They arrived at the gates of Mount Dingbu under a sky heavy with the weight of dawn. The lanterns flickered in the night breeze, casting restless shadows over the stone path. Two disciples, slumped against the wooden pillars, were deep in sleep, their heads lolling forward, the lantern in their grip swaying dangerously. The soft creak of boots on gravel did little to stir them—until a sharp, deliberate throat-clearing shattered the night's hush.
"Ahem."
Xue Laohu's voice was deceptively light, but the weight of his presence was enough to snap the disciples awake. They jolted upright, the lantern nearly slipping from numb fingers.
"Grandmaster Xue—!" they yelped in unison, scrambling to their feet. Their faces were a mess of sleep and panic, the dim light casting their pale expressions into sharp relief.
Xue Laohu's gaze swept over them, his eyes lingering on the slack way they stood, their robes still crumpled from their impromptu nap. His fan flicked open with a crisp snap, concealing the disdain tightening his lips. Without another word, he strode past them, his robes whispering against the cold night air.
Behind him, Li Zhameng moved with deliberate ease, his expression calm, he paused just long enough to incline his head in polite acknowledgment. "Thank you for your diligence in ensuring the safety of our gates," he spoke softly.
Xue Laohu finally turned back, his gaze sweeping over his disciples before landing on Xue Tuzi. The disciple still held Jiao Jiao close, the soft rise and fall of his breath steady against him. A beat of silence passed.
"Rest well," Xue Laohu said at last, tapping the edge of his fan against his lips. "Both of you are dismissed."
With a final, wordless flick of his fan, he turned on his heel and disappeared toward his quarters. Behind him, both Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng bowed in silent acknowledgment before parting ways.
Inside his room, Xue Laohu wasted no time. The moment he stepped past the threshold, his robes fell away, discarded carelessly across the polished floor. His mind was already elsewhere, a sharp contrast to the elegance he carried before his disciples. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath.
The heavy scent of incense and aged wood greeted him. He barely acknowledged it as he shrugged off his outer robe, letting it slip to the floor in a careless heap. His mind was elsewhere.
He muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Lifting his hand toward the ceiling with exaggerated flair, he called out, "Yo, system!" as if he were about to undergo some grand transformation.
Instead, a flickering neon-green light sputtered into existence before his eyes, pulsing erratically like a dying firefly.
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 squinted at the blinding text, his left eye twitching at the sheer absurdity of it. "What kind of trashy novel title—" he cut himself off with a sigh, waving a hand to dismiss the notification. The glowing script faded, but irritation still simmered beneath his skin.
Jiao Jiao's evolution had earned him a few extra life points, and Li Zhameng's side quest had provided even more. Yet despite everything, his Shou MC—Xue Tuzi—remained stagnant, unmoved by all the progress around him.
Xue Loahu flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts spun through every video game mechanic he could remember. In every system he had known in his past life, overcoming an obstacle required experience—defeating enemies, completing missions, unlocking hidden skills. Li Zhameng was proof of that. A once-ordinary NPC, now a proper side character, even gaining a flashy new ability—Fox Fire. Jiao Jiao had leveled up from a mere mushroom. A mushroom.
So why in all the realms wasn't the system telling him how to break Xue Tuzi's spiritual seal?
Frustrated, he rolled over, then again, kicking the blankets into a tangled mess. With a dramatic groan, he finally gave in and called forth the system's voice command.
"Hey, system, how do I break Xue Tuzi's spiritual seal?" He narrowed his eyes, already bracing himself. "And don't you dare say… for these measly life points."
For a long moment, there was nothing but an eerie silence. Then, a wretched, gurgling cough crackled through the air. The system wheezed, sputtering like an old woman choking on her last breath.
Xue Loahu grimaced.
A long, wet, dragging sound followed—like something sticky being scraped from the bottom of a shoe. Then, finally, a throat-clearing that made his stomach churn.
FOR 1000 LIFE POINTS, USER MAY OBTAIN BREAKING SEAL POTION.
Xue Laohu's jaw dropped. He bolted upright, nearly kicking himself off the bed.
