthur's immobilized lower body. "A dead cripple who can barely manage his own shit and piss, do you think you still have a chance to turn the tabl—"

She actually dared to insult my long-term meal ticket?!

New hatreds and old grudges, combined with that damn, irresistibly tempting edge-of-the-table ink bottle placement, completely shattered my rational defenses.

Swoosh—

A bolt of pure black lightning shot out from under the bed.

With a nimbleness that utterly defied the laws of physics, I leapt silently onto that ragged bedside table.

Elena jumped back in shock at the sudden appearance of the black cat.

There I sat, squatting obediently on the cabinet, my gold-green feline eyes locking dead onto that crystal ink bottle.

"Where did this wild beast come from..." Elena scowled in disgust, reaching out to shoo me away.

But I was faster.

I elegantly raised my right front paw, paused for zero-point-one seconds in mid-air, and then without a shred of hesitation, smacked the side of the ink bottle with savage precision.

"No—!"

Crash.

The crisp sound of shattering glass was simply the most beautiful symphony in the world.

The expensive magical gold ink cascaded down like a waterfall, not only accurately destroying that confession letter but perfectly splashing all over Elena's spotless white robes.

The air froze for a solid three seconds. I slowly and methodically licked my paw pad.

Great tactile feedback.

"Ahhhh! I'm going to kill you, you little beast!!"

Elena completely lost her mind, lunging at me with bared fangs and claws.

Want to catch this kitty? Naive!

At the exact moment her hands were about to wrap around my neck, my hind legs kicked hard off the cabinet. Like a cannonball, I crashed directly into her chest.

I hugged her arm tightly, engaged my core, and unleashed the ultimate anti-air secret technique of the feline family: The Bunny Buster Kicks!

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

My powerful hind legs frantically rabbit-kicked her chin and neck.

With a few rips and tears, I shredded her expensive robes into premium corrugated cardboard.

Then, I ruthlessly dragged three bloody scratch marks across her pride-and-joy cheeks. Using the momentum, I traced an elegant parabola through the air and landed solidly on the highest crossbeam of the roof.

"Ah! My face!" Elena covered her bleeding face, her hair undone and looking like a bird's nest.

She glared deadly at me as I groomed myself on the rafters, looking down on her. Then she whipped her head toward Arthur, who was staring dumbfounded from the bed, and descended into total hysteria.

"So what if you uncovered the truth?!" She pointed at Arthur, screaming like a lunatic. "That's right! Cyril and I gave your troop deployments to the demons! We wanted your army to collapse! You should have died a long time ago, Arthur!"

"The higher-ups in the Church have known for a long time, but they needed a scapegoat! They decided to abandon you ages ago!" Elena wiped the blood from her face, flashing a viper-like sneer as she intentionally twisted the knife to deliver maximum despair. "Did you really think there would be a trial? No, there’s no need for one."

She backed toward the door step by step, her eyes filled with both pity and cruelty.

"I only came here today to see the ugly sight of you begging in despair. Since you don't know what's good for you, then take your secrets to the grave."

"To prevent you from spouting nonsense, tonight, this unguarded shack will 'accidentally' catch fire and burn to ashes." She stared at Arthur's senseless legs, her smile incomparably malicious. "Just drag that lower half of yours that can't even roll over, lie on this rotting wooden bed, smell your own flesh roasting, and wait to die in despair! Goodbye, my former Chief Paladin."

Bang!

She slammed the rickety wooden door shut, leaving only the echoes of her vicious curses bouncing around the room.

The next second.

"Hah... haha... cough, cough... hahahaha!"

Inside this freezing, ruined cabin, facing the hopeless predicament of being burned alive, Arthur suddenly let out a violent, almost convulsive fit of laughter.

The laughter was filled with extreme irony and the absurdity of this hypocritical world.

He was indeed a paralyzed lamb waiting for the slaughter.

But that high-and-mighty Saintess had actually been pushed to total a breakdown by a cat with an itchy paw, spilling her entire assassination and silencing plot to his face like a screaming banshee in the street.

I stopped licking my fur on the rafter, leaped nimbly back to the ground, casually stepped over a puddle of golden ink, and strolled back under the bed.

What is this idiot Arthur laughing about now? Does he not know he's about to be turned into a barbecue?

Although I do enjoy the smell of barbecue, roasting my own human servant is clearly not in this cat's best interests.

Back under the bed, that beat-up Recording Crystal was still dutifully giving off its faint blue glow.

This thing was too shiny, severely interfering with my attempt to take a nap.

I let out a massive yawn, casually reached out a paw, and gave the core of the crystal a solid whack.

Click.

The light instantly went out.

To a cat, I had merely swatted away an annoyingly bright light source.

But in the magical laws of the human world, this meant—

How Elena had just admitted to colluding with the demons to frame the Chief Paladin, and how she had smugly confessed to arson and plotting to burn a paralyzed patient to death tonight... that entire super-high-definition, unedited original confession had just been perfectly and unalterably sealed within this crystal.