Chapter 247: Gu Worm

**Chapter 247: Gu Worms**

Wuwang Palace, Dawnbright Hall.

A maid held a tea tray with both hands, her eyes fixed on the tips of her feet as she hurried in quick, small steps. Not a sound escaped her movements—her skirt barely rustled, and even the tea within the cup remained perfectly still.

She ascended the steps and knelt two paces from the main seat. A pearl curtain hung before her, and she dared not look beyond it. Her gaze stayed rooted to the floor, where she could only see a section of dark robes embroidered with faint patterns and a pair of black, upturned boots.

With steady arms, she lifted the tray above her head. “Palace Lord, your tea.”

The pearls clinked softly as if brushed aside by idle fingers. Then the tray lightened—the pale, almost bloodless hand of someone behind the curtain took the teacup before retreating once more into shadow.

The maid held her breath, waiting in silence, striving to make herself invisible.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed that same hand slowly twist the lid. The delicate clink of porcelain followed as the figure raised a sleeve to conceal his face and took a measured sip—offering neither approval nor disapproval.

No praise, no censure. No dismissal, no punishment.

Not a word was spoken in the hall, only the quiet drip of the clepsydra echoing through the stillness.

As time stretched on, unease crept over the maid. Gathering her nerve, she stole a glance through the pearl curtain.

There, reclining lazily on an ebonywood couch, sat a man in black robes. One hand propped his forehead in casual indifference, while the other held the teacup up to the dim light, studying it like an object of curiosity.

Goosebumps prickled her skin.

To be fair, the man was strikingly handsome. Jet-black hair spilled over the edge of the couch, and a faint smile lingered at the corners of his thin lips—though even in mirth, they gave the impression of cold detachment.

This was none other than the preeminent figure among demonic cultivators today—the Wuwang Palace’s master, Xie Chunshan.

After sipping the tea, Xie Chunshan observed coolly, “This tea is cold.”

At his words, the maid dropped into a deep kowtow, her forehead slamming against the floor. Sweat instantly dampened her temples. “This servant is at fault! Please spare me this one time, Palace Lord! I’ll brew a fresh pot at once—”

Before her plea ended, two figures emerged from either side of the hall and seized her by the shoulders, dragging her toward the exit. The bamboo tea tray crashed to the ground, and her cries rose to panicked shrieks. As one of the attendants clamped a hand over her mouth, preparing to haul her away, the Palace Lord behind the pearl curtain lazily lifted his eyelids.

Unseen by all, a glowing blue holographic display hovered before Xie Chunshan.

Walls of text filled the screen, with one line highlighted in the center:

“This tea is cold.”

—exactly what Xie Chunshan had just said.

“66” explained, “This is scripted dialogue meant to highlight ‘Xie Chunshan’s’ cruelty.”

Xie Shu responded with a noncommittal hum.

Ever the flatterer, 66 added, “Your performance was flawless.”

A sparkling thumbs-up icon appeared on the screen.

*Workaholics are just built different,* 66 mused.

Xie Shu might be the most reliable host it had ever been bound to.

One moment he’d been in ICU, the next he’d signed the contract and, in under thirty seconds, grasped every detail of the mission and its rewards. Then, as 66 initiated the transfer process, the serving girl entered the hall—and Xie Shu slipped into Xie Chunshan’s identity without missing a beat.

In other words, he’d had practically no time to acclimate to the role. This was a minor scene, mainly intended to showcase Xie Chunshan’s brutality. 66 had been ready to skip it entirely—after all, its partner wasn’t an actor, but a CEO. How could he possibly deliver on cue? Especially after dealing with several unpredictable hosts, 66 had lowered its standards considerably.

It quietly pulled up the script, intending to explain everything to Xie Shu once he woke up. But before it could speak, Xie Shu had already grasped the situation and started acting without hesitation.

66 was in tears.

It had always said so! The previous hosts weren’t its fault! Look at this one—now *this* was a host with brains and ambition!

Now *this* was what you called a dependable grown man!

In the grand hall, Xie Shu had scanned through the day’s script in one go, focusing on the dialogue portions. However, he’d need to test the waters before deciding whether he could add or change any lines. As for actions, there didn’t seem to be fixed requirements.

Thus, Xie Shu signaled “stop,” slowly raising his hand.

