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Chapter Two: The Whispering Forest
Wei Feng's steps faltered as he ventured deeper into the labyrinthine forest, the faint pulse of the Mortal Gu thrumming in his chest like an unsteady heartbeat. The oppressive silence of his surroundings grew heavier, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of some unseen creature. Despite the stillness, the air was charged with a strange energy, a sensation that prickled at his skin and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He could feel it now—this world was alive in ways he could not yet comprehend. The trees seemed to breathe, their massive trunks exhaling a faint mist that carried with it an earthy, metallic scent. Each step he took felt like an intrusion, as though he were walking into the domain of an ancient and jealous guardian. Yet, the faint warmth of the Gu in his chest urged him onward, a silent command that brooked no refusal.
The Mortal Gu was still a mystery to Wei Feng, its presence both a comfort and a burden. He had felt its potential the moment it had burrowed into his body, a spark of power waiting to be kindled. But he also knew, instinctively, that the Gu was not a benevolent gift. It was a living entity, and like all living things, it had its own needs, its own desires. He could feel it now, a faint hunger gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. The Gu craved something—energy, sustenance—but Wei Feng had no idea how to feed it. The knowledge he had glimpsed during the orb's dissolution was fragmented, incomplete. He knew the basics: the Mortal Gu was a Level 1 entity, the weakest of its kind, and it was entirely dependent on him for survival. But he also knew that its hunger would not wait indefinitely. If he failed to nourish it, the Gu would wither and die, taking with it the faint spark of power it had granted him.
The forest offered no answers. Wei Feng wandered aimlessly, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger or opportunity. He encountered strange flora, plants with leaves that shimmered like silver in the dim light and vines that pulsed faintly with an inner glow. Once, he came across a pool of water so still and reflective that it seemed more like a mirror than a natural formation. But the sight of his own reflection startled him. His face, though familiar, seemed sharper, more defined, as though the Gu's presence had already begun to reshape him. His eyes, in particular, held a faint luminescence that was both captivating and unsettling. It was a reminder that he was no longer entirely human—or, at least, not the same human he had been before. Whatever path lay ahead, it would not be one of ordinary mortality.
As the hours stretched into what felt like days, Wei Feng's hunger began to gnaw at him. He had found no food, no water, and his body was beginning to feel the strain. The warmth of the Gu was no longer comforting; it was a constant reminder of his own inadequacy, a silent accusation that he was failing in his first task as its host. Desperation drove him to examine the forest more closely, searching for anything that might serve as sustenance. It was then that he noticed them—tiny, flickering lights hovering near the base of a massive tree. They were insects, their translucent wings shimmering with a faint blue glow. Wei Feng crouched low, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and unease. He didn't know why, but something about them felt important, as though they were connected to the Gu's hunger.
Acting on instinct, Wei Feng reached out and captured one of the insects in his hand. It struggled briefly before going still, its tiny body radiating a faint warmth against his palm. He hesitated, uncertain of what to do next. The Gu's presence in his chest flared, a sudden pulse of heat that sent a clear message: this was what it needed. Taking a deep breath, Wei Feng brought the insect closer to his chest, where the Gu resided. To his astonishment, the insect dissolved into a stream of faint blue light, which was immediately absorbed by his body. The warmth of the Gu intensified, spreading through his chest and into his limbs. For a brief moment, he felt a surge of strength, a clarity of thought that was almost euphoric. The Gu's hunger had been sated, if only temporarily. But the experience left him with more questions than answers.
The forest, it seemed, was both a challenge and a teacher. Each encounter, each discovery, was a piece of a larger puzzle, a test of his ability to adapt and survive. Wei Feng began to view his surroundings with a newfound sense of purpose. The insects, the glowing plants, the strange mist that filled the air—all of it was part of the Gu's ecosystem, a web of interdependent life forms that thrived on the exchange of energy. If he was to survive, if he was to grow stronger, he would need to master this ecosystem, to understand the intricate dance of life and death that defined this world. The Mortal Gu was only the beginning, a spark that had ignited a fire within him. But Wei Feng knew that the path ahead would not be easy. This world demanded strength, cunning, and an unrelenting will to rise above its challenges. And Wei Feng, though battered and uncertain, was determined to rise.
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