Things were not looking good.
In fact, things were looking very bad indeed.
Liu Yang Yang had warned him before that his precious centipede was venomous enough to injure an ordinary person on contact. Even Liu Yang Yang himself had to keep it tightly sealed inside a specially made gourd bottle whenever he carried it, lest it accidentally hurt him.
Qin Shu checked his phone. It was 9:10 p.m. Judging by the time, the passenger ship Liu Yang Yang had boarded could only recently have arrived at Haicheng Port.
So how had this golden centipede somehow teleported from Haicheng all the way to Qin Shu’s house? Or had something already happened before the ship had sailed very far from Jiangcheng?
Qin Shu backed away several steps, enticing the little centipede to crawl slowly after him, and hurried off the cold, damp lawn.
Once he reached the front veranda, he switched on the powerful light above the door and narrowed his eyes at the centipede lying on the doormat. Then he immediately called Liu Yang Yang.
“Beep… Hello. The number you have dialed is outside the service area. Please try again later…”
Qin Shu ended the call, frowning deeply. “Outside the service area?”
That sounded even worse than “the phone you have dialed is switched off.” Liu Yang Yang had probably encountered serious trouble, and there was a good chance it had happened at sea.
That made the situation especially difficult. Even if Qin Shu rushed to Haicheng immediately, finding any clues in the vast ocean would be next to impossible.
“Little bug, can you talk? What happened to your Brother Liu?” Qin Shu asked without much hope as he called Daoist Xu.
Daoist Xu had not yet gone to sleep. He had been extremely busy lately, working with the police to track down Blind Granny’s victims, accomplices, and everyone else who had known about or participated in the case. Even Xing Yong had been urgently dispatched on one trip after another.
With the end of the year approaching, the authorities were paying particular attention to a serious case involving multiple deaths and injuries and wanted a complete resolution as quickly as possible. The existence of supernatural forces was probably no longer a secret known only to a tiny circle, but neither could it be openly revealed to the public. That made the investigation even harder.
The little centipede naturally could not speak. It merely climbed silently onto Qin Shu’s trouser leg and continued its slow journey upward. Suppressing the discomfort crawling over his skin, Qin Shu let it move as it pleased and focused on the call.
“Yes, I can’t reach Liu Yang Yang. I suspect his phone fell into the sea, but his Gu somehow came looking for me on its own. Can you divine whether he’s alive or dead? Failing that, do you know any methods for communicating with Gu creatures?”
“When the boat reaches the bridge, the way forward will reveal itself. There is no need to worry. If he is dead, he cannot be alive. If he failed to die, then naturally he is still living. There are only those two possibilities. Master Qin should meddle less in other people’s affairs and avoid interfering with another person’s karmic fate.”
Qin Shu said nothing.
“Daoist Xu, I am ordinarily a very good-tempered person. That is beginning to change.”
The little centipede had already climbed onto the collar of his coat. Qin Shu smiled through gritted teeth and lowered his voice. “Unless you explain yourself more clearly, I’ll pack my things and move straight into your temple. I’ll bring Pei Zhao along and make it a family visit. We’ll eat your food, use your belongings, harass your worshippers, invite the priest from St. Maria Cathedral over to preach, and scrape the gold leaf off the statues of the Three Pure Ones—”
“You mustn’t! Absolutely not! Master Qin, please calm yourself. We can discuss this properly. Anger damages the liver!” Xu Zi Ru nearly pulled out his beard on the other end of the phone, and genuine panic entered his voice for once. “The secrets of Heaven must not be revealed. But as for that Gu… it is a golden celestial dragon with severed legs, correct?”
“Celestial dragon” was an old name for the centipede, first recorded in the Compendium of Materia Medica. Because its long, winding, many-legged body resembled the red dragons of ancient legend, the name gradually spread among the common people. Qin Shu needed a moment to realize what Daoist Xu meant before answering, “Yes. Daoist Xu truly possesses divine foresight. I may reconsider scraping the gold leaf off the ancestral statues.”
