A Regressor’s Tale of Cultivation Chapter 812 Chapter 809: Afterstory 1 - Gu Ju
Previously on A Regressor’s Tale of Cultivation...
Whiiiiiii—
A fierce snowstorm howls outside.
On this frigid winter afternoon.
A young lad hauls his chilled frame back to the dwelling.
The lad, having headed to the riverbank in search of fish, comes back with nothing.
The chill today bites deeper than usual.
The river's surface has iced over unnaturally thick, so solid that even the warmth from his exhales fails to thaw it.
"Mother... forgive me. Tomorrow... tomorrow, I'll surely fetch some food..."
The lad vows that come morning, he'll find a way to secure nourishment for his mother, no matter the cost, before pushing open the door.
Right then, a sharp glint sparks in the lad's gaze; he snaps off a dangling icicle from beneath the roof's edge, clutches it tight like a dagger, and steadies his breaths to boost his bodily prowess.
Intruders have breached the home.
Yet no traces linger.
Through his honed senses, the lad detects all presences within three zhang around him.
This stems from the audible rhythms of breaths—or what ought to pass for breaths.
But...
The figure before him emits no detectable breath whatsoever.
No, beyond that... it doesn't even resemble a lifeless corpse.
The entity facing him takes the form of a female.
Clad in resplendent golden robes, she exudes an air of nobility.
As though... she's an otherworldly being from realms afar.
Upon catching sight of her features, while his frame instinctively coils for assault, color floods his cheeks.
He can't fathom the reason.
She's simply...
...utterly enchanting.
"Enter. I've no intent to injure you."
The lad glances past the woman.
Within the home... flames dance.
The entire space radiates cozy heat.
A savory aroma of steaming meals wafts through the air.
His belly rumbles, demanding sustenance.
Yet something feels off.
'No smoke rises from the chimney, yet the place is toasty...? '
The lad recognizes the telltale pulse of fire's breath, its crackling symphony, and the aura it projects.
Still, no such essence stirs inside the dwelling.
It's utterly peculiar.
As if a yaoguai disguised in human guise has slipped into the lad's abode to lure him in.
'Should I... slash through the entire structure with this? '
Is this woman truly a yaoguai...?
Should she be, he's prepared to cleave her alongside the house, bind the vital breaths within him to his essence, ignite everything in a blaze, scar her deeply, and end her.
Yet...
The issue lies with his mother indoors.
"Leaving the door ajar will chill your mother. Hurry inside, please."
"... "
The lad clenches his teeth.
Ultimately, after weighing the circumstances, he concludes entry is his only option.
Finally, he discards the icicle outdoors and steps within.
Blissful warmth envelops him.
The woman has placed a lavish brazier in the chamber, sourced from some mysterious place, and loads it with glowing embers to infuse the air with soothing heat.
She prods the coals with a tool, ensuring the warmth permeates every nook.
"Allow me to handle that. We can't burden a visitor with chores."
The lad seizes the tool from her and tends to the brazier himself.
'... What could this be? '
The lad squints at the fiery glow at the tool's tip.
This isn't genuine fire.
It diverges wildly from any blaze he's encountered before.
It's like some ethereal force masquerading as a mere brazier.
The comfort soothes, but the oddity unnerves.
As the lad ponders this enigma, the woman offers him a modest plate bearing a steaming tuber.
"Care for a potato?"
"... Who... exactly are you?"
The lad accepts a chunk of the heated potato and questions her.
The woman, with a gentle curve to her lips, replies.
"I serve as a Reaper from the Underworld. Your dear mother departs for the Underworld come tomorrow."
"What...!? "
The lad hefts the tool, poised to strike the woman down.
Slaying the Underworld's Reaper would spare his mother...
"Such comforting warmth... My son... have you kindled the flames...? "
Then, his mother murmurs in a drowsy tone, her face serene and smiling.
That tender voice halts the lad's raised tool mid-swing.
When last did his mother voice such joy and affection?
She appears nearly healed from her ailment now.
"... Yes, Mother. A visitor arrived, so we've got the fire going."
"Oh? Splendid work. In my condition, I can't host properly... Please tend to them for me."
"... Certainly."
