Chapter 28: The Great Leader of Moths, the Lord of Curses and Rebirth

Chapter 28 The Great Moth Sovereign: Lord of Molting Defilement, Master of Curses and Rebirth

Water droplets trickled down the stone walls as a cold, damp air permeated the depths of the cave.

The path inside the cavern was straight and smooth, descending at a gentle slope underground. This tunnel passage seemed almost unnatural—as if carved by some immense external force to store something within.

Bryce walked through it, feeling as though he were traversing a long tongue and esophagus, burrowing into the belly of the mountain range.

After a while, he reached the end of the path, where a massive pit lay ahead. To ordinary eyes, it would appear as a bottomless abyss.

But Bryce’s eyes seemed to gleam with an eerie light in the darkness, holding within them a slowly flowing, shimmering river of blood, allowing him to clearly see the scene below the passage.

The walls were covered in layers of white silk threads, and the entire cavern was filled with cocoons.

Occasionally, crumpled moth wings writhed inside the cocoons, making them resemble vocal cords quivering in a throat, murmuring in imitation of human speech.

Disjointed voices rose and fell, echoing through the vast space, their reverberations overlapping.

Amidst these tangled whispers, Bryce even heard words Teacher Ju had spoken to him not long ago.

At first, the voice was halting and clumsy, like a toddler mimicking speech—even struggling to form complete sentences: "J-Just like... using Lin... to lure us..."

But as it repeated over and over, correcting its pronunciation and intonation, its tone and cadence became indistinguishable from Teacher Ju’s own.

Emotionally charged or everyday phrases alike, spoken in such an abnormal setting, stretched unnaturally by echoes, took on a mechanical and eerie quality.

—This place was like an eggshell nurturing new life, except what hatched here were not downy hatchlings, but human-faced abominations that would soon take flight in the deep woods.

Gazing at these cocoons on the verge of hatching, Bryce sighed. "May you remain forever asleep at this moment."

Instantly, all whispers ceased, plunging the pit into utter silence.

—Bryce had excised all future memories they might have had, freezing their consciousness in this moment before emergence.

No matter how much time passed, their deceived subconscious would forever tell them: they were not yet mature, not yet ready to hatch.

And so, in a sense, these cocoons had "died," never to know the moment of emergence.

After completing this, Bryce remained cautiously in place, his entire body tensed for retaliation—yet the expected counterattack never came.

"The Moth God... isn’t here...?"

Muttering these words, Bryce’s figure vanished without a trace into the depths of the cave.

Only the lifeless cocoons strewn across the ground bore witness to his presence.

...

The time was now 3 a.m.

Countless moths gathered above the village chief’s courtyard, their ash-gray wings eclipsing the moonlight as they circled, casting the One-Eared Old Man below into shadow.

The chief tilted his head, exposing the scar where his ear had been torn away, as if listening intently to something.

After a long silence, the One-Eared Old Man finally spoke in the darkness: "Rest assured, rest assured—all our efforts are for the sake of our Great Moth Sovereign, Lord of Molting Defilement, Master of Curses and Rebirth, so that He may complete His final molting and lead us to true transcendence."

"I’ve already sent villagers to monitor those students in shifts. They won’t escape..."

"Even if they slip away this time, the Great Moth Sovereign will eventually guide them back—or curse their descendants, ensuring they return for generations to come, offering worship to Him."

As he spoke, the old chief’s lips curled into a smile—one utterly unlike the warm, simple expression he showed the students. Instead, it was like a poison-tipped blade, oozing sinister malice.

Suddenly, the swirling moths froze momentarily before flapping their wings even more violently, as if venting some deep-seated wrath.

*‘More of our kin have perished!’*

*‘Two of the newest cocoons were completely dissolved; many more in the Sacred Nest will never hatch...’*

*‘The Moth Sovereign is disappointed in you. You failed to select the most suitable host vessels and allowed an unknown enemy into the mountains...’*

*‘You must be punished—repent for your failure!’*

Amidst the buzzing of wings, these words transformed into strands of filth-black thread, needling into the old chief’s remaining right ear like steel wires.

Instantly, the old man rose onto his tiptoes in an unnatural posture. His hunched spine emitted a series of bone-chilling creaks as it bent backward unnaturally, as though an invisible hand were gripping his torso, threatening to snap him in half.

Agony twisted his wrinkled face—and beneath those weathered folds, something seemed to writhe beneath his skin, bulging against the loose flesh in countless moth-wing patterns.