The child had manners, but only barely. Xu Zi Ru hurried on, his voice trembling. “This creature was destined to belong to you, Master Qin. Since it came to find you of its own accord, your connection has already been established, so I can afford to say a little more. It possesses the body of a demigod and was born from the union of a Fallen-Flower Cave Maiden of Yun City and a Cave God. Such beings are exceptionally rare. Heaven and Earth reject them from the moment of birth, so they are destined to suffer a calamity in which their limbs are damaged or lost. That is how the name ‘severed-legged celestial dragon’ came about.
Elio’s Notes: The Fallen-Flower Cave Maiden (落花洞女) belongs to Xiangxi folk tradition: an unmarried woman believed to have been chosen as a bride by a Cave God. The tale is often grouped in popular folklore with Xiangxi corpse-herding and Gu traditions.
“In the hands of an ordinary person, such a Gu can overturn the balance of the world within a very short time. It can preserve life, kill enemies, and allow its master to dominate all rivals. There is almost nothing it cannot accomplish. But anyone whose fate pattern is not strong enough to bear the fortune of a demigod will inevitably suffer an equally terrible and unpredictable calamity. The more often the Gu is used, the harsher the consequences become. There is no escaping them. At best, its master will be crippled. At worst, he will die.”
“…You mean Liu Yang Yang is going through a calamity that was destined for him? And it can’t be avoided?” Qin Shu lowered his head in shock and stared at the tiny centipede perched on his collar. “Besides, what would I even do with it? Is my fate pattern really strong enough to carry something like this? I can’t just take someone else’s treasure because he happens to be fighting for his life. That would be wrong.”
“A predestined calamity can only be overcome by the one destined to endure it. If Master Liu survives this great trial through his own strength, then it will become an extraordinary opportunity—one other people could beg for and never receive. He controlled the body of a demigod and refined it into a Gu for his own use, so naturally retribution followed. But if, even after that, he can still fight his way toward survival… well, Heaven always leaves a way out. The rewards awaiting him afterward will hardly be insignificant.”
Daoist Xu explained this at an unhurried pace, his voice carrying unconcealed admiration and envy.
He also had an answer to Qin Shu’s final question. “Master Qin, I would never dare speak carelessly about your fate pattern. It is enough that you and I understand. Suppose you accept this celestial dragon but continue feeling guilty and therefore frequently support and compensate its former master. Would that not also become one of Master Liu’s future opportunities? He is part of your good fortune, and you may become part of his. What is destined to be yours will ultimately come to you. You cannot see through it now only because you are standing within the mountain itself.”
“It isn’t only because I’m inside the mountain. It’s also because you particularly enjoy talking in riddles and leaving everyone else too dizzy to understand the details,” Qin Shu added flatly.
“Haha, I wouldn’t dare. This humble Daoist is simply timid and very fond of staying alive.”
“Since that’s the case… perhaps you could teach me how to use this little centipede’s abilities? I couldn’t understand any of the incantations Liu Yang Yang used. He also chewed up one of its severed legs and breathed fire with it before. Can I do that too?”
“What a criminal waste! A demigod’s intelligence is nothing like that of an ordinary spirit creature. How could anyone treat it so crudely—ah, forget it. Forget it. This humble Daoist should never have let those words escape. Master Qin, search online for methods of getting a spirit beast to recognize a master. Pick whichever method looks suitable and follow the instructions. It should work.”
Qin Shu fell silent once more.
Was it really that casual?
He seriously suspected that Daoist Xu was doing everything in his power to avoid becoming Qin Shu’s “master,” whether officially or in practice. The old Daoist refused to accept so much as the faintest connection to that title.
He would rather tell Qin Shu to search the internet than personally teach him what to do. Was becoming Qin Shu’s master truly so terrifying? Would it bring disastrous luck or cost him his life? Did Daoist Xu really have to avoid it with the caution of someone fleeing a flood or a savage beast?
Fine. If the old man did not want to teach him, then so be it. Qin Shu could hardly force the mysterious Daoist and ruin his peaceful retirement.