Witnessing his mother's tranquil expression, the lad finds himself unable to strike.
Not even if she's indeed the Underworld's Reaper...
For should she vanish, this room's coziness and the brazier might dissolve like a fleeting dream.
Rather than attacking the woman, the lad inquires courteously.
"Why... does my mother have to leave so soon?"
"She's suffering, isn't she? Bearing mortal flesh proves a cruel weight. In the Underworld's Pure Land, she'll savor hot meals, don fine garments, and gaze at soaring birds—that suits her current state far better."
"...! "
Indeed, that's the truth.
His mother endures constant torment.
And this Reaper asserts that the Underworld offers her joy in the Pure Land.
"Release those destined to depart with grace. I assure you, your mother endured trials in this existence yet nurtured you with unwavering love. Extending kindness, even solely to kin... that gesture alone merits reward. Thus... she'll dwell blissfully in the Pure Land."
"... Is... that true?"
Does he have to let her go?
His own mother?
If she ventures there, will happiness truly await?
A whirlwind of notions swirls in the lad's mind.
In the end, he must choose.
By scrutinizing the Reaper in the room, he discerns the reality.
In his present state, the lad stands no chance against the Underworld's Reaper.
And above all...
Hasn't the Reaper herself arrived to announce his mother's final hours, warmed their home, and even prepared potatoes for him?
Gulp—
The lad chews into the potato from the Reaper's hand.
Drip... drip...
Tears stream down the lad's face.
"My throat... feels choked..."
"Tea, perhaps?"
The lad takes the proffered tea from the Reaper and sips it.
Then he nibbles more potato.
"Do you... have any salt by chance...?"
"I recalled you disliked salt, so I left it plain... but I carry seed soy sauce from an acquaintance's stores—try a dash."
The Reaper ladles seed soy sauce into a tiny dish and presents it to the lad.
The lad savors the potato dipped in seed soy sauce, weeping all the while.
"Thank you... thank you so much... Reaper of the Underworld..."
"Think nothing of it. Eat at ease."
Those soothing phrases.
A tenderness echoing his mother's own.
Before the golden-robed Reaper of the Underworld...
That evening, he weeps freely while devouring the potatoes.
And on the morrow,
The Reaper of the Underworld ladles seed soy sauce into a tiny dish and offers it to the lad.
The lad pairs the potato with seed soy sauce and lets tears fall.
"Thank you... thank you so much... Reaper of the Underworld..."
"Think nothing of it. Eat at ease."
Those soothing phrases.
A tenderness echoing his mother's own.
Before the golden-robed Reaper of the Underworld...
That day, the lad pours out his grief, accepting and consuming the potatoes.
And on the morrow,
Guided by the Reaper of the Underworld's counsel, the lad skips fishing ventures and remains at his mother's bedside.
For meals, the Reaper procures assorted condiments, seasonings, and grains from unknown origins, whipping up basic fare for them.
Claiming salt's absence for some reason, she relies solely on enigmatic seed soy sauce, yet every creation bursts with flavor.
The lad provides his mother one final feeding, allowing her restful slumber in the heated chamber.
After a span, the Reaper approaches the lad's mother and summons her thrice.
At the call, Mother awakens, rising with a radiant grin.
"Ah... are you a exalted entity...?"
"Indeed, I've arrived to guide you."
"What... awaits me now...?"
"Initially, you'll undergo life's judgment, where deeds like snatching the neighbor boy's sweets at age three get weighed, and fitting penalties applied. Your transgressions weigh light, so roughly seven days and nights will cleanse them all. Then... you'll proceed to the Pure Land, relishing joys denied in this realm."
Hearing this, she turns to her son.
"Gu Ju... forgive me. Your mother... must depart ahead."
"... Mother... Mother... Mom..."
The lad.
At those words, Gu Ju can no longer hold back; he dashes to her, burying himself in her embrace.
"Grieve not, Gu Ju... Your mother... will ascend to the skies and guard you. Grow strong and bold."
"Mom... stay... Mom..."
Gu Ju clutches his mother, sobbing uncontrollably.
Observing him, Gu Ju's mother glances at the Reaper.
The Reaper, noting her gaze, addresses Gu Ju.
