"Where is the welcome banquet? Give it to me." Ignoring the reactions of the other Zerg, Fusheng walked straight toward Merkel.
Merkel looked at Fusheng’s bloodshot eyes and felt a sudden, inexplicable shiver of fear. Fusheng kept staring at him, muttering, "Give it to me, give it to me." He looked exactly like a Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) suffering from pheromone withdrawal, a sight that made Merkel’s skin crawl.
Yichen and Vane were both startled by Fusheng’s appearance. Yichen had never seen such a ravenous look; he backed away two steps in fright. Although Vane had spent the last two days with Fusheng, his behavior had been perfectly normal until now.
Alvano knew that Fusheng was having another "episode"—essentially, that his brain had short-circuited—and he had grown somewhat used to it over the past few days. He assumed Fusheng wanted something and prayed it wasn't a renewed obsession with the two suns of Luka Star.
Alvano immediately stepped forward, grabbed Fusheng’s arm, and asked, "Lord husband, what is it that you want?"
"The welcome banquet. Food." Seeing his lackey, Fusheng grabbed Alvano’s hand, continued to stare at Merkel, and voiced his demand to Alvano.
"Is Lord husband hungry? It was my negligence over the past two days." Alvano lowered his head naturally, acknowledging his failure. In truth, it wasn't really his fault; Fusheng shouldn't have been hungry at all.
Fusheng shook his head, his expression blank. He wasn't hungry in his stomach, but his soul was starving; he felt like he could eat a whole cow. He planned to feast unrestrainedly in a moment to make up for the last few days.
As Fusheng watched Alvano’s mouth move, he suddenly thought he looked delicious. It seemed he really was hungry.
Seeing the pale arm stretched out in front of him, Fusheng swallowed hard. With a dazed, squinting gaze, he bit down directly onto it.
Fusheng bit down with great force. Alvano let out a cry of pain, and Fusheng immediately released his grip, which helped him regain some clarity. A metallic, iron-like taste filled his mouth, layered with a faint sweetness and a hint of strawberry that seemed to burst on his palate.
Fusheng licked his lips, savoring the taste. He lifted his hand, wiped the bright red blood from the corner of his mouth, licked it off his fingertip, and let out a foolish, vacant laugh. He looked at the wound on Alvano’s arm—a complete, bloody set of teeth marks—as if he were still unsatisfied.
Alvano looked at the mindless grin on Fusheng’s face and truly thought he had gone insane. He wanted to go mad himself, but he didn't dare. A Zerg (male/dominant morph) going mad could solve most problems, but a Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) who went mad would inevitably be sent to an asylum. Most Zerg (male/dominant morph) were cruel, but none were as bloodthirsty as Fusheng; he was truly perverse.
Yet, Alvano kept his arm stiff, not daring to pull away. *Someone, save me.*
Fusheng seemed to notice that Alvano was reluctant. He frowned, then pursed his lips and smiled again. He had one of his own, didn't he? Without a moment’s hesitation, Fusheng raised his own arm and chomped down hard on it.
The force of this bite was no less intense than the one he had inflicted on Alvano. Now, not only was there the taste of iron in Fusheng’s mouth, but the pain receptors in his arm were also screaming. The veins on his forehead pulsed as he bit down even harder on his own flesh, more certain than ever that he was truly alive.
Fusheng’s actions stunned everyone, and for a moment, no one dared to intervene. Alvano had expected Fusheng to bite him again, but he hadn't expected him to suddenly turn on himself. Was this normal?
When the others finally reacted, they rushed forward to stop him. They scrambled around Fusheng in a panic, afraid to act too forcefully for fear the Lord husband would bite down harder. Fusheng ignored the insects swirling around him. He meticulously licked the blood from his wound, then lifted his head, looked at the anxious group, and burst into raucous laughter.
Vane and Yichen, meanwhile, clustered around Fusheng’s injured arm, weeping as if they were mourning the dead. Fusheng had grown up under the careful protection of the Kris family and had never seen blood in all his years. Seeing it now with their own eyes, they were devastated.
Alvano, having been shoved aside earlier, finally managed to push his way back in with a medicinal spray. He applied it to Fusheng’s wound, which scabbed over instantly. Only then did Vane and Yichen stop their wailing, though they remained too terrified to say a word. The other Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) looked at one another in silence, not daring to speak.
Fusheng kept his eyes on the spray in Alvano’s hand. He raised an eyebrow, snatched it from Alvano with a look of dissatisfaction, and sprayed it onto the wound on Alvano’s arm that had not yet scabbed over.
Feeling the cool sensation of the medicine against his skin, the sharp, lingering pain vanished. Alvano was taken aback; a flash of strange emotion crossed his eyes. He hadn't expected Fusheng to treat him. In truth, Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) had strong healing abilities, and such a wound would have closed on its own shortly—though Zerg (male/dominant morph) lacked such regenerative powers.
In the past, no matter how severely Fusheng beat him, he was never allowed to apply medicine. Perhaps in the eyes of these Zerg (male/dominant morph), low-born Zerg (female/non-dominant morph) were not worthy of it. Though they possessed powerful healing, they still felt pain.
Alvano looked at his scabbed-over wound in silence. This was an injury inflicted by Fusheng himself, yet he felt a surge of gratitude. It was ridiculous; he truly was losing his mind. He was no different from any other Zerg (female/non-dominant morph), so obsessed with the Zerg (male/dominant morph) that a little medicine—which he had provided himself—made him feel indebted. If Fusheng gave him any real favors in the future, would he end up giving his life for him?
Alvano cursed himself inwardly and pinched the scabbed wound hard, the sharp sting helping him stay grounded. He kept a close eye on Fusheng, worried he might try to drink the topical medicine like water. After what had just happened, he believed Fusheng was capable of it.
After spraying the medicine, Fusheng tossed the bottle to Alvano and told him to take him to the welcome banquet.
The journey was marked by a chilling, deliberate silence.
When they reached the dining hall, Alvano pulled out a chair, but Fusheng did not sit. He looked at the five-meter-long rectangular table, which was laden with about twenty plates, and eagerly lunged forward to flip open the covers.
The very first dish left him dumbfounded: a plate of boiled, fat white grubs. Fusheng’s smile twisted into a grimace.
By the time he had uncovered most of the twenty dishes, his mouth was twitching. These were hardly dishes; they were indescribable.
Seeing Fusheng reach for the food with his bare hands, Alvano hurriedly handed him a pair of chopsticks. Fusheng took them, poked at the contents of the plates, and clicked his tongue in disgust.
"Dog shit! What even is this?" Fusheng stabbed a boiled grub and spat out the words. *Do Zerg eat insects, too? How perverse.*
He poked at a piece of meat with his chopsticks; it was still oozing blood. It was too primitive. He truly felt out of place in the Zerg society because he wasn't "perverted" enough.
The others stood by, not daring to make a sound. Yichen sat obediently in his chair, watching Fusheng pick through the food, whispering to himself that these were clearly the things Fusheng used to love most. That Bailing Bug had been his absolute favorite—high in protein and perfect for a Zerg (male/dominant morph).
Finally, Fusheng found something that looked edible: some kind of meatball. There were four on the plate. *Just this? Are they feeding a cat?*