Xiao Jiao.
Jiao Jiao's eyes snapped open, his breath hitching as he sat up abruptly. His gaze darted around the dimly lit room, searching, chasing the echo of the voice that had called his name. The rain drummed against the wooden walls, the wind shrieking through the cracks. He turned, eyes landing on Shudu, still fast asleep beside him, his dark lashes resting against his sandy skin.
A shiver ran down Jiao Jiao's spine. That voice—so familiar, so distant. His fingers brushed against his little chest, pressing lightly. "Mama…" he whispered, the word barely audible over the raging storm outside. Without another thought, he swung his legs over the bed, slipping his tiny feet into his shoes. The floorboards groaned beneath his careful steps as he inched toward the door, his fingers grazing the handle before pushing it open.
The storm was relentless, wind howling through the narrow corridors of the inn like a beast prowling for its prey. Jiao Jiao barely made it past the threshold before a gruff voice called out.
"Child, what are you doing?"
The innkeeper's voice was thick with irritation, but Jiao Jiao didn't stop. He pushed the door open just wide enough to slip through.
"Hey! Come back here!" the man barked, lunging forward, but the storm had no mercy. A gust of wind slammed into him, pelting his face with icy rain. He staggered back, coughing, his whiskers twitching as droplets clung to them. A pang of guilt struck his chest as he turned, scanning the empty hallway. "Who the hell left a child unattended?!" His voice echoed furiously down the corridor, his outrage a sharp contrast to the rolling thunder.
The shouting stirred Shudu from his slumber. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes before blinking blearily at the empty space beside him. His breath hitched.
"Damn it," he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed. His fingers clenched into fists as he called out, voice thick with frustration. "Xiao Zongzi! Xiao Zongzi!"
A rustling sound came from the corner of the room, and a pair of large, gleaming eyes blinked up at him. Xiao Zongzi stretched, her spindly legs shifting as she stirred from her nap.
"Xiao Jiao is gone," Shudu spat, his voice sharp with anger. His gaze swept the room until it landed on the delicate iridescent pink ribbon resting on the table. His stomach twisted. He turned to Xiao Zongzi, his expression grim.
"You. Stay here," he ordered, snatching up the ribbon.
With that, he strode toward the door, shoving it open. The storm swallowed him whole. Rain lashed against his face, soaking his clothes in an instant, but he paid it no mind. The downpour made it nearly impossible to pick up Jiao Jiao's scent, but one thing cut through the storm—Xue Tuzi's perfume. It clung to the air, that sickly sweet, intoxicating fragrance, impossible to mistake. It drove Shudu mad. And he knew Jiao Jiao would follow it too.
His grip tightened around the ribbon. He had to find him.
Xue Tuzi lay curled on the cold, damp ground, his body wracked with violent shivers. His arms wrapped tightly around himself, as if he could hold in the sickness churning in his gut. His split lips quivered, pooling with saliva as bile clawed its way up his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing it down, but the nausea twisted inside him, relentless.
His breath hitched when his gaze flickered toward Ye Hu. The man lay sprawled on his side, chest rising and falling in steady, satisfied breaths. Fast asleep—after he'd had his lustful fill.
Xue Tuzi clenched his jaw, stifling the sob that threatened to escape. He couldn't stay here. Couldn't bear the filth on his skin, the bite marks staining his body like shackles. Slowly, carefully, he rose to his feet, every movement a battle against the pain laced deep in his bones. His trembling fingers covered his mouth as he staggered out of the cave, each step careful, quiet.
The storm had weakened to a whisper, the rain now a soft drizzle, cool against his feverish skin. As soon as he was clear of the cave's mouth, he collapsed to his knees, retching into the wet earth. His stomach twisted violently, emptying itself until nothing was left but dry heaves. The rain washed his vomit away, leaving him shaking, not from cold, but from disgust.
His skin crawled. His own body felt foreign, tainted. Bruises painted his arms and legs, dark bites marking his shoulders, his neck. He dug his nails into his flesh, as if he could scratch the filth away. Tears welled in his eyes, hot and heavy. He clutched his mouth, desperate to silence himself, to bury the sobs before they could betray him.
