Rebirth As A Human Cauldron Chapter 18

Chapter 18 

Wu Que possessed memories from the moment of his birth. The first person he laid eyes on was his deceased mother.

The woman’s eyes held no vitality, replaced instead by a lingering fear, seemingly trapped in the not-so-pleasant features of her face. Her abdomen had been cruelly slit open, and blood, flesh, and organs lay strewn on the ground. He blinked and realized that a piece of flesh was still attached from his lower body, connecting him to the woman, a sign that they were once united.

With that blood-stained little hand, he gently pulled the umbilical cord, severing the connection between the two completely.

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However, he possessed a strikingly beautiful face, albeit smeared with blood. It was the most handsome face Wu Que had ever seen.

Thus, driven by an inexplicable urge, he brought the person back to the overgrown house and carefully tended to him.

Three months later, the first thing the person did upon getting out of bed was to find a garment from somewhere and take him to the riverside to cleanse himself, fastening a belt around his waist.

The clothes were a bit too big, with the hem trailing on the ground, making movement somewhat cumbersome.

He furrowed his delicate brows, lowering his head in mild vexation, instinctively contemplating whether to tear off the excess fabric…

Until his chin was lifted by those slightly cool, fragile fingers. The person gazed into his crimson eyes and offered a smile that could be considered tender.

It was something Wu Que had never seen before—a glimmer of light in his cursed existence, the first ray of brightness.

“From today onwards, your name shall be Wu Que.”

…

He taught him to speak, to read, and guided him to live more like a human.

The first word Wu Que learned to say was “father.” Thus, this word, along with the person, became etched deep within his soul.

Years passed, and Wu Que grew up.

He knew there was a group of people in the nearby village who disliked him. When they saw him, they would hurl dirty words at him or even throw rotten eggs at him. Yet, Wu Que didn’t feel anger. He looked at these people as if he were observing ants scurrying beneath his feet. At his whim, he could crush them with a single step.

He didn’t know where this confidence originated, but it felt innate, something that couldn’t be erased or discarded.

He had once asked his father, puzzled, why he was different from them. His father had simply ruffled his hair and told him that this was the difference between gods and ants.

His father’s health was poor, even worse than those ants. As soon as the weather turned cold, he could do nothing but lie on that rickety bed, spitting blood every now and then. His bones were so fragile that a touch could break them. During these times, Wu Que would feel anger, even an urge to destroy everything around him. Then, his father would gently hold his hand and tell him to stay calm.

“You possess the physique of a celestial demon. Don’t stain yourself with blood too early,” his father would say with a pale face. After a few coughs, he’d continue, “Once blood is shed, inner demons arise gradually, and they can mislead you.”

Wu Que wanted to ask what the “physique of a celestial demon” was, but he was reminded that he had, in fact, killed his mother with his own hands at birth.

In the end, he said nothing, gazing at the person on the bed with his crimson eyes, like a young beast fixated on its prey.

Another year passed, and they moved from the thatched house to the village.

His father managed to establish some connections using scraps of paper. They settled in a secluded house in the village, walls now made of bricks instead of thatch, with a softer bed, bright lamps, and a backyard garden. Wu Que found no interest in these things. He only noticed that his father’s health was slowly improving.

From times when his father would return with several broken bones after being out, now he could at least go for walks and come back carrying a jug of wine.

His father enjoyed drinking, but Wu Que didn’t like the daughter of the tavern owner. Her eyes contained desire when she looked at his father.

That desire made Wu Que feel offended—a clueless ant trespassing on his territory, coveting something that belonged only to him.

So, a voice incessantly echoed in his mind, urging him to kill her. If he did, then everything would belong to him alone.

Wu Que was lost in such thoughts when his father across the table lifted his head and glanced at him, offering the wine jug.

“Have a taste.”

“…”

The pungent liquid touched his lips, and Wu Que took a sip, following the other’s lead. He felt a fire ignite down his throat, burning all the way to his stomach.

Coughing twice, he saw his father smile and ask, “Does it taste good?”

Wu Que nodded. He had never refused anything his father offered.

So his father continued, “Who would have thought there’d be such good wine in this village? I’d love to drink it for a lifetime…”

Though his father’s words sounded like a sigh, Wu Que sensed something more beneath them, and he pressed his lips together, refraining from responding.

Thus, the proprietress of the tavern could still send flirtatious glances when his father bought wine, but his father never responded. He simply let Wu Que taste the newly acquired wine.

Even with just a sip, his lips were ignited by the alcohol…

Instinctively, he desired more.

Once desire takes root, it becomes ceaseless.

Wu Que began to long for physical contact—from simple embraces to sharing a bed, and eventually, he even fantasized about touching his father’s bare body… He dared not continue down that path. There was a faint line drawn beneath his feet; once crossed, there would be no return.

