YOU ARE GIVING YOUR OWN SON DRUGS!
19: Chapter 19: WOMAN!
YOU ARE GIVING YOUR OWN SON DRUGS!
Sitting cross-legged on a mossy outcrop deep within the wilderness, Xu Xuandong held the dark, polished frame of the Steam Deck tightly in his hands.
A wide, triumphant grin stretched across his face.
He had finally broken through to Rank 20, officially reaching the realm of a Spirit Grandmaster.
Directing his inner focus, a dazzling, terrifying aura erupted from his body.
Rising smoothly around his feet was his second soul ring—not a standard hundred-year yellow or thousand-year purple, but a blinding, suffocating shade of crimson red.
The blood-red glow of a hundred-thousand-year soul ring illuminated the surrounding canopy, radiating the lingering, bittersweet residue of the Blue Silver Emperor’s ultimate sacrifice.
With his second soul ring fully active, the Steam Deck in his hands hummed with divine soul power, automatically unlocking his second game.
Xu Xuandong eagerly tapped the glowing glass screen, waiting for the title menu to load.
The screen flickered.
The moment the title text rendered, Xu Xuandong froze dead in his tracks.
“MIYAZAKI—!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the quiet forest.
Displayed prominently across the screen in dark, ominous lettering was Elden Ring.
Xu Xuandong clutched his forehead, letting out an exasperated groan.
“Why does that sadist always have to start every single game with the main character getting brutally murdered?!” Just thinking about character death made a shudder run down his spine.
He remembered every single time his character had perished back in Baldur’s Gate 3.
Thanks to the ruthless penalty tied to his martial soul, every death inflicted an agonizing, soul-tearing pain that shattered his nerves.
His real-world body would freeze into an icy, numb coldness while his consciousness felt as though it were plunging endlessly into a bottomless, lightless abyss.
Worst of all was the brief, terrifying moment of total darkness that followed death.
It wasn’t ordinary darkness—not a simple absence of light—but a unfathomable, primordial void where you couldn’t feel, see, hear, or sense a single thing.
A quiet, eerie thought surfaced in his mind: The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.
Back on Earth, he had read those words online and brushed them off as mere dark literary fluff.
He had never truly understood how horrifyingly accurate that statement was until he experienced that absolute sensory void firsthand.
Letting out a long, weary sigh, Xu Xuandong forced his steady hands to open the character creation menu.
Just like in Baldur’s Gate 3, the rendered protagonist was an exact, high-definition model of himself—looking slightly older and more defined—bearing his real name: Xu Xuandong.
Having learned a harsh lesson from his previous playthrough, he refrained from picking a random race this time.
After carefully scrolling through the options, he selected the Numen.
The Numen possessed ancient Shaman bloodlines, meaning their physical flesh could meld harmoniously with others.
Furthermore, they were blessed with exceptionally long lifespans and an innate physical and spiritual affinity with ancient trees and nature.
The moment he locked in the choice, Xu Xuandong felt his ambient connection to the natural world deepen even further.
He hummed in sheer satisfaction as the Numen’s racial passives stacked seamlessly with his Druid nature affinity.
He looked back at the screen.
Resting in the center was a bare-naked man wearing nothing but a simple loincloth, bearing his exact face.
As a former livestreamer back on Earth, his gamer instincts took total control.
Without a second thought, he locked in the Barbarian starting class.
Closing the menu, Xu Xuandong stood up from the rock, stashing his martial soul away.
He was currently standing in the dense depths of the forest.
After breaking through Rank 20, he had initially ventured into the woods to hunt a suitable second spirit ring, only to be intercepted by the Blue Silver Emperor, who ultimately sacrificed her life essence to become his ring.
Xu Xuandong knew he had to stay sharp.
If he died in-game right now and suffered the total soul power drain penalty in the middle of a wild forest, he would be left utterly defenseless against roaming spirit beasts.
Reaching inward, he focused on the secondary reward granted by the Blue Silver Emperor—a 100,000-Year Left Leg Soul Bone.
Inspecting the bone’s internal structure, he confirmed it granted two distinct, absolute soul skills: Recovery: A dual-type healing skill.
Passively, it granted him a constant, rapid physical healing factor that repaired minor wounds and fatigue.
