Rebirth as a Demonic Cultivator: Starting with a Zombie Planet

Chapter 72: My Gu Insects, Don’t Stare Too Much

Five days later.

Noticing hairline fractures webbing across the Mother Stone, Chu Xuan departed Hailan Planet and returned to his cave dwelling. From there, he made his way back to the teahouse in the Nameless Market.

Cultivator Han was already waiting. Beside him sat a gaunt man with deeply sunken eyes and sallow skin.

Seeing Chu Xuan, Han laughed heartily. “Fellow Daoist He! This is the man I told you about. We just call him Spirit Insect Daoist.”

Chu Xuan offered a brief nod.

The gaunt cultivator raised his head, his gaze raking over Chu Xuan before his brow furrowed in disdain. “You’re looking for a Second Transformation Gu? Insects of that caliber require a living, flesh-and-blood organ to serve as a host.” He scoffed. “You don’t carry the stench of a Gu raiser. You don’t have the necessary organs prepared. If you lack the flesh-substrate to feed them, don’t waste my time.”

Chu Xuan smiled faintly.

It was true—orthodox Gu cultivators often looked exactly like this Spirit Insect Daoist: emaciated and hollow-eyed, as though they had been sucked dry by a succubus. But Chu Xuan had an entire apocalyptic world of flesh and blood at his disposal. The threat of a Gu insect’s backlash was nonexistent to him.

Still, the man’s suspicion was warranted. Instead of arguing, Chu Xuan simply extended his hand.

A metallic gleam pierced the skin of his palm as a razor-sharp wire slithered out into the open air.

Spirit Insect Daoist, who had already been half-out of his seat, froze.

“A Blood Steel Wire?” His indifferent sneer shattered into pure astonishment. “And it’s reached the Second Transformation?”

The Blood Steel Wire was a notoriously basic First Transformation Gu with an abysmal upper limit. To see one pushed to the Second Transformation was practically unheard of. Curiosity overriding his caution, the gaunt man leaned in, his sunken eyes wide as he tried to inspect the metallic thread.

With a mere thought, Chu Xuan retracted the wire back into his Blood Bug Sac.

“My Gu insects,” Chu Xuan said, his voice cold and flat. “Don’t stare too much.”

Cultivator Han quickly stepped in to smooth the tension. “Hahaha! Fellow Daoist Spirit Insect, it is a known taboo to pry into another’s Gu.”

The gaunt man blinked, recovering his composure, and nodded. “Take a seat. Let’s talk.”

As Cultivator Han busied himself wolfing down pastries and gulping cold tea, Chu Xuan sat directly across from the Gu merchant.

“What Second Transformation Gu do you have?” Chu Xuan asked.

Spirit Insect Daoist held up three bony fingers. “I have three. First, the Iron Carapace. Second, the Thought-Nourishing Bug. Third, the Spirit Sea Child.”

Chu Xuan raised an eyebrow. He recognized all three from the Blood Bug Tome.

The Iron Carapace was a defensive Second Transformation Gu. Once implanted, it secreted a biological resin that constantly reinforced the host’s skin. Upon sensing an attack, it would hyper-accelerate this secretion, hardening the flesh instantly to withstand even a full-force strike from a High Grade Magical Artifact.

The Thought-Nourishing Bug was far more dangerous. It had to be incubated directly within the brain, where it stimulated and expanded the cultivator’s divine sense, allowing them to control multiple Magical Artifacts simultaneously. In a life-or-death battle, fielding an extra weapon often meant the difference between victory and a corpse.

However, even with an ample supply of flesh, the bug carried a high risk of backlash. Its preferred diet was a cultivator’s living soul. Nestled in the brain, it was always dangerously close to its favorite meal, and a momentary lapse in control could result in the bug taking a fatal bite.

The Spirit Sea Child, unlike the other two, possessed the latent potential of a Third Transformation Gu. Given enough sustenance, it could condense a Gu Core—a feat comparable to a human reaching the Golden Core realm. However, while pushing it to the Second Transformation was easy, reaching the Third was astronomically difficult. Thus, the market simply treated it as a Second Transformation Gu.

