Chapter 33
Chapter 33: Good Stuff
Gu Shi Yi woke to Granny Gu’s palm landing on her cheek with enough force to make her see stars.
“Shi Yi! Wake up! Wake up!”
Gu Shi Yi blinked hard and tried to move. Her head throbbed. Her ribs ached. Everything else seemed… fine, somehow.
“Aunt…”
Granny Gu tugged her upright, then immediately started gesturing like she’d turned into a street performer. She pointed to her own ear, then to Gu Shi Yi.
“Shi Yi, can you hear me…?”
She grabbed a little bottle from the table and waved it. Her mouth formed exaggerated shapes as she explained, half pantomime and half panic.
“This is medicine from the Emerald Water Sect officials. They said it cures deafness. Take one…”
Before Gu Shi Yi could protest, Granny Gu popped the stopper, poured out a pill, and shoved it at her.
Gu Shi Yi wasn’t deaf, but she took it anyway—mostly to keep Granny Gu from spiraling. The pill looked tiny. The bitterness was not.
She bit down too fast and nearly choked.
“Ah—ugh!”
She clutched her throat, gagging, eyes watering. Granny Gu hurried to pour water. Gu Shi Yi gulped it down like her life depended on it.
Granny Gu finally spoke, relief flooding her face. “It’s bitter, but it works. I took one and could hear again in less than an incense stick’s burn time.”
Gu Shi Yi nodded weakly, handing the bowl back. Granny Gu didn’t notice anything off. She patted Gu Shi Yi’s shoulder like she’d saved the world.
“Rest a bit. When you can hear again, we’ll talk.”
She left.
The instant the door closed, Gu Shi Yi reached for the oilcloth bag pressed to her chest. She slipped her hand inside—and froze.
Something soft brushed her fingers.
She yanked it out without thinking.
“Ah!”
She shrieked and flung it onto the bed, scrambling backward until her spine hit the wall. She stared at it like it might start crawling.
A finger.
White. Long. Slender. Jointed. A perfect, horrible imitation of a human finger.
Gu Shi Yi’s mind went blank for half a heartbeat, then last night came roaring back.
“That’s… that’s from the fish-kui beast’s belly limb…”
Li Yan Er’s muffled voice burst out from inside the bag. “Shi Yi? Shi Yi, what happened?!”
Gu Shi Yi hurriedly pulled her out. “Look—this thing. This is what smashed me on the head last night.”
She reached up and touched the lump on her scalp. Pain shot down her neck. She hissed through her teeth.
Li Yan Er had heard the screaming inside and thought the ship was sinking again. When she saw the finger, she relaxed so hard she practically melted.
“I thought it was something serious. Didn’t you shove that into your chest yourself?”
Gu Shi Yi blinked, then… yeah. In the spinning chaos—half-deaf, half-dazed—she’d grabbed whatever was near her and stuffed it inside her clothes like it was treasure.
Li Yan Er walked over, hugged the finger with both arms, and turned back with an expression that looked almost shy.
“Shi Yi… this thing’s useful to me.”
Gu Shi Yi’s eyes went wide. “Useful how?”
“I don’t know why.” Li Yan Er’s voice softened. “But last night, in the bag, the beast’s roars nearly shook my soul loose. To mortals it’s just pain and ringing… to me it felt like being torn apart. And then that pressure came down—so strong I thought I’d scatter on the spot.”
She tightened her hold on the finger.
“But when you shoved this against me… the cold, yin aura coming off it steadied me. It kept me from being ripped out of Clay Doll.”
Gu Shi Yi stared at the finger, then at her friend. “So… it can anchor a soul?”
Li Yan Er nodded, face serious for once.
Gu Shi Yi lifted the finger and inspected it again. Up close, it really was horrifyingly human. If nobody told you where it came from, you’d never guess it had been cut from a monster that could blot out the stars.
She narrowed her eyes, thinking. “My guess? That beast lives in the Five-Colored River year after year. It’s probably an extreme yin creature. And those belly limbs—those ‘hands’—might be where all its yin qi collects. The purest part.”
