Chapter 113: Bootleg Gu Cultivation
The train jolted, then plummeted downward with a screech of tearing metal. Su Yao remained seated as the carriage crashed through layers of earth and concrete, landing with a final jarring impact in a dimly lit underground space.
Around her, passengers screamed and groaned amidst the wreckage. Dust filled the air, but Su Yao’s eyes adjusted to the surrounding. They were in a rusted chamber lined with decaying laboratory equipment and cages. Sticky filaments webbed the walls. The chittering of insects crept through the air.
A man nearby clawed his way out from under a seat, his face pale. “Where are we? What happened?”
Su Yao stood, brushing dust from her clothes. “We have entered a sub-terrestrial facility. Likely a Japanese experimental dungeon from the war era.”
As she spoke, a swarm of oversized beetles scuttled from the shadows. Their mandibles clicked. One lunged at a surviving passenger, who shrieked and stumbled back.
Su Yao extended a hand. A wave of spiritual energy vaporized the beetle into ash. “Insects. How mundane.”
A woman clutching a broken arm pointed deeper into the chamber. “There are more of them! And they’re huge!”
From the darkness, a creature with the body of a centipede and the head of a wasp emerged. Its multiple eyes glowed as it hissed, spraying a corrosive fluid that ate through the train seats.
Su Yao sighed. “This is beneath me.” She phased forward, appearing in front of the insect. With a swipe of her hand, she severed its head. It tumbled to the floor with a wet thud.
The remaining insects hesitated, then retreated.
A man in a business suit who had been hiding behind an overturned seat peered out. “Are you going to save us from the mad scientist controlling them?”
Su Yao glanced at him. “My priority is determining an exit. Your survival is incidental.”
Besides, it’s improbable that any mad scientists remain. This facility has been abandoned for nearly a century. Even the most deranged researchers would have perished from starvation or old age.
A young woman clutching a shredded sleeve whimpered, “Are those bugs poisonous?”
Su Yao turned her head. “They are venomous. If you bite one and you die, it’s poisonous. If one bites you and you die, it’s venomous. These insects are clearly equipped with fangs and stingers, so they are venomous.”
Before the woman could respond, the wall behind her cracked open. A swarm of centipede-like creatures with iridescent shells poured out. Their mandibles dripped with a viscous green fluid. Su Yao phased in front of the swarm. Her hands glowed with foxfire.
“Stay back. Their venom appears corrosive.” She unleashed a wave of energy that incinerated the leading creatures, but more scrambled over the debris.
Su Yao incinerated the rest of the swarm with a controlled burst of foxfire, reducing the chittering creatures to smoldering ash. The acrid scent of burnt chitin filled the air. She turned to the group of survivors huddled together, their breaths ragged.
“Cease your panicking,” she said. “It will only hasten your demise. Focus on actionable tasks.”
She pointed to a man who was standing steady. “You, inventory the survivors. Identify who is wounded and how severely.”
Her gaze shifted to a woman who had been a nurse, based on the medical kit she had retrieved from the wreckage. “You, tend to the injuries. Use any clean cloth from luggage or uniforms. Prioritize stopping bleeding and stabilizing fractures.”
Then, she addressed a younger passenger who was clutching a backpack. “Gather all potable water and non-perishable food from the train debris. Conserve it. And if you find any tools or items that can serve as weapons, bring them.”
She glanced around the cavern, her eyes scanning for threats. “Remain in this cleared area. Don’t wander off. This place is likely riddled with more hazards. I will ascertain our exit options.”
Without waiting for acknowledgment, she phased to a higher vantage point on a collapsed platform. Her senses extended to map the dungeon’s layout. The passengers began to follow her directives.
Su Yao observed the survivors from her perch. Good. The silence is preferable. My assistance was merely a means to terminate the auditory nuisance.
The train conductor approached the base of the platform she stood on. “Miss! We’ve managed to get a signal out. The authorities have been notified. Rescue teams are on their way.”
Su Yao looked down at him. “How long until they arrive?”
“The estimate is two hours, given the remote location and the unusual circumstances of our descent.”
Two hours was an hour too long. She could phase out of this dungeon instantly, but the passengers would resume their screaming if left unsupervised.
“Very well,” she stated. “Continue your management of the group. Make sure they remain quiet and productive. I will perform a perimeter sweep to eliminate any remaining biological hazards.”
This secured the area and gave her a more engaging task than babysitting. She phased deeper into the dungeon, leaving the survivors behind. The tunnels narrowed, lined with rusted cages and glass containers filled with the desiccated remains of insects.
Her eyes scanned the faded Japanese notes. The kanji made most of it understandable, their Chinese origins familiar to her. Most of the pages were technical observations and meticulous records of failures. Then she found an entry that caught her attention.
'The essence of poison resides within the insects themselves. Through consumption and slaughter, the final survivor gathers their strength and resentment into itself.
