Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Herman was a male who couldn't sit still. He'd gone out in the afternoon to set up a stall at the market.

When he finished, he passed by a meat stall and immediately recognized the Gulu beasts hanging there.

This type of beast had tender meat with just the right amount of fat and lean, and when roasted, it carried a hint of milky fragrance. It was the perfect time to eat them recently. Remembering Yor's somewhat thin jawline, Herman bought out the whole stall on the spot and picked up all the grilling gear he needed on the way.

So when night fell, Yor sat in Herman's courtyard, watching Lima and Herman busily preparing the barbecue.

Worna Star had no moon, but tonight the river of stars was especially clear, like a silver ribbon too wide to fathom stretching across the sky overhead. Combined with the lights Herman had set up, the whole yard was lit up bright.

The two males worked quickly and soon had the charcoal fire going. Flames licked at the metal grill, fat dripped and sizzled, and the smell instantly filled the whole yard.

Lima wrapped a thermal blanket around Yor's shoulders and pressed a cup of hot milk into his hands. Yor lowered his head to sniff it, then set it aside: "I'll drink it later. Leave room for the meat first—this Gulu beast smells amazing."

He grabbed his terminal, wanting to search for what a Gulu beast looked like, but Lima was lightning-fast and clamped his hand down: "It's hideous. Nightmare-inducing ugly. Don't look."

Yor shot him a look, catching something odd in Lima's expression, but didn't dwell on it and put the terminal down.

In truth... Gulu beasts were incredibly cute—round, plump bodies and big, dewy eyes, and they loved cuddling up to other creatures. Across the whole star system, only the insect race ignored how cute they were and hunted them in droves for food.

Lima glanced at the sizzling skewers on the grill beside him and figured that was something best kept from Yor.

Herman slowly flipped the skewers lined up on the grill while Lima whipped up dipping sauces nearby. Yor sat bundled in his blanket on a lounge chair, watching the two males bustle around for him, feeling like some kind of greedy capitalist.

"How'd the mission go?" Lima asked Herman, sprinkling seasoning.

Herman gave a nod, then a shake of his head.

"The Domain clan hatchling was picked up without a hitch, but we got ambushed by the Serian clan on the way back."

The Serian clan? Yor's ears pricked up.

"But luckily we'd filed ahead, so backup showed up fast. Apparently a very high-ranking one intervened personally—the assault on the Serian clan was brutal and well-coordinated." He paused. "We couldn't do much there, so they had us pull back early. It was hairy, but we got out safe."

Lima grunted in acknowledgment, not pausing his work: "The Serian clan's a real pain. You lucked out this time."

Herman nodded, lowering his voice: "They're tough. If they can't win, they blow themselves up, and the psychic blast from the explosion is nearly impossible for insect-kind without a Broodmother to withstand. Only adult Domain clan members can go toe-to-toe with them."

At that, Lima shook his head. "Even adult Domain clan members can only play defense. They... have this weird trick—even if their bodies get destroyed, their minds can still make it back to their home world. To this day, insect-kind still hasn't figured out what that return costs them, or how to stop it."

"They're like ghosts," Yor cut in.

Lima and Herman both whipped their heads around to look at him.

Caught off guard by their stares, Yor realized what he'd said, and a sly idea popped into his head.

He took a sip of hot water, hiding the grin tugging at his lips: "Ghosts are a special kind of life form from Blue Star. Back where I'm from, after people die, if they meet certain conditions, they can turn into ghosts."

Both males looked over curiously.

"It's hard to explain," Yor said, setting down his cup. "Let me use my psychic power to show you a story that's been passed down for ages back home. Lima, you mind linking up with me?"

Lima naturally agreed, and Herman obediently put down his skewers, closed his eyes, and connected to Yor's spiritual link.

The spiritual world Yor constructed slowly unfolded.

Lima and Herman found themselves standing in a man's perspective, looking at a beautiful girl with long flowing hair who was holding her belly and saying shyly, "I'm pregnant with your child."

Pregnant!