The maid’s crying cut off instantly, and the two holding her loosened their grip. They all turned their gaze upward, toward the master of Wuwang Palace, who had risen slowly from his seat, parted the bead curtain with one hand, and flicked it dismissively outward. His slender fingers were smooth as porcelain, yet those below froze like statues, as if they had seen a ghost.

Xie Shu’s meaning was clear: Enough. Leave.

The maid bowed gratefully and stepped back out with small, hurried steps.

66: “…Huh?”

Xie Shu glanced at it. “What? You wanted me to punish her?”

They were from a rule-of-law society. No matter how brutal someone was, it was unthinkable to sentence someone to torture over a cup of cold tea. Besides, Xie Shu hadn’t even noticed the tea being cold.

These maids, trained by the demonic sect, performed daily tasks that risked their lives—they were way more refined than today’s tea ceremony pros.

66: “No, no, of course not! I just mean… why did they let her go just because you waved your hand?”

Xie Shu: “Underlings always read too much into their boss’s every move—especially when serving someone like Xie Chunshan. Every single one’s a pro at reading faces.”

66: “Ohhh, so does that mean things will be easier for us going forward?”

Having a host who can command obedience with just a wave—how badass is that!

Xie Shu: “Yes and no.”

He trailed his fingers across the table before casually grabbing the sword at his waist. He drew it a fraction—the blade glinting silver-white like snow, clearly reflecting his image. In the reflection, Xie Shu saw Xie Chunshan’s face—identical to his own. “The better they are at reading faces, the easier it’ll be for them to notice differences between me and the original. Letting one maid off is no big deal, but if I keep doing it, people will start getting suspicious sooner or later.”

As he spoke, he lifted his hand, eyes resting on his pale fingertips—where a thin sword callus lay.

With a soft clang, he slid the sword back into its sheath. “Right now, I have Xie Chunshan’s cultivation, but I don’t know how to use his sword.”

A swordsman who can’t wield his blade is only half as strong.

Though Xie Chunshan is the top figure in the demonic sect, if they found out who he really was and other cultivators turned against him, Xie Shu would be in serious danger.

66: “Ah…”

This was way over its head. QAQ

Not sure what else to say, so it just cheered, “Host, you’re awesome!”

Watching a dizzy, spinning emoji appear on the little screen in front of him, Xie Shu paused briefly. “Forget it.”

He swept the bead curtain aside. The palace doors stood wide open, and Xie Shu looked down from above, gazing at the endless peaks of Wuwang Mountain stretching into the distance. Instinctively, he raised his wrist to check his watch, then lowered it again. “According to the plot, Xiao Wu should arrive at Wuwang Palace this afternoon.”

Lord Pingwu, also known as Xiao Wu.

66 had been flopped over the table, but now shot upright. “Huh? You know Xiao Wu?”

Although Xiao Wu's name appeared in the script, the earlier chapters had always used "Lord Pingwu" as a reference. Did Xie Shu read *it* that fast? Moreover, why did it feel like Su Zhu’s tone sounded strange when mentioning Xiao Wu’s name—oddly familiar?

Xie Shu said coldly, “I don’t. How would I know someone from a fictional world?”

66: “Oh, right.”

It slumped back down.

*

That afternoon, after Xie Shu was served lunch by his maidservants, someone indeed came to announce, “The escort party for Lord Pingwu has arrived.”

Xie Shu gave a noncommittal hum. “Bring him in.”

66 circled the plot point with a huge red mark: “This is a key plot point, Su Zhu. You’re not gonna ditch me, right?”

Xie Shu: “Of course not.”

He cast a light glance at the attendant beside him. “Send for Pharmacist Wu.”

At the mention of that name, the attendant shuddered visibly, stiffening up, yet still bowed deeply. “Yes.”

He backed out slowly.

Pharmacist Wu, named Wu Buke, was a notoriously sinister alchemist within Wuwang Palace.

Though called a pharmacist, Wu Buke knew nothing of healing. Demonic cultivators had no familial bonds—minor injuries were ignored, and severe ones meant waiting to die. Even if Xie Chunshan, as Wuwang Palace Lord, were injured or ill and unable to wield his sword, a line would form to send him to his grave.

