His exhausted body lay sprawled across the forest floor, motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Dirt clung to his tattered clothes, and his bare feet were raw, cracked from endless running. A withered old woman, returning from the village with a woven basket slung over her back, nearly tripped over him in the dim evening light. She paused, squinting at the frail child collapsed in the undergrowth.
For a long moment, she simply observed him—the gauntness of his face, the filth streaked across his skin, the way his fingers curled unconsciously on a pile of dirt.
With a tired sigh, she knelt down and gently nudged his shoulder. No response.
"Ah… poor thing," she murmured.
Without hesitation, she lifted him onto her back, his limp arms draping over her shoulders as she carried him down the worn dirt path toward her humble hut.
She fed him. Clothed him. Gave him a place to sleep.
But he never spoke.
Days turned into weeks, then months, then years, and still, not a single word passed his lips. The villagers whispered that he was mute, a cursed child abandoned by the heavens. But the old woman never turned him away.
He was like a wild little dog—flinching at sudden noises, shrinking away from touch, waking in the middle of the night with blood-curdling screams. She would rush to his side, stroking his back as he trembled violently, his breath ragged from unseen nightmares. But he never explained. Never spoke. Just clutched his himself tighter and buried his face into the mattress until sleep eventually claimed him again.
It wasn't until he reached adolescence that his voice finally broke the silence.
"…Lao Nainai."
The old woman, half-blind with age, froze mid-stitch, her needle slipping from her trembling fingers. Her milky eyes widened in disbelief.
"Child… you speak?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
For years, she had assumed he was mute, referring to him only as Xiao Haizi, the little child.
Xue Tuzi lowered his gaze, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Lao Nainai, I wish to work."
Her heart clenched.
He had been with her for more than five years, never once stepping beyond the tiny courtyard of their home. He kept to himself, tending to the house while she traveled to the village each day, working as a fortune teller, returning with whatever meager scraps of food she could buy. And now, out of nowhere, he wanted to leave.
She reached out, cupping his cheek with a gnarled hand. "Tell me, child… what is your name? So that I may call you properly."
He hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, softly, he answered:
"My name is Xue Tuzi."
The old woman pressed her lips together, sighing deeply. He was beautiful—too beautiful. Any man with bad intentions could snatch him up and sell him to a brothel before he even realized what was happening. But she knew she couldn't keep him caged forever.
"Very well," she relented. "I will take you to the neighboring village."
There, she taught him the art of divination.
Though she possessed no true supernatural abilities, she made a modest living by offering vague, uplifting fortunes that kept her clients coming back. Xue Tuzi learned quickly, mimicking her gestures, her tone, the subtle way she manipulated people's hopes and fears.
But she made sure he was concealed at all times. A heavy cape draped over his shoulders, a veil obscuring his face. Even as he grew older, taller, sharper—she never allowed anyone to see the full extent of his beauty.
Years passed like this.
Until her body finally gave out.
Lying weakly on the thin straw mattress, her breathing shallow, she called for him in a rasping voice.
"…Xiao Tuzi."
He was at her side in an instant, his hands trembling as he grasped her frail fingers.
"I wish to tell you your fortune," she murmured, her lips barely forming the words.
Xue Tuzi swallowed hard, his vision blurring with unshed tears. Silently, he extended his hand.
A faint, wistful smile curled her lips as she traced his palm with her fingertips.
"You will have a joyful marriage," she whispered.
And then—just like that—she was gone.
Xue Tuzi sat frozen, his breath caught in his throat.
The hut was silent. Cold.
He had no money for a casket. No money for a proper burial.
So he dug a grave behind the hut with his own hands, the dirt caking beneath his fingernails as he worked tirelessly under the dim light of the moon. When it was done, he placed fresh flowers atop the mound, burned joss money, and stood there for a long time, staring at the final resting place of one of the only people who had ever given him kindness.
Then, with nothing left to hold him down, he left.
He wandered from village to village, seducing the wealthiest noble men, luring them into his grasp—only to rob them blind the moment their guard was down.
All the while, he trained relentlessly, perfecting the martial arts techniques he had secretly observed while working alongside Lao Nainai. Every strike, every movement, every breath was fueled by a single, burning purpose—revenge.
One day, he vowed, he would make those wretched demons suffer. He would destroy them all.
But fate had other plans.
Because one evening, in the bustling streets of a city he did not yet know by name, he bumped into a man carrying a fragile porcelain vase.
The vase shattered.
And with it, his freedom.
Before he could even process what had happened, rough hands seized his wrists, iron cuffs snapped into place, and just like that—Xue Tuzi had sealed his fate as a sex slave.