A rustling sound snapped him out of his despair. His body tensed, panic flashing in his swollen eyes as he turned toward the noise.
Then—
"Mama?"
A small, hesitant voice.
Xue Tuzi's breath caught.
From the bushes, Jiao Jiao emerged, his wide eyes dark with concern. He took a cautious step forward, his tiny brows furrowing at the sight before him. Xue Tuzi—this ethereal beauty—was disheveled, his once-pristine robes torn and dirtied. His long hair was in tangles, his lips bruised, his eyes swollen with sorrow.
Xue Tuzi wiped at his tears in a feeble attempt to compose himself. His fingers trembled as he reached toward the child.
"Xiao Jiao…" His voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and afraid. "How…?" His throat tightened. "What are you doing here?"
Jiao Jiao ignored the question. He stepped closer, his small, cold hand reaching up to touch Xue Tuzi's face, his little fingers trailing gently over his swollen lips. His gaze was filled with a sadness no child should ever carry.
"Mama, come home." His voice was soft, pleading.
Xue Tuzi's breath trembled. The warmth of Jiao Jiao's touch burned through the numbness consuming him.
"Okay," he murmured, voice cracking.
He pulled Jiao Jiao into his arms, holding him as if he could shield him from the horrors of the world. As if, by holding him close, he could somehow undo everything, cleanse himself of the filth and the shame.
Then—
A voice, deep and reverberating, slithered out from the cave's depths.
"Xiao Tuzi…"
Xue Tuzi's entire body went rigid. Cold fear flooded his veins. He clutched Jiao Jiao tighter, his fingers pressing into the fabric of the child's robes. A shadow loomed, stretching long and menacing under the dim light. Ye Hu stood at the mouth of the cave, his expression a mask of quiet fury. His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable and cruel.
"You dare betray me…" His voice was calm, almost amused, but laced with venom. His gaze flickered down to Jiao Jiao, and his lips curled in disgust. "Over that insect?"
Xue Tuzi trembled, instinctively shielding Jiao Jiao behind him.
Ye Hu sighed in disappointed, before slipping a scroll from within his robes. He unrolled it slowly, his fingers tracing over the ancient ink as he raised two fingers. His voice dropped, weaving into a low, rhythmic chant.
"Eyes unclose in endless dark,
Breath grows still, the shadows bark.
What was dreamed shall rise anew,
Flesh may wake—yet dreams break through.
Loop the horror, bind the dread,
Till the living join the dead."
The incantation struck like a hammer to Xue Tuzi's skull. A force unseen but suffocating sank its claws into his mind. His breath hitched. Pain bloomed inside his head, unbearable, unrelenting. He gasped, clutching his temples as his knees buckled. An immense weight pressed down on him—dragging him, pulling him into the depths of something cold and endless.
Jiao Jiao's nose twitched, his small fists clenching at his sides. This was the man—the wretched, loathsome man—who dared to harm Xue Tuzi. His lips curled in a snarl, his tiny chest heaving with fury before he hissed, baring his fangs. A thick, venomous miasma erupted from his mouth, swirling in the air like a dark fog, acrid and suffocating. Ye Hu cursed, his vision momentarily obscured. He swung his sword wildly, slicing through the thick haze with reckless aggression.
"Allow me to liberate you from that pest!" he snarled, his voice cutting through the storm's remnants.
Xue Tuzi didn't answer. His breath was ragged, his body trembling as he fought against the pain still clinging to his skull. He winced, tying his loose robe hastily before scooping Jiao Jiao into his arms. His legs felt weak beneath him, but he ran—bolting into the woods with his heart hammering against his ribs.
The cold night air bit into his skin, the trees blurring past him as he stumbled forward. His limbs were sluggish, aching. He barely saw the root before his foot caught on it, and with a gasp, he tumbled forward. Mud splattered as they crashed to the ground. His skull throbbed with impact, but his first thought wasn't himself—it was the child in his arms.