When actively triggered, it spiked his cellular regeneration to Deadpool-level proportions, allowing him to mend broken bones, reattach severed limbs, and survive fatal physical trauma in seconds.
Blue Silver Domain: The absolute imperial domain of plant life.
Upon activation, it connected his consciousness directly to every blade of Blue Silver Grass across the continent.
Within its radius, it suppressed the spirit power and attributes of all enemies, bolstered his own speed and vitality, and allowed him to perceive every movement, emotion, and life force passing through the surrounding vegetation.
Satisfied with his gains, Xu Xuandong turned around and began walking back toward the outer perimeter of the forest, his mind diving deep into imperial politics.
He needed to dissect the sudden, chaotic moves back at the Sun Moon capital—specifically, why his uncle, Prince Xu Gongfeng, had gone nuts and ruthlessly executed Lu Wang and his entire clan.
Connecting the dots, Xu Xuandong realized that his uncle’s primary link to the insidious Holy Ghost Church had been Cult Master Zhongli Wu.
With Zhongli Wu’s sudden, unexpected death, the Holy Ghost Church had been thrown into deep guard, hiding back into the shadows to re-evaluate their standing.
Deprived of his ultimate backer and pillar of support, Prince Xu Gongfeng had been pushed straight into a desperate corner alongside his traitorous father-in-law, Lu Wang.
Xu Xuandong had originally planned to let Lu Wang live a little longer, intending to use him as a double agent to backstab Xu Gongfeng at a critical moment.
He hadn’t expected his uncle to act so decisively and wipe Lu Wang out first.
Yet, upon further reflection, Xu Xuandong wasn’t entirely surprised.
After Ye Guan’s investigation exposed Lu Wang’s secret dealings with the Three Empires of the Douluo Continent, Lu Wang became a walking liability.
Xu Gongfeng executed him not only to send a brutal message to the court, but also out of sheer financial desperation.
During Xu Xuandong’s recent ‘birthday gift’ extortion scheme, Xu Gongfeng had been forced to bleed away nearly thirty percent of his total assets to appease the situation.
The financial strain had left his faction severely crippled.
By slaughtering Lu Wang and eradicating the entire Lu Clan, Xu Tianran—as the sole surviving bloodline of the Lu family line—naturally and legally inherited every last bit of the Lu Clan’s massive accumulated wealth and assets.
In one swift, blood-drenched stroke, Xu Gongfeng had solved his financial crisis.
‘It’s a high-risk gamble,’ Xu Xuandong thought, a cold smile touching his lips as the forest exit appeared in the distance.
‘The political balance in the capital is already paper-thin.
The Three Empires are terrified of the Sun Moon Empire’s sudden technological and military rise.
Moving so aggressively right now…
Uncle, you’re walking a tightrope over a pit of fire.’ Trrr— A sudden, faint thread of shimmering golden light materialized in the air right before his eyes.
Xu Xuandong stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening.
“The Guidance of Grace…?” he muttered under his breath.
In terms of game mechanics, it was simply a glowing line indicating the direction of a Site of Grace or a regional boss.
But in lore, the Tarnished saw these golden rays of Grace guiding them along their ordained path.
He stared at the golden thread, a wild thought crossing his mind: If I find a Site of Grace in the game and die in real life…
would I actually respawn at the Grace?
A cold sweat broke across his neck, and he immediately shook his head, forcefully purging the suicidal idea.
“Nope.
Absolutely not testing that.” He looked at the golden line with deep hesitation.
In the game, following the Guidance of Grace almost exclusively led you straight into a horrifying boss arena.
In lore, every single person other than the player character who followed the Guidance of Grace ended up dead—just look at Godfrey, whose guidance literally led him back to fight the Tarnished player, resulting in his ultimate demise.
Still, curiosity won out.
Xu Xuandong decided to follow the golden thread carefully, resolving to turn around the instant his Alert feat warned him of impending danger.
A few minutes later, the golden line led him to a quiet, sunlit glade.
Crouched behind a thick bush, Xu Xuandong spotted a group of human hunters surrounding a wounded, shimmering stag.
For some inexplicable reason, a deep, instinctual tug pulled at his heart, telling him he had to save that stag.
Hiding his presence, Xu Xuandong silently triggered his Blue Silver Domain.