She grinned, the edge of last night’s fear finally easing.
“Heh. Who knew getting smashed around like a rag doll would come with benefits?”
She slid the finger back into the oilcloth bag. “If it helps you, we’re keeping it.”
Li Yan Er climbed in after it immediately, hugging it like a pillow. The long, narrow bag looked cramped with both Clay Doll and the finger inside, but she managed.
“Hah… so comfortable,” Li Yan Er sighed, blissed out.
Gu Shi Yi’s mouth curled into something deeply suspicious. “A finger makes you that happy?”
Li Yan Er didn’t even look up. “Can you be serious for once?”
Gu Shi Yi snorted. “Says the one cuddling a monster finger.”
Li Yan Er shot her a look sharp enough to cut rope. “You’ve gone thirty years without touching a man. Where do you even get all this filth?”
Gu Shi Yi burst out laughing, tucked the oilcloth bag away again, and was still grinning when Granny Gu returned with a tray—thin porridge and two side dishes.
“Shi Yi, come eat!”
After a night of sheer terror, Gu Shi Yi was starving. She took the bowl and drank, then asked between mouthfuls, “Aunt, what happened to you last night?”
Granny Gu shuddered. “I was in here. That monster bellowed once and I fainted. I’m old—I can’t take that kind of fright.”
She took a breath, then continued. “Later, an escort guard from Sixth Master’s side woke me up. When I opened my eyes, they were carrying you in. After that, they brought the medicine and told me to make you take it.”
Gu Shi Yi nodded, finished eating fast, and went outside to look around.
Most people had the same story. The sturdier ones had held on longer. The timid ones had been knocked out the moment the adult fish-kui beast roared the first time.
Gu Shi Yi’s gaze drifted to the third level.
“So… I really was the only one who saw that golden light,” she muttered.
Was it someone from the Emerald Water Sect who moved?
While she was still turning it over, in the first-class cabin on the third level, a masked woman questioned a burly middle-aged man.
“Have the pills been distributed?”
The man lowered his head, respectful to the bone. “Reporting to master—yes. Everyone has them.”
The masked woman nodded. “I didn’t expect the seal on the Blood-Erosion Grass to loosen last night. A trace of aura leaked out and drew in two fish-kui beasts.”
The middle-aged man hesitated, then spoke carefully. “The Blood-Erosion Grass is too potent. A seal slipping could happen, but the disturbance was huge. Will it draw in more monsters… or alert someone with a keen nose?”
The masked woman’s voice stayed calm. “When I boarded, I swept the entire ship with divine sense. Everyone on board is ordinary. Only one person has Dao arts—injured, and keeping a yin soul. That type is usually some wandering trickster, raising a ghost to swindle people. No one else is worth mentioning.”
She paused, then continued. “Last night I rushed out two more talismans and sealed the Blood-Erosion Grass again. It should hold for more than three days. I’ll need to keep reinforcing it throughout the journey. I’ll be in seclusion—unless it’s urgent, don’t disturb me.”
“Yes, master.”
“And send spirit stones to the Emerald Water Sect broker,” she added. “Last night’s beasts came because of us. Their Formation burned through power. Consider it compensation.”
“Yes.” The man bowed and withdrew.
After that, the voyage settled into calm. Even when fish-kui beasts appeared now and then, the Formation kept them outside. Nothing like that nightmare night happened again.
Gu Shi Yi spent her days eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating. Her injuries healed. She even put on a little weight. The Five-Colored River stayed gorgeous, but after staring at it for long enough, beauty turned into boredom.
So she went back to her old craft: fortune-telling.
At first the escort men laughed it off. Then she “called” two things right in a row, and suddenly everyone wanted their fate read. Gu Shi Yi understood the art of scarcity as well as she understood breathing—one reading a day, three copper coins per reading. Cheap enough to look righteous, limited enough to look impressive. She didn’t build a legendary reputation, but she absolutely built herself a fine collection of wine-and-meat friends.