"Xiao Jiao," he rasped, his voice tender despite his exhaustion. "Are you hurt?"
Jiao Jiao shook his head, his small hands reaching out to help him up. But before Xue Tuzi could rise fully, a familiar, chilling voice cut through the trees. Ye Hu had pursued them, relentless as ever. His sword gleamed under the pale moonlight, its tip aimed directly at Jiao Jiao's small form. Xue Tuzi reacted on instinct. He barely managed to pull Jiao Jiao down in time, twisting his body to shield the child. The blade carved into his shoulder instead, the searing pain nearly bringing him to his knees.
He staggered back, gripping his bleeding arm. His fingers twitched toward his hair, searching for something—anything. But then he remembered—he had nothing. His needle threads, his ribbons, all of it had been left behind at the inn. All he could do now was evade, dodge, endure. Ye Hu's sword struck with unrelenting force. Branches splintered, boulders cracked under the sheer weight of his blows. Xue Tuzi barely kept up, weaving through the trees, clutching Jiao Jiao close as he gasped for breath.
"Gege… please…" His voice wavered, his vision swimming. Ye Hu's expression remained eerily calm as he lifted his blade once more.
"I came too late to save you," he murmured, almost regretful. "Now allow me to send you to the Yellow Springs, nameless one."
Xue Tuzi barely had time to react before Ye Hu lunged.
A sharp hiss cut through the air. Jiao Jiao, despite his small frame, moved swiftly. He spat out silk threads, the strands wrapping around Ye Hu's sword, holding it back—if only for a moment. Ye Hu's eyes flickered with irritation. He twisted his wrist, flicking the sword free of the binding, and turned his attention to the child.
"You—"
His words were lost to the wind as he lunged, swinging his blade toward Jiao Jiao's heart. Jiao Jiao darted away, his quick reflexes barely keeping him ahead of Ye Hu's relentless strikes. He spat another volley of toxic bubbles, but Ye Hu sliced through them with ease. The poison was useless against him. The child didn't falter. He leapt, using his silk threads to tangle Ye Hu's weapon once more, but this time, Ye Hu was prepared. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he freed the blade and struck with his palm. The impact sent Jiao Jiao flying crashing against a tree with a sickening thud, his small body crumpling to the ground.
Xue Tuzi's breath hitched.
Ye Hu turned back to him, stepping forward, slow and deliberate.
"I gave you a name," he said, voice eerily soft. "I gave you warmth. And this is how you repay me?"
Xue Tuzi clutched his head, his body wracked with pain, his mind spinning. The memories of the orphanage played in a ceaseless loop, suffocating him, dragging him back into the past.
Ye Hu raised his sword.
And then—
A shadow moved.
Faster than the wind, it cut between them.
Ye Hu staggered back, his robes tearing as sharp claws slashed across his chest. A hiss of pain escaped his lips as blood seeped into the fabric.
A voice, low and furious, rang through the air.
"Fuck you. He owes you nothing."
Shudu stood before Xue Tuzi, his crimson eye blazing with fury. His stance was rigid, protective, his claws glistening with Ye Hu's blood.
Xue Tuzi stared, wide-eyed, breathless.
He took in Xue Tuzi's battered state—the bruised flesh, the bloody, split lips. Then their eyes locked, and a tremor ran through Xue Tuzi's wide, helpless gaze. He reached into his robes and tossed something into Xue Tuzi's hands.
The ribbon.
Xue Tuzi's fingers curled around it, heart pounding. But Shudu had already turned, his attention shifting. His sharp gaze locked onto Jiao Jiao's slumped figure against the tree. His body tensed, eyes narrowing as he calculated the distance.
Ye Hu moved but Shudu was faster.
In a blink, he was gone—dodging Ye Hu's attacks with seamless fluidity, weaving through the destruction as he closed the gap between himself and Jiao Jiao. Shudu cradled Jiao Jiao in his arms, his grip firm yet careful as he channeled his spiritual energy into the child. Warmth spread from his palm, a steady current of power meant to soothe the little one's wounds. His gaze, however, burned with unyielding intensity as it locked onto Ye Hu.
