That was the day he'd given her a name—a simple gesture, yet one that stitched itself into the very fabric of her being. From that moment on, she had followed him with unwavering devotion. Only later did she begin to understand: the demonic core pulsing within him, fierce and volatile, had likely come from her mother.
Xiao Zongzi had never met the woman who spawned her. Spider demons laid thousands of eggs across centuries, scattering their young without thought or bond. Their kind did not believe in reunion or legacy. But when she met Shudu, something inside her stirred—a pull so strong it felt as though fate itself had reached through the void that lead her to him. She couldn't explain it. It was as if, through him, she had been reunited with the echo of the mother she never knew.
Now, as she looked down at Shudu's crumpled figure, lying still in the dirt, her chest tightened. His qi was flickering, slipping away like the last breath of autumn wind. Blood stained his robes, and his body—so often coiled with tension and quiet strength—now looked thin, fragile, and bruised by the world. Yet somehow, his face still held that infuriating charm, that quiet charm that had first made her heart twist. Even on the edge of death, Shudu was striking.
She let out a trembling sigh, lowering her many limbs to brush his tangled hair back from his brow. Her touch was light, reverent. "Master…" she murmured, her voice catching in her throat. "Please… forgive me."
The words felt foreign, clumsy in her mouth. She didn't know what had happened, not truly. But she knew Shudu. Knew the way he clung to his pain like a second skin, how his grudges festered like poisoned wounds. Her voice softened, grew quiet. "Please… allow me to help."
Her legs began to tremble. Pain rippled through her body as she dug deep into her abdomen. Her breath hitched. The sensation was sharp—raw. And then, with one final pull, she drew forth her demonic core: small, pulsing, radiant with her life essence. It glowed between her trembling claws, cradled like a dying star.
"For you…" she whispered, pressing it against his chest, her voice quivering with grief, with love, with a terrible, bone-deep sorrow. "Always for you…"
The core sank into him, disappearing beneath his skin, its glow fading into his heart. She watched, her eyes widening growing dark as the last wisp of life left her body.
The system's alert screamed in Xue Laohu's ear, shrill and unrelenting, like a war gong summoning armies to a doomed battlefield. Its raspy voice repeated the failure over and over, each syllable a dagger to his pride.
ALERT: MISSION FAILED
SCROLL OF RECURRING NIGHTMARES NOT ACQUIRED
He didn't need the system to tell him what he already knew. The mission was a failure. But worse than failure—far worse—were the wounds left behind.
Shudu was gravely injured. And Jiao Jiao… Jiao Jiao was gone.
In his arms, Xue Tuzi thrashed and convulsed, his qi a chaotic storm of grief and denial. He clutched at the soil with bloodied fingers, desperately digging, as if he could pull Jiao Jiao back from the earth itself.
"No—no, no, no… Xiao Jiao… Xiao Jiao!" Xue Tuzi's cries were sharp and gutting, raw enough to crack the heavens. He cradled a clump of dirt as if it were Jiao Jiao's body, rocking back and forth, weeping until his voice gave out. Xue Laohu clenched his jaw. His chest ached with helplessness. He crouched lower, trying to steady his breath, but the forest around them was too quiet—too heavy with loss.
Then—crunch.
The faint sound of footsteps over dry leaves. A soft glow flared through the trees. Xue Laohu turned, eyes narrowing, just as Li Zhameng stumbled into view, breathless, his robes streaked with mud and sweat. Their gazes met, and Li Zhameng opened his mouth to speak. But Xue Laohu cut in, voice cold and clipped. "The gun. Did you bring it?"
Li Zhameng blinked in confusion, panting. "Yes, I have it—"
"And the pellets?" Xue Laohu asked quickly, casting a glance at Xue Tuzi, who was still sobbing into the dirt, lost in his delusion. "The sleeping ones."
Li Zhameng's eyes widen in he knew exactly what his Shizun had in mind he dug his hands into the qiankun pouch. He hadn't yet pieced together what had happened, but the sight of Xue Tuzi—wild-eyed and broken—told him enough. Wordlessly, he reached over for the pellets.
"Load the gun."
Li Zhameng hesitated for a beat, then obeyed. His fingers trembled as he slid the shimmering sleeping pellets into the chamber. He raised the gun slowly, heart pounding. Xue Tuzi didn't even notice the barrel being aimed at him. He just kept rocking, cradling the dirt like it was the last precious thing in the world.
"I'm sorry," Li Zhameng whispered, almost too softly to hear.
He pulled the trigger.
One shot.
Then another.
And a third.
Xue Tuzi collapsed, his body going limp in the mud. The unnatural tension in his limbs melted away as the spell took hold, and finally, he lay still. Xue Laohu exhaled sharply, stepping forward to gather the unconscious man in his arms. He lifted him gently, brushing a hand through his matted hair.
