A Regressor’s Tale of Cultivation Chapter 812 Chapter 809: Afterstory 1 - Gu Ju

Whiiiiiii—

A fierce blizzard howls through the air.

On this frigid winter afternoon.

A young lad hauls his chilled frame back to his dwelling.

The lad, who had ventured to the riverbank in search of fish, comes back with nothing.

The chill today is overwhelming.

The river's surface is encased in ice unnaturally thick, so solid that even the warmth from his exhales fails to thaw it.

"Mother... forgive me. Tomorrow... tomorrow, I promise to bring back food..."

The lad vows that come morning, he will find a way, by any means, to secure sustenance for his mother, then enters the home.

In that instant, the boy's gaze sharpens, and he snaps off a dangling icicle from beneath the roof's edge, clutches it like a dagger, and regulates his breath to bolster his bodily prowess.

Intruders have breached the interior.

Yet no traces are evident.

Through his honed senses, the boy detects all presences within three zhang's reach.

This stems from the audible rhythms of breaths—or what ought to pass as breaths.

Yet...

The figure before him emits no detectable breath whatsoever.

No, beyond that... it lacks the aura of a lifeless corpse as well.

The entity confronting him takes the form of a female.

Adorned in golden robes, she exudes an air of nobility.

As though... she hails from a realm beyond this one.

Upon glimpsing her features, while his frame instinctively assumes a combative posture, his cheeks flush crimson.

He cannot fathom the reason.

She simply...

...radiates such captivating beauty.

"Enter. I mean you no harm."

The boy glances past the woman.

Inside the dwelling... flames flicker.

The space feels toasty throughout.

Aroma of steaming cuisine wafts in the air.

His belly rumbles, yearning for grains.

Yet something feels off.

'No smoke rises from the flue, yet the interior glows with heat...?'

The boy recognizes the cadence of fire's breath, the crackle of its blaze, the essence it radiates.

Nevertheless, within these walls, no trace of actual fire registers to him.

This defies logic.

It resembles a yaoguai disguised in human guise, luring him into the abode.

'Shall I... slash through the entire structure with this?'

Is this woman a yaoguai in truth...?

Should she prove to be one, he steels himself to cleave her alongside the house, bind the vital breath within him to his existence, ignite it fiercely, inflict wounds, and slay her.

Still...

The issue lies with his mother indoors.

"Leaving the entrance ajar will chill your mother. Hurry inside."

"..."

The boy clenches his teeth.

Ultimately, after weighing the circumstances, he concludes entry is unavoidable.

Finally, the boy discards the icicle outdoors and steps within.

Cozy warmth envelops him.

The woman has placed an ornate brazier in the chamber, sourced from some unknown place, and loads it with glowing embers to infuse the air with heat.

Using a tool, she prods the coals, ensuring the warmth permeates every nook.

"Allow me. We can't have a visitor toiling like this."

The boy seizes the tool from her and tends to the brazier himself.

'...What manner of thing is this?'

The boy squints at the glowing contents at the tool's tip.

This isn't genuine fire.

It diverges vastly from any blaze he's encountered before.

As if a divine mimicry masquerades as a mere brazier.

The comfort is soothing, yet profoundly odd.

As the boy ponders this enigma, the woman offers him a modest plate bearing a steamed tuber.

"Care for a potato?"

"...Who... exactly are you?"

The boy accepts a portion of the heated potato and inquires.

The woman, with a gentle smile, replies.

"I serve as a Reaper from the Underworld. Your dear mother departs for the Underworld tomorrow."

"What...!?"

The boy raises the tool, poised to strike the woman.

Slaying the Underworld's Reaper would save his mother...

"Such soothing warmth... My son... have you kindled the flames...?"

Then, his mother murmurs in a drowsy tone, her face serene and smiling.

That gentle voice halts the boy's swing mid-air.

When had his mother last uttered words so joyful and tender?

She appears almost fully mended from her ailment now.

"...Yes, Mother. A visitor arrived, so we've started the fire."

"I see. Well done. In my condition, I can't host properly... Please manage on my behalf."

"...Yes."

Witnessing his mother's tranquil expression, the boy refrains from attacking.

Even if she truly is an Underworld Reaper...