But as the person’s health gradually improved, he would often go out and return near dusk. Sometimes, he came back smelling of alcohol, other times, of pollen, a myriad of scents that masked the original fragrance of his medicinal herbs.

Wu Que grew restless. He even began to think that his father’s previous state of illness was better—he couldn’t get out of bed, needed assistance with dressing and eating, couldn’t walk, and required support just to stand up… Unlike now, where a mere tap of his foot propelled him several meters away, disappearing in the blink of an eye, making him almost unattainable.

The voice within him resurfaced, even more forceful than before. It urged him to break his father’s legs, render him immobile, chain him up, tie him to the bed, confine him to a room, forcing him to look only at himself, to have only himself.

A flash of blood-red light burst within Wu Que’s mind, lasting only a moment before being forcibly suppressed.

This is wrong… This is not right… he told himself.

“But don’t you want to? Don’t you want to possess him? Don’t you want him to belong only to you?”

“I…” He heard his voice hesitate, trembling slightly. “He’s my father. He wouldn’t want me to do such things.”

“But you have no blood ties with him—you’re a monster, a beast,” the voice said. “Would you just watch your prey slip away from your grasp?”

“… I am human,” Wu Que said. “I have a name, I have family—”

“You are not human. Humans are social creatures, yet you avoid any living being other than him.” The voice mocked, “Your world revolves solely around him, but his world extends beyond you.”

“…”

“If someday he leaves you, would you still be called human?”

“… That’s enough! He won’t leave me!”

“Nothing is absolute—unless we have control.”

Wu Que closed his eyes, his tone trembling.

“What do you want?” he asked.

The voice chuckled softly, lingering in his ears.

“I am your… inner demon.”

Wu Que fell silent for a moment.

“Father doesn’t like you.”

“I know.”

“He’s wary of you.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you still exist?”

“That’s something you should ask yourself,” the inner demon said. “I am you, the obsession you seek but can’t attain, the desire you can’t escape.”

“But I don’t want you,” Wu Que said.

“You will want me… if he abandons us.”

At that moment, Wu Que thought, that’s impossible.

Father liked him. He would share a sip of wine with him, pat his back gently when sleeping, chat about the interesting occurrences in the village, advise him on what to do and what not to do…

“… He’s the one who slowly turned him into a person with emotions, capable of happiness, sadness, and concern.”

If he were abandoned… Wu Que dared not continue that thought. He felt an unbearable pain in his chest, as if he were about to die.

He hadn’t died when he crawled out of his mother’s womb, nor had he died living on his own for three years. Yet now, merely contemplating that person’s departure made him feel that living was worse than death.

Is this love? He wondered in confusion. Since love was so painful, he decided he wouldn’t let his father know.

Just as he was firm in his resolve, there was a sudden knock on the door. Wu Que opened it and found his father standing there in a black robe, as dark as the night, illuminated by the moonlight.

He was still as beautiful—more beautiful than anyone else in the world, Wu Que thought dreamily. He watched as the person raised a slender hand and placed it on his head.

Father said, “I’m leaving.”

And in that instant, his world crumbled.

…

When Qin Duan woke up in a daze, he found himself resting against a scorching chest. There was something damp and soft pressed against the back of his neck, licking the wound that had ceased bleeding, over and over again.

He shivered intensely, struggling to push it away, but it held him even tighter.

The person’s scorching breath sprayed against his ear, carrying a hint of fierce dominance. “Don’t move.”

It was Wu Que’s voice, but Wu Que had never spoken to him in this tone.

Qin Duan pressed his lips together, suppressing his internal displeasure, and then looked around.

He had been brought into a spacious room. The bed beneath him was soft. Through the red curtains, he could vaguely see the arrangements outside.

Each corner of the bed had night pearls, and the air was filled with the scent of incense, sweet and overwhelming. Qin Duan didn’t like it much; he found it too cloying. This…

Qin Duàn did not answer, so the other party asked again, “Was it the sword cultivator just now?”

“… “

“If it’s him, I advise you not to hope anymore.” The heart demon licked the swollen back of his neck and sneered, “That kid is always stubborn. Since he has decided on his father, he won’t spare another glance at anyone else.”

This remark was a bit harsh. Qin Duàn couldn’t hold back and retorted, “How can you be sure that I’m not him?”

Before he could finish speaking, his chin was firmly pinched. Qin Duàn was forced to turn his head and face those crimson eyes.

Wú Que’s heart demon smiled slightly. He leaned in to kiss him, but seeing him dodge, he bit Qin Duan’s chin fiercely.

The latter took a breath, thinking that this unruly brat was getting out of hand, biting people at will.

