Reverend insanity: Heaven devouring demon venerable

The atmosphere in the Zi family's meeting room was heavy with tension. Elder Zi and Elder Er sat at a small wooden table, their backs stiff and their eyes restless. The usually comforting scent of tea wafted through the room, but today, it did little to ease their worries. 

Across from them, Elder Wei, a man of considerable experience, sipped his tea slowly. His eyes were calm but sharp, watching the two elders' growing unease with quiet contemplation.

Elder Wei had always been a man of formality, but even he could feel the weight in the room. He put down his tea cup gently, its soft clink louder than it should've been in the stillness. After a brief moment of silence, he decided there was no use prolonging the tension.

"Your son, Zi Rui, is going to be fine," he said plainly, his voice calm but direct. "He will wake up in three weeks at most. His life is not in danger, he's also a rank 3 Gu master now, which is something to celebrate, even though we still don't know how or why that happened."

Elder Zi and Elder Er visibly relaxed, their rigid postures softening, though worry still lingered in their eyes. The good news washed over them like a brief but welcome rain in a drought. The thought of their son being safe and alive, brought them some relief. Elder Er let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly in her lap.

"That being said," Elder Wei continued, his voice steady but more serious now, "there is more you need to know."

The brief moment of ease was quickly overshadowed by a creeping dread. Elder Wei's pause let the tension return, heavier than before. He took a deep breath, preparing for the harder part of the conversation.

"Zi Rui has lost his A-grade aperture."

Elder Zi's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing as he tried to control his emotions. Elder Er, however, was not as composed—her eyes welled up with tears, and she quickly raised a hand to cover her mouth, stifling a gasp. The loss of an A-grade aperture was devastating. It was a rare gift, the very thing that set their son apart, giving him the potential to rise to great heights. Now, that potential had been crippled.

"He is now a B-grade," Elder Wei continued softly. "A rare aptitude still, but... the path to rank 4 will be much more difficult. With normal means, it's almost impossible."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Elder Zi's grip on the armrest of his chair tightened until his knuckles turned white. His mind raced with all the hopes he'd had for his son, now teetering on the edge of collapse. 'How could this have happened?'

It was all he could think.

Elder Er's silent tears slid down her cheeks, her heart aching not only for her son's lost future but for the pain he would endure when he awoke. Still, Elder Wei's words were not without hope, and she clung to them. Ning Zu was still alive, still capable.

"He will be okay," Elder Wei reassured, though his voice carried a somber edge. "But we must face the reality that reaching rank 4 by traditional means is beyond his grasp now. Regardless, the medical staff will be at his side. You will not face this alone."

A long silence followed. The weight of the news was overwhelming, but there was a shared, unspoken understanding. Zi Rui's future was forever changed, and they had no choice but to accept it.

"You may see him now, if you wish," Elder Wei offered gently.

Elder Er didn't hesitate. She stood quickly, bowing slightly as she excused herself, and hurried to her son's room. Her heart was filled with both sorrow and determination—she needed to see him, to touch him, to reassure herself that despite everything, her son was still there.

Elder Zi, however, remained. He stood to escort Elder Wei to the door, his mind still too clouded to follow his wife. Elder Wei rose from his chair, giving Elder Zi a respectful nod. The two walked toward the door in heavy silence, but as they neared the threshold, Elder Wei paused. He turned to Elder Zi, his face more serious than ever.

"There's something else," Elder Wei said quietly. His voice carried a gravity that sent a chill down Elder Zi's spine. "I didn't want to mention it in front of your wife."

Elder Zi frowned, his heart pounding harder now. "What is it?"

Elder Wei glanced around to ensure no one else was listening, then leaned closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, though the words still hit like a hammer.

"Your son has a molten bloodlusty soul."

Elder Zi froze. His face drained of color, his body suddenly rigid. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow, everything else falling away except for those four, damning words. His mind screamed in denial, but the look on Elder Wei's face told him the truth was undeniable.

"Are you certain?" Elder Zi asked, his voice barely more than a croak.

Elder Wei nodded grimly. "I'm sure. The medical team confirmed it. For now, we've managed to suppress it with medicine, but this is only a temporary solution."

Elder Zi's legs buckled beneath him, and he sank to his knees, staring at the floor as if the weight of the news had crushed his very soul. His son, his brilliant, talented son, was afflicted with a soul destined for chaos and destruction. The molten bloodlusty soul was a curse. Those who bore it were consumed by insatiable rage, driven to wreak havoc upon the world.

"This… this can't be…" Elder Zi whispered, his mind swirling with fear and despair. "How did this happen?"

Elder Wei bent down, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It's not the end, Zi. There are ways to control it. The right medicine, careful handling, and perhaps—just perhaps—your son can live without succumbing to the madness."

"But the molten bloodlusty soul…" Elder Zi began, his voice trailing off as he recalled the legends. "It's said that those with it are destined to destroy everything in their path."

"That's true," Elder Wei admitted. "But there are ways to keep it in check. The best solution would be a Tranquil Gu."

Elder Zi scoffed bitterly. "The tranquil Gu? The one from the legend of Ren Zu? It's nothing more than a myth!"

"Perhaps," Elder Wei said with a sigh, "but even if we can't find one, there are other methods. Lesser remedies can suppress it for a time. But for now, all the elders must be present when Zi Rui wakes up. We need to ensure he remains calm and controlled, no matter what."

Elder Zi took a deep breath, steadying himself. His son's future, once so bright, was now shrouded in uncertainty and danger. But Elder Wei's words gave him a small thread of hope to cling to. He nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders like never before.

"Thank you, Elder Wei," he said quietly, rising to his feet. "I'll be there when he wakes up."