A shocking opening—Yor could clearly feel Lima and Herman's spiritual energy jolt simultaneously.

But the man's reaction completely defied their expectations. He frowned first, then pulled out money from his wallet and tossed it over impatiently: "With your family background, my parents would never approve of you marrying into the family. Take this money and find time to get an abortion."

The girl's face went pale instantly, her voice trembling: "You said before... you said you'd marry me, that's why I..."

The man grew even more impatient: "Just because I said a few casual words, you jumped into a man's bed. A slut like you—why would I marry you?"

The girl trembled with rage, but worse was still to come.

When she got home, her parents, upon learning of her pregnancy, berated her for being shameless and disgracing the family. After being pushed out the door, her father declared she would never be allowed to set foot in the house again for the rest of her life.

With nowhere to go, the girl sat by the roadside all night.

The next day, she tucked a pair of scissors into her pocket and went to find the man again. In the midst of their argument and scuffle, she snipped off a small lock of his hair, clutched it tightly in her palm, and walked away without looking back.

That night, at the hour when yin energy was at its peak, she changed into red clothes and red shoes, hid the man's hair in her coat pocket, and jumped from the rooftop.

The wind was strong, and her red skirt billowed in midair like a flower withering.

A dull thud hit the ground. The people around froze at first, then screams spread layer by layer.

The man was in the crowd too.

Lima and Herman, along with his perspective, looked down at the gruesome sight on the ground. She lay there, hair scattered everywhere, flesh and blood mangled.

He stepped back, but then let out a sigh of relief.

Good riddance. At least now she wouldn't haunt him anymore.

But the next day, when he accompanied his mother to the Taoist temple to make an offering, the priest frowned at him and said, "You're doomed. You're absolutely doomed."

The man tensed up immediately. He knew this priest was accurate—his family, being in business, put great faith in such things and feared hearing words like that most of all. His life was at stake, so he quickly grabbed the priest's sleeve, confessed everything he'd done, and shoved a large sum of money at him, asking what to do.

The priest accepted the money: "This woman died and became a ghost. Between the worlds of the living and the dead, she should be unable to see or hear anything. But she kept a lock of your hair—it's so she can follow your scent to find you after death. She hates you. She will come."

"Then... then what do I do?"

The priest calculated the exact day the woman's spirit would return: "Ghosts can't bend down. On that day, I'll cover your entire body with talismans. You hide under the bed, and put one of your shirts on the bed. She'll think you're in the bed. Survive that day, and you'll be fine."

"But one thing," he stared at the man, "absolutely, absolutely do not open your eyes. If she approaches you and you open your eyes to see her form, even if she doesn't kill you, you'll be scared to death."

To save his own skin, the man naturally followed every instruction.

That night, he hid himself under the bed, covered densely in talismans like a mummy wrapped in paper charms.

At midnight, a "creak" sounded—the slow sound of the front door downstairs being pushed open.

The man's nails dug into his palms. He heard footsteps... no, not footsteps.

It was "thump, thump, thump"—a hopping sound. Something was bouncing up the stairs.

Closer and closer, louder and louder.

"Thump, thump, thump..."

The door to his own bedroom swung open.

The man's breath nearly stopped.

"...Can't find..." A sharp, thin wail slithered along the walls of the room, half cry, half laugh.

He was under the bed, hands and feet ice-cold, eyes shut, back pressed against the floor, not daring to move.

The female ghost hopped around the room, each landing crashing into his ears—heavier, closer, with every jump.

She kept screaming "can't find," her voice growing more frantic and shrill.

The man began praying for dawn, eyes squeezed shut, desperately chanting the Buddha's name.

Suddenly, she stopped.

The room fell silent, except for the garbled sounds from her throat—one after another, mixed with a low, guttural rumble forced from deep within...

The sound grew closer, and she said, "...Found you."

The man felt an invisible hand pressing down on the back of his head, his spine, his knees, his ankles.

A cold, damp breath seeped through the cracks in the floorboards, washing over him.

She laughed.

A short, thin laugh, like a little girl who'd just found a lost toy.

