The rain came down in sheets—hard, punishing, the kind that drowned out every other sound.
Low, heavy clouds smothered the sky, turning the distant mountains into blurred shadows, their outlines washed into a single smear of dark grey.
The downpour pulled the world together, sky and ground sewn by countless falling threads of water.
Crack.
A flash tore across the clouds—sharp, surgical—lightning slicing the sky open for an instant before everything fell back into muted darkness.
Spring was on its last breaths, and even through the storm there was a growing heaviness in the air, the first hints of summer heat pushing forward.
On Qing Mao Mountain, stretches of spear bamboo stood rigid, swaying but refusing to bend.
Stalks straight as poles, tips aimed upward as if challenging the storm driving against them.
In Gu Yue Village, rows of tall, stilted houses braced themselves against the downpour.
Rain hammered on their roofs, poured off the edges, ran down walls already darkened by moisture.
Outside the village, the caravan was moving again—slow, steady, its people and animals slipping forward through mud and rain.
Wheels hissed.
Hooves splashed.
Figures blurred into silhouettes as the storm swallowed them bit by bit.
"The rain's coming down hard—watch your footing."
"Keep up! Gu Masters, handle your Gu properly. And someone get that fat beetle moving; it's blocking half the road."
"You mortals in the back, keep your eyes open. If anything goes missing, you'll be the ones paying for it!"
Shouts rolled one after another across the caravan—sharp, impatient, swallowed quickly by the storm.
They had lingered in Gu Yue Village for three days.
Now the break was over.
The caravan pushed out again, following the narrow path that threaded across Qing Mao Mountain toward their next stop.
The rain had scrubbed the world clean, but it didn't make travel easier.
The village's cobblestone roads held up fine under the downpour.
Beyond the first five hundred meters, though, the path dissolved into a slick, uneven mountain trail—a mess of mud waiting to trip the careless.
The ostrich chicken trudged forward with its head drooping, rainbow feathers plastered against its body.
Whatever pride the creature normally carried had been beaten flat by the weather; now it looked like nothing more than a soaked, miserable bird.
Ahead of it, the fat beetle worm heaved its bulk forward in slow motion.
Rain hammered against its dark shell, pooling and rolling off in steady streams, turning the ground beneath into a slush of mud and water.
Even the mountain spider wasn't spared.
Its green-black fur clung to its body, matted and dripping as it skittered along, each step reluctant.
In contrast to the struggling livestock, the toad Gu were almost cheerful—croaking nonstop as they hopped along the mountain path, hauling cargo and the Gu Masters perched on their backs.
The winged snake had already folded its wings, its thick body sliding through the muddy water with an ease that bordered on smugness.
To keep the goods from being soaked, the Gu Masters finally had to put in real effort.
Several of them stood atop the lumbering fat beetles, arms raised, palms open.
Suspended just above each hand hovered a One-stretch Golden Light Worm, trembling faintly as it worked.
Streams of green copper primeval essence evaporated from their bodies, funneled straight into the Gu.
The worms glowed like tiny golden seeds—small, bright, and under immense strain.
From each one, a faint golden film expanded outward, forming a dome of light that wrapped over the entire beetle like an oversized bubble.
The half-sphere shield could cover the whole creature with room to spare.
Raindrops hit the dome and skittered off, bouncing away as if striking a hard surface.
Effective, yes—but brutally demanding.
The One-stretch Golden Light Worm ate through primeval essence without restraint.
A Rank One Gu Master could keep it up for a while… but only for a while.
Even with the rain muting the world around them, you could feel the tension—breathing growing heavier, stances tightening, every second draining their strength.
As expected, it didn't take long before one of the Gu Masters broke.
"I'm done! My primeval essence is nearly drained—someone take over!"
"I'll handle it!"
Another Gu Master stepped in almost instantly, sliding into position before the shield even flickered.
Others riding mountain spiders or hauling carriages switched tactics, activating the Green Silk Gu inside them.
The effect was immediate.
Their hair surged outward in a rapid, unnatural bloom.
Normally, a person had over a hundred thousand strands—now each strand stretched to five or six meters, weaving together in thick layers until both the Gu Master and their mount were wrapped in a dense, rope-like shroud.
It wasn't elegant, but it was solid.
A raincoat made of nothing but hair.
The Green Silk Gu was only Rank One—simple defense, nothing fancy.
It took a hefty thirty percent of a Gu Master's green copper primeval essence to trigger but didn't drain them continuously like the Golden Light Worm.
It's like a short burst, but at a single cost.
When combined with the Rank One Black Boar Gu, it would become the Rank Two Black Mane Gu.
That Gu was entirely different.
Once activated, it didn't stop at head hair. Every pore on the body erupted, forming a thick black coat of protective bristles within seconds.
A crude armor, but effective—its advancement path eventually led to the Rank Three Steel Mane Gu, well-known among Gu Masters for good reason.
Not everyone used hair-based defenses, though.
More than a few in the caravan relied on the Water Spider Gu, a simpler alternative.
Those who did were easy to spot—each one was wrapped in a thin, translucent blue layer that repelled the rain like a second skin.
Different methods. Same goal.
The storm kept pressing down, and everyone was fighting it in their own way.
Water slithered across the surface of the raincoats, never settling.
Every raindrop that struck them merged instantly into the shifting layer, swelling it thicker and heavier with time.
The Gu Masters stayed in the downpour nonstop, so their water armor kept accumulating mass.
Every so often they had to push the Water Spider Gu again, shedding the excess in a sudden spill.
In an instant, the bulky layer collapsed back into a thin, translucent film.
The mortals weren't nearly as fortunate.
They kept moving along the mud-soaked trail, eyes fixed on the cargo.
Straw raincoats hung off their backs, but in this chaos they might as well have been wearing paper.
The rain went straight through, clinging to their clothes, soaking their skin.
"Damn weather," they grumbled silently.