Chapter 4: The Labyrinth of the Gu Heart
The night was thick, the air stagnant before the ancient pagoda, carrying a damp, rotting stench that clawed at the back of the throat. Ji Tian stood at the entrance, his grip tight on the telescopic baton, his knuckles white and his palms slick with sweat. Behind him, Zhang Xiaoyue’s face was pale as paper, her breathing ragged and uneven. The poison of the Gu was already taking hold, and her eyes flickered with a mix of despair and resolve, as if she were fighting some internal battle.
“Are you ready?” Ji Tian asked, his voice low and rough, masking the unease that churned within him.
Xiaoyue nodded weakly, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Let’s go… we have no other choice.” Her hand pressed against her chest, nails digging into her skin as if to suppress some unbearable pain.
Ji Tian took a deep breath, the oppressive weight of the pagoda pressing down on him. He raised the baton, his gaze lingering on the intricate patterns etched into its surface—patterns left by his father, the only relic he had. The designs seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, as if alive. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he was back in his father’s hospital room. The shrill beep of the monitors, his father’s frail hand clutching the sheets, dragging three deep gashes into the fabric with his last ounce of strength. The marks on the sheet mirrored the arc of the baton as it struck the pagoda door.
**“Boom!”** The baton slammed into the door, sparks flying as the wood splintered with a deafening crack. A foul wind rushed out, carrying with it a swarm of Gu insects, their buzzing filling the air like a tidal wave. Ji Tian grabbed Xiaoyue, and they tumbled inside just as the door slammed shut behind them, sealing them in. The air inside was thick and cold, and Ji Tian felt a chill crawl up his spine.
The interior of the pagoda was a nightmare. The walls were covered in vein-like tendrils of fungal growth, pulsing faintly as if alive. The floor was littered with modern artifacts: a shattered smartphone, a backpack tangled in fungal threads, and a half-rotted fashion magazine from 2021, its cover model’s smile now a blur. These were the belongings of the missing, their fates now intertwined with the pagoda.
“Are these… the recent disappearances?” Ji Tian muttered, using the baton to lift the magazine. The fungal tendrils immediately lashed out, wrapping around the metal, but as the patterns on the baton glowed faintly, the tendrils recoiled as if burned. The walls trembled, and blood-red words began to form on the surface, scrawled as if by a finger dipped in blood:
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**Zhang Degui’s Experiment Log**
**March 17, 1999, Midnight**
**Failed to breed the Mother Gu using wife and daughter as vessels**
**Fungal outbreak**
Xiaoyue’s body shuddered as she read the words. She doubled over, coughing violently, and several wriggling Gu insects spilled from her mouth onto the floor. Her face was ghostly pale as she pointed a trembling finger toward the top of the pagoda. “Back then… my father… he sealed my mother’s ashes… into the Gu Heart at the top…”
Ji Tian’s heart sank as he followed her gaze. A spiral staircase wound its way upward, each step slick with a viscous fluid and embedded with fungal growths that resembled human faces, their hollow eyes watching silently. He swallowed hard, supporting Xiaoyue as they began their ascent. Every step squelched underfoot, and Xiaoyue grew weaker with each passing moment, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
On the third floor, Xiaoyue froze, her eyes locked on a display case at the end of the hallway. It was encased in fungal tendrils, and inside was a police uniform from the 1990s, the nameplate reading “Zhang Degui” in faded letters. Black liquid seeped from the edges of the nameplate, as if bleeding.
“This is… my father’s lingering obsession…” Xiaoyue whispered, her fingers brushing the glass. As she touched it, the uniform stirred, and six crimson compound eyes opened on its chest, staring directly at them.
“Run! His consciousness is—” Xiaoyue’s warning was cut off as the entire floor tilted violently. The walls sprouted hundreds of bloodshot eyes, their gazes piercing and malevolent. The air filled with a low hum, like countless voices whispering in unison.
Ji Tian grabbed Xiaoyue, dragging her up the stairs as the fungal tendrils surged behind them. They stumbled onto the seventh floor, only to be met with a horrifying sight: hundreds of desiccated corpses in modern clothing knelt in a circle, their withered faces frozen in expressions of terror. At the center of the circle floated a black heart, its surface bearing the face of a young woman—Xiaoyue’s mother.
“So… my mother became the vessel for the Gu Heart…” Xiaoyue’s voice broke as she staggered forward. She snatched the baton from Ji Tian and raised it to her own chest. “Kill me! The core of the Gu is inside me… it’s the only way…”
“Stop!” Ji Tian lunged for her, but the baton flew from her grasp, drawn toward the black heart as if by an invisible force. As the patterns on the baton made contact with the heart, a blinding light erupted from above, and the spectral figure of Zhang Degui materialized. His gaunt, disheveled form hung suspended by fungal threads, a broken police baton embedded in his chest—identical to the one Ji Tian carried.
“Ji Wenshan… so he left his lifebound Gu to his son…” the specter rasped, his voice dripping with bitterness. “All those years ago, I leaked the secret of 13 Nightshade Lane… just for this moment…”
Memories flooded Ji Tian’s mind: the case files hidden under his father’s hospital bed, the torn records from 1999 in the police archives, the mysterious calls from “Unknown” that always came in the dead of night. The pieces fell into place, revealing a truth he had never imagined. He stood frozen, his father’s dying words echoing in his ears: “Tian’er… be careful…” The voice was faint but clear, a needle piercing his heart.