Chapter 30: The creator of the Puppetry Path

Elder Zi sat beside his son's still body, feeling a mix of frustration and uncertainty twisting inside him. For the past few days, Ning Zu's form had subtly shifted—his frame becoming slightly taller, his features sharper, his entire presence somehow more refined. 

It was a quiet transformation, yet it amplified Elder Zi's curiosity and unease. A thought had planted itself in his mind, a theory that had begun to gnaw at him, and he had to test it.  

In his hand, he held a rank 3 White Silver Relic Gu, a precious Gu he recently acquired from a hidden cavern. This Gu, shining with an ethereal glow, possessed the ability to elevate cultivation levels by a small realm. 

A single advancement, he thought, should be harmless, as his son doesn't possess any of his Gu now. If his theory was correct, it could reveal much more about the mysterious power lying dormant within Ning Zu.

Elder Zi sighed, his thoughts half-spoken. "If his body changes again after I use this Relic Gu, then…" He left the sentence unfinished, as if saying it aloud would make it real. With a steady hand, he placed the Relic Gu into Ning Zu's aperture, and he activated it, feeling the surge of energy hum beneath his fingers.

Inside Ning Zu's aperture, a small but significant reaction began. The Fine Wine Worm Gu, started working, It began to glow with a faint, warm light, absorbing the energy that the Relic Gu released, taking it in as though it had been waiting for this moment. Elder Zi observed the changes carefully. 

Ning Zu, could only be described as a "fake" rank 3 cultivator. His true cultivation was that of rank 2, and if he attempted to break through, he would merely reach true rank 3 instead, as the Fine Wine Worm Gu's effect would stop working. 

To achieve any sustainable progress, Elder Zi needed to match the relic's rank with Ning Zu's genuine cultivation level. The solution was a rank 2 Red Steel Relic Gu—a lower-ranking Gu designed for practitioners of Ning Zu's standing. However, Elder Zi was unaware of this technicality. 

As he focused his essence to activate the White Silver Relic Gu, he noticed it resisting, almost stubbornly refusing to engage. 

Confused but undeterred, Elder Zi channeled even more energy, pushing his own essence into Ning Zu's aperture in an attempt to forcefully activate the Gu. What he couldn't have anticipated was the response of the Fine Wine Worm Gu, an extension of Ning Zu's aperture that was now infused with Ning Zu's will, transforming it into something uniquely potent.

Without warning, the Fine Wine Worm Gu reacted, harnessing the additional energy being forced upon it. Slowly but steadily, Ning Zu's cultivation began to rise, progressing from the initial stage of rank 3 to the middle stage, then the upper stage, finally cresting at peak stage rank 3. 

It was an ascension Elder Zi could scarcely believe was unfolding before him. He stared, speechless, watching as his son's cultivation reached heights that should have been impossible with a single Gu. 

He struggled to comprehend the scene in front of him. "What kind of heavenly luck is this?" he murmured, feeling a deep unease crawl into his heart. How could any cultivator, possess this kind of power? The kind of raw potential he was witnessing was something that came along perhaps once in a generation, if that. 

The aura radiating from Ning Zu's resting form seemed to stretch beyond the limits of conventional cultivation, as if his son's body itself were a vessel designed to harness some ancient, forgotten strength.

A darker thought began to creep into his mind, whispering doubts and warnings. 

'Perhaps', he considered with a chill, 'it might be wiser to end this now, before Ning Zu's true nature could fully emerge'. His son's peculiar and powerful aperture, his unnervingly potent cultivation progress—it all pointed to something that could quickly grow beyond Elder Zi's control. 

And then there was Ning Zu's soul itself, the Molten Bloodlusty Soul, known in lore as a soul destined to wreak havoc, to bring chaos to all it touched. The thought unsettled him deeply, yet he found himself unable to dismiss it.

As he pondered, the sudden sound of soft knocking startled him from his thoughts. A gentle voice called from outside. "Father, are you finished? I want to sit with my brother." 

It was his daughter. Elder Zi blinked, gathering his bearings as he looked toward the door, where he also noticed Bai Ning Bing's timid figure waiting alongside his daughter. "I… I'd like to see Ning Zu too," Bai Ning Bing added, his quiet voice barely more than a whisper, his eyes filled with worry and concern.

Elder Zi felt the weight of his darker thoughts press down on him, his mind reeling. He pressed his hand to his head, breathing deeply as he tried to steady himself. "What am I even thinking?" he muttered to himself, a sense of guilt creeping in. "He is my son." After a moment of regaining control over his errant thoughts, he moved toward the door. 

He opened it, offering his children a gentle nod as they looked up at him, concern etched into their faces. "You can go in now," he said, gesturing toward Ning Zu's resting form. They both stepped into the room quietly, gazing upon their brother's unconscious body with mixed expressions of relief and unease.

Watching them move to their brother's side, Elder Zi couldn't shake the remnants of the troubling thoughts lingering in his mind. In a quieter, more rational part of himself, he reassured himself that Ning Zu's peculiar gifts were simply blessings of luck, perhaps the reward for his family's hard work and perseverance. 

Yet, a darker, nagging suspicion remained buried within him, refusing to be fully extinguished. 

