Chapter Twelve: The Venomous Insect

At night, Fang You slept at his uncle’s house, in a small room all to himself. The room wasn’t very large, but it was more than comfortable enough for one person. As the moonlight rose and cold wisps of wind slipped past the corners of the walls, a chill crept into the room. Fang You pulled his quilt tighter around himself. Suddenly, he felt something soft and squirming in his hand—many tiny legs, like some kind of bug.

He was unbothered at first; in a place like this, a few insects were only to be expected. But in the next moment, Fang You sensed something was wrong, for his other hand had also seized hold of a similar wriggling mass—no, more than one!

At that, Fang You woke up with a start. The scene before him made his blood run cold. All across the quilt and the floor, countless insects of every kind—hundreds of them—scuttled and crawled. Some were black, others tiny and thin, some long and thick, others even took to the air.

Any trace of sleep vanished instantly. He snatched up the cloth bag he kept at his side, pulled out a talisman, and uttered, “Fire Incantation, by this command!”

At once, the talisman flared, and a tongue of fire shot out, sweeping through the air and striking the ground. The insects sizzled and popped as they burned. Seizing the moment, Fang You hurriedly dressed, grabbed his bag, and took up his peachwood and copper coin swords before stepping outside.

Outdoors, the scene was the same—swarms of insects blanketed everything, and more still were crawling into the house. Clearly, this was no ordinary occurrence.

“Could someone be controlling these bugs?” Fang You prepared more talismans. But just then, a voice echoed from afar: “Old Zhang, not long ago you killed my painstakingly-cultivated golden silkworm gu, and now, when I come to settle the matter, you indiscriminately destroy my swarms again! You old scoundrel, you grow worse by the day!”

“Old Zhang?” Fang You was taken aback. His uncle’s surname was Zhang—could it be that a master cultivator bore some grudge against his uncle?

Suddenly, the front gate shuddered, and a figure pushed it open, striding in.

The newcomer wore a thick bamboo hat, and though no rain was falling, his clothes were soaked through. In the moonlight, Fang You could see his entire body was crawling with hundreds of bizarre insects. Any ordinary person would have fainted dead away at the sight.

“Hah!" At that moment, Fang You’s uncle emerged from the inner room. Confronted by the sea of bugs, he showed no fear—instead, he chuckled and joked, “You’ve made a mess of my place! Cleaning up all these bugs will be a pain, so you’d better take every last one with you—not a single bug left behind!”

“You old villain, I haven’t even settled the score for my golden silkworm gu you killed last time. And who is this young man?” The bug-covered master at the door glanced at Fang You, who was holding a talisman, and found him unfamiliar.

“This is my nephew—just down from Mount Mao, a skilled fellow!” Uncle Zhang half-joked as he praised Fang You.

“I am Fang You, the third and last disciple of the inner sect of Mount Mao,” Fang You replied respectfully, bowing to the master before him.

“A disciple of Mount Mao’s inner sect? Old Zhang, you do have capable kin.” The master at the door showed no hostility; on the contrary, he seemed like an old acquaintance of Uncle Zhang.

“As for the golden silkworm gu, you can’t blame me. You never warned me you were coming. I thought someone was using gu to harm others. If I’d known it was yours, I’d have looked after it myself,” Uncle Zhang said apologetically.

“I raised that golden silkworm gu for ten years—it was about to hatch, and you destroyed it. You owe me for that!” the bug-covered master declared.

“What? Don’t tell me you want me to pay you back! I’m so poor I can’t scrape together a dime!” Uncle Zhang protested, feigning the tone of an old rascal.

“I knew you’d say that, you sly fox. But I’m not after money. I know you’re fated to be poor, so I won’t trouble you for compensation. But I am heading back to Gu Mountain in Miaojiang soon, and I have a favor to ask.” The master’s voice took on a pleading note.

“Between us, just say what you need, or call me up. No need to come in person and make me feel guilty,” Uncle Zhang said, recognizing that he’d inadvertently destroyed something precious and ready to help however he could.

“Very well. I have a disciple who was diligent at first, learning the arts of gu under me. But one day, he was lured by the traitor He Bi’an from the Miaojiang Gu Clan to practice forbidden gu sorcery. I’ve tracked him here, but something major is happening with gu magic in Miaojiang—they’ve summoned all clansmen home at once. So I’d like to ask you, Old Zhang, to take care of this matter.”

As the master spoke, his mouth seemed not to move—or perhaps it was that his entire body was crawling with such a multitude of insects that not an inch of skin could be seen, let alone his face.

Uncle Zhang agreed readily, “If I see your disciple, I’ll find a way to bind him and deliver him to you myself. As for the golden silkworm gu, let’s call it even. It may have been your decade of hard work, but since you’re entrusting me with this, you can’t blame me for the past, right?”

“Let bygones be bygones. My disciple may be no great threat, but the traitor He Bi’an who led him astray is no small figure. You must take care,” the master warned sincerely.

“Don’t you trust my skills? Besides, my nephew just returned from Mount Mao—he can help me too!” Uncle Zhang looked fondly at Fang You. “Nephew, greet this old rascal!”

“Alright!” Fang You turned to the master. “I am Fang You—”

“That’s enough, you already introduced yourself. No need for more words—I’m not much for formalities. Just be careful. Since you are an inner disciple of Mount Mao, I trust you have some ability. I’ll take my leave, then. If you succeed, I will reward you handsomely.”

“Safe travels, Elder!”

As soon as Fang You finished speaking, the master before him collapsed into a heap of insects, which then surged out of the paper shop in a mass.

“Passing a message by insect—seems the old rascal has truly left.” Uncle Zhang yawned. “Back to bed!”

Just then, Fang You’s phone rang. The caller ID read: “Victim Lin Xue.”

Fang You hurried to answer.

A frantic voice came through on the other end, “Master Fang, I know where the problem is! Come quickly to 32 Qingshui Street!”