Chapter 18: Another One

Li Miao employed his lightness skill, chasing after the figure dressed in night-black attire. Having listened to the tavern servants’ account earlier that day, he already understood the truth of the matter.

There are no ghosts or spirits in this world. If the wronged and the vengeful dead could return as specters, the Embroidered Guards’ imperial prison would have become the underworld long ago.

In his years of service with the Embroidered Guards, he had seen only jailers growing plump and torturers climbing the ranks—never once had he witnessed anyone perish by the hand of a ghost.

The only thing in this world capable of such deeds was the Gu parasite of the Miao frontier.

The art of witchcraft and Gu was of ancient origin, recorded as far back as the Warring States era, and later it became a frequent weapon in struggles for power, regarded as a dire threat by emperors through the ages. After all, elite troops and mighty generals could fend off swords and spears, but not curses and poison.

It had been purged repeatedly throughout history. The "Continued Comprehensive Mirror to Aid in Government" recorded: In the second year of Emperor Taizu of Song’s Qiande reign, “Three hundred and twenty-six families who kept Gu in Yongzhou counties were relocated to remote places, barred from returning to their hometowns.” These days, it was rare to see such things in the heartland, and only a few remote Miao villages preserved the tradition.

If such a thing appeared within Dashuo’s borders, as soon as it was reported, the Embroidered Guards would arrive within half a month.

Li Miao hadn't expected to encounter one here, in the land of Qilu.

Those who raised Gu usually did so discreetly, buying livestock on the sly to feed their parasites with animal flesh and blood. Humans, being the most spiritual of all living things, made for even better sacrifices, but taking human lives was a grave matter—should anyone report it, and the news travel up the line, disaster would surely follow.

That was why Li Miao had told Wang Hai, “Perhaps someone was raising it here but died violently elsewhere, before they could retrieve it.”

Within days, three lives had been lost—an old guard, a coroner, a master—and a pile of livestock as well. The entire Pingshan Garrison was in an uproar; it was brazen beyond belief.

Such frequent feeding on flesh and blood would indeed hasten the Gu’s growth, but would also provoke its ferocity, making it hard for its master to control.

If a domesticated Gu committed such acts, its owner must have grown weary of living—either wishing to be devoured by their own beast, or craving the tortures of the Embroidered Guards’ prisons.

He had once before encountered a Gu-raiser, one who, by Miao standards, was a Grand Shaman.

It was from this man that he had rescued Little Four.

At the time, he had killed the Grand Shaman and his Gu with a single palm strike. He was about to leave when he glanced around the room and discovered a hidden chamber.

Inside, he found over a dozen large vats lined up. Each vat was lidded, save for a single hole, through which protruded the heads of children.

Some of the children were already dead—their bodies dried, eye sockets sunken, heads lolling on the lids, with insects crawling from every orifice.

Others still lived, but their eyes were vacant, drool running from their mouths and noses. Torture had robbed them of all reason, leaving only breathing corpses.

Only one little girl, seeing the light, managed to part her parched lips and cry out weakly:

“Help… help me…”

This little girl was Little Four.

Later, Li Miao studied the notes seized from the Grand Shaman’s home and finally understood: the man had been using children to refine “human Gu.”

There are many methods for making Gu, the most common being to confine poisonous insects in a sealed vessel without food, forcing them to fight to the death until only one survived. To the practitioners of witchcraft, humans were the spirit of all things, and Gu the essence of heaven and earth—using humans to sacrifice to Gu produced the best results. Thus, the Grand Shaman took a step further: if one could turn a person into a Gu, would that not create the most powerful parasite in the world?

It could be said that, though the Grand Shaman was utterly inhuman, he was indeed a pioneering master of his craft.

His mad scheme succeeded.

Little Four was his only successful “human Gu.”

But he never lived to see it, for Li Miao killed him with a single strike—quick and merciful, in a way, for one such as him.

That was Little Four’s origin, and the reason Li Miao had brought her out of the capital.

For one, although Little Four knew no martial arts, she could protect herself even against average martial artists, and if she happened upon a particularly unworldly opponent, even a top expert might fall to her. For another, she had been rescued just before becoming a complete “human Gu.” The poison within her was unstable and required Li Miao to purge it with his inner energy every half month—or she would not survive.

No matter how great one’s skill, one could not draw a circle on the ground and expect it to protect someone. Open attacks are easy to defend; hidden ones are not. Li Miao would never have risked taking a defenseless girl into the martial world.

Returning to the present: after inspecting the courtyard and confirming that a Gu was at work, Li Miao knew Wang Hai’s skills were well-suited to dealing with the parasite, and with Little Four present, there was little to fear from unforeseen events.

So he left the Gu to them and stationed himself on the tallest roof of the Wu household, waiting for the person pretending to be a ghost to appear.

Once he had pinpointed the person’s position, he struck, disabling the mechanism controlling the “ghost.” After satisfying his curiosity, he began his pursuit.

Though not a master of lightness skill, his cultivation was high enough that, when he used it, his figure blurred across the rooftops like an arrow loosed from the bowstring.

He steadily closed the distance to his fleeing quarry.

The person ahead was remarkably skilled in lightness arts—not a common thief. Even at Li Miao’s speed, it took some effort to catch up.

But the more he watched the figure’s movements, the more familiar they seemed, as if he had seen someone use them before.

Li Miao frowned. “Such a coincidence? Another one?”

“How many disciples did he manage to teach before his death, after I let him escape all those years ago?”

When he judged the distance sufficient, Li Miao casually plucked a piece of broken tile from the rooftop, crushed it in his hand, and flung the shards with force toward his quarry.

He expected that, given the fugitive’s skill in lightness, his martial prowess would be considerable, and those fragments would not harm him. But as soon as the man had to defend himself, his pace would falter, allowing Li Miao to close in.

Yet, the shards struck the man squarely, drawing a pained cry as he plummeted onto the roof of a nearby house.

When he tried to rise and flee again, Li Miao was already standing before him.

Li Miao looked him up and down, puzzled. “How did you train your martial arts?”

“You have only inner strength and lightness skill. Not a trace of force in your arms—you didn’t even notice the projectiles until they hit you. You’ve learned neither fighting techniques nor auditory skills.”

“No wonder you’re reduced to pretending to be a ghost. You’d be in dire straits if you ran into a good dog, let alone a martial artist.”

Seeing Li Miao appear before him in a flash, the man hesitated not a second before dropping to his knees with a thud.

He pulled out the silver he’d stolen from the Wu residence, raising it above his head with utmost deference.

“Senior! Spare my life, I beg you!”

Li Miao was so taken aback by this display of submission that he almost laughed.

He’d seen cowards before, but never one so soft as to melt at a touch.

He stepped forward, pocketed the silver, and circled the man twice.

The man knelt on the rooftop, face slick with cold sweat.

All he knew was lightness skill, but his talent was exceptional—his mastery had reached its zenith, and since perfecting it, he had never found himself unable to escape.

Now, all he could do was hope that Li Miao was merciful and would let him go in light of his quick surrender.

As anxiety gnawed at him, he heard Li Miao speak.

“To spare your life... is not out of the question.”

“But tell me—where did you learn your lightness skill?”

“Was your teacher, by any chance, the one known as Plum Blossom Thief?”