"The Thousand-Legged Gu strikes faster than lightning and poisons like a raging storm. If the wound isn't severed immediately, the venom spreads through the body. You've got fifteen minutes to live," the black-robed man cackled. With a dramatic flourish, he waved his hand, and the Gu worm that had bitten me dropped from my arm and began crawling back toward him—intelligent and obedient, like a well-trained pet.
"Gao Bro!"
Ergou rushed over in panic. But when he rolled up my sleeve, the dark veins had already faded, the color gradually returning to normal. A single drop of black blood oozed from the plum-blossom-shaped scar on my wrist.
I blinked in confusion, then patted Ergou's shoulder. "Relax. That bug bite didn't hurt at all. If anything, I feel more refreshed than ever."
Turning to look at the black-robed man again, I suddenly felt like he wasn't some venomous Miao shaman anymore—more like a kindhearted herbalist devoted to saving lives.
"Keep acting tough," the man sneered, clearly irritated by the fact that I was still standing, even comforting others. "Once the poison kicks in, we'll see if you're still smiling."
He waved again and pulled out another red-and-black clay jar from under his robe.
"A Miao shaman can raise no more than nine Gu in a lifetime. The first one—raised from birth with their own blood—is the Life Gu. Consider it an honor to die by its fangs."
As soon as the jar appeared, his aura darkened. A sinister force coiled around him, chilling the air.
This was no ordinary insect, I could tell just by the shift in atmosphere. I held back, watching carefully.
Dozens of eyes followed his every move as he began chanting. The clay jar pulsed with a deeper red light. Then, the lid popped off, and a massive moth shot into the sky.
Not just any moth—palm-sized, six-winged, with a grotesque human face on its back.
"Behold—my Life Gu: the Face-Moth!"
I don't know if it was just me, but the moment that thing appeared, the already dim alley turned even more eerie. The neon lights outside distorted, and pale, cotton-like spores began drifting through the air.
"Hold your breath! The air's toxic!" I shouted, covering my mouth and nose—but it was already too late. Something fuzzy went up my nose, and my throat started to itch.
Looking around, I saw Ergou and even Shi Youfu in the back collapsing to their knees, gasping for air, clutching at their throats. Their faces were pale and swollen like foie gras.
"The Face-Moth—one of the Five Calamities of Yin. Its wing-dust is highly toxic. Without my antidote, you'll all be dead within the hour."
The man let out a satisfied laugh. One by one, people dropped to the ground, writhing in pain—everyone except me.
"Ergou!"
He was clawing at the dirt, struggling to breathe. But me? I just had a tickle in my throat. That was it.
"Wait... Why am I fine?"
Could I be immune to all poison? Or had I eaten too much gutter oil over the years and accidentally gained resistance to Miao Gu?
Didn't matter. I picked up my brick and started walking toward the black-robed man.
Screw whatever other tricks he had—best to knock him out first and ask questions later.
"You can still move?" he muttered, hands behind his back, eyes gleaming with a rare hint of admiration.
"Very well. If you can walk five steps, I might grant you a painless death."
Then he actually began to count my steps.
"You're carrying multiple Gu in your body. Moving only spreads them faster. The blood flows, and the poison and eggs will root deeper into every limb. The faster you walk, the worse your suffering when you fall."
"That's five."
He shook his head and closed his eyes.
"Soon, your heart will be eaten from within. Blood will pour from your eyes and ears. I can already picture your miserable death."
His words gave me the creeps. But nothing was happening. Not even a tickle in my throat anymore. In fact—I felt great. If this wasn't a fight, I could probably bust out singing right now.
"This doesn't add up. Ergou and the others are clearly suffering—why aren't the Gu doing anything to me?"
I stared at the plum blossom scar on my wrist. "Could it be... the Netherworld Live Show's Plum Blossom Gu?"
Just based on appearance, that Gu was far more powerful—like a dragon, with horns on its head. Maybe it was so dominant that my body couldn't host any other Gu.
