The night rain fell like a waterfall, and the cold wind cut through streets and alleys.
By the time Gu Qing left the Xingmang Hall, darkness had already enveloped the city, yet the rain showed no sign of ceasing. He held an umbrella in one hand, while the Daoist little orb, dejected, rested heavily on his shoulder, its expression grave, as if still unable to process what it had just witnessed.
“This world… how could it be like this?” it murmured. “The chaos in the spiritual sea… it’s deeply tied to the higher-ups. Could the anomaly in the spirit stones have been orchestrated by them as well?”
“Not just tied,” Gu Qing replied calmly. “They might be the mastermind… or at least one of the parties making a deal.”
“Colluding with outsiders?” The little orb quivered violently, silver light flickering as though startled, its voice rising. “Could they be conspiring with other forces just to control this world?”
Gu Qing said nothing, walking on in silence.
Ahead, at a street corner, a raucous argument broke out. Several well-dressed male insects were pinning a young man against the wall, speaking harshly and gesturing with utter disdain.
“For a lowly male like you, how dare you even think of entering the military? Why don’t you go be a dog for the insects instead?”
The young man was Ace Meier. Now, he was being publicly humiliated by his peers, while bystanders ignored him. Half his face was swollen, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, yet his eyes remained stubborn, like a knife on the verge of snapping, holding on to the last shred of sharpness.
Gu Qing’s eyes darkened, and he stepped forward. The male insects were raucous until they looked up and saw him, their expressions shifting immediately.
“Y-You are…”
“Lord Gu Qing,” one stammered, rushing to flatter him. “What… what are you doing here—”
Gu Qing’s voice was even, yet carried undeniable authority: “He is my colleague. Is there a problem?”
At his words, the group scattered like frightened birds, fleeing and even abandoning their umbrella.
Ace wiped the blood from his lips but looked at Gu Qing coldly. “Why do you care about me? You come out of Xingmang Hall, shining with privilege. I… am just a worthless male insect.”
Gu Qing didn’t answer immediately. He stepped closer, holding the umbrella so the rain barely touched Ace.
“Because I know your surname,” Gu Qing said.
Ace’s expression shifted. A hint of ironic smile tugged at his lips. “Meier… that name isn’t worth anything anymore.”
“But it used to be,” Gu Qing said lightly. “And under that name, you are still the only insect who might be different.”
“What are you saying?” Ace’s tone darkened.
“You don’t believe this world can change, because it has never treated you fairly. But some things… you don’t wait for the world to give. Sometimes, you take them yourself.” Gu Qing paused, letting the words settle.
Ace stared at him, a barely perceptible emotion flickering in his eyes. He opened his mouth, yet seemed choked by something.
“Sounds good in theory! And then what? You want me to be a dog for your highborn insects? I’ve had enough of your games!” Ace sneered, turning to leave.
Gu Qing called after him: “Why did you volunteer to assist in purifying Villy back then? Weren’t you afraid?”
Ace’s voice was low and hoarse, harboring years of pent-up hatred. “When my father’s spiritual sea collapsed, over a dozen males stood by and did nothing. He was a military matriarch with glorious achievements, yet he died like a dog, because no one was willing to save him—afraid of getting dirty, afraid of trouble, afraid of losing control. It wasn’t that he was weak. The world simply never intended to save him. In this world, male insects are fragile, females deserve death—all insects think this. They wait for him to fail, then die neatly on stage, clearing the way for the next.”
Gu Qing remained silent for a moment before saying, “Your hatred isn’t just for them. You hate the entire order.”
“So what? It won’t change anything,” Ace looked him straight in the eye. “And you… a male insect of privilege, talk to me about change? What right do you have?”
“None,” Gu Qing answered calmly.
He continued, his voice deep: “So I give you no promises, no answers. I only offer a choice.” His tone was steady. “Whether you walk this path is up to you.”
Ace frowned. “I have nothing. What can I do?”
Gu Qing looked at him for a moment, then asked: “Do you want the Meier family to return to the top ranks of the nobility?”
Ace sneered. “Dream on. Our family was kicked out of that circle long ago.”
“What if there’s a way… to truly quell the spiritual sea’s turmoil, a stepping stone to the core of power?”
Ace froze, as if something had been stirred by those words. Then he let out a low laugh, dripping with sarcasm: “Even if there is, so what? I’m just a male insect. Should I throw myself at those secondary females, lick their feet? Dream on!”
Gu Qing’s voice was low but clear: “After the sun dies, the embers can still shine. If you are sharp enough, you can ignite your own star map amidst the ruins.”
Ace’s cynical smile stiffened slightly, as though something had touched him inadvertently.
Gu Qing spoke again, voice resolute: “On the chart, there is more than the main star. Though faint, fireflies give birth to constellations. If you have the courage, seize it with your own hands. Even a single spark can tear a crack through the entire power structure.”
Ace muttered, “You don’t mean you want me to be… the head of the males? You’re joking too much.”
Gu Qing didn’t reply. He turned and walked into the rain, his steps steady, voice carrying clearly in the wind:
“I never joke.”
“This path holds no glory, no shelter, and no recognition. You will lose much if you walk it.”
He stopped, back to Ace, voice calm yet unyielding:
“But if you go far enough, you will be the first in the history of our insects to truly reclaim leadership as a male.”
“I’m giving you an opportunity. Whether you seize it or not, it’s your choice.”
He left without looking back.
Ace stood frozen, rain tracing his face. He recalled his father’s dying eyes—painful, yet lucid. He remembered the disdain of secondary male insects in the family, and the endless humiliation and suppression he had endured.
If that day ever comes…
If he could tear this world’s shell open with his own hands…
On the other side, Gu Qing walked into the curtain of rain. Thunder roared in the distance. The Daoist little orb shrank on his shoulder.
“I-I mean…!” it shook itself violently, silver light flickering brighter and rounder. “Were you just… expanding your influence? Are you forming a revolutionary army?! I think I just saw something amazing! Isn’t this too intense?!”
It clutched Gu Qing’s neck. “Tell me! What are you trying to do?! You’re so serious you even look like a scene out of a drama walking in the rain!”
Gu Qing glanced at it, voice quiet, yet carrying steady, unwavering force:
“I will sever the chains this world places upon female insects.”
A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating his stern profile.
The little orb froze.
Rain continued to fall, wind howling through the empty streets. Gu Qing, clad in black, stood silently—a hidden sword in the night.
“If even male insects awaken, then this world has reason to fear.”
His steps never faltered as he disappeared into the night, as if entering a revolution yet to begin.