His mind instantly synchronized with the countless blades of Blue Silver Grass carpeting the forest floor, granting him total spatial awareness.
Just as the lead hunter raised his spear to deliver a fatal blow to the cornered stag, Xu Xuandong focused his mind and using grasses as medium to cast a spell: Gaseous Form!
A translucent ripple of magic engulfed the stag.
Its physical body instantly dissolved into a hovering, intangible cloud of mist, causing the hunter’s spear to pass right through it uselessly.
Before the bewildered hunters could process what had happened, Xu Xuandong pointed two fingers at them, channeling his Druid spell slots: Hold Person!
An invisible force locked onto the hunters’ meridians, freezing their muscles solid.
Paralyzed on the spot, they could only roll their eyes in utter terror as the gaseous stag floated safely past them, solidifying back into physical form deep inside the safety of the woods before bounding away.
Seeing the creature escape, Xu Xuandong smiled softly, deactivated his domain, and quietly slipped away toward the forest exit.
Stepping out into the bright sunlight at the edge of the tree line, Xu Xuandong paused, raising his arms above his head to stretch his stiff shoulders.
“Please hold a moment, young traveler.” A sweet, unbelievably elegant voice echoed from his right.
Xu Xuandong snapped his head around.
Standing under the shade of an ancient oak tree was a woman clad in pure white robes.
She possessed breathtaking beauty, refined features, and a gentle aura that seemed to hum with divine light.
However, the moment Xu Xuandong laid eyes on her, his pupils contracted into narrow slits.
His physical senses screamed at him—she was not a human!
She was a transformed Spirit Beast!
“Who are you?” Xu Xuandong asked cautiously, subtly shifting his footing into a battle stance.
The woman offered a warm, soothing smile.
“My name is Jiu Le.
I am a Nine-Colored Deer.
I came here to express my gratitude to you for saving that child back there.” Xu Xuandong blinked, shaking his head slightly.
“There’s no need for thanks.
An instinctual feeling told me to save the stag…
let us just count it as fate.” Internally, his mind was running at hyper-speed.
For a spirit beast to freely assume a flawless human form without a single trace of beast aura, she had to be at least a 200,000-Year Great Beast!
Jiu Le chuckled softly, her golden eyes twinkling with warmth.
“Do not worry, Child of Nature.
I am well aware.
I came merely to repay your kindness.” She raised her slender hand, and a bright, radiant light flashed in her palm.
Resting in her hand was a pristine, metallic-hued spirit bone that radiated an overbearing, ancient pressure!
ROAR!
The moment that spirit bone appeared, Xu Xuandong’s secondary martial soul—the Purple Brilliant Heaven Destroying Dragon—erupted into a violent frenzy inside his meridians!
His dragon bloodline screamed at him, practically begging him to devour that bone!
Holding back the intense urge, Xu Xuandong narrowed his eyes, staring directly at the Nine-Colored Deer.
“What is the meaning of this?” “It is of no use to me or my kin,” Jiu Le explained gently.
“It once belonged to a ancient guardian of our forest sanctuary, who ultimately fell due to severe injuries sustained during his beast tribulation.” Xu Xuandong focused his perception on the bone.
The sheer volume of energy contained within it was staggering—it was undeniably well over a hundred thousand years old, though he couldn’t pinpoint the exact age or species.
Reading the confusion written across his face, Jiu Le smiled softly.
“It belonged to a 300,000-Year Tyrant Dragon.
After successfully enduring his third beast tribulation, his physical body was mortally wounded by divine lightning.
Before passing, he condensed his entire essence, cultivation base, and bloodline into this spirit bone, leaving it behind so a remnant of his lineage might continue in this world.” Xu Xuandong’s heart violently slammed against his ribs!
A Tyrant Dragon!
In terms of appearance, Tyrant Dragons were essentially glorified, hyper-muscular T-Rexes.
But what made them absolute apex predators among dragon-type spirit beasts was their ancient lineage—they were direct descendants who inherited a trace of the legendary Golden Dragon King’s Bloodline!
Despite his dragon martial soul roaring in absolute greed, Xu Xuandong forced himself to stay rational.
“What do you want in return?
A 300,000-year soul bone doesn’t just fall from the sky for free.” Jiu Le’s smile widened slightly.