"Should that be your deepest desire... on full moon nights each month, draw clear water into a bowl and summon me. I'll then convey special missives from your mother in the Underworld. Reunion isn't impossible. Through writings, you'll sense her warmth at least."
Gu Ju shivers.
Paaatt!
The Reaper of the Underworld swings the door wide.
Beyond lies a dazzling, splendid realm.
This must be her destination.
"Fret not overly, Gu Ju. You'll thrive without doubt. I'll oversee you. And... the Reaper too... will undoubtedly..."
Light envelops his mother.
Moments pass, and as she fully merges with the glow and fades, Gu Ju collapses in wrenching sobs.
Now...
In this realm, solitude claims him.
Gu Ju wails in anguish.
His mother has departed, leaving him amid this harsh winter.
Abandoned in a void of companionship.
And beside that young soul...
A maiden in yellow garb approaches, keeping vigil.
"Come on, rise."
Gu Ju, dazed, eyes the maiden.
She oddly evokes the Reaper who escorted his mother away.
Yet she also mirrors a rustic child akin to Gu Ju.
A sweet fragrance emanates from her.
Reminiscent of the peach blossoms his mother once described.
"Who... might you be...?"
"I... was dispatched by a superior. Instructed to aid with your mother's rites and instruct you in script, so you can henceforth receive her messages."
"... "
Gu Ju perceives it.
The Reaper's thoughtful gesture.
"... My gratitude."
She appears merely a few years his senior, yet to Gu Ju, she inspires profound trust.
Owing to her presence...
Gu Ju rebounds swiftly, managing his mother's farewell rites.
"Er... I lack words for my appreciation... might I learn your esteemed name...?"
"Hm? Priorities, now? Survey this mess of a home. Listen, I'll sort the interior, so you start mending the structure and foraging for eats today. I'll handle logs and mend your ragged garb. Meals are on me too, so you weave straw cords at minimum. Plan for spring ahead. And from this evening, spare moments go to lettering lessons with me. Your mother learns script in the Underworld to share updates. To connect with her, hustle up!"
"Uh, er..."
Overwhelmed by the maiden's insistence, Gu Ju falters before diving into tasks.
He fortifies the home's decaying barriers alongside her.
And per her guidance, he unearths winter-edible roots or strips and simmers bark for consumption.
Tasteless on their own, but her touch transforms them into viable fare.
The maiden repairs Gu Ju's worn attire, and come midnight, she ignites a lamp to drill him in letters.
Half a month onward,
The maiden announces a missive from his mother and hands it over.
Gu Ju's grasp of script remains shaky, barring full reading, but the maiden draws him onto her knee, encircles him, and recites it aloud.
Gu Ju...
Bathed in comfort, he absorbs tales of his mother's well-being.
And learns the Underworld holds no terror.
Death emerges not as dread or mere sorrow.
Thus, months drift by.
The lad masters basics of writing, gradually deciphering his mother's delivered letters solo.
And...
Spring dawns.
Temperatures soften into mildness, and the maiden harvests early greens for repasts.
From unseen sources, she fetches seeds and imparts farming to Gu Ju.
"We'll sow these, nourish with water and manure, and nurture them. Success awaits us."
True to her words, Gu Ju obeys, tilling adjacent soil and planting.
The labor proves straightforward.
By tuning the innate breathing he's wielded since birth, his slight form summons bull-like power effortlessly.
Gu Ju tills amid the maiden's cheers and acclaim, weathering spring on her foraged greens and mountain-sourced delicacies.
Summer brings sweltering heat and scarce provisions. Yet the maiden leads to affluent estates, schooling him in trading toil.
They roam, offer services, earn coin, and sustain themselves.
Her skills enable it, bolstered by Gu Ju's breath-enhanced might.
Autumn arrives.
At last, the sown seeds yield bounty.
Only in autumn does Gu Ju grasp satiety.
Post-harvest with the maiden, fullness graces his stomach.
Only then does he fully dispel his mother's loss, drifting to contented rest in her hold.
With her, he readies winter stores from autumn's gains.
And as winter grips once more, they endure sans last year's dire pangs.
This winter, sharing the chamber with the maiden, Gu Ju passes evenings absorbed in tal