Axolotl Translations

Ruan Zhao had only just been woken. His mind was still foggy, floating in that dazed space between dreams and waking. Without thinking, he obeyed Chu Xinglan’s voice and gently closed his eyes. Darkness wrapped around him, and with it came a strange stillness. No light. No sound. Only touch remained, sharp and vivid.

His face was pressed against the curve of the boy’s neck. He shifted slightly, rubbing his cheek there, the motion small and instinctive. And then, memories returned. The chase. The fear. How he hadn’t dared to light a single spark for fear of being found. How he’d survived on bitter wild fruit. How he’d curled into the damp hollows of stone caves, trying to disappear into the shadows.

He remembered the cold rock beneath him, sticky with moisture, crawling with insects, legged and legless, winged and wingless, eyeless and watching all the same. He hadn’t slept. Couldn’t sleep. He’d been too afraid that something might crawl over him. Or into him. And still… even then… They’d found him.

The Chen family’s spirit hound had tracked him down, a massive beast with snarling jaws and fangs long enough to pierce flesh in one clean bite. It had died mid-lunge. But he could still feel the snap of its jaws behind his ear.

A furnace vessel like him, what strength did he have? No matter who he stood before, be it cultivator or beast, he had no defense. He was like a fragile flower branch. One stormy night was enough to tear off its petals, bend its limbs, break its spine.

Ruan Zhao clung tighter to Chu Xinglan’s back. He was trembling. He couldn’t stop. His voice, soft and shaking, barely rose above a whisper. “Brother… I’m a little scared.”

Something warm nudged against his palm, gentle, steady. The little flame Chu Xinglan had given him earlier. It flared to life again, glowing with quiet comfort, banishing the dark.

“Don’t be afraid, Zhaozhao,” Chu Xinglan murmured. “I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

It was a promise. One he’d heard before, long ago. He thought he had forgotten it, thought those memories had faded with time. But now, as they surfaced, they were crystal clear.

……

Six years ago, Ruan Zhao was ten years old. Back then, he hadn’t yet disguised himself as a girl. He hadn’t shown any signs of being a furnace vessel either. His cultivation was barely at the Qi Refining stage, and his days were mostly spent chasing chickens and hunting birds in the mountains. If luck was on his side, he might find a few spirit herbs or fruits to trade for some money.

His mother was the least favored daughter of the Ruan family. She had no talent for cultivation; she couldn’t even absorb spiritual energy into her body, not even once she came of age.

She had always been quiet and obedient, living by the rules and avoiding conflict. The only rebellious thing she’d ever done was fall in love with a wandering cultivator. They pledged themselves to each other in secret, and Ruan Zhao was born from that union.

She was a small, fragile woman. Ruan Zhao had been quiet even in the womb, he never kicked, never stirred. When her monthly cycle skipped a few times, she didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until her belly grew and the baby was clearly showing that she realized she was pregnant.

At that point, it was too late for an abortion. Ending the pregnancy would likely have killed them both. So the couple gave up on their escape, for the moment, at least, and decided to wait until the child was born before making plans again.

But Ruan Zhao… He was a child born without being wanted. Conceived before marriage. No matchmaker, no wedding rites. He was a stain between them, an unspoken shame. So it was no surprise when they discarded him without a second thought.

After giving birth, his mother left him in a remote courtyard. She didn’t feed him. She didn’t even look back. She ran away with her lover without hesitation. To her, everything in the Ruan family was a burden. Even the child she had carried in her womb.

……

But Ruan Zhao didn’t die. A servant from the Ruan household found him and brought him before the family head.

The patriarch was furious. At first, he intended to kill this illegitimate child immediately. But then, he discovered the boy’s rare spiritual aptitude. After weighing the options, he decided to let the boy live.

The Ruan family was declining, barely clinging to its third-rate noble status, but raising a single child wasn’t hard. There was always enough food for one more mouth. So Ruan Zhao grew up, quietly and safely, until the age of ten, when his furnace vessel potential finally revealed itself.