“A dear friend of mine would like to request your assistance in the future, Child of Nature.” Xu Xuandong narrowed his eyes, calculating the risks in a fraction of a second.
A 300,000-year Golden Dragon King lineage soul bone was a heaven-defying treasure that could completely mutate and elevate his dragon bloodline to terrifying heights.
“Deal,” Xu Xuandong said firmly, stepping forward and taking the heavy spirit bone into his hand.
Jiu Le beamed brightly.
Reaching out her hand, she gently pinched Xu Xuandong’s cheek.
“My, the Child of Nature is so cute.” “Gah!
Hey!” Xu Xuandong snapped his jaws, playfully trying to bite her hand off!
Jiu Le pulled her hand back with a soft, melodious laugh, playfully flicking his forehead.
“Mind your manners, little brat.
Do not worry…
my friend will actually be helping you as well.” Xu Xuandong rubbed his forehead, looking up at her.
“Who is this friend of yours?” Jiu Le simply offered him a mysterious, radiant smile.
Before he could ask another question, her elegant figure dissolved into a breathtaking cascade of nine-colored divine light, vanishing completely into the ambient air without leaving a single trace behind.
Slinking across the clay-tiled rooftops of the royal palace, Xu Xuandong padded softly in his Wild Shape form—a sleek, dark-furred cat.
His feline mind was still preoccupied with the mysterious Nine-Colored Deer, Jiu Le.
Searching his memories of Douluo Dalu, he couldn’t recall a single mention of a Nine-Colored Deer; the concept only rang a distant bell from ancient Chinese myths back on Earth.
The woodland stag he had saved, however, was a different story.
It was a exceptionally rare spirit beast, deeply revered by wood-element support-type Spirit Masters.
The overwhelming instinct he had felt to save it was almost certainly a resonance from his Numen bloodline and Druid class acting in tandem.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, leaping toward a high balcony— SQUISH!
A heavy leather boot slammed directly onto his tail.
“YEOWWW—!” Xu Xuandong let out a blood-curdling feline shriek as an immense weight crushed his hindquarters.
Before he could twist around to bite, a royal guard hoisted him upside down by the tail, dangling him in mid-air.
Recovering his composure, Xu Xuandong quickly suppressed his human instincts and began meowing incessantly, flailing his paws like an ordinary, helpless stray.
“Your Majesty, I have captured the cat as you requested,” the guard announced, stepping into the lush imperial garden.
Xu Xuandong dangled upside down, his golden cat eyes locking onto the figures resting in the pavilion.
Sitting there was his mother, the Empress, alongside his father, the Emperor.
The Empress gasped softly, her eyes softening as she saw the suspended cat.
“Sigh…
you’re hurting it!
Give it to me at once.” The guard respectfully handed the wriggling cat over.
The Emperor, sitting casually beside her, arched an eyebrow.
“Why did you ask the guards to capture a random stray?” “I simply found it adorable,” she replied softly, pulling the dark cat into her lap and beginning to stroke its fur with gentle, motherly strokes.
Panic flared in Xu Xuandong’s chest.
If they realize this cat is actually me, I’m dead!
He squirmed violently, planting his paws against her silk robes to push off and bolt for the trees.
Crucially, he made sure to keep his sharp claws completely retracted so he wouldn’t scratch her.
The Empress giggled, mistaking his desperate escape attempt for lively affection.
“This kitty is quite playful, isn’t he?” Reaching into a small decorative pot on the marble tea table, she plucked a dried leafy stalk and placed it right in front of his twitching nose.
“Here, little one.
This should calm you down.” Xu Xuandong sniffed it once.
His eyes went wide as saucers.
WOMAN!
YOU ARE GIVING YOUR OWN SON DRUGS!
Before his human mind could resist, his feline biology took absolute control.
The heavenly scent of potent catnip flooded his senses.
Combined with the warmth of his mother’s gentle caress, a wave of profound, blissful relaxation washed over him.
His legs turned to jelly, his purring motor revved to maximum capacity, and within seconds, Xu Xuandong sank into a deep, heavenly sleep right on the Empress’s lap.
The Emperor watched his wife with a fond smile.
“You look quite happy.” She rested her hand on the sleeping cat’s back, a soft, rare sense of peace washing over her face.