Yor could clearly sense the violent churning in Lima's and Herman's mental seas, along with a flood of thoughts: What? Why did she find him? Isn't she not supposed to bend over?

So did she find him or not?!

The two male bugs' thoughts raced, fast and urgent, and Yor barely stifled a smile, whispering inwardly, "Then let's open our eyes and see?"

He gave the two male bugs no time to react—he snapped his eyes open.

In the mental world, a ferocious ghost face appeared instantly before the two male bugs' pitch-black vision—all trace of its former beauty gone.

Bloody tears streamed from the eye sockets, the mouth split into an unnatural grin, half laugh, half cry, the skin a sickly gray, wet hair plastered to the forehead—and worse, those blood-red eyes, brimming with hatred, were impossibly close, as if about to press against their faces.

Lima's mental sea churned violently, and Yor heard him sharply inhale.

Herman's body jolted violently, instantly shifting into his original form and bolting out into the yard.

"Because when this girl jumped off the building, she landed head-first, so she didn't walk—she came upside down, bouncing along on her head, one hop at a time. And because she landed head-first, she found the man and successfully took her revenge," Yor said in a low, ghostly tone.

Lima had already severed the mental link, and Yor couldn't hold back a laugh, doubling over. "Haha, just messing with you! That's just a story I heard as a kid."

Lima sat still, chest still heaving, glaring at him.

Herman slowly walked back from outside the yard, his original form retracted, but the shock still lingered on his face.

Herman was about to say something to salvage his dignity when he suddenly froze mid-step. He turned, staring into the darkness beyond the yard gate: "...Who's there?"

Yor's laughter died in his throat.

He followed Herman's gaze—on the sandy ground outside the gate stood several tall bugs, draped in dark cloaks, their faces obscured.

One of them stepped forward: "Broodmother experimental subject, Yor?"

Their hostile intent was obvious, but Yor gave no response.

Herman had already stepped in front of Yor, and as Lima rose, the barbecue tongs in his hand were replaced by a short blade.

But the other side didn't take them seriously. One casually raised a hand: "Careful—take these two out."

The words had barely left his mouth before the bugs were no longer where they stood.

Herman had lost a leg, but he charged forward without hesitation, his mechanical limb unleashing explosive power far beyond a normal one, managing to block the leader.

Lima flanked from the side, his short blade carving an arc, forcing back another mercenary trying to circle behind them.

But there were too many bugs. Yor couldn't count them all—he only heard the clash of metal, the dull thuds of bodies being struck, Herman's low growls, and Lima's rapid breathing.

Then came a sharp crack—he saw a long blade catch Herman's mechanical limb at the joint. The bug twisted the blade viciously, splitting the limb's outer shell open and exposing the fine wiring inside.

Herman let out a muffled grunt and dropped to a knee.

Lima's situation was worse—he'd taken a slash to the back, yet he still stood in front of Yor.

Yor's nails dug into his palms. He shot to his feet, his mental power spreading out like a web, lunging straight for the lead mercenary's consciousness sea.

The opponent's movements visibly stalled, as if something had struck him hard at the back of the head.

But just as Yor was about to expand the attack, Lima whipped around, transmitting a clear thought: "Stop! There are bugs watching!"

In the distance, other bugs were watching.

Yor froze. He could keep attacking, but that would expose his identity to more eyes.

In that moment of hesitation, the lead mercenary had already recovered. He swiftly leaped into the air, drew a thermal weapon, and aimed downward. "Mental attack—keep your distance, abandon capture, exterminate them all."

At his orders, the subordinates scattered and took to the skies.

At a distance, mental attacks couldn't reach them.

On the ground lay a discarded communication earpiece. Yor extended his mental power toward it, and a frantic voice crackled through: "Capture alive! Who gave the extermination order?"

Wicks.

Yor recognized the voice—that damn pure bug.

The mercenary above replied coldly, "My men have already suffered mental damage. It's just an experimental subject—a corpse works just as well. I'm not letting my men die for it."