He sighed, said goodbye to Daoist Xu, and immediately began searching.
How do spirit beasts recognize their masters in cultivation novels?
Summon one through a ritual and form a special master-servant contract; nurture affection until its level of intimacy becomes high enough for the spirit beast to follow voluntarily; or establish a bond by blood…
Qin Shu chose the final method without hesitation.
He had no idea how to perform either of the first two, and there was no time to cultivate affection. That left only the third option.
“I heard you’re very intelligent. Once we form a blood bond, will we be able to understand each other’s thoughts?” Qin Shu stroked the little centipede’s cold back and segmented body. When he showed no sign of poisoning, he grew bolder and picked it up between two fingers. “Come on. Bite me… Hiss!”
It bit him the instant he asked. The centipede’s fierce mouthparts were so sharp that they nearly tore away a piece of flesh. A bead of blood the size of a soybean formed on Qin Shu’s fingertip and fell. A little entered the centipede’s mouth, while the rest splashed across its head and ran along its long, winding body.
The transformation came immediately. Blinding golden light erupted from the centipede’s body, forcing Qin Shu to squint. His eyes burned and stung, and several reflexive tears rolled down his cheeks.
When his vision cleared, the centipede had changed beyond recognition. Its entire body was now a brilliant blood-red, yet golden light shimmered across it beneath the lamp, making it appear mysterious and majestic. It had also grown several times larger, reaching nearly twenty centimeters in length—about as wide as Qin Shu’s two fists placed together.
A crimson dragon… No wonder ancient people had called centipedes dragons. At that moment, Qin Shu finally appreciated how remarkably vivid the name was.
He opened the door, casually tossed his backpack onto the shoe bench, and rummaged through the first-aid kit in the entryway. After finding iodine and an adhesive bandage, he cleaned and dressed the wound on his fingertip.
The transformed centipede remained close. It wound around him with surprising affection, crawling several times across the back of his hand and around his wrist before coiling itself directly around his left wrist. Its mouthparts closed around its severed tail, forming a seamless ring. At first glance, Qin Shu merely appeared to be wearing an elegant dark-red bracelet. It looked completely natural.
“So what exactly happened to Liu Yang Yang? Little centipede, do you know—”
Qin Shu’s voice cut off abruptly. His eyes widened. A strange “sensation” suddenly arose in his mind before transforming into a distorted perspective—an abstract impression whose meaning he nevertheless understood.
“…I didn’t hear you speak, but somehow I understood. So this is what it means for our minds to be linked?”
Qin Shu took a moment to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. He soon realized that the warped perspective he had just witnessed was the sequence of events as seen through the little centipede’s senses.
The gourd bottle fell to the ground and shattered beneath a shoe with a sharp crack. Announcements from Haicheng Passenger Terminal and several blinding floodlights pierced the darkness, all entering the centipede’s awareness at once.
The little centipede slipped into one of the deep grooves in the shoe’s sole. It moved forward and backward with the shoe’s owner, its view pitching and spinning until the foot was finally raised high… and Liu Yang Yang’s ashen face appeared before it.
His already fractured left hand had been smashed into a pulp. Only several pieces of stark-white bone remained dangling from the shredded fabric. A blade had sliced through his left eyelid deeply enough to expose bone. Fat and layers of muscle showed through the peeled-open flesh, while blood streamed down the side of his face like a narrow creek.
Thud—
The shoe struck Liu Yang Yang violently in the chest, forcing the centipede into heavy contact with him as well… and that contact was anything but harmless.
Any unprotected person who touched this lethally venomous centipede would suffer serious consequences. Liu Yang Yang was no exception. His metabolism was unusually fast, so the poisoning took effect much sooner than it would in an ordinary person.
A patch of black spread suddenly across his exposed chest. His face turned even paler, while his lips became a suffocating blue-purple.
Liu Yang Yang had no time to react. His head immediately lolled to one side as his body shut down, plunging him into protective unconsciousness. The owner of the shoe kicked him from the ship and sent him falling into the black sea. A floodlight swept over his figure as he rose and sank between the waves, but he soon disappeared completely.