Pharmacist Wu was no different—he wasn’t skilled in healing, but in brewing poisons and crafting gu.

In the story, the first time Xie Chunshan met Xiao Wu, he fed him the Heartbound Mother-Child Gu worms.

Once ingested, the host of the mother gu became the master, while the child gu host became the slave. If the slave ever harbored even the slightest thought of betrayal, the master could activate the gu, causing unbearable torment.

Putting aside the physical pain, Xiao Wu was a righteous sect immortal lord. Being forced into servitude under Xie Chunshan, bowing low and suppressing his pride, compelled to act against his own will—it was an immense humiliation.

Before long, Pharmacist Wu arrived in the hall—a disheveled, grizzled old man, like a low-poly NPC.

Seeing Xie Shu, he dropped to one knee in reverence, offering up a box. “Palace Lord, the gu you requested.”

Xie Shu lifted the lid. Inside were two pristine white wax pills, their contents unknown.

He casually closed the box again, praising flatly, “Well done.”

These seemingly ordinary pills packed a punch.

Later in the story, the Mother-Child Gu played a central role. Xiao Wu kept bucking Xie Chunshan’s commands, only to be punished each time. Whenever the gu activated, Xiao Wu would sweat so heavily it soaked the sheets, curling on his bed, clenching his jaw till daybreak.

This was crucial to the plot.

66 repeated itself, eyeing Xie Shu suspiciously. “Su Zhu, you’re *seriously* not screwing with me here, right?”

It had been scarred by the stunts of previous hosts.

Xie Shu picked up his teacup and sipped it calmly. “I won’t. Rest assured—even if not for the plot or rewards, I’d still dose him—for self-preservation.”

Otherwise, if his subordinates caught on, Xie Shu himself would be the one to die.

Just as 66 reiterated the plot, the rumble of wagon wheels reached from outside the door.

The prisoner transport had arrived at the entrance.

The filthy and broken prison cart naturally couldn't be driven in to sully the eyes of the Lord of Wuwang Palace. So someone opened the lock and kicked the cart: "Get down."

After days without food or water and with his meridians destroyed, Xiao Wu had been curled up continuously in the cramped prison cart. He staggered to his feet, took two unsteady steps, then collapsed to his knees as his legs gave way beneath him.

Xie Shu's brow twitched. His gaze flickered toward the door, fingers hidden in his sleeves twitching slightly before he lowered his eyes to sip his tea, quickly masking his reaction.

With shattered meridians and wounds inside and out, his bloodstained white robes only emphasized how agonizing the fall must have been.

Yet Xiao Wu didn't wait for others to drag him up. Bracing against the wall, he trembled to his feet, lifted his bloodied robe hem to step over the threshold, endured the pain to stand straight, and stood solemnly in the hall.

His posture remained dignified and graceful, standing tall like a green bamboo. Were it not for his disheveled appearance, one might still glimpse the aloof Lord Pingwu who stood apart from the world.

Xiao Wu gave a slight bow: "Greetings to the Lord of Wuwang Palace."

He performed the peer's salute used among immortal sects, as if he weren't a prisoner and Xie Shu weren't the Demon Sovereign who had captured him, but rather as if this were some ordinary banquet at an immortal palace.

Xie Shu faced him calmly.

Xie Chunshan's pupils were dark, deep as cold pools with unfathomable depths, while Xiao Wu's were naturally lighter in color. Except now he was blind, his eyes clouded with white cataracts.

Only when 66 called out "Su Zhu" did Xie Shu return his attention to his prepared lines. He casually picked up the wax pill and sneered: "Lord Pingwu, having long resided among immortal sects, probably doesn't understand the potency of demonic techniques. A shame you can't see - otherwise I'd have brought a couple of people suffering from gu poison to show you what it looks like."

Xiao Wu replied calmly: "If you mean to torture me, why involve the innocent?"

Xie Shu showed no reaction, simply pacing forward to seize Xiao Wu's chin.

Forcing his head up, his fingers left clear marks on the pale skin as he forced Xiao Wu's mouth open and shoved the wax pill straight in.

"Lord Pingwu remains as sharp-tongued as ever," Xie Shu chuckled. "I do hope you'll maintain this composure when the poison takes effect. Please don't come crawling to beg for mercy - that would ruin all the fun."