Chapter 13: What a Coincidence

The livestock market wasn’t just about livestock; outside was a ring of stalls selling poultry, with the most common being grouse and peacocks, along with ducks and geese. There were so many peacocks here that even the restaurants served them. Gu Changqing had tried it once—the meat was tough and the flavor unimpressive.

As he entered the livestock market, he was immediately hit by a pungent, animal stench. Inside, there was a profusion of merchants, each occupying a sizable plot of land—some of the larger ones even had their own courtyards, with cattle and sheep tethered within.

Gu Changqing’s gaze was quickly drawn to a pen of cattle, each one taller at the shoulder than he was, with great muscular humps along their backs. Their bodies were massive, muscles bulging and layered one atop another, leaving no doubt as to their destructive force.

If one of these beasts were to charge, its impact would rival that of a truck. Even their tethers were thick iron chains, as wide as a man’s arm.

“Boss, what breed is this?” Gu Changqing asked, curiosity lighting his face as he swaggered over.

In his simple understanding, the stronger the creature, the more vital energy it would yield after refinement.

“Qian cattle, humped cattle—that’s what these are! See the hump on their backs? It’s a delicacy! Once reserved for tribute, even the wealthy couldn’t always afford them. Nowadays, most people still can’t bear to eat them!” the burly, bearded merchant replied with pride. “The ones I have here average three thousand jin each, the very best quality—you can ship them by sea or land, and they’ll survive the journey.”

“How much for one?” Gu Changqing asked, tempted.

“One head, forty-eight thousand!” the merchant declared.

“If I buy a hundred, you’ll throw one in for free, won’t you?” Gu Changqing mused aloud. “But give me the free one first—I want to try it back home!”

The merchant, initially excited at the prospect of a big sale, nearly burst out laughing in exasperation at the cheeky request. Livestock traders were a burly, fiery lot, not known for their patience. He glared, about to curse—until he noticed Gu Changqing’s hand resting at his waist, revealing the butt of a gun, his smile tinged with menace.

Sizing him up, the merchant realized that a gun alone wouldn’t intimidate him, but Gu Changqing’s eyes and bearing suggested he wasn’t one to be trifled with. The merchant forced a hearty laugh—business was business, after all.

“You’ve got a sense of humor! If you’re serious, I can cut you a deal,” he offered.

Gu Changqing pulled out five thick bundles of cash from his bag and tossed them on the table. He’d never lacked money and didn’t bother haggling—there was nothing he couldn’t buy. And if there was, he’d just take it by force.

“I’ll take the biggest one,” he said, pointing at the largest beast in the pen. “I’ll look around a bit more and come back for it.”

Gu Changqing roamed the market. An ordinary beef steer weighing a thousand jin went for about four thousand; the better ones, six thousand. A typical horse weighed eight hundred jin and cost a little less—three thousand. A mutton sheep of a hundred thirty jin was around a thousand, and a four-hundred-jin hog cost about fifteen hundred.

He decided to buy one of each, including some poultry from outside.

He had the Qian cattle and all the rest delivered to his warehouse.

An hour later, Gu Changqing stood in the warehouse, surrounded by cattle, horses, sheep, pigs, and assorted fowl. He shut the door, opened a wooden box, and took out a vial of deep blue liquid, giving it a shake.

Now to see what exactly this stuff was, he thought, finding it oddly sinister.

His gaze drifted over the assembled animals, then skipped past the poultry, settling on a goat. With a friendly smile, he approached, gripping the goat’s face. The animal bleated miserably, struggling in vain to escape his grasp.

Gu Changqing deftly uncorked the glass vial and poured the liquid down the goat’s throat.

Instantly, a putrid, decaying odor filled the air.

“Doesn’t smell like anything good,” he muttered, stepping back to observe.

The goat dropped to the floor, convulsing. Its belly began to swell, a lump rising beneath the skin—gradually taking on the shape of a hand.

“What on earth is this?” Gu Changqing frowned, retreating further.

The transformation exceeded all his expectations. The goat thrashed violently, its fur withering and falling away, its skin shriveling as if its flesh were being sucked dry.

With a wet tear, a pale hand burst through the goat’s abdomen, splitting it open—yet, remarkably, there was no blood.

A second lifeless hand emerged, followed by a human head with long black hair trailing to the ground. From behind the curtain of hair, a pair of eyes—brimming with death and malice—stared out from a face twisted in agony.

“Help me… help me…” the figure moaned as a half-naked body crawled out of the goat’s belly, its head twisting backward a full 180 degrees, those malicious eyes fixed on Gu Changqing.

The words “help me” echoed, becoming shriller and more desperate, rising to a scream. The face contorted with increasing malevolence.

But Gu Changqing’s initial shock gave way to delight.

What unexpected fortune!

Thank you, gifts of nature!

Even that twisted, evil face now seemed almost beautiful to him—a rare and unusual little darling. The last one, even after being torn to pieces, had yielded a good amount of vital energy; surely this one would be generous too.

“Of course, I’ll help you!” he replied cheerfully, seeing the woman halfway out. He drew his jade knife from his belt and approached, grinning.

The woman reached for his ankle, but he stomped down on her wrist. Yet the strength beneath his foot nearly threw him off balance.

She rolled to her side, revealing her front. Gu Changqing narrowed his eyes; there was a wound in her abdomen, just like the goat’s—a tear from within, flesh turned outward.

A corpse-blue, sinister infant with mottled skin was crawling out of her belly, grinning wickedly, its lifeless eyes filled with malice. The umbilical cord still linked it to the woman.

Suddenly, the thing lunged at Gu Changqing, its speed so great it appeared before him in a blur, jaws parted to bite his throat.

Almost by instinct, Gu Changqing stepped back and thrust his jade knife forward.

The infant halted half a meter from him, both it and the woman staring blankly at the blade piercing its chest. Instantly, both began to wither, bloodless webs crawling up the knife.

A rush of potent vital energy surged into Gu Changqing, roaring through his veins like a river pounding against its banks.

Within moments, the woman and the infant crumbled to ash.

Gu Changqing closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, then opened them, his delight undiminished. The vital energy was much the same as last time.

He still didn’t know what the deep blue liquid was, or why it caused such strange transformations.

But his joy was unbounded—what a stroke of luck!

He turned his gaze toward the muscular Qian cattle nearby.

The blue liquid had produced that woman and evil infant from the goat, draining it dry. One could hardly help but draw a connection.

What if he tried it on the Qian cattle, with its three thousand jin of muscle? What horrors might emerge—and how much more potent would the vital energy be?

The goat had weighed only one hundred fifty jin—the Qian cattle was over three thousand.

After a moment’s consideration, Gu Changqing’s gaze shifted to the horse, paused, then moved to the pig.

He wasn’t in such urgent need of vital energy as to risk the unknown. Better to test further.

He poured a vial of the deep blue liquid into the pig’s mouth.

Just like the goat, the pig collapsed, convulsing, its body withering.

A hand tore through its belly from within, then another, both pushing apart the wound as a head emerged.

From behind the drooping black hair, a pair of lifeless, malevolent eyes fixed on Gu Changqing.

He looked at that vaguely familiar face and broke into a genuine, heartfelt smile.

“Well, now, isn’t this a coincidence!”