Wicks was left with nothing to say.

Yor was about to keep listening when he suddenly felt his mental power draining at an alarming rate, as if something were siphoning it from the very bottom.

It was the gestation sac—not the child inside, but the sac itself, rapidly absorbing his energy.

In the Broodmother's genes, the gestation sac mattered more than his own life.

His strength gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to hold on.

Wicks immediately noticed his condition and said urgently, "The experimental subject's mental fluctuations are declining—he's done, he can't attack anymore!"

Yor closed his eyes. He was right.

The mercenary, bold and skilled, descended from the air—not approaching Yor directly, but landing beside the weaker Lima and viciously slashing deep into his shoulder blade.

Lima fought back desperately, but ultimately collapsed, his body curling up slightly before going completely limp.

The mercenary waited a moment, and when he sensed no psychic response from Yor, he poked him again. Lima... nothing.

In the darkness, Yor heard his own voice, much calmer than he'd expected: "Wicks, if they die, the only thing you'll get from me is my corpse."

The lead mercenary paused, listening to his earpiece, as if weighing his options.

Then he sheathed his knife and stepped back. The mercenaries above descended, surrounding Yor.

Yor felt a pang of grief, but also a sense of inevitability—like this day was bound to come. He couldn't even summon much strong emotion.

He fished the box of suppressants out of his pocket—the one Lima had bought for him—and even managed to calmly say: "I'm not resisting. It's just that my experimental pheromones are out of balance. I need to inject some stabilizers."

Ignoring whatever the mercenaries might do, he took out the syringe.

His fingers were shaking, but he still drove the needle into his arm.

All of it. He pushed in every last drop of the stabilizers.

Damn pure bug. He'd rather use an overdose of stabilizers to destroy the brood sac, destroy the Broodmother genes.

Even if... it would destroy him too.

The drug slowly took effect, a chill spreading from his arm to his chest, then throughout his body, finally settling in his lower abdomen.

That persistent craving that had plagued his body for so long was slowly fading. His glands were no longer swollen. But at the same time, he felt it—deep in his lower abdomen, the brood sac that had always been so quiet suddenly convulsed violently. Agonizing pain exploded from his abdomen.

Yor looked down at his hands, watching them begin to tremble from the agony.

The stabilizers were suppressing the Broodmother genes while simultaneously cutting off his path to survival.

So it's finally come to this...

Lying on his back, staring at Vorna's starry sky, he thought—if this is the last thing I see, at least it's a beautiful view. Not a bad way to go.

Just as the mercenaries were about to take Yor away, a piercing shriek tore through the starry sky, hurtling toward them from afar.

A powerful, fully mature, Sub-Lord level bug aura!

More importantly, that presence was carrying a bug's mutilated body—and it was unmistakably Wicks!

The lead mercenary's face went pale: "Fall back."

With the employer dead, whether the mission was completed no longer mattered.

Yor looked up, confused. Through blurred vision, he saw a tall figure descending from the sky, radiating pure fury, charging into the middle of the mercenaries.

The battle quickly moved from the ground to the sky.

Too far away, too fast—Yor could only see blurred shadows colliding, separating, and colliding again.

Through the agony, he couldn't tell how long the battle lasted. But finally, he heard a tremendous sound of metal being ripped apart. As the last mercenary was thrown from the sky and smashed into the sand, the bug finally walked over to stand before him.

He was drenched in blood, silver-gray scales embedded with flesh and metal fragments, bone spurs half-open, the thermal weapon in his hand still smoking.

He looked down at Yor, who was kneeling on the ground, and grinned, a bloodthirsty smile on his face. "Yor."

Yor opened his mouth, staring at this figure even bigger than Dexter, wondering if he was hallucinating.

But the bug had already leaned in, pressing his head against Yor's shoulder, clinging to him. "Yor..."

Yor finally spoke: "Taste?"

Taste seemed to finally come out of his battle trance. He saw Yor's fingers pressed against his lower abdomen, an unnatural blue-white pallor, and his face as pale as paper.

"You need male bug pheromones right now."

