REBOOT SUCCESSFUL. WELCOME, USER, TO—
"Spare me the greeting," Xue Laohu snapped, cutting the system off mid-sentence. His voice was sharp, slicing through the air like the fan he suddenly unfurled with a flick of his wrist. The motion was fluid, practiced — a blur of white and silver as he hacked through a curtain of overgrown tree branches and tangled weeds, carving a rough path through the dense forest.
"Coordinates. Now."
The system gave a mechanical hiccup, as though startled by his urgency. Xue Laohu didn't wait. He pushed forward, his boots crushing dead leaves and twigs as he advanced. His breath was ragged, each inhale scraping his throat like rusted nails. He coughed—a wet, nauseating sound—and doubled over for a second before straightening up again, eyes burning with impatience.
His short, shaggy hair was a disheveled slicked with sweat and forest debris. His robes were streaked with green and brown from brushing past ferns and moss-slick trunks, but he didn't seem to notice — or care. His focus was locked ahead, scanning the underbrush like a wolf scenting blood.
Finally, the system gave a low, crackling cough of its own, then responded:
SHOU MC XUE TUZI — LOCATION: 10 LI WEST OF QINYU CUN.
"Perfect." Xue Laohu huffed. "Thanks. One more thing—" He pressed two fingers to his temple, focusing his qi. "Pull up any data you've got on Ye Hu."
There was a pause—not a glitch, but a deliberate, thoughtful pause. Then:
YE HU
AGE: 41
MAIN ANTAGONIST OF THE NOVEL
Xue Laohu stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed.
"I knew it," he muttered, slamming his fist into his open palm. "I knew that guy gave me bad vibes. What's his deal, huh? Wasn't he A-Tuzi's Gege? I thought he raised him!"
The system whirred, almost hesitant now, as if it too were disturbed by the information it had to deliver. Another pause, longer this time— then:
YE HU IS IN LOVE WITH SHOU MC.
SEEKS VENGEANCE DUE TO REJECTION.
Xue Laohu's expression twisted in disbelief. His jaw slackened slightly. "What?" His voice cracked with a mix of horror and confusion. "He—is in love with him? But he—he was practically a guardian! Twenty years older, for heaven's sake!"
His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. That sort of love… it was twisted. Was it something Ye Hu always harbored, festering beneath the surface as he pretended to be a protector? Or had it bloomed later, a dark and poisonous thing born the moment he recognized Xue Tuzi's beauty?
Xue Laohu didn't dare ask for more. Some truths were better left buried. With a flick of his wrist, he shut the system down, the holographic light fizzling into nothing. The silence that followed was heavy, the forest pressing in from all sides. Only the distant call of a hawk broke the stillness. Xue Laohu exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the hilt of his fan. Then, like a spark reigniting, his qi flared—sharp, controlled as he surged forward, gliding over the forest floor in a blur of speed and wind.
He had to get to Xue Tuzi. Fast.
Before Ye Hu did anything to him.
Back at the inn, Li Zhameng stood with his arms tightly crossed, a deep furrow in his brow. He had been waiting too long. The room was quiet and the silence pressed on his ears like a growing weight.
Shizun still isn't back… and A-Tuzi's gone too.
He sighed, low and troubled, his muddy green eyes drifting toward the rain-slick window. Outside, the storm had passed, leaving only the sheen of water clinging to rooftops and tree leaves, glistening under the weak moonlight. The soft plink of droplets falling from the wooden eaves was the only sound. He paced the corridor restlessly, boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. His long hair swung behind him with each stride, occasionally catching on the edges of his robe. A strange, tight feeling had taken root in his chest—a restless thrum that told him something was wrong, deeply and unmistakably wrong.
"I can't just sit here," he muttered under his breath. "Not when something's off."
Without waiting another moment, he threw the inn doors open. A rush of cool, damp air swept in, brushing against his face and chilling the sweat on his skin. He reached instinctively for the necklace that hung beneath his robes—a small orb suspended on a silver chain. He clutched it tightly in his palm, whispering a soft invocation. The orb flared to life, a warm blue flame flickering inside it, casting a circle of light around him.
"Guide me," he whispered. Not to the orb—but to the wind, to the night, to whatever force might hear him. "Please. Let me find them."
And then he ran.
Down the slope, through the thickets, past the worn path that led to the base of Qingyu Cun. The forest swallowed him whole, his feet splashed through puddles, his robe caught on branches, but he didn't slow. His heart led him now— ike a compass—tugging him toward something he couldn't name.