The heart demon said, “The prophecy has it that the reincarnated body will appear three hundred years later, resembling the original host in appearance, voice, and even personality. It even retains fragmented memories, but with one exception—”

Licking the blood bead oozing from Qin Duan’s chin, he calmly continued, “He cannot reveal his true identity.”

“If you really are him, why don’t you say it then?”

At first, Qin Duan was stunned, then burst into laughter.

The laughter was somewhat hoarse, with a trace of helpless self-mockery. The heart demon tightened his slightly trembling body, frowned, and asked, “What are you laughing at?”

“Cough, well, nothing.” Qin Duàn suppressed his laughter, exhaled softly, and said, “Where were we?”

“…”

“Oh, I remember now…” He nodded and struggled to say something, but it felt as if his mind had been split apart. Intense pain made everything go black, and even the sky and earth seemed to spin.

Qin Duàn leaned against the heart demon’s chest. Cold sweat dampened his thin shirt. Due to the pain, his face turned pale. The pulsating pain in his temples was distressing, making him look quite disheveled.

But he couldn’t afford to care about his appearance. After the unbearable pain subsided a bit, he trembled and spoke, “Do they all know?”

“Who.”

“Of course… ” Those of you who share a karmic connection with me. Qin Duàn couldn’t utter this phrase. He changed his approach, “You’ve all been to the Demon Abyss, right?”

When he transcended his tribulation and perished, if these kids really cared, they would have surely gone to that place. If fate used this to gather them and then disseminated that inexplicable prophecy…

No wonder he had never concealed anything, yet they were so adamant that he couldn’t possibly be—yes, same personality, appearance, aptitude, voice, even memories. Plus, that prophecy could bring him back to life. Who would actively doubt whether the original host had returned early?

Only… only Yúshū, that naturally suspicious fellow, would go to the extent of destroying his own eyes to peer into the divine will.

As Qin Duàn pondered, he suddenly felt relieved.

Since he knew who was behind all this mischief, it was better than being kept in the dark all along… although given the current situation, it seemed it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

He felt the brat’s hand becoming restless.

The heart demon had one arm around his waist, and the other hand slipped under his belt, reaching into the slightly open neckline. Qin Duàn rolled his eyes and gave him a firm slap. “Don’t fidget.”

But the response was another bite on his shoulder. Through his clothes, sharp canine teeth grazed the soft flesh on his shoulder, causing an itch rather than pain.

Qin Duàn’s body was now limp. He leaned and half-lay in the heart demon’s embrace. He couldn’t win a fight and couldn’t escape either. Occasionally, exchanging a few sharp words that sounded like reluctant acceptance seemed more appropriate… he was simply too lazy to struggle, allowing the other to gnaw on him like a piece of bone.

The initial surprise of seeing his two sons had faded. Qin Duàn was more curious about why Wú Quē had chosen this path… the separation of the heart demon, the tearing of the soul, that kind of pain was even on par with the heavenly tribulation that nearly obliterated him.

Was it his insistence on leaving that caused all this?

Distant memories slowly surged up. Qin Duàn lost himself in thought for a few seconds, then the sensations on his body brought him back to his senses.

The clothes had somehow all fallen open. His slightly exposed chest was bared to the air. A scorching hand was pressed against his heart, and calloused fingers idly played with his nipple.

Qin Duàn’s breathing became rapid. This hyper-sensitive body seemed to be heating up on its own. A droplet of sweat slid down his slender neck and disappeared into the hollow of his collarbone, wiped away by a hand.

The heart demon brushed aside his disheveled hair, licked at the bared nape of his neck with a clicking sound. The wound there hadn’t completely healed yet, and the congested bite mark was branded onto the raised spine, exuding a somewhat erotic aura.

Something hot and erect pressed against him, gently rubbing against the spot between Qin Duàn’s forcibly parted thighs. The latter didn’t know what expression he should wear, but there was a hint of helplessness and bewilderment.

If Qin Duàn had given all his affection to Bái Língzhī, then all his patience was invested in Wú Quē—raising a child who couldn’t even speak into adulthood, from babbling to navigating the world, he was trying to mold him into a “person.”

However, he had forgotten that a wolf would always be a wolf. No matter how much you tried to domesticate and educate it, you couldn’t erase the primal nature ingrained within…

Hot lips marked the butterfly bone on his back, causing Qin Duàn to shudder. His body leaned forward involuntarily, his hands were restrained behind him, and his exposed chest was shamelessly toyed with by the other, reddening his fair skin.

He exhaled softly, feeling the little wolf behind him nibbling at his bones, each bite sending coarse breaths spraying onto his sensitive wounds, scorching like fire.

What should he say? Qin Duàn wondered.

So, he asked in fragmented sentences, “Back then… the one who hurt me… was it you or him?”

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