« Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter » Chapter 44: White Ant Queen Half a month later. Outside the mountain, the summer heat was sweltering, but inside the mountain, it remained cool. Accompanied by Bai Jing, Fu Shaoguang left the Demon Market . Soon, a gigantic earthen fortress came into view. It was the Ant Nest . Fu Shaoguang entered it, marveling at the sight. The Termite Demons truly deserved their reputation in the Demon Market for their construction skills. The Ant Nest stood tall like an earthen mound, magnificent on the outside, and even more intricate on the inside, with roads extending in all directions. Crisscrossing and dense with tunnels. Like a dense, sprawling network. Fu Shaoguang believed his memory was good and his sense of direction accurate; he could remember the path at first, but he quickly became disoriented. His head was spinning. He stuck closely behind Bai Jing. Perhaps only Termite Dem...
Achieving Immortality in a Cultivation World by Extraordinary Means: Chapter 5: The Adult Insect
Chapter 5: The Adult Insect
The sun rises over the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the mountain stream where the remaining mist and dew cling to the greenery, making the ancient pines look as if they have been freshly oiled and washed. It is a world reborn in the light of dawn.
Early the next morning, Fu Shaoguang crawled cautiously out of his burrow. He immediately wrapped his body in thick, insulating layers of mud, carefully masking the snow-white luster of his newly shed insect body. Once concealed, he began his daily routine—eating water weeds and hunting for bloody prey. By mixing vegetarian and carnivorous sources, he sought to maximize the energy stored within his tiny frame.
After eating and drinking his fill, he lay prone at the entrance of his burrow, resting his six weary legs. However, even as his body remained still, his mind was constantly turning. Although he had successfully become a Demon Insect, he felt that only his physical attributes—his strength, speed, perception, and efficiency in Gathering Qi—had actually increased. The legendary Magic Power he had dreamed of had not yet been born within his body.
This was a bit strange. The fact that he could become a demon at all proved that his path was correct, but the absence of true Magic Power suggested that either his Rank was still insufficient, or other hidden trigger conditions were required. Coming from an unconventional background, Fu Shaoguang lacked a mentor to explain these mysteries. He could only slowly explore the darkness, continue his Cultivation, and wait patiently. Perhaps once enough accumulation was reached, he would receive a spiritual premonition, just as he had before his last Molting, to finally resolve his confusion.
Once sufficiently rested, he began exploring his surroundings with tactical precision. He mapped out his world: determining which areas were suitable for hiding, which held hidden dangers, which were overgrown with poisonous weeds, and which offered the most ample food. After familiarizing himself with this aquatic landscape, Fu Shaoguang returned to his burrow, moving all six legs in a rhythmic dance to dig tunnels and reinforce his fortress. Gathering Qi, foraging, digging, and resting—his life was busy, dangerous, yet strangely fulfilling.
His previous method of using "biological deterrents" had been excellent, so Fu Shaoguang increased his efforts this time. Not only did he embed sharp thorns and pile up feces inside and outside the burrow, but he also constructed several complex layers of filth. This created a sensory minefield that made it impossible for other creatures to approach without being repulsed. Time does not linger for the small; six months passed in a flash. After becoming a demon, Fu Shaoguang’s growth cycle shifted. He began Molting once every month, and to this day, he had molted forty-seven times.
His body grew larger and more robust, but he still lacked that elusive spark of Magic Power. However, his physical prowess was now formidable enough that he was capable of fighting and killing small frogs. Recently, though, a shadow had fallen over Fu Shaoguang's heart. A day ago, his kin—those born during the same period—had undergone their final metamorphosis into Adult Insects. He watched as they performed a magnificent but fleeting drama of life's struggle and reproduction, only to wither and depart the world in a tragic, silent heap. He was glad he had escaped the instinct to transform, yet saddened to witness the brief, cruel lifespan of the Mayfly once again.
Fortunately, Fu Shaoguang was not a pessimistic insect; he quickly adjusted his mindset, though he now valued his own life even more. His desire for Eternal Life became a cold, firm flame in his heart: He absolutely had to strive to live a little longer than fate intended!
Perhaps because the accumulated filth surrounding his home had become terrifyingly potent, Fu Shaoguang never again encountered the mysterious scaled monster that had chilled him to the bone. Life continued in a peaceful, if cautious, rhythm. The seasons flowed like water; another year passed in the blink of an eye. The night during the transition from summer to autumn possessed a unique, tranquil beauty: the bright moon shone upon clear water, and the rhythmic sound of insects signaled the mountain's deep quietude.
