Chapter 32

Chapter 32: That’s Badass!

Gu Shi Yi couldn’t sleep, and sitting still had never been her strong point. So, in the dead of night, she slipped out and wandered the deck alone. The ship was enormous, but aside from a handful of escort guards on duty, everyone else was out cold. Liu Two was on watch too. The moment he spotted her, he waved her over.

“Gu Shi Yi, come look. You’ve probably never seen anything like this!”

She strolled over and followed his pointing finger. The second she saw it, she sucked in a sharp breath, eyes going huge.

“So pretty!”

By day, the Five-Colored River split into five distinct bands, clean and bright, already beautiful to look at. But at night, it was a different world entirely. The water should have been pitch-black—yet inside it swam countless transparent little fish, each about an inch long. Their bodies were crystal clear, and only their bellies held a faint, flickering glow. That tiny light shone through thin skin, lighting the water around them.

Tens of thousands of them drifted and darted together, brightening and dimming in waves. Through the pale barrier of the Formation, the scene turned hazy and dreamy, as if their ship were sailing through a Milky Way hung across the nine heavens, or floating inside rainbow clouds—so brilliant it almost hurt to stare.

With the pathetic amount of “poetry” in her belly, Gu Shi Yi could only gape, then blurt out the one thing she could manage.

“Holy shit. It’s so damn beautiful.”

It was the kind of beauty that made you think dying in it wouldn’t even feel like a loss.

Liu Two chuckled, then lowered his voice. “Careful. People have gotten so mesmerized by the night view of the Five-Colored River that they wandered straight into the water without realizing it—and that’s how they died.”

That was why, a thousand years ago, even though the Five-Colored River was stunning, the commoners living nearby talked about it like it was a curse. Nobody dared come close.

They were still clicking their tongues in wonder when the fish ahead seemed to panic. The glittering school scattered in an instant, tiny bodies streaking wildly in all directions. Before anyone could make sense of it, the river in the distance heaved—one huge swell rising as something massive rushed toward them.

Someone shouted, “The fish-kui beast is coming!”

A man at the front of the deck struck the warning bell.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sharp, urgent peals ripped through the ship. People below jolted awake. On deck, everyone scrambled to grab rails, ropes—anything that could keep them from being thrown off their feet. Liu Two snatched a thick rope, looped it around Gu Shi Yi’s waist, and cinched it tight with practiced hands.

“I swear, you pick the worst times to go wandering,” he snapped. “Look at this—now we’re in trouble.”

He tied the other end around the mast and shoved the rope into her hands. “Hold on!”

Gu Shi Yi nodded. Everyone’s fear was contagious; it crawled under her skin and squeezed.

The fish-kui beast slammed into the bow.

The Formation’s misty white light washed over it, showing its whole body clearly. Its head was absurdly large—like a small carriage—its front end a dull, oily black. Two fish eyes sat far apart, its mouth gaping wide. At first glance, it looked like a catfish, complete with long whiskers. But its back bulged high, and along its spine ran a ridge of sharp spikes. Its scales were five-colored, flashing under the Formation’s light like someone had polished each one by hand.

Gu Shi Yi couldn’t help thinking, [Ugly face, gorgeous outfit.]

Then it surged closer, lifting its head high out of the water and exposing half its belly—snow-white and disturbingly smooth. On that belly were four human hands, pale and soft, like they didn’t belong on a beast at all.

“Moo!”

The bellow hit the air like a hammer.

Bang!

Those hand-like belly limbs slammed down on the hull. The whole ship shuddered. People stumbled hard, the deck rolling under their feet. The rope around Gu Shi Yi’s waist yanked her healing wound. She hissed, face twisting, and dropped onto the deck with a thump rather than risk tearing something open.

Liu Two glanced at her, his expression easing for half a heartbeat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Gu Shi Yi waved him off and scooted closer to the mast, hugging it like it was family. “What’s it trying to do?”

“It eats those glowing fish,” Liu Two said grimly. “Our ship cut right over the school and blocked it from feeding. It’s pissed. It’s trying to smash the ship open.”