His entire body resembled a balloon of human skin, filled to bursting with frenzied moths fluttering madly within, pressing outward against his flesh...

No one could say how long this silent torture lasted before it finally ended.

The One-Eared Old Man collapsed to his knees with a thud.

Drenched in cold sweat, he shakily clasped his hands together, pressing his forehead against the dirt as he muttered prayers, begging the Moth Sovereign’s forgiveness.

The moths circled overhead, their cold gazes fixed upon this mortal below.

At last, they spoke again: *‘The Great Moth Sovereign grants you mercy. But you must swiftly prepare your successor—the next priest.’*

Trembling with relief, the old chief nodded repeatedly. "Among the village’s newest generation, the Moth Sovereign seems most taken with the youngest child of the Sun family."

"But her parents are still too foolish, unwilling to offer her to Him... But it’s fine," the chief panted, wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "I’ll keep persuading them. They’ll come to understand that serving as the Moth Sovereign’s priest is the highest honor."

As he spoke, the image of the chosen girl flickered in his mind—her fearful eyes peeking out from behind her mother’s skirts—and his thoughts drifted back to a distant past.

The One-Eared Old Man had officially become the Moth Sovereign’s priest—and the leader of Honey Ant Village—at the age of twelve, through a sacred rite.

Back then, still young and bewildered, he had been dragged away from his parents by several adults. The villagers watching from afar remained silent; all he could hear were the buzzing of moth wings and his parents’ hoarse, desperate screams.

Terrified, he kicked wildly and struggled, leaving deep gouges in the earth.

Finally, he was pressed face-down before a gaping black cave, its walls lined with countless moths that guarded this place—like countless eyes staring down at him.

He sensed that even the adults holding him were afraid, their hands trembling—then, a flash of cold steel passed before his eyes. A razor-sharp dagger, a blade so sharp it could split hairs, reflected his face streaked with snot and tears.

The blade was raised high, paused for a moment, then swung down—

Looking back, he must have been screaming then.

But when his severed left ear hit the ground, sheer terror and pain had stolen his voice. Gushing blood stained everything within sight crimson.

Then, amid a rustling sound, a moth—compelled by some unseen will—landed on his bleeding ear stump, folded its wings, and crawled into his ear canal.

By that point, the pain had already numbed. Dazed, he lay on the ground, staring at the claw-marked earth before him, gradually grew still—

In that moment, vast, chaotic knowledge flooded his mind. At last, he heard voices he had never heard before.

He heard the human-faced moths, their wings fluttering like hushed whispers...

He heard the fearful curses muttered by the villagers who had brought him there;

He heard all words dripping with malice, fear, and rage...

"Words" seemed to take on tangible forms, like silken threads spewing from mouths, drifting everywhere; while the "curses" tainted with malice were a thick, inky black, carrying an unseen, terrifying power.

Amid the wispy threads of language, he also found the cries of his parents.

Yet these grief-soaked threads, lost among countless others, were dull and indistinct, making him suddenly feel they were utterly insignificant.

In his chest, the innocence and emotions of a child seemed abruptly drained away, leaving only the faith and reverence for the Moth Lord blazing like dawn, guiding him firmly along his destined path.

—On that very day, he completed his glorious transformation, chosen and transformed by the Moth Lord, no longer confined to the mundane existence of an ordinary man.

"Pathetic."

Gathering his thoughts, the now-elderly village chief shook his head, remarking on the parents of his successor, "They simply cannot comprehend that becoming a priest brings eternal metamorphosis and rebirth..."

"The new priest is merely born into this world through their flesh and bloodline, but she will never belong to them—we are the children of the Moth Lord, His chosen shepherds for the flock."

"From then on, human ties and emotions shall mean nothing to us. We exist only to worship the Moth Lord, and upon death, we shall shed our mortal husks to truly become children of the moth..."

His withered lips trembling, the chief hissed these truths to himself.

It was as if he mocked the impiety and ignorance of the other villagers, or perhaps sought to convince himself: the path he had steadfastly walked was divinely ordained and radiant.

The moths hummed approvingly above the old man’s head:

‘Once this final pupation is complete, the great Moth Lord shall ascend nearer to that sacred throne...’

‘When that day comes, all living beings shall be graced by Him, stepping into the undying eternity where death and rebirth intertwine.’

The One-Eared Old Man took a deep breath and, in unison with the moths, proclaimed:

"—All things submit to the great Lord of Shedding Impurity!"