Rebirth as a Demonic Cultivator: Starting with a Zombie Planet

Chapter 57: Two-Headed Python, Lifebound Gu

Hailan Planet. Donghu City. The Haotai Hotel.

Chu Xuan materialized on the familiar concrete of the rooftop. He preferred the vantage point up here, high above the ruined streets, rather than the claustrophobic confines of the hotel suites below.

The moment his boots touched the ground, a joyful roar echoed across the roof. A hulking, burly figure charged at him like a runaway tank.

In the blink of an eye, the massive Yin Corpse skidded to a halt, nuzzling its grotesque, oversized head affectionately against Chu Xuan’s chest. To an outsider, the sight of a terrifying undead monstrosity acting like an overgrown puppy would be pure nightmare fuel. To Chu Xuan, it was just his loyal pet.

He smiled, patting the creature’s cold, hardened skull. “How have things been while I was away?”

“Roar, roar, roar!” Xiao Hu launched into a frantic game of charades, pointing east, then west, jumping up and down, and pantomiming a dead sprint. It was a wildly expressive performance.

Naturally, Chu Xuan couldn’t decipher a damn thing from the flailing limbs alone. Instead, he tapped into the soul connection tethering him to the Yin Corpse, translating the chaotic intent into coherent thoughts.

Mostly normal, just as I expected, Chu Xuan mused, nodding slowly. Except for one minor pest.

Through their mental link, he learned that a massive Two-Headed Python had slithered into Donghu City. Over twenty meters long, the beast had claimed the territory as its own, slaughtering and devouring the local mutated creatures.

Over the past two months, it had wreaked havoc across the ruins. The Black Vanguard Security Company had suffered heavy casualties, forcing them to beg the Linjiang Army for reinforcements.

The python had even been foolish enough to slither into Chu Xuan’s Yin-Fiend Soul-Stealing Grand Array. Surprisingly, it had managed to tear its way back out after only a brief stint inside, though its soul had taken a beating.

Xiao Hu had also crossed paths with the overgrown snake, delivering a brutal beatdown. The python only managed to survive by severing its own tail and fleeing into the shadows. Now, it was either hiding in the Long River or nursing its wounds deep within the city.

Currently, the Linjiang Army had deployed over a hundred soldiers to scour Donghu City’s waterways for the beast. Xiao Hu and Xiao Bao had bumped into these patrols a few times, but the undead easily melted back into the darkness. The soldiers were far too weak to even sense their presence.

Chu Xuan’s eyes gleamed with cold interest.

The mutated creatures of Hailan Planet were fundamentally different from the Demon Beasts of the Cangxuan world. If an ordinary Demon Beast had blundered into his Yin-Fiend Soul-Stealing Grand Array, it would have been instantly digested into bloody nourishment. Yet, this Two-Headed Python had survived.

That meant its living soul possessed unique, resilient properties. If I extract it, it would make a perfect core soul for a new formation.

Still, there was no rush. Since the Linjiang Army hadn’t retreated, it meant the python was still trapped in the city. A mere mutant snake—no matter how large—was nothing compared to a Foundation Establishment cultivator. He would harvest it when he had the time; it wasn’t worth derailing his schedule.

“Where’s Xiao Bao?” Chu Xuan asked.

“Roar!” Xiao Hu pointed a massive, rotting finger toward the north.

Chu Xuan nodded. Xiao Bao was out hunting. Since Chu Xuan had systematically exterminated the local Zombie Horde, Donghu City was practically barren of undead. A few stragglers wandered in from the outskirts, but not enough to sustain his Yin Corpses. To feed, Xiao Hu and Xiao Bao had been forced to commute to neighboring ruins like Shuanglong City.

Chu Xuan wasn’t worried about their safety. If anything, he pitied the zombies in those cities.

“Stand guard,” Chu Xuan ordered.

“Roar!” Xiao Hu thumped its chest, its rotting face dead serious.

Chu Xuan sat cross-legged on the concrete and immediately shifted his focus inward. It was time to cultivate his Lifebound Gu.

According to the Blood Bug Tome, forging a Lifebound Gu required two steps: forming a Blood Bug Sac, and feeding the Gu with his own essence blood. The sac was already condensed within his body. Now, he just needed to feed his Blood Steel Wire.

