“I won’t lose either,” I muttered defiantly. “Do whatever you want—kill me, torture me—but if you kill me, Ruan Sanjia won’t be saved.” Hu Sanmei stepped forward and kicked me. “Young man, it’s best not to threaten me,” she sneered. I fell to the ground, and the sandalwood token slipped from my grasp, landing with a clatter.
Etched into it was the character “Guo.”
Hu Sanmei’s eyes lit up, her demeanor softening instantly. “Are you from the Guo family?” she asked, her tone noticeably gentler.
A spark of inspiration struck me. “I, a man of China, neither change my surname nor my given name,” I declared. “I am Guo Xiaochong, raised by my aunt Guo Yingying. I came to Vietnam for an important matter.”
Hu Sanmei wasn’t easily fooled. Her brow twitched slightly as she said, “Come with me.” I exchanged glances with Uncle Jianguo, who signaled for me to stay cautious. I didn’t know Hu Sanmei’s background, but her subordinates looked fierce—like a proper drug queen’s entourage.
She probed me for information, seemingly familiar with the Guo family, though only superficially. She recognized the token as a Guo family emblem but knew little about their inner workings.
We circled each other, neither gaining the upper hand. Meanwhile, Ruan Sanjia lay motionless on the bed, lifeless.
Hu Sanmei gazed at him tenderly, but her eyes hardened when she turned to me. “If Sanjia doesn’t wake up, none of you will leave here alive,” she warned.
Ruan Sanjia had claimed he could revive himself—so why had Su Sanmei called me to save him? It made no sense. I refused her demand. She stared at me coldly. “Can the Guo family not save him?”
Gritting my teeth, I pried open Ruan Sanjia’s mouth. A flash of lightning burst forth, and a small snake shot out, landing on the floor as a pool of black blood.
Ruan Sanjia had used his own life-bound serpent to revive himself. Within minutes, he stirred awake. Spotting Hu Sanmei, he cried out, “Sanmei! Is it really you? I wanted to return to you sooner, but that wretched woman trapped me in the mountains for twenty-five years. Now, I’m finally free. I’m so happy!”
Hu Sanmei was overjoyed, her earlier hostility vanishing. After a tender reunion, she pointed at me. “A master from the Guo family saved you.”
From Uncle Jianguo’s introduction, Ruan Sanjia knew my surname was Xiao. But he was sharp—too sharp. Suspecting I had deceived Uncle Jianguo, he assumed Guo was my real name, Xiao merely an alias.
Ruan Sanjia clasped his hands in reverence. “To meet a true inheritor of the Chinese Insect Arts—I can die without regret. Brother Guo, which elemental path do you follow?”
I realized then that he held the Guo family in awe. The token I’d picked up by chance had become my lifeline. Fate truly worked in mysterious ways.
Still, cold sweat trickled down my back. “Some of China’s insect arts have been lost,” I said carefully. “Ironically, remnants survive in Vietnam. My aunt trained me, and by eighteen, I mastered the Five Elements.”
Ruan Sanjia laughed heartily. “Brother Guo, you’re full of surprises! When we first met, I thought to intimidate you—yet you deceived me instead.”
Hu Sanmei remained skeptical. She called in a young man and challenged, “Prove it.” Ruan Sanjia didn’t stop her—clearly, he doubted me too.
I smirked. “Easy.” The man was stocky, confused as I pressed a hand to his abdomen. “Do you understand Chinese?” I asked. He nodded. “I’ve been to Yunnan. I understand.”
With a slap to his belly, I mentally commanded, *Come out!*
The man suddenly doubled over, face contorted in pain. “Something’s crawling inside me!” he gasped.
“Go to the toilet,” I said, patting his shoulder. Only then did Hu Sanmei believe me. Uncle Jianguo and Lin Danan were safe—for now.
Hu Sanmei eyed me warily. “Why are you at the border?”
“Originally, I sought a flower called the Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart. Then I met Liu Jianguo, and we ventured into the mountains together.”
Ruan Sanjia vouched for me, though his gaze at Hu Sanmei was odd. I was ushered out—only to hear the unmistakable sounds of passion from inside. Hu Sanmei’s long-suppressed moans filled the air.
Reuniting with Uncle Jianguo, we strategized in hushed tones.
“Hu Sanmei likely runs a drug cartel,” he murmured. “Smuggling from Myanmar and Laos into Yunnan… But something’s off about this village.”
“What?”
“The patrols… they don’t seem alive. Like corpses reanimated through dark arts—soldiers that don’t need wages.”
The ancient texts spoke of such abominations—*Fushi*, corpses refined into mindless enforcers. Among them, the *Tongjia Shi* (Bronze-Armored Corpses) were the most terrifying, nourished by the brains of women who died in childbirth over forty-nine days.
Fate had a cruel sense of humor. No sooner had we discussed them than screams erupted—Hu Sanmei’s.
Moments ago, she and Ruan Sanjia had been entwined. Now, she cradled his limp body, his chest split open, blood seeping from his eyes and nose. “Save him!” she begged, desperation in her voice.
I hesitated. Fail, and her grief might turn lethal. Placing a hand on Ruan Sanjia’s wrist, I felt his pulse fading. His lips moved soundlessly.
Rising, I delivered the grim truth: “No hope. The Lover’s Blood Gu has activated.”
Uncle Jianguo, frantic, demanded, “Where are my five brothers’ remains?!”
With a final spasm, Ruan Sanjia vomited black blood. His chest caved in, his exposed heart pulsing from red to black. Hu Sanmei clawed at the gaping hole, but it was futile.
Daughter Knife Nine had tied an invisible thread around his heart—when he lay with another, she pulled it taut, shredding him from within.
As Hu Sanmei wailed over his corpse, Ruan Sanjia’s dead eyes snapped open. His right hand curled into a gesture—thumb bent, four fingers extended.
Without hesitation, Hu Sanmei burned his body. Two black insects emerged from the ashes, vanishing into the earth.
Then came the armed men, poised to turn us into pincushions if we refused her next demand.
Lin Danan adjusted his glasses. “Let’s discuss this civilly. It’s the 21st century.”
“Shut the hell up,” I snapped.
Hu Sanmei, now clad in white, strapped poisoned needles to her wrists. “Take me to Daughter Knife Nine,” she hissed. “I’ll flay her alive.”
Dawn hadn’t broken when we were herded toward the mountains. Even Uncle Jianguo, iron-willed as he was, faltered. Lin Danan, barely alive, whimpered, “I’ve never suffered like this.”
Trapped between death and duty, Uncle Jianguo and I exchanged a nod. Resigned, we marched on.
Hu Sanmei blew a black whistle—three long, two short. From the shadows emerged eight *Fushi*, their vacant eyes locked onto us.
“Eight workers who don’t need wages,” Lin Danan muttered.
Hu Sanmei backhanded him. “They’re my brothers! Insult them again, and I’ll feed you to the insects!”
Lin Danan clutched his stomach, silent.
Uncle Jianguo frowned, puzzling over Ruan Sanjia’s final gesture—*four fingers*. What did it mean?
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