Chapter 346 – Life 87, Age 16, Martial Disciple Peak

Stepping out of Emperor LI’s portal, Mei and I appeared in a musty cave deep underground.

In the center of the cavern, there was a ring of five large, black vats the size of beach balls. Each of these vats was covered in a thick wooden lid and had been sunk half a meter into the floor. In the center of this ring, a weak fire burned within a short metal brazier, serving as the cave’s sole source of illumination.

The light from this fire didn’t stretch beyond the circle of cauldrons, so I couldn’t see what else this room contained, but it wasn’t necessary. Subdued yet incessant chittering sounds told me all that I needed to know. Turning on my energy vision, I looked around and saw thousands of tiny energy signatures huddled together in hundreds of small groups. Within these groups, every element–save lightning–was represented at least once, but wind was the most common by far.

Emperor Li strode confidently to the opposite side of the circle of cauldrons and then turned to face us, allowing us to look at each other with the room’s small brazier illuminating our faces. “Disciple Fang, you wish to become a gu keeper. Before we can begin, you must fully understand the answer to one simple question: What are gu?”

Initially, I thought that this was a rhetorical question, so I just waited for him to continue, but after more than a dozen seconds passed, I realized that he expected me to answer it. “Insects.”

Disappointed, Li shook his head. Then, he turned to Mei. “Disciple Mei, please, explain.”

This startled Mei, whose eyes had been locked onto my feet, causing her to glance over at Li. The moment she did, her blessing flared up, and she began stammering incoherently. “I… I… They… They….”

Li grunted and flicked something into her mouth. “When we are done here, you will go and cultivate your soul, understood?”

“Ye… Yes, Master Li.”

Li waved this away. “Answer the question. What are gu?”

“Poi…” Mei shifted her gaze to me. “Poison. While gu generally take the form of insects, treating them as such is a mistake. They are poisons–semi-sentient poisons. If you forget that for even a moment, then gu can become as deadly to you as they are to your target.”

The corner of Li’s mouth twitched in about the greatest show of approval that I had ever seen him give. “Exactly. Do not let appearances deceive you. Gu are ‘alive,’ and they follow commands, but they are not beasts, and gu keepers are not beast tamers. We are poison masters.”

He pulled out a jade bottle and threw it at me. “Disciple Fang, tell me what you can about that pill.”

I recognized it with only a glance. I didn’t even need my analysis ability. “Rank 4 Frigid Twilight Poison. It’s made from a combination of caliginous nightshade, gelid alismatis, and a vine of soulless monkshood.”

Li nodded once in agreement. “Yes. Any number of alchemists can combine the appropriate quantity of those three ingredients to create such a pill, and, except for minor differences in quality, all their pills will be the same. They will look the same, and they will have the same effect.”

He pulled out a jade-wire cage and held it up to the light. A tiny blue scorpion was skittering around inside it.

“This is a Rank 4 Black Frost Gu. I created it to mimic the effects of the Frigid Twilight Poison. Another keeper might be able to create a gu with similar effects, but even I would find it difficult to create an exact duplicate. The next time I try to make this gu, it might end up with as a snake instead.”

Li walked into the darkness and deposited the scorpion with a group of similar creatures before returning to the topic at hand.

“That said, appearances are not important. A gu is a poison. A pill is a poison. As long as they have the same effect, they are functionally identical. The only meaningful difference between a gu keeper and an alchemist poisoner is one of control. Unlike with pills, after infecting a person with a gu, I will remain in control of the poison’s effects. If I want them to feel more pain, I can make that happen. If I want their symptoms to disappear, I can make that happen as well.”

That statement made me feel more than a little uncomfortable. I had always been wary of gu keepers, but I had been dabbling in alchemical poisons since my early days in the Su Clan. Was the difference between us really so… meaningless?

Disregarding my inner turmoil, Emperor Li stepped outside the small circle of light and entered the darkness beyond. When he returned, he was holding six large boxes, three in each hand, containing a variety of different poisonous creatures–snakes, scorpions, toads, spiders, and centipedes.

“Disciple Fang, step forward.” He used his head to point at one of the cauldrons, so I walked over to stand next to it.

“This is an Eclosion Pot. It is what we use to transform creatures into gu.” He lifted a set of boxes. “To begin, simply toss these creatures into the pot.”

Following Li’s instructions, I took one box at a time, poured its contents into the pot, and then set the lid back in place. Putting so many critters into a normal pot would have caused it to overflow, but this Eclosion Pot had an expanded space, similar to a storage bag, so there was more than enough room inside.

Once all the boxes were emptied, Li gestured to the side of the pot. “The poisonous creatures will now begin fighting and devouring each other, slowly turning into a true embodiment of poison. The formations on the side of the pot will let you interfere with this by adding new stresses to the environment. The gu you create will be determined both by the creatures you started with and how you guide them during their time in the Eclosion Pot. For now, don’t concern yourself with specifics, just experiment with the formations and get a feel for what they do.”

Using energy vision, I was able to quickly understand each formation’s function. There were controls for temperature, humidity, ambient energy, and other variables. There was even a control that allowed me to grow and shrink the amount of space inside. I could let the creatures spread out, or I could force them together.

By playing with these controls, I found that each type of creature reacted to changes in its environment differently. For some, more heat made them more sluggish, for others, it made them more aggressive. The only change that seemed to be universal was that, when I shrunk the space as much as possible, they all went absolutely crazy.

As I worked, Mei tried to say something, but Li held up a hand, stopping her.

Roughly an hour and a half later, only a single centipede remained.

Li gestured for me to lift it out. Li’s appearance and motions were extremely casual, so while I was still wary of handling gu, I wasn’t nearly as cautious as I should have been.