“Steel Wire. Out.”

A bloody slit parted on his palm. The crimson thread of the Blood Steel Wire wriggled free, coiling affectionately around his wrist.

Chu Xuan gritted his teeth and forced out three drops of his heart’s essence blood. His complexion instantly paled, a wave of cold lethargy washing over him.

The Steel Wire trembled. Smelling the ultimate feast, it darted forward, greedily absorbing the floating crimson droplets.

“Haaa…” Chu Xuan exhaled a shaky breath. “The body produces essence blood far too slowly. At best, I can only condense one drop every three days.”

He shook his head. He couldn’t rush this. Forcing out too much blood would cripple his cultivation, and overfeeding the Steel Wire would cause it to burst.

A month passed in the blink of an eye.

One drop every three days, plus the initial three—Chu Xuan had fed the Steel Wire exactly thirteen drops of his life force. With every feeding, the psychic tether between man and parasite grew thicker, more absolute.

Then came the final day.

As the fourteenth drop of essence blood sank into the crimson thread, Chu Xuan’s mind violently cleared. A profound, crystalline connection snapped into place. The Steel Wire was no longer just a weapon or a pet; it was an extension of his own nervous system.

With a mere flicker of thought, the wire whipped through the air, executing his will flawlessly. It was as natural as flexing his own fingers.

The Lifebound Gu was complete.

Bound to his soul, the Steel Wire’s lethality would skyrocket, and the risk of it rebelling was practically zero. The only drawback was the shared damage. If the Steel Wire was injured, Chu Xuan’s soul would take the hit. He remembered how Wu Teng had nearly blacked out when the monk Huikong crushed his Brain-Eating Insect Queen. That was the price of a Lifebound Gu.

Chu Xuan gently stroked the hovering crimson thread, a cold, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

A wise investment. Cultivating a Lifebound Gu takes far too much uninterrupted time. I could never have done this safely in the Cangxuan world.

His smile faded slightly as he recalled a past failure. It’s a pity that the Blood Steel Wire egg I buried earlier died instead of hatching.

The egg must have been defective. Despite absorbing his blood for nearly two months, it had simply dissolved into useless mush.

My next Gu doesn’t have to be the same breed, he calculated. I could force the Steel Wire to mate with a higher-tier Gu to spawn a completely new, hybrid bloodline.

Having thoroughly dissected the Blood Bug Tome, Chu Xuan knew the mechanics of Gu crossbreeding inside and out. His current Lifebound Gu was already a heavily mutated variant, far deadlier than a standard Blood Steel Wire. Breeding it with an apex predator could yield terrifying results.

Of course, hybrid eggs were highly unstable—a genetic gamble. If he lost the roll, he would waste months of effort. But the potential payoff was worth the risk.

“Enough sitting around,” Chu Xuan muttered, his spiritual power flaring to blast a month’s worth of accumulated dust from his robes. “Let’s go see where this Two-Headed Python is hiding.”

“Roar!” Xiao Hu cheered, thrilled to finally be moving.

For the past month, aside from brief hunting trips, the hulking zombie had stood vigil over Chu Xuan like a loyal gargoyle. It lived to serve.

Noticing that Xiao Bao—who had recently returned—wasn’t roaring with enough enthusiasm, Xiao Hu marched over and delivered a resounding slap to the back of the smaller zombie’s head. Xiao Hu pointed a rotting finger at Xiao Bao’s nose, unleashing a barrage of aggressive grunts.

The Master is right here! Show some respect, you useless sack of meat!

Xiao Bao whimpered in grievance, bowing its head in submission.

Chu Xuan chuckled, patting their cold, hardened skulls. He appreciated the absolute, unquestioning loyalty of the undead.

“Come on. Let’s go for a hunt.”

“Roar!” Both Yin Corpses bellowed in unison.

With a wave of his hand, Chu Xuan swept them into the Corpse Nurturing Tower. He summoned his Heavenly Dipper Flying Sword, stepped onto the gleaming blade, and shot into the apocalyptic sky, a streak of deadly light hunting for prey.