Elder Wei gave a small, reassuring smile. "We'll face this together, Zi. Your son is strong. He has a future—just not the one we expected."

With that, Elder Zi bowed deeply, gratitude and fear warring within him, before he hurried to join his wife and son, his heart heavy with the burden of what lay ahead.

When he arrived, Elder Zu stood outside his son's room, his hand on the doorframe, taking a moment to collect himself. 

Slowly, he pushed the door open, the sight inside weighing heavily on his heart.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn to block out the afternoon light. Zi Rui lay unconscious in the center of the room, his face pale, his chest rising and falling faintly. His mother, Elder Er, was by his side, holding his hand tightly, her tears barely held back.

She looked fragile, like she was one word away from breaking. Her lips trembled, and her eyes were fixed on their son, her love for him battling with the overwhelming fear that gripped her.

At the foot of the bed, their daughter was less composed. Her small frame was hunched over, her face buried in the sheets as she cried, her shoulders shaking with every sob. She had always been the more emotional of the siblings, her feelings on full display. Elder Zi's heart broke at the sight of his daughter in such despair, but he knew there was little he could do to comfort her now.

In the corner of the room stood Bai Ning Bing, silent but tense, his pale face betraying the fear he was trying to hide. He wasn't crying like the others, but his worry was etched deeply into his sharp features. 

His eyes darted nervously between Zi Rui and the door, as though he expected the world to collapse in on him at any moment.

For him, Zi Rui was more than a friend, he was the only person who had ever cared for him. If Zi Rui didn't wake up, Bai Ning Bing feared that his place in this house, in this family, would vanish too, leaving him back on the streets where he came from.

Elder Zi stepped closer to the bed, his eyes on his son. The usual strength in his demeanor was gone, replaced by a deep, gnawing worry, and despite the assurances from Elder Wei, seeing his son like this, was unbearable. He knelt down beside his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder, offering her silent support. She leaned into him, her breath shaky, as though his presence alone was the only thing holding her together.

The room was quiet now, save for the low murmurs of the medical staff as they monitored Zi Rui's condition. 

Elder Zi couldn't stop the whirl of thoughts flooding his mind, about his son's future, their family's future. How had things come to this? One moment, they had been proud parents, watching their son grow, his talents flourishing. Now, their future felt uncertain, their path shrouded in fear.

Elder Zu's gaze shifted to Bai Ning Bing, standing quietly in the corner, his face shadowed by anxiety. Though Ning Bing didn't say a word, Elder Zu could see the fear in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Elder Zu looked down at his son. His thoughts were no longer just about Zi Rui's recovery. The well-being of their entire family hung in the balance, each of them suffering in their own way. As a father, he felt helpless, torn between the desire to protect them and the terrifying realization that there were some things beyond his control.

———

The prison cell was dim, lit only by the faint flicker of a torch in the far corner. Shadows danced along the damp, stone walls, giving the room an eerie, almost suffocating feel. In the center of the room, a figure hung motionless, slumped against the wall, his body nailed in place. Despite the gruesome setting, the zombie appeared to be sleeping,soundly, even peacefully, like a puppy that had found an uncomfortable, yet oddly comforting place to rest.

That peace didn't last long.

The heavy iron door to the cell swung open with a loud creak, and without warning, a fist came crashing into the zombie's face. The impact was brutal, snapping his head back against the wall with a sickening thud. He groaned, eyes fluttering open in irritation. 

"Could you stop doing that?" the zombie muttered, his voice raspy but laced with exasperation. "It's annoying as fuck."

Standing in the doorway was Wei Xu, his expression cold, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips."Suck it up," Wei Xu retorted dryly as the door slammed shut behind him.

The zombie rolled his purple eyes that just lit up, cursing under his breath as he adjusted his head against the wall. Despite his state, there was something strangely human about his annoyance. He gestured for Wei Xu to sit. "Alright, sit your ass down. We've got work to do."

Wei Xu didn't need to be told twice. He sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his expression turning serious as he prepared himself for whatever hellish lesson the zombie had in store for him today. The last few times had been anything but pleasant, and Wei Xu wasn't exactly eager for a repeat.

The zombie cracked his neck, the sound echoing grotesquely in the small cell. "Today," he began, summoning a set of faint, glowing purple strings from his hand, "I'm going to teach you how to use the Puppetry Gu."

Wei Xu watched the strings materialize, their vibrant glow casting a strange hue on the zombie's decaying features.

"With the method I will teach you, you'll be able to advance in your cultivation even while you're sleeping," the zombie continued, his voice turning almost playful, as though he were offering a gift instead of some twisted new trial.

Wei Xu's eyes narrowed. He wasn't falling for it. He had learned from past experience. "What's the catch?" he asked flatly.

The zombie grinned, a twisted expression on his half-rotten face. "Well," he said, dragging out the word in a screeching tone that set Wei Xu's teeth on edge, "if you screw it up, you might or might not explode." 

Wei Xu's patience snapped. His face flushed with anger, and he tried to spit curses aimed squarely at the zombie's ancestors. But before he could finish, purple strings appeared out from nowhere, wrapping around his mouth and silencing him instantly.

The zombie tilted his head, his grin widening in a way that was both amused and sinister. "Stop acting like a brat," he said, his voice mocking yet dangerous. "Or next time, I'll cut off your dick."

The threat hung in the air, and even though Wei Xu had no doubt it was half in jest, there was enough menace in the zombie's tone to make him reconsider mouthing off again. He glared, but he kept quiet, his fists clenched in silent rage.

"Good," the zombie said, loosening the strings around Wei Xu's mouth.

Wei Xu forced himself to focus, despite the boiling frustration within him. He had no choice. As much as he hated the zombie, there was no denying that the knowledge he offered was invaluable—and dangerous.