Xue Tuzi's vision blurred with unshed tears as he was pulled back into the present, his voice unsteady as he struggled to speak.
"Gege… I… I couldn't wait. I couldn't keep listening to their screams. I—" His breath hitched, shame tightening in his throat. "I thought you were all dead… I was so scared."
The weight of years spent believing he had lost everything, only to find his Gege alive, crushed him from the inside out. The sobs wracked his body before he could stop them.
The young man said nothing at first, just pulled Xue Tuzi close, wrapping his lone arm around him in a firm embrace. Xue Tuzi clung to him, his hands gripping his robes, seeking the comfort he thought he had lost forever. A soft, warm pressure pressed against his forehead—his Gege's lips.
Xue Tuzi tilted his head back, his tear-streaked face searching for answers. "But how…?" he whispered, voice raw with disbelief.
There was so much he didn't understand, so many questions clawing at the edge of his mind.
The young man patted his head gently, his phoenix eyes darkened with something unreadable as he looked into Xue Tuzi's round, glistening gaze. "After that demon…" he started, then hesitated, his gaze flickering downward in shame. "After she—used me…" His jaw tensed. "She ripped my arm off."
Xue Tuzi sucked in a sharp breath.
"I can still feel it," his Gege murmured, his voice distant, as if the pain still lingered in the ghost of his missing limb. "She chewed through it… crushed the bone between her teeth until nothing remained but fragments."
His hand trembled slightly before he clenched his fingers into a tight fist. "The pain was unbearable. I bled out, slipping in and out of consciousness. She must have left me for dead, but when I finally woke… the carnage was over. The orphanage was gone. The screams had faded."
He took a slow, steadying breath before continuing, his voice lower, rougher.
"The first thing I did was crawl to the barrel where I had hidden you." His fingers twitched, as though still feeling the splintered wood beneath them. "I thought—I hoped—you would still be inside. But when I pried it open…" His voice cracked, just slightly.
His grip on Xue Tuzi's face tightened.
"There was nothing. Just emptiness." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "And that little stuffed bunny, staring back at me."
His eyes were shadowed with the weight of his memories, years of loss and unanswered questions haunting his every word.
"But I knew." His voice steadied, filled with conviction. "I knew you were alive. Even when the years passed… even when I had nothing left to hold onto, I never gave up on finding you, Xiao Tuzi."
Xue Tuzi felt himself shatter all over again. He had spent so many years believing he had lost everyone—only to find that his Gege had never stopped searching for him.
Their reunion should have been something heartwarming, something to cherish.
But Xue Laohu couldn't shake the unease coiling in his chest.
This man—Xue Tuzi's Gege—hated demons just as much as Xue Tuzi once had. Worse still, if he ever learned that Shudu had been a silent participant of that rampage, there would be no peaceful resolution.
He cleared his throat, cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Ahem… Setting aside misunderstandings, I must make something clear." He flicked his fan open, pointing it directly at the young man. "You will not harm Xiao Jiao. He is an innocent child. A demonic child, yes, but he had nothing to do with what happened at the orphanage."
Xue Tuzi instinctively looked up, his round, tear-rimmed eyes silently pleading with his Gege.
The young man frowned, his expression clouding over. Disappointment settled into his features as he studied Xue Tuzi. "…If that is what Xiao Tuzi wishes—"
Before he could finish, Xue Tuzi threw his arms around him, holding him tightly. Relief flooded his body, making his knees weak. He had been holding his breath, afraid that he would have to make an impossible choice—his Gege or Jiao Jiao.
"Thank you, Gege," he whispered, his voice trembling. He wiped the tears from his eyes, his heart swelling with hope.
He knew that once his Gege got to know Jiao Jiao, he would come to love him.
He turned eagerly, gesturing for the child to come closer.
But Jiao Jiao didn't move.
The little demon child's body trembled, his small hands clutching the fabric of Li Zhameng's robes in a desperate grip. His wide, frightened eyes darted toward the young man—who still stared at him coldly, his face devoid of warmth.
Xue Tuzi faltered.
Before he could say anything, Shudu scoffed and turned his head, spitting to the side. His patience had worn thin. His lips curled in a quiet sneer as he gave a single, sharp command.
"Xiao Jiao, come."
The child immediately ran to him, small fingers latching onto Shudu's hand. His grip was tight, as if afraid Shudu might leave him behind. He looked back at Xue Tuzi, his tiny shoulders curled inward, his eyes silently begging him to leave that terrifying man behind.
But Xue Tuzi didn't move.
He refused.
He had spent over ten years thinking his Gege had perished. Ten years. And after encountering Xiao Hua, he was sure he was as good as dead.
He couldn't let go—not so soon.
