Chapter 37: The Heart of the Mother Gu Part 2

Sang Chencao gave a hum of affirmation, sounding pleased. “See? What I said before wasn’t entirely a lie, but you never believe me.”

Feng Yun’ai grumbled inwardly. If it’s not entirely a lie, then it’s not entirely the truth either. How am I supposed to trust you?

The wind whistled past their ears; the surroundings were silent.

They were still several days’ journey from Cloud City. She didn’t know how long those Gu insects could live.

Feng Yun’ai realized that as long as the Gu didn’t die, she would be forced by this woman to step onto the Sword Trial Stage. She didn’t want to go up there. Her pursed lips moved as she asked slowly, “The Gu you put in me—how long can it live?”

“Keep guessing,” Sang Chencao teased, keeping her secrets.

“How many people can be infected by insects from the same brood?” Feng Yun’ai persisted.

“That depends on how many were in the brood to begin with,” Sang Chencao answered vaguely.

Feng Yun’ai frowned and continued, “If the two Gu are separated by a great distance and cannot meet for a long time, what happens to the hosts?”

The indigo-clothed woman gave a soft laugh. “Xiuxiu, you ask so much. Why? Do you want to get rid of me?”

“I am bound by this Gu. You can’t expect me to just wander around blindly forever,” Feng Yun’ai said coldly.

Sang Chencao tilted her head slightly, her peripheral vision drifting toward the woman behind her. “You say that with such helplessness, it almost makes my heart ache for you.”

“I see. You won’t say.” Feng Yun’ai couldn’t hear a shred of affection in her voice, nor did she want to engage in pointless banter.

“Are you angry?” Sang Chencao’s eyes were filled with a smile that was neither delicate nor soft, but carried an immense weight of intimidation. “There’s no harm in telling you.”

Feng Yun’ai listened intently, trying to distinguish truth from falsehood.

The indigo sleeves of the woman in front of her fluttered in the wind as her slow, drawling voice reached her ears.

“When the two Gu are separated, the one carrying the subordinate Gu will inevitably suffer. They will feel restless, scorched by anxiety, as if the sky is falling and the earth is rending. Their body will feel as if it’s being torn into pieces. In severe cases, the host cannot bear it and will seek to take their own life.” Sang Chencao spoke with a sense of enjoyment.

Feng Yun’ai froze. If she had gone any further yesterday, it likely wouldn’t have been as simple as mere itching and soreness.

If the host suffered so much, was it because the subordinate Gu was also in agony?

Fearing Sang Chencao was making it all up, Feng Yun’ai asked suspiciously, “How do you know so clearly? Unless you’ve experienced it yourself?”

“If I said yes, what would you do then, Xiuxiu?” Sang Chencao countered.

Feng Yun’ai bit her lip, changing the subject. “If the host manages to endure and doesn’t kill themselves, what happens to the subordinate Gu inside them?”

“Xiuxiu.” Sang Chencao stopped smiling, her voice dropping low. “Why don’t you guess?”

Feng Yun’ai had a feeling the subordinate Gu wouldn’t meet a good end. However… perhaps by enduring that ordeal, she could let all the Gu insects in her body die out.

“Xiuxiu, don’t think about running,” Sang Chencao scoffed. “I doubt Feng Rong ever punished you. That kind of agony is something you’ve never endured. It is a feeling you will remember for a lifetime.”

On Listening Goose Peak, Feng Yun’ai truly hadn’t experienced much pain. At most, she had been scratched by tree branches or accidentally nicked herself slightly while practicing her sword.

Feng Yun’ai felt an inexplicable sense of mockery in the woman’s words. She frowned. “So what? If one cannot even endure pain, how can they practice martial arts?”

“You won’t cry until you see the coffin,” Sang Chencao said airily. “By the way, I don’t think I ever mentioned exactly how many Gu I put in you. One separating is already the ultimate pain. Two doubles it. Three… makes it even more unspeakable.”

Feng Yun’ai’s heart skipped a beat, but only for a moment.

Last night, when the Black Snake bit the side of her neck, it felt as though many of her Gu had quietly crawled away through the wound.

Feng Yun’ai feigned apprehension, not caring if she was convincing or not. She huffed, “What a malicious heart you have.”

“This is nothing. You call this malicious?” Sang Chencao teased. “Qiu Xianpei and Yin Wulu are the truly malicious ones.”

“I told you, I have nothing to do with them anymore!” Feng Yun’ai snapped, exasperated.

“Then why don’t you try taking off your eye veil and see if anyone believes you?” Sang Chencao mocked.

Feng Yun’ai suddenly raised her sword, the cold scabbard pressing against the woman’s neck.

Unexpectedly, Sang Chencao wasn’t angry. She laughed instead. “Just keep it there. It’s nice and cool. Quite comfortable.”

Feng Yun’ai retracted the scabbard. She didn’t want this woman to be comfortable.

The journey was peaceful, yet it was the kind of peace that set one on edge—fearing that the tranquility was a facade and that danger had already laid an ambush nearby.

Feng Yun’ai was already anxious enough, only to be teased repeatedly by this woman.

“The wind moves and the grass stirs. Do you think those people from Guanfeng Gate have already found us?” Sang Chencao asked.

Feng Yun’ai held her breath, afraid to miss even the slightest movement.

The horse suddenly reared its front legs as if it had reached the edge of a cliff. The abrupt halt made her eyes widen in shock.

She thought the people from Guanfeng Gate had truly arrived, but the rider said, “Oh my, the little horse was startled. It almost stepped on a little bug.”

Feng Yun’ai rested her scabbard on Sang Chencao’s shoulder again. This time, no matter what, she wouldn’t lower her hand.

Sang Chencao asked leisurely, “This sword rack of mine—is it easy to use?”

Feng Yun’ai didn’t respond.

It was only when they passed through a forest that they were forced to take that both realized they were truly being followed. This time, the rustling of the grass wasn’t something Sang Chencao had conjured up.

Almost at the same moment the forest birds took flight, Feng Yun’ai broke her silence and lowered her hand to grip her sword.

Sang Chencao didn’t slow the horse, but her casual expression tightened slightly.

The morning sun was bright, but the forest was lush, casting mottled shadows everywhere. There was no telling how many people were hidden in the shade.

In an instant, several hidden weapons rained down from above like scattered blossoms, obscuring what little sunlight filtered through the canopy.

Feng Yun’ai had no time to think. She raised her arm and spun the scabbard of Solitary Gall, knocking away the hidden weapons that were flying toward them.

“An ambush?” Sang Chencao let out a cold laugh.

The hidden weapons struck the scabbard with a sharp, metallic clatter.

Feng Yun’ai dithered for a split second. She felt a brief urge to use this opportunity to shake this woman off, but if she did, the other woman would surely be pulled into the mire because of her.

She shot a quick glance at Sang Chencao.