Experiment 17: Centipede, scorpion, spider, wasp, and an unidentified spirit-worm sealed together for forty-nine days.
Result: The centipede survived. Its behavior changed. It responded to written names before encountering their owners.
Conclusion: Kodoku creates a living poison bound to the will of its master.
First Lieutenant Yasunori Katō
Special Research Division
Unit 731'
She paused at the terminology. Someone here had been trying to turn a taboo spiritual art into a controlled military weapon.
A crude imitation of the Chinese gu. Su Yao almost laughed. The Japanese always were adept at borrowing and diluting superior methodologies.
The air grew thicker with the scent of decay and old venom. She noticed a larger chamber ahead, its walls scarred with chemical burns and webbed with toxic filaments. The chittering intensified, suggesting the kodoku experiments might have had longer-lasting effects than their creators intended.
Su Yao stepped into the larger chamber. Her eyes locked onto the massive centipede coiled in the center. Its segmented body was the size of a dragon, glistening under the dim light. Multiple legs tapped against the stone floor.
“You trespass,” the centipede hissed.
“I apologize for the intrusion. I became lost and ended up here due to circumstances outside my control,” Su Yao replied.
The centipede’s antennae twitched. “What year is it?”
“2026,” Su Yao said.
The centipede remained silent. Its head tilted.
Su Yao pulled out her phone, checking the date. “It is Reiwa 8.”
“Reiwa? How long from Showa?” the centipede asked.
Su Yao calculated. “Showa ended in 1989. From then to Reiwa 8, it has been 37 years. From the start of Showa in 1926, it has been 100 years.”
The centipede sighed. “A century. I have slept long. Why have you awakened me?”
“I didn’t intend to. My train fell through the ground, and I’m seeking an exit,” Su Yao explained.
“The exit is sealed. But you carry a familiar energy, that of a fox spirit. Your kind has always been drawn to places like this. I was made to keep intruders out, and I will fulfill that purpose with you,” the centipede said, shifting its bulk.
“Your guard duty is obsolete. This facility is abandoned. Let me pass, and I will leave you to your slumber,” Su Yao said.
The centipede’s mandibles snapped. Su Yao phased aside, avoiding the strike. “I can’t allow that. Those who cross this threshold are mine to consume. You shall not pass!”
“Then I will reduce you to ash,” Su Yao said, summoning foxfire to her palms. “That line worked better for Gandalf.”
Her foxfire washed over the centipede, but the creature’s scales absorbed the heat without harm. “Your flames are delightful,” it rasped. “They warm my blood.”
Su Yao frowned. Physical and spiritual attacks were useless. She considered what she knew of kodoku. Like the gu cultivation it was based on, the practice relied on concentration of toxins and spiritual energy in a single vessel.
What would Xiao Bai do? Her old friend would have complained that Su Yao’s breathing was disturbing the toxin’s harmony.
The centipede lunged again. Its mandibles closed inches from her face. She phased backward, creating distance. “You are a product of kodoku,” she called out. “A fusion of many into one. But such fusions are inherently unstable.”
The centipede paused. Its multiple eyes blinked. “I’m the perfected form. The ultimate survivor.”
“Survivor, yes, but at what cost?” Su Yao mused aloud. “Kodoku requires the death of all but one. What if I reintroduce competition?”
She scanned the chamber for any remaining insects or toxins. Seeing nothing immediately useful, she might have to create a disruption from within. Another idea came to her. Since the centipede was created through fusion, its stability might depend on the balance of the spirits within it. If she could agitate those spirits, she could cause it to unravel.
Su Yao focused her spiritual energy into a probing frequency, seeking the discordant voices of the absorbed insects. She emitted a resonant hum that vibrated through the chamber.
The centipede twitched. Its segments ground against each other. “What are you doing? That noise disturbs the harmony!”
“It should,” Su Yao said, increasing the intensity. “You aren’t one being but many forced together. I’m simply reminding them of their individuality.”
As cracks appeared in its spiritual cohesion, the centipede let out a screech. “Stop! I command you to stop!”
Su Yao maintained the frequency, pushing harder. The centipede thrashed. Its body contorted as the trapped spirits within fought for release.
With a piercing shriek, the centipede exploded into a cloud of spectral insects and dust, leaving behind only a lingering echo. She lowered her hands. The chamber fell silent. “Kodoku is a flawed art. Consumption can only get you so far. True strength comes from unity.”
Su Yao phased through the debris of the dissolved centipede. The echo of her own words lingered. I almost said ‘kindness’ instead of ‘unity.’ The thought was unwelcome. She dismissed it, focusing on the path ahead.
The tunnel sloped upward, leading to a reinforced steel door covered in rust. She placed a hand on it, sensing the weak spiritual seals placed by the Japanese researchers decades ago. With a slight push of energy, the door crumpled inward, revealing a narrow staircase leading to the surface.