Deep in thought, I'd already walked ten steps. Now I was barely two meters away from the shaman.
He heard my footsteps. His eyes snapped open.
"What?! Why aren't you dead?!"
His shrill, shocked voice made him sound more like a flustered villager than some mysterious master.
"Honestly, bro, I'm wondering the same thing. After all the Gu you threw at me, my back doesn't hurt, my legs feel great, and I've still got the strength to swing a brick like a boss."
"You're not normal! You must be a Gu master too!"
He stumbled back a step, shocked.
"Fine! According to Gu master tradition—I challenge you to a Gu duel!"
He waved his sleeves, dropping three clay jars from his robe. They hit the ground in a triangle.
"Reveal your Gu!"
"Huh?"
Honestly, if Ergou and the others weren't nearly dying behind me, I'd have thought this guy was just a cosplayer with a serious case of chuunibyou.
"Gu, composed of 'insect' and 'vessel'—they form when yin energy turns to insect and falls into the vessel!"
He chanted and gestured dramatically. I kept walking.
"Bro, maybe trim the ritual down next time? I'm already right in front of you and you're still mid-spell. Bit awkward, no?"
For once, the black-robed man dropped the aloof act. His face twisted. He raised his finger, about to feed blood into one of the jars—
Wham!
The brick cracked against his skull. Blood streamed down his face as he collapsed, still mumbling incantations. His skinny, trembling hand reached out for the jars again.
"You and your stubborn little rituals, man."
I pinned him to the ground and pulled back his hood—just a small, greasy middle-aged man. Kind of pathetic, really.
"Impossible! You've got Gu poison in your veins—how are you fine? That's not possible!"
"Quit bluffing. Heal my bros or I'll really show you what pain feels like."
I twirled the brick again. The fact that I'd taken down a Miao shaman—someone who could drop ten people with a gesture—still felt surreal.
"You're doomed! Poison in your marrow, death within minutes! Miao Gu art reigns supreme—your fate is sealed!"
He screamed hysterically. I ignored him and smashed the brick against his forehead twice more.
"Miao Gu this, supreme that. Heal them now, or I'll light a match and roast your creepy little bugs."
The results were immediate. With a few more bricks to the dome, he caved and began detoxifying each person obediently.
"Gao Bro, you're insane. I really thought I was gonna die just now."
The guy wasn't bluffing—his skills were legit. But he'd clearly never met someone like me, cursed with the Plum Blossom Gu.
After everyone was detoxed, the remaining Century Garden security guys crouched in the corner, silent and terrified.
Even their boss Shi Youfu had changed completely—his earlier aggression vanished, replaced by a groveling grin.
"Bro! Big misunderstanding, I swear! Just a big ol' misunderstanding!"
He handed all the cash in his pockets to Ergou. When I pulled out a cigarette, he rushed over to light it. That ass-kissing smile reminded me of that infamous flunky from history—Heshen.
"Bro, the whole shop-smashing thing, I was just following orders, okay? I'm just the errand guy. Got no power, no say. If there's any damages, just tell me. I'll cover them right now, no questions asked."
Shi Youfu, who was pushing fifty, suddenly sounded like a desperate lackey, calling me "big bro" with every sentence. After he coughed up most of his savings, neither Ergou nor I felt the need to press him further.
We told them to get lost. Then the rest of us surrounded the shaman, who now looked utterly miserable—his robe torn to shreds.
"You guys can leave," I told the guards. "But not you."
We stripped the black-robed man down to just his underwear.
"Holy shit," one of our guys gawked. "How the hell did he hide this much crap?"
From his person, we pulled out over a dozen cloth pouches and seven clay jars of various sizes.
The mighty Miao shaman from minutes ago was now squatting in the corner, clutching a newspaper to cover his chest—like a schoolgirl who'd just been bullied in the locker room.
"Do whatever you want. I'm at your mercy."
"Come on, bro, don't give me that dead-inside look. We're not gonna torture you—we just got some questions to ask."
We tossed Mr. Gu into the van and drove back toward Tingtang Road.