Meanwhile, in a room at the back of the inn, Xiao Zongzi stirred.
She had been curled up in a corner of Shudu's room, her many legs tucked beneath her silken form, trying to pretend she could rest. But she couldn't. Not with that man still out there.
Ye Hu.
Even thinking the name made the tiny hairs along her back rise, her instincts bristling with unease. She didn't trust him. No—it went deeper than distrust. It was something primal, something ancient. A wrongness that slithered beneath his skin. She had felt it the moment he stepped into the inn. She skittered to the windowsill, the moon catching the gleam of her dark, chitinous body. Her eyes scanned the woods beyond.
Her master hadn't returned.
Something was wrong.
Without another thought, she leapt into the night, spinning a fine thread behind her as she swung from the inn's eaves and descended into the trees. She bounced gently from branch to branch, her movements light and silent, a shadow dancing in the trees. The moon lit her path, but in her chest she felt a heavy weight—a premonition. Her little heart thudded faster as she traveled deeper into the forest.
Somewhere out there, her master was in danger.
She needed to find him—before it was too late.
Ye Hu lunged with a wild roar, his blade gleaming as it tore through the air, aimed straight for Xue Tuzi's heart. Xue Tuzi didn't move. He only stood there, frozen, eyes wide with grief as he stared at the man he had once called Gege— the man who had cradled him as a child, who had smiled down at him with warmth in the winter of his loneliness. And now that same man's sword sought his life.
"Strike him!" Shudu screamed from the ground, his body trembling as he tried to rise. "Xue Tuzi, strike him!"
But Xue Tuzi couldn't move.
His limbs shook. His breath came in shallow gasps. His eyes brimmed with tears, spilling down his pale cheeks like pearls. The ribbon in his hand slipped through his fingers and fluttered to the dirt.
"I… I can't," he whispered. "I can't do it…"
His voice broke like fragile glass. He lowered his head, chest heaving.
Maybe his Gege was right. Maybe the Demonic Gu had poisoned him, clouded his thoughts. Maybe he really had lost all clarity—fallen into some cursed delusion. And maybe… just maybe, this was mercy. Maybe Ye Hu was here to save him. Because Ye Hu loved him.
Didn't he?
A sharp pain stabbed through his skull, hot and violent, like centipede legs crawling through his brain, chewing through reason. Images surged through him—memories, fractured and vivid.
Ye Hu's smile. Warm. Safe.
Ye Hu's hand. Heavy. Cruel.
That embrace. Once a shelter—now a cage.
Everything shattered. Every truth crumbled. What remained were broken fragments of a love twisted by obsession. A past rewritten by a monster.
Xue Tuzi closed his eyes.
If this is my fate… then so be it.
He stood still, awaiting the end—but it didn't come.
Instead, a sickening sound split the air. A choked gasp. A splash of blood.
Xue Tuzi's eyes snapped open in horror.
Jiao Jiao stood in front of him, small hands clutching the sword now buried in his chest. Blood gurgled from his lips as he wheezed, "Ma… Ma…"
Time stopped.
"Xiao Jiao!" Xue Tuzi's voice cracked as he screamed, panic tearing through his throat.
He watched in horror as the blade sank into the child's tiny body, blood spilling in slick, crimson streams down the sword's edge. The sight hit him like a thunderclap — brutal and sudden. His legs buckled.
His eyes shook, wide with disbelief, the color draining from his face.
"No… no… no…" he choked, staggering forward, hands trembling.
Then the sound broke from him—a raw, anguished wail, torn straight from the depths of his soul. His cries echoed through the trees, unrestrained, uncontrollable. The pain in his chest was unbearable, like something precious had been ripped from it with no warning, no mercy.
He collapsed to his knees, arms outstretched, reaching for the child. But Jiao Jiao's small frame was already limp, blood pooling fast beneath him.
Shudu screamed, a deep, inhuman sound. He collapsed, vomiting blood, clutching his chest in agony. Cracks spiderwebbed across his demonic core—his link with the child severing by the second. The child's heart, once shared with his own, was failing—and with it, Shudu's life force began to slip away.
"No…" he gasped, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips as he crumpled to the ground. His fingers clawed at the earth, nails digging deep into the damp soil as if he could anchor himself to something—anything—to keep from slipping into unconsciousness.
Ye Hu sneered, lifting his sword again with the boy still skewered like a doll on a stick. He swung the limp body with mockery, letting the blood drip down like rain. "This little demon wanted to play hero," he spat. "But he's nothing. Just like you."