The moment my hand neared it, the centipede struck, trying to bite into my hand and burrow into my muscles. Reflexively, I jerked away in a motion that crushed the creature into the side of the pot, but there hadn’t been any real need. The bug hadn’t even been strong enough to break my skin.

Li looked at Mei. “Disciple Mei, explain. What did Disciple Fang do wrong?”

“He…” Her gaze shifted from Li to my feet. “When using the Eclosion Pot, he allowed the formations to draw qi from the surrounding environment. He should have been feeding them his own qi. This would have allowed the gu to adapt to his qi signature and familiarize themselves with it. This is a necessary step. If it is not done, then the gu will see the keeper as a stranger, no different from anyone else. They will not obey orders, and if given the chance, they will attack.”

Li glared at me, and when he spoke, there was an unnatural weight behind his words.

“While they are little more than sentient poisons, gu are still intelligent, living creatures. Using the formations of the Eclosion Pot, you can grow them and shape them to be what you need them to be, but they must feel your presence in all things. If they don’t, then they will turn on you.”

Li walked to the side of the room, grabbed several more boxes, and tossed a collection of snakes, scorpions, and toads into another pot.

“This is not the only pitfall that a gu keeper needs to be careful of, however. When you start the process of breeding a new gu, you should have a clear idea of what you are trying to achieve–of what your goal is. You need to continually monitor the pot to ensure that whatever is being created matches your desires.”

Li’s head jerked up. “Disciple Mei, a group of toads is close to meeting my needs, but it appears that a group of scorpions is about to devour them. What should I do? Should I kill the scorpions, or should I just block them?”

“N… No.” Mei wrinkled her brow. “Just… adjust the formations. Increase the space and humidity. Lower the temperature.”

Li nodded and looked at me with meaning. “Exactly, a gu keeper should not meddle directly. They need only adjust the formations to ensure the proper outcome.”

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Over the next decade, Emperor Li instructed Mei and me on a variety of techniques related to gu.

The gu that I had initially made was only Rank 1, but the process of making a higher Rank gu was brutally simple. To make a Rank 2 gu, instead of starting with mortal creatures, one just needed to start the Eclosion process with Rank 1 gu. To make Rank 3, one just needed to start with Rank 2.

However, several dozen gu were needed at the start of each step, so to form a single Rank 3 gu, a keeper first needed to create hundreds of Rank 1 gu and then combine them into dozens of Rank 2 gu.

This was a time-consuming process, but the result was a ‘mother’ gu that was capable of producing a large number of easily controlled ‘child’ gu, as long as they were supplied with enough energy. These children couldn’t participate in the Eclosion process, but they could be used for anything else.

For example, a Liquor Gu was only able to produce a single jar of alcohol. So, back in the Grain Jar Sect, Mei had created a single mother gu and used it to spawn hundreds of children. These children were what was then put into the jars to make the actual alcohol.

Aside from just the sheer time involved with funneling gu through so many generations, another difficulty was ensuring that the final ‘poison’ was exactly what one was looking for. If I just wanted something deadly, that was easy enough. However, if I specifically wanted a gu that could invade a person’s soul, that was much harder to produce through the somewhat random Eclosion Pot Method. Worse still was trying to create a Healing Gu, a poison designed to target infections and cancers and kill them while doing no damage to the host.

While he was with us, Li rushed us through the basics of how to do all of this, but the year I turned 39, he ran out of time and called us back for a final meeting.

“Disciple Fang, Disciple Mei, you both show promise, but remember, there is a long road ahead of you. While gu are ‘poisons,’ do not allow this to limit your thinking. The job of poisons might be to destroy, but only with destruction can you achieve creation.”

Li turned his attention fully to me. “Fang, use what you have learned of the Eclosion Pot Method well. You are a gu keeper. Your creations must survive and thrive on their own, but if you wish for them to be able to help you achieve your goals, then you need to shape their environment, and they must feel your hand at work. I may not be fond of the creature that calls itself the incarnation of the Dao, but there is much that you can learn from it.”

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Emperor Li hadn’t come right out and said what he meant, but his meaning was clear.

After he passed, I followed his advice and spent the rest of my life huddled over my Eclosion Pot. I needed to begin shaping the environment properly, but before I could do that, I needed a clearer understanding of the beings that I was working with.

Of course, this ‘Eclosion Pot’ was not one of the five in Li’s underground chamber. It was my inner world.

For millennia, the Su Clan had developed in wild and unpredictable ways. I barely recognized them anymore. After growing to the maximum size and power allowed by the constraints of our situation, the clan had shifted its resources to ensure the continued power and influence of the main branches instead of focusing on the prosperity of the clan as a whole. They… They now reminded me far too much of the original Su Clan.

Worse, when Emissary Yun visited me this time, her evaluation of the clan’s effort was merely ‘adequate.’ Because of this, instead of being left to our own devices, the Saint sent Emissaries and Envoys to check in on us every decade or so. It was like we were living under a thumb that could decide to squish us at any moment.

I had made mistakes, but I could still recover from them. I just needed to shape the environment to produce my desired outcome.

By the time I was 437 years old, I was ready. When I recalled everyone into my inner world to start the next cycle, I did so in a very deliberate manner and positioned people in specific places to create the outcomes I desired.

While a gu keeper tries their best, the results of the Eclosion Pot Method depend mostly on the quality of their materials. As I sat down and swallowed a poison pill, I could only hope that my ‘materials’ were up to the task ahead of them.

You have died. Calculating…

You died as a Martial Sovereign Peak – 100 trillion credits awarded.

You died at Peak of Rank 7 in Body Cultivation – 100 trillion credits awarded.

Total Credits: 208,737,587,576,486

Rank 4 Small World – 1,349/10,000 km3 (Earth, Wood, Fire, Dark)