Behind her, the survivors followed the path she had cleared. The conductor called out, “We see light! Is that the way out?”
“Yes. Proceed quietly. I will make sure the exit is secure.”
She ascended the stairs, emerging into a wooded area on the outskirts of Andong. The air was cold but fresh. Behind her, the survivors began to climb out, blinking in the daylight.
A government agent in a black suit approached her, holding a tablet. “Consultant Xiao? We received the distress signal. The rescue operation is underway. Your assistance is noted.”
Su Yao glanced at the agent. “The dungeon is neutralized and the insects are dealt with. My involvement here is concluded.”
Reappearing on a hill overlooking the city, she phased away. The Great Wall snaked across the mountains. Now, for the Wall. And hopefully, no more giant centipedes.
She pulled out her phone and searched for ‘giant centipede Japanese folklore.’ The results identified it as an oomukade. This mythical creature was known for its strength and resilience. According to legends, it could challenge dragons and was nearly invulnerable.
A frown appeared on her face. The one she had faced was far less formidable. It must have been weakened by its artificial origins. The kodoku process created a flawed imitation. She tucked her phone away.
Turning her gaze toward the distant mountains, Su Yao phased to the base of the Great Wall section near Andong. The ancient structure loomed before her, towering over the surrounding landscape. She began to walk along the path. The environment was a welcome change from the dungeon’s decay.
Finally, some fresh air.
Su Yao stood on the Great Wall. The stone bricks were weathered by centuries under her feet. She pulled out her phone and took a photograph of the wall stretching over the forested hills.
A glance around revealed only a handful of other tourists along the lengthy section. This is acceptable. The Beijing sections would be a chaotic swarm of bodies. Here, the sightlines are clear and the noise is minimal.
Another photo captured the distant Yalu River marking the border. She slid the phone back into her pocket and continued her walk. The quiet crunch of her steps on the ancient stone was a solitary rhythm.
Su Yao turned her gaze across the Yalu River towards Sinuiju. The city looked ordinary, with clusters of buildings and streets. But the Imperial Japanese Army patrols, guard towers, and fences along the border stood out.
Inside the border, people were going about their daily routines. Workers headed to jobs, shoppers visited markets, children walked to school, and cultists conducted quiet rituals in alleyways.
How mundane. Everywhere, humans follow the same cycles.
Su Yao was standing on the Great Wall when a man in a tourist vendor’s uniform approached her, holding out a tray of keychains and figurines. “Miss, look at my souvenirs! Authentic Great Wall memorabilia!”
“I’m not interested. Besides, I know these are charmed to return to you after a few days. It’s a petty trick to make sure repeat business.”
The vendor’s smile faltered. Su Yao watched him retreat into the crowd. Arresting him for a supernatural scam falls under my contract, but the paperwork would not be worth the effort.
Instead, she focused her spiritual energy and send a subtle wave that washed over his tray of souvenirs. The charms woven into the trinkets unraveled. Their magical bonds dissolved without a trace.
The vendor continued hawking his now-ordinary wares to other tourists as Su Yao turned back to the view. She had barely resumed her observation when a man with a backpack hurried over.
“Did you know it takes 18 months to walk the entire Great Wall of China?” the man asked.
Su Yao kept her eyes on the horizon. “Now I know.”
“Have you ever wondered how it was really built?” he pressed, stepping closer.
“Aliens,” Su Yao said, hoping the answer would end the conversation.
“Yes! Exactly! I knew I sensed a fellow seeker!” The man leaned in. “You know, if you perform a specific ritual here at the full moon, the aliens will come and abduct you. I’ve done the research!”
She turned her head. “If you don’t leave this instant, I will perform a ritual that makes you vanish permanently. That is a genuine tip.”
The man’s smile vanished. He mumbled an apology and walked away.
An elderly man in simple local attire shuffled toward Su Yao. He gestured at the wall. “People have been disappearing around here lately. I doubt it’s aliens, though.”
Su Yao raised an eyebrow. “What do you believe is the cause?”
The man leaned closer. “It must be the spirits. The ghosts of the thousands of workers and soldiers who died building this wall. They say their resentment lingers, and they take the living to join them in their eternal labor.”
She scanned the ancient stones, sensing a lingering spiritual presence she had previously ignored. “Interesting. Perhaps this visit will not be entirely mundane after all.”
Andong had also been the site of a major battle in 1938, where Japanese forces were driven out of China after their offensive stalled against determined Chinese resistance and mounting casualties. The more recent war dead could also be responsible for the disappearances. As a government consultant, she had a duty to investigate.
Su Yao extended her spiritual senses, searching for concentrations of residual energy. A faint pull of resentment drew her toward a secluded section of the wall overgrown with vegetation. She phased to that spot, landing on the weathered stones.
The air grew colder. Whispers drifted on the wind.
“Show yourselves,” she commanded. “I’m here to resolve this.”