The pain in Yor's abdomen hadn't stopped, but what he was seeing was too hard to comprehend.

How did Taste suddenly get here?

Why had he turned into a Sub-Lord level bug?

His body had even grown back, and his pheromones were back too.

More importantly, he was now a whole size bigger—completely different from the boyish bug Yor remembered.

"...What happened to you?"

Yor's condition was terrible, but despite his worry, Taste answered: "After you left, we were all worried sick about you. Dexter gave me all the honey you'd left behind. After I ate it, my body grew back, and I advanced to Sub-Lord level."

He didn't mention the agony of swallowing two tubes of honey—the energy so overwhelming it nearly blew his body apart, and the rebirth from dismemberment that he barely survived.

Taste said finally, emphasizing: "I'm an adult now. A fully mature adult, Yor."

Yor's gaze drifted down. Through the torn gaps in his uniform, he could clearly see Taste's waist—the mechanical limb was gone, replaced by new flesh that, while a few shades lighter, was equally full of strength and vitality.

Looking at Taste's eyes, burning bright like a fire was lit in them, Yor couldn't help but smile. "That's great."

"I'm here, Yor." Taste leaned in, his now-larger hands cradling Yor's face, gently wiping away the tear at the corner of his eye. "Let me take you back to the ship first."

Wrapping Yor in a thermal blanket until he was completely bundled up, Taste spread his elytra—so similar to Leonius's—and flew off toward his ship.

Under the starlight, a strand of Yor's hair slipped out of the blanket, and Taste carefully tucked it back in.

He couldn't help but think back to his last conversation with Dexter.

"Yor is pregnant." Dexter had run out from the departing squad to find him, in a hurry and looking anxious.

But... he'd expected this news. Taste waited quietly for his brother to continue.

"The Lord just sensed it. This bug pup is at least Sub-Lord level, and possibly... the next Lord."

Taste shot up straight immediately. Whether Sub-Lord or Lord level, the energy required for the egg would be a terrifying amount.

"Eat these. Find Yor. Protect him." Dexter shoved both tubes of honey into Taste's hands, but his next words made Taste so angry he wanted to turn and walk away: "If Yor's body really can't hold out and needs real pheromone saturation, contact me. I... I'll... take the Lord to him."

"Take the Lord to him? Are you crazy? Yor would rather give up all of us and choose to run away, and you want to send him back to Leonius?!"

"I've replayed that day in my mind almost every single day, over and over," Dexter said with a bitter smile, the pain on his face almost spilling over. "Until one time, I suddenly realized—that day in the medical room, before Yor... did what he did, he'd already planted a mark in the Lord's mental sea."

Taste slowly straightened up.

"He could have made the Lord forget everything right then. Escaped the medical room. Come to me, or even to you. But... he didn't."

If he had to choose one bug in the entire hive, Yor chose Leonius.

The night wind was biting. Taste looked down at Yor in his arms, and a surge of unwillingness rose in his eyes. Why him, why...

I'm the one who met Yor first...

After settling Yor in on Taste's ship, he cleaned himself up as quickly as possible, then walked out without even bothering to dry off.

He knelt beside Yor, letting droplets fall from his hair, winding down over the ridges of his muscles. "Yor... I have pheromones now..."

Yor turned his head and stared at him steadily.

He didn't flinch at all. "I have pheromones now—Sub-Lord level. Forget them—I'll provide for you!"

The last time they met, Taste's eyes had been full of innocence when he looked at Yor. Now, they were filled with longing and... possessive resolve.

He didn't even give Yor a chance to respond.

The lights at the top of the ship dimmed at their master's command, leaving only a few softly pulsing lights. The room was cast into shadow.

Yor slowly closed his eyes, allowing that young but burning body to press over him.

==========Author's Note:==========

The ghost story comes from a childhood fear—the memory is so vivid that even now, I dare not look under the bed.

An immersive ghost story through a mental link—there's no better fit...

And today is a double update; tomorrow's update isn't guaranteed—depends on how I'm feeling~