“I don’t know why…
but holding this cat makes me feel completely relaxed.
It feels so familiar.” “Father, Mother.” A crisp, dignified voice interrupted the tranquil atmosphere.
Xu Mei’er, Xu Xuandong’s oldest sister, stepped gracefully into the garden and bowed before taking a seat across from them.
“Ah, Mei’er,” the Empress murmured, her smile fading slightly into a look of sorrow and quiet pain.
“What is it now?
Has your brother caused more trouble?” “There is something…
wrong with Xuandong,” Xu Mei’er said, her brow furrowed in deep thought.
“Did he tease you about your marital status again?” the Empress asked gently, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
“It wouldn’t be him if he didn’t.” “He did, and his words were as sharp as ever,” Xu Mei’er admitted, pausing as a chill ran down her spine.
“But this time…
his voice was completely devoid of emotion.
It was cold.
Empty.
It sounded just like he used to…
back before his martial soul awakened.” The Empress froze, her heart clenching at the memory of her son’s emotionless, detached childhood state.
“What?
Did you actually go see him?” Xu Mei’er shook her head in frustration.
“I tried!
But I couldn’t even reach his front door.
The moment I stepped into his courtyard, those damn birds started dropping their waste on me—and on anyone else who tried to approach his residence!” The Emperor and Empress both twitched their lips simultaneously, suppressing the urge to sigh out loud.
Why is nothing ever normal with this boy?
The Empress looked down at the sleeping cat in her lap, gently rubbing behind its ears.
“I will go talk to him myself later today.” Xu Xuandong snapped awake, his feline eyes widening in a sudden flash of panic as he realized he was still curled up in the Empress’s lap.
Forcing his heart rate to settle, he smoothly stretched his furry back, stood up, and leaped lightly off her lap onto the cool stone floor.
He trotted over and gently headbutted his mother’s leg, letting out a soft, affectionate meow.
“Not now, little one,” the Empress said gently, brushing her fingers over his ears.
“I’m busy right now, I can’t play with you.” Ignoring her second attempt to pat him, Xu Xuandong darted past the garden gates, his sleek black form vanishing into the palace corridors as he sprinted back toward his private residence.
Sliding into his secluded inner court, he dropped his Druid Wild Shape.
The dark fur dissolved away, returning him to his tall, human form.
Ying Yue was already waiting near the doorway, stepping forward to welcome him back.
Xu Xuandong looked at her, his lips twitching slightly, but he kept his cool.
He crossed his arms and looked at her directly.
“Did you mimic my exact tone when you spoke to my sister earlier?” Ying Yue froze, her eyes widening in sheer panic as she went dead silent, realizing she had inadvertently freaked out Xu Mei’er by using his pre-awakening, emotionless voice.
Xu Xuandong let out a long sigh and shook his head.
“It’s fine.
Just play along with it.” A few minutes later, a sharp, heavy knock sounded at his courtyard door.
Xu Xuandong pulled the door open—and froze.
Standing on the threshold was his mother, the Empress.
Her pristine, luxurious robes were splattered with fresh bird waste, and her royal composure was hanging on by a thread.
Xu Xuandong stared at her, keeping his face completely deadpan.
“Mother…
do you want to use my shower?” The Empress’s lips twitched violently.
“Xuandong, we need to talk about your—” SPLAT.
Another fresh bird drop landed squarely right in the middle of her head.
Xu Xuandong maintained a stone-cold, stoic expression, but a mischievous spark danced in his eyes as he fought with every fiber of his being to hold in a roaring laughter.
Seeing that familiar, playful glint in his eyes, the Empress let out a long, weary sigh of profound relief—knowing her son hadn’t truly regressed into his cold, emotionless past after all.
She sat down heavily, wiping a lingering spot off her shoulder before narrowing her eyes at him.
“Did Xu Mei’er come to see you today?” Xu Xuandong looked at her, tilting his head slightly, and shook his head.
“No.” The Empress looked deeply puzzled, her eyes squinting as she scrutinized his face.
“Are you sure?” Xu Xuandong remained silent for a beat, his expression blank, before his eyes suddenly brightened with realization.
“Wait…
did she come today?!” The Empress grew even more perplexed, leaning forward.
