The Hive Queen's laughter wasn't sound—it was violence given form. Each harmonic vibration peeled back Jian Long's flesh in translucent layers, like an onion revealing its rotten core. His collarbone burned where the birthmark twisted, its edges now perfectly mirroring the seven rotating Swordbirth Marks on the Queen's faceless visage.
[System Failure]
Golden text stuttered across his vision:
Physique Reconfiguration: Yin-Yang Reversal Core compromised
New Status: [Provisional Prince of the Hive] - WARNING: Soul-binding in progress
Host's Earthly memories degrading... 67% remaining
Mei—or what was left of her—knelt beside him. Her right arm had fully transformed, the chitin gleaming like oil-slicked armor. When she pressed her clawed hand against his convulsing chest, he felt the hive's pulse through her fingertips.
"The change hurts more for males," she whispered, her voice tripled—Mei's clinical tone, Su Ling's ragged edge, and beneath both, the hive's chittering. Her human eye dilated as ichor leaked from her tear duct. "Your bodies fight the beauty we offer."
Jian Long screamed.
The sound shattered the nearest amber cysts in harmonic resonance. What erupted wasn't light, but memory:
Stardust moths carrying disciple ghosts in their wingbeats
Six armored larvae skittering forward, mandibles clicking in hunger
A silver needle clattering to the floor—identical to the one that made Mei's scar
The Queen's stinger tapped a rhythm against her throne of petrified cultivators. The frozen faces moved, their mouths stretching in silent agony.
"Royalty requires sacrifice," the Queen crooned. Her abdomen flexed, dripping glowing venom onto the throne. The liquid pooled in a screaming mouth below. "You will learn to feed, princeling."
They brought the first course still screaming.
The disciple—Little Kang from the kitchens, who'd sneak him extra buns after night training—hung suspended in golden qi threads. His robes had been torn open, revealing the Swordbirth Mark pulsing over his heart. The skin around it was peeled back, exposing the wriggling larva beneath. Its needle-teeth gnashed at the air, dripping digestive enzymes that burned holes in the boy's chest.
[Feeding Protocol Translated]
The system's voice guttered like a dying candle:
Locate Jade Pillow point at skull's base
Inject royal venom to liquefy core
Consume essence through proboscis emergence
Jian Long's new glands swelled under his tongue. The pheromones hit him like a drug—rotten honey and iron, the scent of the hive's approval. His mouth flooded with saliva against his will.
The larvae circled, chirping. One rubbed its antennae against his shin in encouragement.
Mei's claw—when had it grown so sharp?—dug into his back. "Refuse," she breathed, her human eye bloodshot, "and they'll reverse the process." Her chitinous fingers spasmed. "You'll be the meal."
Little Kang's eyes rolled wildly, locking onto Jian's. His lips cracked open:
"Shixiong... it hurts—"
With a grin that split his lips to the gums, Jian grabbed the silver needle instead.
"Let's make a toast," he slurred through venom-swollen lips, and plunged it into his own birthmark.
The hive's shriek was a physical force.
Royal venom met celestial steel in his veins, and the reaction unmade him:
Hive Qi (Gold): Rewriting his meridians, burning away humanity
Needle Energy (Silver): Unraveling bonds, freezing his blood mid-pulse
His Stolen Power (Black): Devouring both, ravenous as a starved beast
[System Cataclysm]
*Yin-Yang Reversal Core: 4.3% → 12.6% (Temporary Surge)*
WARNING: Cellular disintegration detected
Host's Earthly memories... 12% remaining
Mei's form flickered—for one fractured second, it was only Su Ling, her eyes clear and terrified. She grabbed his wrist, her nails drawing blood.
"Jian Long! The throne—" her voice broke—"it's not hers!"
He moved.
Not toward the feast.
Toward the petrified cultivators' frozen screams.
Their mouths held the truth.
Jian Long's fingers closed around a petrified wrist. The stone was colder than space, but beneath—
"She is just the warden." The voice slithered into his skull, brittle with millennia. "We are the first disciples. The marks are shackles. The feast is a test. The throne... is our prison."
Memory Fragment Unlocked: The First Rebellion
The Velvet Sword Pavilion's founding, not as a sect but a farm
Disciples kneeling in chains as the Queen's stinger plunged
The first volunteer—a woman with Su Ling's eyes—screaming as her mark moved
Elder Lian, young and unmarked, smashing amber pods in the dark
The system glitched violently:
"Host was never meant to— ERROR—memory bank—"
The Queen's stinger lashed toward Mei—no, Su Ling—her human eye rolling in terror.
Jian Long moved.