Every furnace vessel bears a small red mole at the base of the neck. The brighter the hue, the better the aptitude, and the more striking the appearance. Ruan Zhao’s mole was vivid as morning light, radiant as sunrise. A once-in-a-century gift. Top-tier potential. The head of the Ruan family was overjoyed. And made a bold decision.

He dressed Ruan Zhao as a girl. Adopted him under his own name, his ‘daughter.’ Then, he sold off family assets and journeyed alone to the Upper Realm, taking Ruan Zhao with him, hoping to trade that rare talent for a better future.

Even in the Upper Realm, furnace vessels of such rare quality were coveted. News of one appearing would stir up competition from all directions. So, the Ruan family head released the news. As expected, countless powerful sects took notice. He bided his time, weighing offers, hoping to fetch the highest possible price for Ruan Zhao.

His plan was long-term, bring the vessel to the Upper Realm, where he could be sold for his full worth. But in his ambition, he had overlooked one simple truth: In a realm where Golden Core cultivators were as common as weeds, and Nascent Souls roamed freely, what could a man with barely a Golden Core stage cultivation use to protect such a coveted treasure?

Unsurprisingly, within days, Ruan Zhao was taken. They covered his eyes. Bound his hands and feet. Locked him in a cage. His captors didn’t abuse him. They didn’t beat or starve him. Meals came three times a day, like clockwork. But Ruan Zhao overheard bits and pieces of conversation. They were planning to sell him to Spring Breeze Pavilion. Apparently, the deal was already made. A deposit paid. In three days, they would meet an agent in a back alley off Luoyuan Street to finalize the exchange.

Ruan Zhao didn’t know exactly what kind of place Spring Breeze Pavilion was, but he knew enough to understand: if he ended up there, there would be no escape. No dignity. No future. So he played a role. He acted weak. Helpless. He cried. Begged. Pleaded to be let go. All to lower their guard.

The guards, annoyed by his wailing, cursed under their breath. One of them kicked the cage hard, making it rattle. Filthy words spilled from his mouth as he shook the bars with irritation.

Ruan Zhao seemed startled, and his crying grew louder, more pitiful.

The guard knew just how important the boy was to those above him. He didn’t dare lay a hand on him, only dared to stand outside the cage and curse, threatening and yelling, saying if he didn’t shut up, they’d toss him into the river to feed the fish.

The threats worked, a little. Gradually, Ruan Zhao’s sobs weakened, fading to quiet, breathless sniffles, soft and steady.

They hadn’t discovered his spiritual power. To them, he was nothing but a powerless child, barely into his teens. Fragile. Helpless. Tied up and locked in a cage. What trouble could he possibly cause?

So they only left a single Qi Condensation cultivator to guard him. After a while, Ruan Zhao started crying again. But this time, louder. His cries echoed through the walls, loud enough to shake the rafters, rattling the very roof.

The guard was jolted awake again, groggy and furious. Cursing under his breath, he stomped over and kicked the cage hard. A loud yelp came from within, his voice laced with cruel impatience. “What the hell are you screaming for?! You think someone died? Shut your damn mouth already! I finally managed to doze off, and now you’re wailing again?!”

Ruan Zhao sobbed, “Uncle… please… please let me go… If, if you want money, or spirit stones, you can ask my father… he has lots of money…”

The guard sneered. “Hmph. Your old man couldn’t cough up anything worth more than you, little furnace.”

“…Furnace?” Ruan Zhao echoed, confused.

The guard gave him a long, calculating look.

Even with her, his, eyes blindfolded, it was obvious: the kid inside was beautiful. High-bridged nose. Rosy lips. A delicate chin. Skin smooth as cream, like it would bruise under a whisper of touch. If he weren’t so disinterested in children, he might have been tempted to try the taste of a furnace for himself.

Ruan Zhao bit back his crying and asked hesitantly, “What… what’s a furnace?”