“What on earth did you do, Xuandong?” “I made an auto-response soul tool!” he explained, puffing his chest out slightly with pride.
“It automatically triggers a custom voice message whenever a specific person approaches the courtyard gate.” His mother froze, her eyes widening.
“So…
it wasn’t actually you who talked to Mei’er earlier?” Xu Xuandong shook his head innocently.
“Nope.
Why?” “Could…
could I hear what it said?” she asked carefully.
Xu Xuandong nodded and picked up a small, metallic soul tool box resting on his desk.
He tinkered with the delicate internal brass gears for a second before a crisp, recorded line blasted out in a deadpan, soul-draining, robotically emotionless voice: “If you have enough time to bother me, go find a husband.
You only have a few cycles left.” Xu Xuandong gasped, clutching his chest.
“Holy shit!
What a absolute waste of a top-tier jab with that dead-ass voice!” Before he could appreciate his own roast any further, the Empress reached out and mercilessly twisted his ear.
“Watch your language, young man!” “Agh!
Ow, ow, ow!
Mother, stop!
That’s child abuse, I’m calling CPS!” Xu Xuandong squirmed, dramatically flailing his arms until she finally let go, shaking her head at his bizarre, nonsensical antics.
Rubbing his reddened ear, he looked back at her.
“And what about the birds?” she asked, exasperated.
“Why are they bombing everyone who tries to enter?” “Oh, that?
I just changed their diet,” Xu Xuandong said with a shrug, utterly unbothered.
The Empress let out a deep, long-suffering sigh, rubbing her temples.
“As long as you’re fine…” Noticing the faint shadow of exhaustion lingering beneath her eyes, Xu Xuandong’s playful demeanor softened.
He looked at her with genuine concern.
“Mother…
is something wrong?” “It was nothing,” she said softly, reaching out to smooth down his hair.
“I was just worried about you.
You haven’t come to eat with us in a while.” Xu Xuandong rubbed the back of his neck, offering a apologetic smile.
“Sorry about that, Mother.
I spent way too much time crafting that good-for-nothing voice box…
and now I have to go throw it away.” The Empress’s lips twitched slightly at his blithe dismissal of the chaotic device.
“I’ll join you guys for breakfast tomorrow,” Xu Xuandong promised, holding up two fingers.
“And I swear I won’t even annoy Xu Mei’er.
But keep in mind, this peace treaty strictly expires before dinner.” A genuine, warm smile broke across her face.
“Alright, deal.” Leaning down, she tried to plant a gentle motherly kiss on his forehead, but Xu Xuandong instinctively ducked his head sideways, dodging her lips.
A momentary flicker of hurt crossed her eyes, but before she could dwell on it, he offered her a mischievous grin.
“Besides, Mother…
you really ought to get a shower first.” The Empress chuckled, slapping his shoulder playfully.
“Goodnight, you troublesome brat.” She turned and stepped out into the courtyard, only for a fresh, precise bird drop to land squarely on her shoulder the moment she crossed the threshold.
This time, Xu Xuandong couldn’t hold it in any longer.
He burst into a loud, uncontrollable belly laugh, clutching his stomach as he leaned against the doorframe.
Watching him laugh so freely and vibrantly, the Empress wasn’t mad at all; instead, a deep, overwhelming sense of happiness filled her heart as she walked away.
When she returned to the royal quarters, the Emperor looked up from his imperial scrolls, his jaw dropping at her state.
“My love…
what on earth happened to you?” She simply smiled, shaking her head as she headed toward the baths.
“Xuandong just changed the diet of his birds.” Late into the night, Xu Xuandong sat cross-legged on his soft bed.
The ambient light of his bedroom was dimmed, save for the bright, flickering glow of the Steam Deck held tightly in his hands.
His eyes narrowed into sharp, intense slits as he stared directly at the screen.
The intro cinematic played out, transitioning into the dark, damp stone cave of the Tutorial Area.
“We meet again,” Xu Xuandong declared in a grave, dramatic voice, his fingers gripping the controller grips like a warrior wielding a holy sword.
“The stars have aligned, and our fates collide.
Come…
our battle shall be legendary!” Standing right in front of his digital Numen Barbarian avatar, holding a rusty sword and shield, was none other than the legendary boss: Soldier of God, Rick.