One day, he would come to regret that he had hesitated, that he had allowed this brief moment of sentiment to cloud his judgment.

———

In Ning Zu's dream realm

He found himself in an underground workshop, filled with a soft glow emanating from delicate, pink strings that seemed to fill every corner of the space, creating an intricate web of light and motion. 

In this surreal atmosphere, two figures who looked identical to Meng Yan were working on a set of mechanical hands, delicately manipulating the strings.

Ning Zu's eyes lit up like a child's, and without a second thought, he ran toward them, marveling at the creations with an excitement he hadn't felt in ages. The twins, his companions in this dreamscape, allowed him to examine them from head to toe. He looked at every detail with fascination, completely immersed in the mysterious beauty of their work.

Outside the workshop, the real Meng Yan stood leaning against the wall, holding her pipe and observing Ning Zu through the opening. 

She let out a sigh, her vibrant pink eyes soft with a blend of melancholy and admiration. Next to her was Ming You, who had grown a a little beard over these years they'd spent together. He watched Ning Zu's enthusiasm, a quiet smile forming on his face as he glanced at Meng Yan.

"How did it go?" Ming You finally broke the silence, his voice low, laced with genuine curiosity.

Meng Yan took a slow, deliberate drag from her pipe, releasing a thin stream of smoke that floated upward before fading. "As bad as you'd expect," she said, her voice tinged with frustration and something deeper, almost like regret.

Ming You sighed. "Why won't you give him a chance? Five years, Meng Yan. Five years you've kept him here, and you still question his feelings?"

She looked away, a trace of pain visible on her face. "It's not that simple, Ming You. Ning Zu… he's too talented for a life here, confined in this cave. His fate lies somewhere beyond me."

Ming You rolled his eyes, his voice sharpening. "Excuses, old hag. That's all I'm hearing. You know he means it." His tone softened, almost tenderly mocking. "Stop lying to yourself."

Meng Yan narrowed her eyes, anger flickering in her gaze. "Old hag?" she snapped, "I'm still young."

"Oh, please," Ming You retorted, a smirk creeping onto his face. "You're at least a hundred and twenty-five by now. Ning Zu and I figured that out ages ago."

Meng Yan's laugh was short, almost forced, as she gazed into the distance. "If you two are so clever, then there's no point hiding it anymore. Yes, I used a lifespan Gu, and yes, I'm much older than I look."

Ming You's expression softened. "Then you know Ning Zu figured it out from the start, and he didn't care. He still asked you to be with him."

Meng Yan's laugh grew softer, tinged with sadness. "He's exceptional, I know that. But it's precisely because of his talent, Ming You. Someone like him… he's meant for greatness, not for the likes of me."

"More excuses, you're talented too, you even created a new path for crying out loud" Ming You muttered, but this time, his voice held a hint of sympathy. He looked at her hands—elegant but wooden, crafted from the same strings that filled the workshop.

She had to use her real fingers for a refinement long ago.

Meng Yan traced her fingers with a thoughtful expression. "My path, my craft… it's incomplete. I'm just a puppet master in a workshop, not someone who can hold onto someone like him."

Agitation filled Ming You's face as he clenched his fists. "Enough. Stop hiding the real reason, Meng Yan. Why are you pushing him away?"

Meng Yan took another long drag from her pipe, the smoke lingering as if to shield her from the words that followed. "Very well. I'll tell you," she said, a weariness settling over her. "When I started down this path, I began seeing threads. Threads of fate, woven tightly around people. The more I tried to pull away from them, the stronger they grew, binding me in ways I couldn't escape."

Ming You's confusion deepened, his brow furrowing. "Are you saying… you're bound to us by some invisible strings?"

Meng Yan gave a sad smile, placing a gentle hand on his head, and she ran her fingers through his hair with an affection that reminded him of his mother. "One day, you'll understand," she whispered, her voice a mixture of bitterness and sorrow.

He froze, fighting the urge to pull away, yet he let her continue, the strange tenderness stirring something deep within him. 

Meanwhile, she was lost in thought, recalling the web of fate that had tangled her life with theirs. She'd tried to pull away, to live on her own terms, but the threads only grew tighter, forcing her to play her part in a story she had no control over.

"Ning Zu!" she called, snapping him out of his fascination with the mechanical hands. He looked up, surprised, but quickly approached her with his usual playful energy. She placed her hand on his head just as she had with Ming You, and he seemed to relax under her touch, a rare moment of peace for him.

With a gentle smile, she said, "I need you to gather some materials for me. It's important." She glanced at Ming You. "Go with him."

Ming You let out an exaggerated sigh but nodded in agreement. Though he often wandered, he always seemed to return, drawn back by something he couldn't quite explain.

Ning Zu grinned, his eyes bright with the determination she admired so much. "Next time," he said with a mischievous glint, "I'll convince you."

He darted off with Ming You, disappearing into the outside world as they left the shelter of the cave behind. Meng Yan watched them, her gaze lingering on Ning Zu as his figure grew smaller and smaller. She whispered, her voice barely audible, "I love you too, Ning Zu," as a single tear slipped down her cheek, lost in the shadows.