“…This really is bad. Falling into the sea might not have killed him by itself, but how could he be unlucky enough to get poisoned too? Is this the so-called predestined calamity?”
Qin Shu’s heart chilled at what he saw. The vision was so vivid that he felt as though he had witnessed everything in person. The sharp stench of fresh blood and the salty smell of the sea breeze seemed to fill his nose. He lifted the centipede from his wrist and rolled it between his fingers like a strand of prayer beads. “Once your venom takes effect, roughly how long does it take to kill someone? Do you think he’s still alive?”
The little centipede did not answer directly. Instead, a torrent of knowledge poured into Qin Shu’s mind: neurotoxins, hemolytic toxins, cardiotoxins, various active compounds capable of triggering severe allergic reactions, and the resentment and curse inherited from a Fallen-Flower Cave Maiden.
Its meaning was painfully clear. The situation was indeed terrible. Even if Liu Yang Yang had not drowned, he was probably now purple from head to toe, thoroughly poisoned, and burdened with a curse.
According to Daoist Xu, this was the “retribution” Liu Yang Yang had incurred by controlling a demigod’s body and refining it into a Gu for his own purposes.
Qin Shu found it impossible to sit still.
He could not understand. Liu Yang Yang was clearly in much better physical condition than he was, yet touching the centipede had poisoned him almost instantly. Qin Shu, meanwhile, could pinch it, stroke it, and handle it freely without sensing the slightest danger.
In fact, after the little creature had bitten a piece from his finger, Qin Shu had begun to feel faintly affectionate toward it. It no longer seemed like a terrifying centipede so much as a hairless kitten that happened to have a centipede’s body… It was an exceedingly strange feeling.
Qin Shu tried to sort through that sensation. His legs felt slightly heavy as he walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out an icy can of cola.
Crack—
The can released a strong burst of carbonation. Bubbles exploded one after another inside his throat, producing an almost spicy sensation.
Leaning against the cabinet, Qin Shu held the can and sighed. “Whatever happens, I should tell Captain Wu first. He can contact the maritime police over there and ask them to search the water. By the way, little centipede, I have one last question. Who owns those shoes, and where is he now—”
—Kill him!
Before Qin Shu could finish, a crazed thought surged violently through his mind. Kill him. Tear out his throat. Break every bone in his legs, inch by inch. It was a cold, wet murderous intent, as pure and savage as the instinct of a wild beast.
But it was not Qin Shu’s thought. It was the little centipede’s rage. Coiled around his wrist, it suddenly tightened until dense clusters of ruptured blood vessels appeared beneath his skin, dark red and purple and hideous to behold.
Qin Shu drew several ragged breaths and forced the invasive thought out with tremendous difficulty, his entire body breaking into a cold sweat. The “inner demons” he had once read about in cultivation novels suddenly became vivid and tangible… No wonder even cultivators could not easily resist them.
Had his mind been clouded at the time, he might truly have mistaken those thoughts and emotions for his own. They had felt so real, so immediate, and so unmistakably vivid.
“Little bug, you are not allowed to frighten me like that again. Keep it up and I’ll use you as traditional medicine and stew you into paste in a pot of chicken soup,” he warned quietly, flicking the centipede’s hard red head. The little centipede turned away and curled back around itself, once more becoming an ornament on his wrist.
Even if someone deserved to die, Qin Shu understood that he could not be the one to strike first.
That did not mean he objected to finding the man and causing him trouble immediately, even in the middle of the night. Tomorrow was Saturday—and the final day of the year, December thirty-first.
He needed to settle the restless irritation gnawing inside him before he could return home and spend New Year’s Eve in peace.
“He’s in Jiangcheng, is he? Oh, he followed you here specifically to capture you? Perfect.”
Qin Shu rubbed the bandaged tip of his finger. Using the sting to sharpen his concentration, he allowed heat to spread throughout his body, then stepped outside and fastened his helmet.
That made a precision strike much easier.