Great. A giant baby throwing a tantrum.

Gu Shi Yi’s mouth twitched. Liu Two, clearly used to this, kept his voice steady. “Don’t panic. It only has four hands—still a juvenile. The adults grow sixteen. For this kind of fish-kui beast, every extra pair of hands adds another thousand jin of strength. A juvenile can’t flip a ship like this. An adult can. The Emerald Water Sect people are activating the Formation—once it’s fully up, they’ll drive it off.”

As if on cue, bright white light flared from within the ship. The beast bellowed again from the river below, but this time the sound carried a sharp, almost shrill edge.

“Moo…!”

Gu Shi Yi pushed herself up to look. The fish-kui beast had dropped back into the water, circling and calling at them like an offended bull.

“Moo… moo… moo…”

It somehow sounded wronged.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“The Formation bounced it off!” another voice answered.

The beast wasn’t ready to accept that. It charged again, lifting its upper body to repeat the same move. The instant its thin arms touched the hull, the Formation’s light flared violently. Two threads of green smoke hissed up from where its hands met the barrier.

“Moo!”

That scream was pure misery.

Gu Shi Yi clicked her tongue. “Why don’t we just speed up and leave the fish behind?”

Liu Two shot her a look so flat it could iron cloth. “Speed up with what? This ship drinks spirit stones like a drunk drinks wine. The Emerald Water Sect Immortal Masters are stingy as hell. They only gave enough stones for this pace. Burn through them too fast and we’ll be stuck drifting on the river.”

Gu Shi Yi rolled her eyes. “They make that much money and still act like this? Aren’t they afraid of bursting?”

Maybe the fish-kui beast was afraid of bursting too, because after getting scorched, it circled twice more, mooed in stubborn frustration, then flicked its tail and dove under the water. As it turned, Gu Shi Yi finally saw that tail clearly—thin like an ox’s, the end shaped like a spindle, wrapped in thick red scales.

“…Kind of cute,” she blurted, before she could stop herself.

Ugly-cute. Horrible-cute. Somehow cute.

Liu Two made a face. “That’s a juvenile. Its tail’s mostly useless. You want to see an adult? One tail slap could punch right through this ship.”

With the beast gone, everyone finally exhaled. The Formation’s glare dimmed back to its steady sailing glow.

“Enough. Back to sleep!”

Liu Two loosened the rope around Gu Shi Yi and helped her toward the cabins. She’d had her fill of excitement and behaved, letting him steer her along. On the way, they ran into Granny Gu, who’d come out searching for her, and Granny Gu scolded her so thoroughly Gu Shi Yi almost felt her ears turning red.

Gu Shi Yi only laughed her way through it. She followed Granny Gu back inside, barely sat down on the bed—

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The bell rang again. This time it came with screams so sharp they raised goosebumps.

“It’s back! The fish-kui beast is back! This one’s huge!”

“A huge fish-kui beast!”

People poured out of cabins like ants from a kicked nest. Gu Shi Yi and Granny Gu shoved into the doorway too, each gripping the frame.

They didn’t even need to run to the bow. The beast’s shadow swallowed the ship. When they lifted their heads, they saw it—mountain-sized, blotting out the stars.

Granny Gu shrieked and sagged, her legs giving out as she dropped to the floor. “H-how is it so big?!”

Compared to the earlier one, this was the difference between a brute of a giant and a three-year-old child. The deck erupted into chaos.

“My mother!”

“Heavens—look at the size of it!”

“Run! It’s going to flip the ship!”

Gu Shi Yi’s face went hard. She hauled Granny Gu back up and shoved her toward the bed. “Aunt, sit down. Stay inside.”

They’d chased off the little one. Of course the big one had come.

Granny Gu tried to grab her sleeve, but Gu Shi Yi gently pried her off and stepped out anyway.

Outside, the Formation roared to full power. White light flooded the deck, bright enough to sting the eyes. Gu Shi Yi glanced down at her chest and tightened the waterproof oilcloth bag there.