Once she blended in, none of those men treated her like a woman at all. They threw arms around her shoulders, dragged her into drinking games, and called her brother like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Li Yan Er sighed about it nonstop. “Look at you. On this whole ship, aside from Granny Gu, nobody treats you like a woman. If you keep this up, how are you ever going to get married?”
Gu Shi Yi grinned. “Buddy, relax. I just haven’t met someone I like. Put a muscle-bound hunk in front of me and I’ll turn sweet and delicate in a second.”
To prove her point, she pinched her fingers into an exaggerated orchid pose and struck a shamelessly “seductive” posture on the bed. In a thin sleep robe, the effect was… unfortunately convincing.
Li Yan Er sighed again, thinking, [Honestly, Shi Yi’s body is the real deal. If she dressed up and went out looking for a hookup, she’d catch one every time. It’s just her personality…]
[Men only ever get two options with her: clink cups and become brothers, or skip straight to bedmates. There’s no third path.]
At the time, Li Yan Er didn’t imagine she’d ever be proven right.
A full month dragged by. Half the journey still remained. Master Huang Liu noticed how restless everyone had grown from being trapped on a ship, so he ordered a stop at the only riverside town along the Five-Colored River. They’d rest ten days before setting out again.
The whole ship cheered. The men immediately started making plans to go ashore—and once Gu Shi Yi was hauled off the deck with them, she realized what kind of plans.
“Wait… a brothel?” she asked, stunned, staring at Liu Two’s arm slung over her shoulder. “Brothers, what do you think I am?”
Liu Two blinked, equally baffled. “Aren’t you one of the brothers?”
They stared at each other.
Then Liu Two jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. “Ah—shit. I forgot!”
He yanked his arm away and scratched his scalp, suddenly intensely interested in the ground. “Uh. Right. You’re… you’re a woman.”
Gu Shi Yi gave him a look sharp enough to skin a fish-kui beast and turned to leave.
Liu Two hurried after her. “Shi Yi, where are you going?”
“I’m going to look around,” she said, waving him off without turning back. “You guys go have fun.”
The town sat on the Gobi of ten-thousand sands prefecture, right beside the Five-Colored River. Vegetation was sparse. Drought was constant. And since the Five-Colored River’s water couldn’t be drunk, the place should never have supported mortal life at all.
But three hundred years ago, someone discovered a spirit mine here. Several major sects in ten-thousand sands prefecture fought brutal battles for it until the division was decided the simplest way possible—by whoever hit hardest. After that, disciples built a town to guard the mine, and mortals slowly gathered around it. Three centuries later, it had become a city where mortals and cultivators lived side by side.
The town wasn’t large—around a million people—and the buildings were made with local materials. Yellow sand was fired into semi-transparent stone, then polished into bricks. Under the afternoon sun, the entire city shimmered faintly, every wall catching light like glass.
Gu Shi Yi wasn’t against brothels. She just had a different errand.
This was a place where cultivators lived and traded. That meant there might be someone who could identify the “finger.”
[If someone can tell me whether this thing has side effects, I’ll finally stop worrying.]
Yan Er had hugged it and slept with it the whole way, and nothing bad had happened yet—but it still came from a beast. Better safe than sorry.
Gu Shi Yi walked slowly along the glittering street. Aside from the blinding buildings and the sand everywhere, it felt like any ordinary mortal city. The difference was in the way people moved: everyone was unusually polite, stepping aside from several feet away when they passed each other.
Because in this city, there were cultivating officials.
Mortals couldn’t tell who was who. One wrong bump, one unlucky glance, and you might offend someone with a temper and power to match. Sure, the city had rules—cultivators weren’t supposed to harm mortals at will. But everyone knew rules didn’t stop methods. If a cultivator wanted you dead, there were a hundred ways to make it happen quietly, cleanly, without even leaving a corpse that made sense.
So the mortals here had developed a “good habit.”
Smile first. Be careful. Be polite. Always.