"Let's go," he murmured.
Li Zhameng said nothing. He didn't ask questions. He simply followed, silent and grim, keeping pace with his Shizun's footsteps through the darkened forest. When they arrived at the inn, the two moved in sync. Water was boiled. Cloths were prepared. Together, they washed the blood and grime from Xue Tuzi's body, taking care around the bruises, the cuts, the remnants of pain. Once clean, they tucked him beneath warm covers, his breathing slow and even, long lashes resting delicately on his cheeks.
"Shizun…" Li Zhameng finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced up from Xue Tuzi's face to meet Xue Laohu's gaze. His eyes were hollow.
"That man… Ye Hu," he said at last, "he killed Xiao Jiao."Li Zhameng throat tightened his fist clenching.
"Shudu is hanging on by a thread," Xue Laohu continued, looking down at Xue Tuzi's sleeping face. "And A-Tuzi… he's in shock. He doesn't know how to process this kind of loss. It's best he rests."
He paused, hand tightening over his own chest. There was a flicker of something in his expression—pain, confusion, disbelief. He glanced at his hand. Still solid. Still alive.
He had been certain that if either Shudu or Xue Tuzi died, the story would collapse, and he would vanish. Yet here he was, breathing. Existing. That meant…
There was still a chance.
"We'll be staying here for a while," he said finally, pulling the blanket up over Xue Tuzi's shoulders. He fell quiet again, his thoughts drifting. Shudu's face flashed in his mind—bloodied, defiant, in verge of death he swallowed thickly.
"I'll look after A-Tuzi," he added, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Xue Tuzi's forehead.
Li Zhameng bowed his head, understanding more than words could say. He turned and slipped out of the room, leaving his Shizun alone with Xue Tuzi, and the weight of the grief they all carried.
With Xue Tuzi finally asleep and Li Zhameng having slipped out into the quiet of the hallway, Xue Laohu exhaled deeply. The stillness in the room offered no comfort—only the weight of everything that had gone wrong. Slowly, he raised a trembling hand and summoned the system. A sudden neon flare cut through the darkness, the screen blooming into existence before his eyes, casting a cold light over his tired face.
The title spun in ornate cursive, glowing in sickly pink and violet hues. Beneath it, a voice—unmistakably raspy yet obnoxiously theatrical—recited the tagline in its usual dramatic lilt.
WELCOME USER TO: BOUND BY DARKNESS YET DRAWN BY LOVE: THE DEMON'S ETERNAL CURSE AND THE MORTAL'S UNBREAKABLE HEART
"In a world that shouldn't let them be together, but somehow, against all odds… they copulate." Xue Laohu repeated the line along with the system in perfect sync, voice dry and deadpan. A painful laugh cracked from his throat, he clenched his fists glaring at the screen. The screen glitched slightly, as though taken aback. He swore he heard it choke, a cough followed by a wheeze like a startled ghost in a broken bell tower.
"I'll make this easy," he said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and fumbling his thumbs in his lap. "Give it to me straight—how screwed am I?"
The system cleared its throat—or tried to. It sounded like someone dragging a rake across a chalkboard.
USER HAS FAILED: 'THE RAINS OF QINGYU NIGHTMARES' QUEST LINE.
PENALTY: -1000 POINTS
He stared as his life points plummeted before his eyes. The numbers dropped with a cruel finality, like grains of sand slipping through a shattered hourglass.
"Well, that's not ominous at all," he muttered, gripping the hem of his robes tightly. He already knew what was coming next, and sure enough, the screen flashed red.
INITIATING PUNISHMENT PROTOCOL…
His stomach turned. Jaw tightening, he braced himself—but before the pain began, he raised a hand, his voice firm but laced with desperation.
"Wait. Before we start… tell me—Shudu. Where is he? Is he alive?"
The screen paused, static crackling through the system like a moment of hesitation. Then, a small red dot blinked into existence on a map, followed by a dull, raspy tone.
GONG ML: SHUDU.
CONDITION: CRITICAL BUT STABLE.
CURRENT LOCATION: 15 LI WEST OF QINGYU CUN.
He let out a slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His spine relaxed a fraction. Shudu was alive. Badly hurt—but alive. That was all he needed to hear. He nodded once to himself, steadying his nerves. "Very well," he said softly, casting one last glance at Xue Tuzi, who slept peacefully beneath the blankets, his face innocent in slumber.
He turned back to the screen, expression grim, resolute. "Initiate punishment. Now."
The system obeyed without delay.
A sharp, white-hot pain pierced his skull like a blade of lightning cleaving through his thoughts. He cried out, collapsing to the ground, clutching his head as the world tilted and bled away.
The room vanished, swallowed by a void of shadows.
And into the abyss, he fell—alone—where agony waited with open arms.