They just needed time. Time to understand one another. Time to heal.
His gaze locked onto Shudu's, there was no warmth, no amusement, no teasing glint in his eyes.
Only cold defiance.
Shudu's grip tightened around Xiao Jiao's small hand. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his figure disappearing. Xiao Zongzi trailed after him without hesitation.
Xue Tuzi watched them leave, his hands clenched into tight fists.
He told himself it would be fine.
That they just needed time.
That everything would be fine.
But deep down, he felt the first crack form in the fragile balance he had fought so hard to maintain.
Xue Tuzi's hands trembled slightly as he clasped them together, trying to steady the emotions surging through him. His eyes shimmered with hope as he turned to his Gege, voice soft yet insistent.
"Gege, please join us for a meal. There's so much I want to talk to you about."
The young man's sharp gaze lingered on him for a moment before softening, the cold edge in his eyes easing ever so slightly. His arm, still securely wrapped around Xue Tuzi's waist, pulled him in just a little closer.
"Very well," he said, his voice losing some of its earlier hostility.
Xue Tuzi's smile widened, warmth blooming in his chest. He gestured toward the others, eager to bridge the gaps between them.
"Allow me to properly introduce you." He pointed first to Xue Laohu, whose posture remained as languid as ever, despite the tense atmosphere. "This is my Shizun, Grandmaster Xue of Sect Mount Dingbu."
Xue Laohu flicked open his fan with a graceful snap, wafting it lazily in front of his face. His wispy bangs fluttered in the evening breeze as he studied the young man with an unreadable expression.
"And this," Xue Tuzi continued, gesturing toward the man standing stiffly at his side, "is Li Zhameng, my Shixiong."
Li Zhameng, still somewhat wary, offered a curt bow.
"I apologize for my earlier outburst," the young man said, inclining his head slightly in respect. "My name is Ye Hu. I was raised in the same orphanage as Xiao Tuzi in Qingyu Cun Village."
With introductions complete, they settled at a table in the inn's dining hall. The innkeeper, still visibly shaken by the presence of cultivators—especially those with demonic ties—kept a cautious distance, his hands wringing anxiously in his apron.
Ye Hu reached into his robes and tossed a heavy pouch onto the table. The telltale jingle of silver taels filled the air. The innkeeper hesitated only a moment before snatching it up, bowing hastily before rushing to fulfill their order.
As the dishes arrived, the tension in the air gradually eased. Ye Hu lifted a steaming cup of tea to his lips, inhaling the faint floral aroma before taking a slow sip. His gaze drifted to Xue Tuzi, eyes dark with memories.
"After aging out of the orphanage, I became a rogue cultivator," he said, setting the cup down. "I traveled for a time, taking on mercenary work, but my heart never truly left Qingyu Cun." He exhaled through his nose, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup. "Eventually, I returned. I started volunteering in the orphanage's kitchen."
He turned his gaze to Xue Tuzi, his expression softening.
"That's where I first met Xiao Tuzi."
Xue Tuzi stilled, his wide, doe-like eyes locked onto Ye Hu as if he were being transported back to that time.
"He was just a scrawny little thing," Ye Hu continued, his lips curving in something between fondness and sorrow. "Quiet, withdrawn… easily overlooked. Devoid of attention."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "But he was always watching. Always listening."
He paused, fingers tightening subtly around his cup. "Over the years, I grew fond of him. I knew he deserved better. So I made up my mind."
He lifted his eyes, their golden hue burning with something fierce.
"I was going to adopt him. I was going to take him away from that place and give him the life he deserved."
His voice darkened.
"But then—" He stopped. His nose twitched, his jaw tightening as old rage bubbled beneath the surface. His hands clenched into fists on the table.
"Then they came." His voice was a low growl now, barely restrained. "Those wretched demons. They slaughtered everyone in sight."
The weight of his words settled over the table like a suffocating fog. Even Xue Laohu, usually one to break tension with a teasing remark, remained quiet, fanning himself in slow, deliberate strokes.
Ye Hu exhaled sharply, as if trying to rid himself of the venom lingering on his tongue. Then, he turned to Xue Tuzi once more, his expression shifting from anger to something gentler. He reached across the table, his lone hand covering Xue Tuzi's.
"Xiao Tuzi…" His voice was quieter now, almost pleading. His thumb brushed lightly over the back of Xue Tuzi's knuckles, a familiar, comforting touch. "I failed you once. But I don't intend to fail you again."
He leaned in slightly, his phoenix eyes boring into Xue Tuzi's.
"I want to keep my promise." His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his intent clear.
"Please."
His voice was a whisper, intimate and insistent.
"Leave with me."