"Tell me, monster…" His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was lethal. His lone crimson eye darkened before flaring into a fiery red, his pupils narrowing into slits. "How many people are inside of you?"
Ye Hu scoffed, the sound sharp and mocking. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, his tongue flicking out to taste the iron still coating his lips.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he sneered, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.
Shudu's lip curled in disgust, his patience thinning. His fingers twitched, claws aching to tear.
"How many souls have you consumed?" he demanded, his voice now a growl. "You've cultivated by devouring the spirits of your victims—am I wrong?"
For the first time, Ye Hu's expression faltered. His jaw clenched, muscles in his neck tightening.
Then, without a word, he lunged.
Shudu shifted, dodging the strike with ease despite the added weight of the child in his arms. His movements remained fluid, each sidestep precise as Ye Hu's blade cut through the space he had occupied mere seconds before. Jiao Jiao stirred. His lashes fluttered, his tiny brows knitting together as his mind clawed its way out of unconsciousness. When his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was Ye Hu's sword swinging down, aiming for Shudu's neck.
The blade grazed its mark.
A thin line of red bloomed across Shudu's cheek. A single drop of blood trickled down his skin, catching the moonlight before falling.
Shudu barely reacted. His gaze flickered to Xue Tuzi.
The man sat frozen, his entire body trembling. His hands, once so adept at wielding the ribbon, clutched at nothing, it still laid untouched at his side. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his mind lost in the past.
Then—
Pain.
A sharp, searing agony shot through Xue Tuzi's skull. He gasped, clutching his head, his nails digging into his temples as memories crashed against him in relentless waves. The orphanage. The smell of blood. The sound of children crying.
"Go," Shudu ordered, his voice cutting through the haze.
Jiao Jiao blinked.
"Protect him."
With that, Shudu set the child down, his body already moving before Jiao Jiao could respond. He sprinted toward Xue Tuzi. Ye Hu's eyes flickered. He shifted his weight, angling his sword but Shudu was faster. He intercepted, his claws clashing against steel, sending sparks into the night.
"I am your opponent, monster."
Ye Hu's expression twisted with something dark and furious. Without hesitation, he met Shudu's challenge head-on, and the battle resumed. Blow after blow. Strike after strike. The force of their combat sent shockwaves rippling through the forest. Leaves scattered, tree trunks splintered under the impact of their exchanged attacks. Shudu fought with nothing but his fists and claws, his body moving like a shadow, fluid yet unrelenting. Ye Hu, even with only one hand on his sword, wielded his blade with deadly precision. Each swing carried a weight that threatened to shatter bone, his ferocity undiminished.
Then—
A single powerful strike.
Ye Hu's blade cut through the air, unleashing a force so strong it sent Shudu hurtling backward. He crashed against a tree, the bark cracking under the impact, breath escaping his lungs in a sharp exhale.
Ye Hu wasted no time.
He flicked the blood from his sword and surged forward, closing in on Xue Tuzi with terrifying speed.
"You are plagued by that demonic Gu, and are wistfully unaware," Ye Hu's voice rang through the night, sharp as a blade.
Xue Tuzi's breath hitched. His fingers curled around his ribbon—but he still couldn't lift it.
He couldn't—
Memories flooded his mind.
The orphanage. The warmth of his Gege's embrace. The soft smile that had once comforted him. The hand that used to brush his hair back, the voice that used to call his name so tenderly.
And then—
The monster before him.
His Gege's warmth had long since faded, leaving behind only something hollow and cruel.
Ye Hu raised his sword, the blade gleaming under the moonlight. His expression was unreadable.
"No Name," he murmured.
The title struck deep, like an echo of the past.
"Allow me to free you from their grasp."
And then—
He lunged.
Blah Blah Blah:
Is it over yet? Ha ha. I don't know why I write this if it annoys me. I tell myself that it is part of the plot and it must be done but I can't wait to conclude this. I hope I'm not dragging it.