Finally, the moment arrived. Fu Shaoguang floated toward the water's surface along with the Mayflies born a year after him. Compared to his other kin, he was a massive creature, having already shed his shell fifty-eight times. Knowing that a "tall tree attracts the wind," he deliberately wrapped himself in mud. From the outside, he looked like nothing more than a large, unappetizing lump of river dirt.
Floating onto the surface, Fu Shaoguang quickly scanned the horizon. The water shimmered under the moon, the trees on both banks stood like tall sentinels, and the wild grass was lush. He quickly paddled toward a pile of stones, hiding in the crevice of a concealed bluestone. He remained secretly vigilant; the surface of the water was far more dangerous than the depths, as the number of aerial and terrestrial predators was immense.
After transforming into a Subimago and completing his fifty-ninth Molting, Fu Shaoguang reached a length of two and a half inches, with powerful wings beginning to sprout on his back. His color remained a pure, snow-white beneath the mud. This stage was the most vulnerable point in his life. Taking advantage of the fact that his mouthparts hadn't yet completely degenerated, he continued to nibble on nearby water-plantain, desperately accumulating every last scrap of strength.
The jaws of a typical Mayfly Adult Insect degenerate until they cannot eat. Their internal organs disappear, and their digestive systems vanish, forcing them to survive solely on their previous stores of fat. This is the primary reason for their "one-day" lifespan. Fu Shaoguang was unsure if his status as a Demon Insect could overcome this genetic curse. He could only plan ahead and prepare for the worst. After waiting through the night, as the morning light dawned, the other Subimagos began the final Molting of their lives. Only Fu Shaoguang remained still. This both surprised and delighted him; he knew that the longer the Subimago stage lasted, the more potential lifespan he would have after his final evolution.
Afternoon turned to evening, and evening to night. He once again witnessed the mass flourishing and withering of his species. He watched as predators grew fat on his brothers. Fu Shaoguang hid even deeper. After waiting a full ten days—an unheard-of feat for his kind—he finally ushered in his sixtieth Molting.
In the soft morning light within the bluestone crevice, Fu Shaoguang shed his heavy outer shell, exchanging the old for the new. An Adult Insect was born, three inches long with four magnificent wings. His compound eyes were perfectly developed, and three simple eyes dotted his head like glowing stars. His body was slender and light, his body wall smooth and semi-transparent, and his three tail filaments curved gracefully like silken banners. He instinctively climbed onto the bluestone and stretched his wings in the sunlight. They were transparent and thin as cicada wings, beautiful and fragile, yet hummed with untapped power.
Fu Shaoguang hadn't even had time to admire his reflection in the water when a sudden, soul-piercing chill ran through his body. His acute perception of danger made him instinctively leap into the air, flapping his wings to fly downwind. Swoosh! A sound like a whistling arrow rang out. A five-inch bird shot toward him, its dark beak sharp as a surgeon's knife. It missed by a hair's breadth, but quickly banked, flapped its wings, and lunged again.
Its gaze was cold and greedy. This was a Red-bearded Bee-eater, an emerald-green hunter with a scarlet throat and a purple-pink crown. It was an aerial assassin, and during the mass hatching ten days ago, Fu Shaoguang had seen these birds slaughter hundreds of his kind in minutes. Hunting Mayflies was as easy for it as drinking water.
Fu Shaoguang panicked, his life force trembling. He fled for his life the moment the bird reappeared, his wings vibrating at high frequency. He tried his best to fly toward the dense forest on the bank. The forest was not as open as the water; the terrain was complex, and sunlight only scattered through the leaves in dim patches. It was a place where many cold-blooded killers lurked—dangerous for an insect, but equally dangerous for a bird.
Since his straight-line flying speed was inferior to his natural enemy, only by entering the thick foliage—where high-speed flight was impossible—could he gain any room to maneuver. He shifted left, moved right, turned up, and swooped down. Relying on his acute demon senses, Fu Shaoguang narrowly avoided several snapping lunges from the bee-eater's beak.
The bird was furious. It let out a sharp, frustrated cry, and the speed of its strikes grew faster and more erratic. Fortunately, the forest was close. Fu Shaoguang finally dove into the canopy, using his smaller body to weave flexibly among the branches. He made sharp, jagged turns that forced the larger bird to slow down to avoid hitting the wood. Five inches versus three inches meant restricted movement for the predator. Thanks to the superb photosensitivity of his developed eyes, Fu Shaoguang kept a lookout in all directions, specifically fleeing toward the darkest, most tangled parts of the forest while his mind raced to find a way to end this pursuit.
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