For should that being depart, the room's heat and the brazier might dissolve like a fleeting dream.

Rather than assaulting the woman, the boy inquires courteously.

"Why... must my mother leave so soon?"

"She suffers greatly, doesn't she? Bearing mortal form proves an arduous trial. In the Underworld's Pure Land, savoring hot meals, donning fine garments, and beholding soaring birds—that would suit her current state far better."

"...!"

Indeed, it rings true.

His mother endures constant torment.

And this Reaper asserts that the Underworld offers her bliss in the Pure Land.

"Release those destined to depart. I assure you, your mother endured trials in this existence yet nurtured you with deep love. Granting kindness to kin, even solely one's own... such benevolence accumulates virtue. Thus... she journeys to the Pure Land for a joyful existence."

"...Is... that the case?"

Does he have to let her go?

His own mother?

If she reaches that realm, will happiness truly await her?

A whirlwind of notions swirls in the boy's mind.

Eventually, he reaches a resolute choice.

By scrutinizing the Reaper who entered the space, he discerns the truth.

In his present state, the boy stands no chance against the Underworld Reaper.

And above all...

Didn't this Reaper personally inform him of his mother's final hours, render the home snug, and even prepare steamed potatoes for him?

Gulp—

The boy chews into the potato proffered by the Reaper.

Drip... drip...

Tears stream down the boy's face.

"My throat... feels choked..."

"Tea, perhaps?"

The boy takes the tea from the Reaper and sips it.

Then he nibbles more potato.

"Do you... have any salt...?"

"I recalled your dislike for salt, so I left it plain... but I carry seed soy sauce from an acquaintance's abode—try a dash."

The Reaper ladles seed soy sauce into a tiny dish and presents it to the boy.

The boy pairs the potato with the seed soy sauce and weeps.

"Thank you... thank you... Reaper of the Underworld..."

"Think nothing of it. Eat at ease."

Those tender phrases.

A comforting aura akin to his mother's.

Before the golden-robed Reaper of the Underworld...

That night, he weeps profusely while devouring the potatoes.

And come the following day,

The Reaper pours seed soy sauce into a small dish and offers it to the boy.

The boy combines the seed soy sauce with the potato and lets tears fall.

"Thank you... thank you... Reaper of the Underworld..."

"Think nothing of it. Eat at ease."

Those tender phrases.

A comforting aura akin to his mother's.

Before the golden-robed Reaper of the Underworld...

That day, the boy unleashes his grief in sobs as he takes and consumes the potatoes.

And the day after,

Guided by the Reaper's counsel, the boy avoids futile fishing trips and remains at his mother's bedside.

For meals, the Reaper procures assorted condiments, seasonings, and grains from mysterious sources, whipping up straightforward fare for them.

Claiming salt's absence for some reason, she relies solely on that enigmatic seed soy sauce, yet every creation bursts with flavor.

The boy spoons the final bites to his mother and allows her restful slumber in the heated chamber.

After a while, the Reaper approaches the boy's mother and summons her thrice.

At the call, Mother awakens and rises beaming radiantly.

"Ah... are you a supreme entity...?"

"Indeed, I've arrived to escort you."

"What... awaits me now...?"

"Initially, you'll undergo the judgment rite assessing your lifetime deeds—the merits and misdeeds, like snatching the neighbor boy's sweets at age three, will be weighed, and fitting penalties assigned. Your transgressions are minor, so roughly seven days and nights will cleanse them all. Then... you'll proceed to the Pure Land, relishing joys denied in this world."

Hearing this, she turns to her son.

"Gu Ju... forgive me. Your mother... must depart ahead."

"...Mother... Mother... Mom..."

The boy.

Those words shatter Gu Ju's restraint; he dashes to her and buries himself in her embrace.

"Grieve not, Gu Ju... Your mother... will ascend to the skies and guard you. Grow strong and fearless."

"Mom... stay... Mom..."

Gu Ju clings fiercely to his mother, wailing.

Observing her son's anguish, Gu Ju's mother regards the Reaper.

The Reaper, noting her gaze, addresses Gu Ju.

"If that's your deepest desire... each full moon, draw clear water into a bowl and summon me. On those occasions, I'll convey special missives from your mother in the Underworld. Reunion isn't impossible. Through correspondence, you'll sense her warmth at least."