The man let out a cold laugh. “It’s a tool,” he said. “A living one. Something cultivators use to draw yin and boost yang. To enhance their cultivation, push their limits, or just to indulge in pleasure. Heaven and man in perfect harmony.”

The guard licked his lips, voice dripping with greed. “You little furnaces… born to serve men. That’s your fate. With a face like yours? You could fetch fifty thousand high-grade spirit stones, more than what a small sect earns in a year. For a lowlife like me, that’s a number I don’t even dare dream about.”

“The madam from Spring Breeze Pavilion sure isn’t stingy,” the guard muttered. “Hasn’t even seen your face yet, and she’s already throwing down that kind of money…” As he rambled on, sleep crept up on him again. The girl’s nightly crying and wailing had been driving him mad. He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days; dark circles bloomed under his eyes like bruises.

He staggered toward the bed, practically sleepwalking, but still didn’t forget to issue one last warning. If the little furnace dared to cry again, he’d show her what real pain felt like.

He wasn’t allowed to leave marks on her skin, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have ways to tame her. His storage ring was filled with all kinds of pain-inducing pills, ones that didn’t harm the body, but twisted the nerves. Even the most defiant whores had begged for mercy under the effects of those drugs. And her? A delicate little girl who didn’t even know the ways of the world? If she made another sound, he’d shove a pill down her throat, see if she dared disturb his rest again.

Ruan Zhao didn’t cry. He waited. Patient and silent. Time passed, slow and steady, until loud snores echoed from the bed. The man had finally fallen into deep sleep, deeper than usual. Days of exhaustion had dragged him under like a stone in water.

Quietly, Ruan Zhao twisted his wrists and snapped the ropes. He peeled off the black cloth covering his eyes.

The cage was made of refined iron. Breaking the chains would take more effort. He drew on his spiritual energy. It took him a full half an hour, cutting slowly and carefully.

By the time the lock finally snapped, his body was shaking with fatigue. His breathing was uneven. His face had gone pale, dotted with cold sweat that slid down his brow. He caught the broken lock in his hands, setting it down gently on the floor without making a sound.

Click. The cage creaked open. Ruan Zhao’s head turned instinctively toward the bed in the corner. The large man let out a grunt in his sleep, cursed under his breath, mumbled something incoherent, scratched his back, and rolled over. Still snoring.

Ruan Zhao let out a slow, silent breath—his first taste of relief in days. All those tears he’d shed the past two days, turns out they weren’t for nothing.

The room he’d been locked in was sealed shut, but there was a tiny air vent at the very top. Ruan Zhao was small. Just small enough to squeeze through. He used every ounce of strength he had, clawing his way up, inch by inch. And when he finally saw the curve of the silver moon outside, he realized he’d made it out.

The vent was high, dangerously high. He dropped. Hit the ground hard. Pain shot up through his limbs, through his back, but he didn’t stop.

He pushed himself up and ran. No sense of direction. No plan. He just ran, blindly, instinctively, toward where there might be people. People meant safety. Meant a chance to live.

He dashed out of a narrow alley and stumbled into a street alive with noise.

Voices. Laughter. Shouts of hawkers selling food and wares.

Lanterns lined both sides of the road like a long, fiery dragon, their light bright and warm. There were stalls selling steamed buns and trinkets, and not far off, a street performer was breathing fire, drawing cheers from the crowd. It was the liveliest scene Ruan Zhao had ever seen.

He slowed, eyes wide, momentarily spellbound by the color and noise and the sheer unfamiliarity of it all. Then, a shout behind him.

“There she is!”

“Catch her! Don’t let her get away!”

Ruan Zhao turned his head. Several large men were charging straight at him. Panic surged. He bolted. Running again, full-speed, heart hammering in his chest.

Then, bam. He crashed into someone. Hard.

But the other person didn’t budge an inch, while Ruan Zhao was thrown backward, landing hard on the ground. His palms scraped against the coarse pavement. Pain lanced through his hands. He sucked in a sharp breath, blinking back tears.

He looked up, and found himself staring into a pair of eyes.

Cold. Pale. Like ice and snow.

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