It wasn’t housed in the limbs, torso, or brain, but directly within the cultivator’s Spirit Sea. It acted as a parasite that gorged on any excess spiritual energy cultivated daily. In battle, with a single thought, the Spirit Sea Child would regurgitate that stored energy back into the host. It functioned as a secondary, albeit much smaller, Spirit Sea. In a war of attrition, that extra burst of spiritual energy to cast one final spell was invaluable.

All three were exceptional specimens. Chu Xuan briefly wondered how this gaunt man had smuggled them past the Tianyin Sect’s strict inquisitors, considering the Five Righteous Sects viewed Gu rearing as a vile demonic practice.

“These are excellent,” Chu Xuan said, nodding. “Name your price.”

Spirit Insect Daoist’s eyes gleamed with greed. “Iron Carapace, early Second Transformation: one thousand small Spirit Stones. Thought-Nourishing Bug, early Second Transformation: one thousand small Spirit Stones. Spirit Sea Child, mid Second Transformation: one thousand eight hundred small Spirit Stones.”

Chu Xuan’s brow furrowed.

This was outright extortion. The market value for an early Second Transformation Gu had always hovered between the price of a Middle Grade and a High Grade Magical Artifact—roughly five hundred small Spirit Stones. This merchant was doubling the price, clearly taking him for a desperate fool.

Even with his current wealth, Chu Xuan had no intention of being swindled.

Cultivator Han chimed in through a mouthful of pastry. “Fellow Daoist He, prices are surging everywhere right now. I don’t need to spell out the reasons, do I?”

Chu Xuan ignored the excuse. His mind calculated a far more efficient, industrial solution. “What is your price for a single mating session?” he asked abruptly.

Spirit Insect Daoist froze, then let out a derisive sneer. “Do you even understand what you’re asking? You want to attempt cross-breeding? You’ll pour immense effort into the incubation only to hatch a useless, malformed freak. I advise you to drop this foolish notion and just buy the mature Gu.”

The merchant clearly pegged Chu Xuan as an arrogant novice who had read a few ancient texts and fancied himself a master breeder.

“You only need to state the price,” Chu Xuan replied, his voice devoid of emotion. “I will bear the consequences of the results. They are none of your concern.”

The gaunt man snorted coldly. “Fine. Fifty small Spirit Stones per mating session for each of the three Gu.”

Chu Xuan nodded. “Acceptable.”

It was a fraction of the cost, and a highly lucrative gamble. He had no interest in entertaining the merchant’s previous prices.

“The mating must be done here and now,” the Daoist demanded.

“Agreed.”

Within moments, the Iron Carapace, Thought-Nourishing Bug, and Spirit Sea Child were brought out to successively mate with Chu Xuan’s Blood Steel Wire.

In the grotesque biology of Gu insects, reproductive isolation did not exist. Any two species could crossbreed. The catch was that the resulting offspring were wildly unpredictable—powerful mutations were incredibly rare, while weak, deformed failures were the standard.

Once the transactions were settled, Spirit Insect Daoist didn’t linger for a second, pocketing the stones and leaving immediately. Cultivator Han exchanged a few hollow pleasantries before making his own exit.

Chu Xuan didn’t waste time either. He immediately transitioned back to Hailan Planet.

The gestation and hatching of Gu eggs required a significant amount of time—time best spent in the apocalyptic wasteland where he could multitask.

Sitting cross-legged at the nexus of his Soul-Snatching Fiend-Nourishing Grand Array, Chu Xuan sank into deep cultivation. He passively absorbed the ambient Yin Fiend Qi while actively refining the massive Blood Bead he had harvested.

His cultivation base surged forward at a monstrous pace.

Exhausted from the immense energy expenditure of breeding, the Blood Steel Wire laid three distinct eggs before slipping into a deep, dormant state. The eggs were color-coded to their respective lineages: black for the Iron Carapace, white for the Thought-Nourishing Bug, and blue for the Spirit Sea Child.

Days bled into one another. The soft, translucent membranes of the eggs gradually calcified into hard shells.

Then, one quiet afternoon, a sharp crack echoed in the silence.

A jagged fissure spiderwebbed across the surface of the black egg.

Chu Xuan’s eyes snapped open. He instantly ceased his cultivation, his predatory gaze locking onto the trembling black shell.