Gu Ju shivers.

Paaatt!

The Reaper swings open the dwelling's door.

Beyond lies a dazzling, splendid realm.

This must be his mother's destination.

"Fret not excessively, Gu Ju. You'll thrive assuredly. I'll observe from afar. And... the Reaper too... will certainly..."

His mother becomes enshrouded in the radiance.

Soon after, as the light fully consumes and erases her form, Gu Ju collapses in heaving sobs.

Now...

In this realm, solitude engulfs him.

Gu Ju weeps inconsolably.

His mother has vanished, leaving him amid this harsh winter.

Forsaken in a world devoid of companions.

And beside that young soul...

A maiden in yellow attire approaches and stands vigil.

"Come on, rise."

Gu Ju, dazed, eyes the maiden.

Curiously, she evokes the Reaper who escorted his mother away moments ago.

Yet simultaneously, she carries the vibe of a rustic youth like Gu Ju.

A sweet fragrance emanates from her.

It recalls the peach blossom aroma his mother once described.

"Who... are you...?"

"I... was dispatched by a superior. Instructed to assist with your mother's rites and instruct you in script, so you can henceforth receive her messages."

"..."

Gu Ju perceives it clearly.

This stems from the Reaper's benevolence.

"...Thank you."

She appears merely a few years his senior, yet to Gu Ju, she inspires profound trust.

Owing to her presence...

Gu Ju rebounds swiftly and conducts his mother's funeral rites.

"Er... I lack words for my gratitude... might I learn your esteemed name...?"

"Hm? That's your priority now? Behold this mess of a home. Listen, I'll aid in cleaning, so you start mending the structure and foraging for sustenance today. I'll fell timber and mend your ragged garb. I'll handle cooking too, but you weave straw cords at minimum. Plan for the coming spring. And from this evening, devote spare moments to studying script with me. In the Underworld, your mother will master writing and share updates. To connect with her, hustle now!"

"Uh, er..."

Overwhelmed by the girl's insistence, Gu Ju falters then dives into tasks.

He fortifies the home's dilapidated barriers alongside the girl.

And per her guidance, he hunts edible winter roots or strips bark from trunks to simmer into meals.

Tasteless on their own, but transformed by her touch, they become palatable.

The girl repairs Gu Ju's worn attire, and deep into nights, she ignites a lamp to impart literacy.

Two weeks onward,

The girl announces a missive from his mother and hands it over.

Gu Ju remains novice with script, unable to decipher, but the girl draws him onto her knee, enfolds him, and recites aloud.

Gu Ju...

Basking in her embrace, he absorbs tales of his mother's well-being.

And learns the Underworld holds no terror.

He grasps that demise need not evoke dread or mere sorrow.

Thus, months elapse.

The boy grasps basics of writing, gradually perusing his mother's delivered letters solo.

And...

Spring dawns.

Temperatures soften into mildness, and the girl unearths early greens for cooking.

From unseen origins, she fetches seeds and demonstrates agriculture to Gu Ju.

"We'll sow these, nourish with water and manure, and cultivate them. Success awaits us."

As instructed, Gu Ju heeds the girl, tills adjacent soil, and plants the seeds.

The labor proves straightforward.

By attuning the innate breathing he's practiced since birth, his slight build channels bull-like power effortlessly.

Gu Ju tills the plot amid the girl's cheers and acclaim, weathering spring on foraged greens and mountain-sourced delicacies she gathers.

Summer brings scorching days barren of fare. Yet the girl leads him to affluent estates, schooling him in trading toil for coin.

They wander, offer services, earn payments, and sustain themselves.

This succeeds thanks to the girl's ingenuity and Gu Ju's breath-enhanced vigor.

Autumn arrives.

In fall, the planted seeds finally yield bounty.

Only in autumn does Gu Ju comprehend satiety.

Post-harvest with the girl, his stomach swells contentedly.

Only then does he fully dispel grief over his mother's loss and drift to blissful repose in the girl's hold.

With her, he readies winter stores from the autumn yield.

When winter descends anew, they endure sans last year's pangs of want and chill.

This winter, sharing the chamber with the girl, Gu Ju passes evenings in tales and