Something inside Xue Tuzi snapped.
The grief—the guilt—the years of blind love and betrayal twisted into a white-hot flame. His hands trembled, then tightened into claws.
His eyes turned red—not from tears, but from rage.
"You…" he hissed.
Then lunged.
He tackled Ye Hu with the ferocity of a beast, knocking them both to the ground. His fingers locked around Ye Hu's throat, squeezing with trembling, furious strength.
Ye Hu's eyes widened as the air left his lungs. "Xiao…" he gasped, voice hoarse, lips curling into a bloody smile. "Tu…zi…"
He raised a trembling hand, placing it on Xue Tuzi's arm almost tenderly, as if this were a reunion, not a reckoning.
"Very well… Nameless one…" he rasped. "Then join me in the afterlife…"
His laughter, hollow and mad, echoed into the night as a sudden inferno erupted around them. Flames consumed the earth, crackling hungrily, dancing like spirits in mourning. Beneath them, the ground groaned and split open, forming a crater—the forest itself rejecting them both, trying to bury their hatred, their twisted bond.
But Xue Tuzi didn't let go.
Even as fire scorched his skin.
Even as the earth pulled them under.
He held on.
He refused to let him escape.
And as the flames grew higher, Xue Laohu arrived.
He skidded to a stop, his chest heaving as he looked upon the scene: the inferno, the figures locked together in its center, the gaping wound in the forest floor swallowing them both.
He didn't hesitate. With a roar, he plunged into the crater, his massive frame cutting through the suffocating wall of flames. The heat seared his skin, but he barely registered the pain—his focus was on Xue Tuzi, half-buried in the smoldering debris, his body trembling as Ye Hu's deranged laughter echoed through the scorched forest like a taunting specter.
Xue Laohu grabbed him, hauling him free with a grunt, but Xue Tuzi barely noticed. His charred face streaked with soot and blood, his robes hanging in tatters, he scrambled forward on shaking limbs—toward Jiao Jiao's small, motionless form.
The child lay limp, his chest unnaturally still, the fabric around his heart darkened with blood.
Xue Tuzi's breath hitched. He gathered Jiao Jiao into his arms, cradling him against his chest as if he could will life back into the boy's fragile body. His tears fell freely, dripping onto Jiao Jiao's pale cheeks, tracing paths through the dirt and ash.
"Xiao Jiao…" His voice was a shattered whisper, raw with desperation. He brushed the child's hair back, fingers trembling. "Baby, wake up."
No response.
Panic clawed at his throat. He pressed two fingers to Xiao Jiao's wrist, searching for a pulse, for anything—but the boy's meridians were faint, flickering like the last embers of a dying fire. His body was too weak, too damaged to absorb spiritual energy, but Xue Tuzi refused to accept it.
"Please," he choked, pressing his palm to Xiao Jiao's chest, forcing his own dwindling energy into the child's small frame. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, just—just hold on. I'll fix this. I'll—"
A weak stir.
Jiao Jiao's lashes fluttered. His lips parted, barely a whisper escaping.
"Ma… ma…"
Xue Tuzi's heart lurched. He cupped the boy's face, thumb brushing his cheek. "I'm here," he rasped. "I'm right here."
Jiao Jiao's eyes opened—dull, fading, but still so painfully aware. His wispy bangs clung to his forehead, his gaze drifting as he lifted a tiny, shaking hand. His fingers grazed Xue Tuzi's cheek, smearing the tears there.
"Don't… cry…" he murmured, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Then—his hand fell.
His eyes dimmed, the light slipping away like smoke in the wind.
Xue Tuzi's breath stopped.
He clutched Jiao Jiao tighter, shaking him gently, as if he could rouse him from sleep. "No—no, no, no—" His voice cracked, his entire body trembling. A scream ripped from his throat, raw and guttural, a sound so full of agony that it seemed to split the very air. His body curled over Jiao Jiao's, his fingers digging into the boy's robes as if he could somehow pull him back from death's grip. The heavens answered in kind—a cold, heavy rain began to fall, drenching them both, washing away the soot and blood in futile streams.
But nothing could wash away this pain.
The forest was silent, save for Xue Tuzi's shattered cries.
Xiao Jiao did not wake again.
Blah Blah Blah:
I debated a lot on whether to kill off Xiao Jiao. Originally he was always meant to die but there were times when I had a change of heart, he was actually never meant to develop a human form. This was not in my outline but he just evolved. I will definitely miss this little cutie.