Li Yan Er’s voice came from inside, muffled but sharp. “Shi Yi—don’t tie me up in there! I don’t want to be stuck not knowing anything!”

Gu Shi Yi forced a smile. “I’m not doing this to be mean. I’m doing it so you don’t get soaked. Your mud body can’t exactly swim. If anything happens, I’ll let you out.”

If Gu Shi Yi fell in, she’d die. Li Yan Er was a yin soul; worst case, she could abandon Clay Doll and go back to being a ghost.

They didn’t get another moment.

Bang!

The adult fish-kui beast launched itself out of the river and slammed into the Formation’s light shield overhead. The deck shuddered like it had been punched. Everyone looked up.

Its belly was a pale, swollen slab of white, and its hand-like belly limbs—sixteen of them—spread and clung across the barrier like a grotesque spider, fingers splayed, gripping for purchase. The sight drained faces of color.

The thing was bizarre. Its adult body was enormous, but those belly limbs looked almost the same as the juvenile’s—just more of them. And they weren’t just for show. Whether young or grown, fish-kui beasts loved to latch onto ships with those hands, like all their strength lived there.

People froze.

Then their bodies went light—weightless—like the world had yanked the floor away.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

They shot up, then crashed back down onto the deck in a mess of limbs and curses.

The beast was using its sheer mass to press the ship into the river. The hull sank hard, and the sudden drop tossed everyone into the air. Then the Formation flared again, white light bursting so bright it blinded half the deck. People screamed and covered their eyes.

Gu Shi Yi, with her Dao arts, could still barely see. Through the glare, she caught a beam of white light shooting up from the third level, striking straight into the fish-kui beast’s belly.

Someone from above had made a move.

“Moo…!”

The beast roared, furious. Its massive body twisted, then slipped off the barrier and dropped back into the river.

Boom!

It hit the water like a falling hill. The wave it threw up was monstrous, and the ship leapt like a leaf in a storm. People flew again, shrieking.

Gu Shi Yi reacted fast, locking both arms around the railing. The impact still rattled her teeth, but she stayed on the deck.

Then pain exploded at the top of her head.

Something slammed into her skull. Stars burst across her vision. The world spun, and for a second she was sure she’d black out.

“What—what was that?”

When the water calmed enough for her to breathe again, she looked down and saw it: a pale, finger-like thing lying right in front of her.

Still dizzy, she reached for it and lifted it close. White. Long. Slender. Knuckled in the middle like a human middle finger. Soft to the touch. The broken end showed no blood at all.

“So damn weird…”

She barely had time to think before the beast returned.

“Moo!”

The bellow crashed over the ship with a different kind of force. Pain stabbed through ears. Then everything went hollow.

People’s faces twisted—then went slack.

Silence.

Eardrums had shattered. Some fell limp where they stood. Gu Shi Yi fared slightly better—hers didn’t burst—but her skull filled with a savage ringing until she couldn’t hear her own breath. She sank onto the deck, staring up at the barrier as the beast slammed down again.

Bang!

The ship trembled nonstop. People clung to the deck, shaking like lambs under a wolf’s shadow, too terrified to move, too helpless to run.

Gu Shi Yi stared blankly at the sky, the ringing in her head turning into a roaring despair.

Then, in the white glare, a figure appeared.

Someone hovered in midair, moving toward the fish-kui beast pinned to the barrier. A flash of gold cut through the light.

Gu Shi Yi dimly saw an arm swing—

A golden beam shot forward, pierced the Formation’s shield, and drove straight into the beast’s belly.

“Moo—!”

The scream that followed was agony made audible. The fish-kui beast writhed, sliding off the barrier again. The light shield flushed red as its belly split open. Blood streamed down the glowing surface in thick sheets, painting the barrier like a curtain.

The beast howled and vanished beneath the river.

The figure didn’t chase. It hovered for a moment as if listening, then turned and drifted back toward the third-level cabin.

Gu Shi Yi watched with empty eyes, barely able to form words.

“That’s… badass.”

Then darkness took her, and she slipped into it without a sound.