Little Pink Starfish

The Po Jun Star—One Born to Bring Chaos

The golden needle in State Preceptor Chengguan’s hand shot toward Mo Wen’s hand, embedding halfway into the back of it.

Mo Wen wanted to forcefully break through his sealed meridians, but the moment he tried to channel his inner energy, the poison he had suppressed in his bloodstream surged toward his heart, forcing him to abandon the attempt immediately.

Chengguan quickly followed up with several more golden needles, aiming to knock the small bronze bell from Mo Wen’s hand.

Mo Wen twisted his body to dodge them, and with a sharp glance at Chengguan, he snapped, “Fool!”

“Kill him, now!” Chengguan shouted to the guards.

Mo Wen retreated to a half-open window and leapt out of the Buddha Hall.

Everyone gave chase.

Chengguan rushed out as well—only to see Gu Xinglang, who should have lost all five senses, sitting on a lounge chair, hands over his head. Chengguan froze. If Gu Xinglang couldn’t hear, why was he covering his ears?

Inside the black void of Gu Xinglang’s consciousness, he could still hear the sound of a bell—ding ding—over and over. Just moments ago, he had rung a bell himself and found its sound crisp and pleasant. But now, this ringing drove knives through his skull. Writhing in pain, he clutched his head and collapsed onto the lounge chair, his face twisted in agony.

“Prince Consort?” Chengguan ran to the chair, shouting at Gu Xinglang.

But Gu Xinglang only groaned, unaware of the Preceptor’s presence.

Chengguan looked toward Mo Wen, who was now surrounded. In Mo Wen’s right hand, he held a tiny bronze bell tied with a red string. Amid the clash of weapons and shouts, even Chengguan couldn’t hear the sound of the bell without focusing intently.

“Ahhh—!”

Gu Xinglang screamed in pain, his body arching.

“Don’t get distracted!” Chengguan barked at the guards.

Mo Wen hadn’t been this desperate in years, but he had to face this ordeal. If he hadn’t provoked Chengguan today, even if he had avoided Gu Xinglang and left with Fenglin, his journey back to Eternal Life Temple would not have been peaceful. Looking at Gu Xinglang curled up in agony, Mo Wen allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. Chengguan had underestimated him.

Chengguan clutched another golden needle. If sealing Gu Xinglang’s senses wasn’t enough to free him from Mo Wen’s control, then this boy—Chengguan gritted his teeth—could not be allowed to live.

“Chengguan,” Mo Wen called out, “are you really going to kill Gu Xinglang?”

The needle aimed at Gu Xinglang’s throat trembled in Chengguan’s hand. He thought of Princess Linglong, and the hand refused to move.

“Coward,” Mo Wen spat.

Chengguan suddenly flicked the needle—not at Gu Xinglang, but at Mo Wen. Maybe killing Mo Wen was Gu Xinglang’s only chance at survival.

Amid the chaos of battle, Gu Xinglang’s tightly shut eyes slowly opened. His irises were blood-red, void of any trace of human reason or emotion.

Master Fenglin watched in disbelief as Gu Xinglang—who shouldn’t even be able to stand—rose from the lounge chair and walked toward the guards attacking his master. Fenglin didn’t know what had happened to Gu Xinglang, but he could see clearly: at this moment, Gu Xinglang was a weapon wielded by his master.

One elite guard, focused entirely on Mo Wen, suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw a hand piercing through it.

Gu Xinglang pulled his hand back. In his palm, the still-beating heart turned to a mangled lump.

The lifeless corpse collapsed, eyes wide in shock, unable to rest in peace.

Chengguan looked at the body, then at Gu Xinglang standing before him, and gave the order: “Kill him!”

Mo Wen gently flicked the bronze bell on his finger, his face relaxing. He turned to Chengguan and said, “Now I’ll show you why he bears the Po Jun star.”

Po Jun—the Star of Destruction, the talent of a general, a man born for chaos.

One mutilated corpse after another hit the ground. Blood splattered Chengguan’s face, and his eyes filled with terror. He had never seen anyone kill so easily. Gu Xinglang shattered swords with a touch and took lives with the wave of a hand.

“I thought he was a failed product,” Mo Wen said quietly to Chengguan. “To avoid condemnation, I once planned to kill Gu Xinglang. But now, I see—if Gu Xinglang lives, the world should belong to me.”

Mo Wen still remembered the corpses of the other young men, those who had died in agony during the experiments. But looking at Gu Xinglang now, Mo Wen smiled—his usual gentle, merciful smile. Life lasts but a hundred years. Eternal life was never a blessing—it was defying the heavens.

Chengguan launched a palm strike toward Mo Wen’s already blood-soaked chest.

Mo Wen didn’t move. In his eyes, Chengguan was already a dead man.

The strike never landed.

A blinding pain tore through Chengguan’s abdomen. He looked down to see a gaping hole.

Mo Wen raised a hand and gently touched Gu Xinglang’s face—still clean and composed, not a drop of blood on it. “When you grow a bit older,” Mo Wen whispered, “I’ll come back for you.”

Gu Xinglang’s crimson eyes stared at him blankly, devoid of soul.

Mo Wen passed his hand over Gu Xinglang’s eyes, then turned and arrived before Master Fenglin.

“M-Master?” Fenglin’s voice trembled with sobs.

“Don’t be afraid,” Mo Wen whispered, leaping onto the courtyard wall with Fenglin in tow. “I’ll take you back to the temple.”

The sound of the bell faded. The blood in Gu Xinglang’s eyes slowly drained away. As if his bones had been pulled out, his body collapsed before Chengguan.

Chengguan lunged, gripping Gu Xinglang’s throat—he couldn’t let this boy live.

Gu Xingnuo burst into the courtyard and froze at the scene. “No!” he shouted, rushing to his younger brother and shoving Chengguan aside.

Five deep purple finger marks were seared into Gu Xinglang’s neck.

“Xinglang?” Gu Xingnuo shook his brother.

Chengguan lay on the ground, one hand pressed to his wound. In a cold voice, he said, “Everyone here was killed by your brother!”

Gu Xingnuo checked Gu Xinglang’s breathing and finally sighed in relief. But hearing Chengguan’s words made his heart lurch again. Looking around at the corpses, Gu Xingnuo shook his head. His brother never killed the innocent—these couldn’t have been his doing.

“He’s one of Mo Wen’s medicine men!” Chengguan shouted. The words tore at his own heart. He said to Gu Xingnuo, “No one can save him. If you don’t want him to help Mo Wen commit evil in the future, Yan Ruo, kill him now!”