Night devoured the village.

  Screams faded quickly in the Southern Wilderness. Sound did not travel far here; the mountains swallowed it, and the mist erased what remained. By the time silence returned, only the crackling of broken wood and the wet rustle of crawling things lingered in the air.

  Shen Yu did not run.

  He stood among collapsing houses, ash drifting around him like black snow. The protective formation had shattered completely, its jade pillars cracked and dim. Without it, the village was nothing more than meat left in the open.

  A corpse lay nearby — a hunter he recognized. The man’s chest had been hollowed out from within, ribs peeled apart like flower petals. Small translucent worms wriggled through the remains, fighting one another for scraps of warmth.

  Wild Gu never shared.

  Shen Yu watched quietly.

  Fear came to him slower than it should have. Somewhere deep inside, instinct whispered that sudden movement meant death. So he breathed slowly, matching the rhythm of the mist.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  The crawling sounds around him softened.

  One of the worms lifted its head.

  It was thin as a needle, its body divided into dozens of segments glowing faintly green. Instead of attacking, it paused, swaying as though listening.

  Shen Yu felt a strange pressure behind his ribs — not pain, not hunger, but recognition.

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  The worm turned toward him.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Within moments, dozens of wild Gu had stopped feeding. Their mandibles clicked softly, surrounding the boy in a widening circle.

  Shen Yu finally felt afraid.

  He stepped back.

  The pressure inside his chest intensified.

  Something moved beneath his skin.

  He froze.

  A faint line appeared along his collarbone, rising slowly like something pushing upward from within. The sensation was neither sharp nor gentle — it felt inevitable.

  The nearest worm shrieked.

  Not aggression.

  Submission.

  The mist trembled.

  From beneath Shen Yu’s skin, a tiny black shape emerged, slipping through flesh without blood or wound. It resembled a worm, yet not entirely — its body smooth and dark as a starless sky, absorbing light rather than reflecting it.

  The moment it appeared, every wild Gu dropped motionless.

  Even the mist seemed to retreat.

  Shen Yu stared at the creature hovering before him.

  “I… have a Gu?” he whispered.

  The black worm did not move like the others. It floated lazily, as though the world itself supported it. No spiritual aura radiated from it, yet the air bent subtly around its body.

  Then hunger surged through Shen Yu so violently his knees buckled.

  Images flooded his mind.

  Cold soil.

  Rotting leaves.

  Heartbeat.

  Fear.

  The black Gu was starving.

  Without understanding why, Shen Yu looked toward the nearest corpse. His stomach twisted, revulsion rising — but the hunger drowned it instantly.

  The worm drifted forward.

  The moment it touched the body, the corpse withered.

  Not decayed.

  Consumed.

  Color drained from flesh, bones crumbled into gray dust, and faint strands of light flowed into the black Gu like threads being reeled in.

  Shen Yu gasped.

  Warmth spread through his limbs. Strength returned to muscles that had always felt weak. For the first time in his life, he felt… whole.

  The black worm pulsed once, satisfied.

  Then it turned toward him.

  Before Shen Yu could react, it slipped back beneath his skin.

  The sensation vanished.

  Silence returned to the ruins.

  Around him, the wild Gu scattered in panic, fleeing into the mountains as if escaping a predator far greater than themselves.

  Shen Yu remained kneeling among ashes, breathing heavily.

  He remembered the elder’s words from earlier that evening.

  Every Gu must feed.

  His gaze fell upon the empty dust where the corpse had been.

  “What… are you?” he murmured.

  No answer came.

  Only the distant howl of beasts and the slow realization settling into his heart:

  The village was gone.

  He was alone.

  And somewhere deep inside his body lived a Gu that did not eat essence, lifespan, or spiritual energy.

  It devoured existence itself.

  ---

  Far above the mountains, hidden beyond mortal sight, an ancient formation stirred.

  Within a ruined palace suspended among clouds, several figures opened their eyes simultaneously.

  One of them frowned.

  “A forbidden fluctuation has appeared in the Southern Wilderness.”

  Another voice, calm and ancient, replied, “A new Gu?”

  “No,” the first said slowly.

  “…Something older.”

  The clouds darkened.

  And for the first time in centuries, the great sects turned their attention toward a nameless boy standing alone in the ashes of a forgotten village.