"A THOUSAND LIFE POINTS?!" His voice cracked with sheer outrage. "Who do you think I am, some kind of cash cow?!"
The neon-green screen flickered innocently in front of him, as if mocking his frustration.
"A damn scam, that's what you are," he spat, swiping his hand through the air to dismiss the notification. The glowing text wavered before vanishing completely, and the room plunged back into its usual dim stillness.
With an irritated huff, Xue Loahu flopped back down, rubbing his temples as he mulled over his next move. The system was useless—no, worse than useless. It was a money-grubbing extortionist in disguise. If he relied on it for answers, he'd be bled dry of life points before he even made any real progress.
No, if the system wouldn't guide him, then he'd take matters into his own hands.
In the quiet of his room, Xue Tuzi carefully laid Jiao Jiao down onto the bed, tucking him in with gentle hands. The child's tiny body barely made a dent in the mattress, his breathing soft and steady. For a moment, Xue Tuzi simply watched him, his expression unreadable. Then, moving with practiced silence, he walked over to his wardrobe, fingers trailing over the wooden panels before pulling out a few old garments—worn but still sturdy. He would repurpose them, stitching together something suitable for Jiao Jiao to wear.
Jiao Jiao had no need for clothes before. As a little Gu worm, he had slithered and skittered freely, unbound by fabric. But now, he had a child's form—soft-limbed, delicate, and vulnerable to the night's chill. He needed something warm.
Xue Tuzi lit a lantern, its soft glow illuminating the dim room. The light stirred Jiao Jiao from sleep, his small body shifting beneath the blankets. A sleepy mumble escaped his lips.
"Mama…"
He rubbed his tiny fists against his eyes, blinking up at the world with drowsy confusion.
Xue Tuzi, seated at the table, barely glanced up as he worked, his hands deftly cutting fabric, threading needles, and stitching with precise, tireless movements. A thin thread dangled from his lips as he murmured, "Xiao Jiao… go back to sleep. I'm making clothes for you."
But the child did not go back to sleep. Instead, he slid out from under the blankets, toddling toward Xue Tuzi on unsteady feet. His little fingers grasped the hem of Xue Tuzi's robes, and he pressed his cheek against the fabric, his voice muffled as he whined, "I'm cold."
Xue Tuzi's hands stilled. He turned, his sharp gaze softening at the sight of Jiao Jiao shivering against him. Without hesitation, he lifted the child into his arms, his movements as fluid as water. Crossing the room, he reached into the wardrobe again, this time pulling out a thick fur coat. He draped it over Jiao Jiao, bundling him up with meticulous care, wrapping him in layers upon layers until only his round face peeked out. The child looked like a tiny zongzi, swaddled snugly in warmth.
Glancing toward the window, Xue Tuzi strode over to ensure it was shut tight. He locked it, pulling the curtains closed, shielding the room from the night's creeping chill. Only once he was satisfied did he return to the bundled-up child.
"Is Xiao Jiao still cold?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jiao Jiao shook his head, snuggling deeper into the warmth. His small hands grasped the edges of the coat, pulling it closer.
Xue Tuzi exhaled quietly, his fingers reaching out to smooth down the tufts of dark hair sticking up from Jiao Jiao's head. The child's soft, steady breaths were warm against his skin. He had only intended to ensure Jiao Jiao was comfortable before returning to his work, but as he straightened to leave, a small voice, muffled beneath layers of fabric, stopped him in his tracks.
"I'm lonely."
Xue Tuzi's chest tightened.
He hesitated for only a moment before leaning down, his hand cupping Jiao Jiao's round cheek. His palm was warm against the child's cool skin.
"It's only for tonight," he murmured, though the words felt hollow even to himself.
Jiao Jiao's lips wobbled into a small, pitiful pout. His bright eyes shimmered, filled with something fragile—something aching.
Xue Tuzi hesitated again, then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, he softened. "Would Xiao Jiao like a little friend?" he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Jiao Jiao blinked up at him. His tiny fingers curled around the edge of the coat, his voice curious. "A friend?"
Xue Tuzi nodded. "Mn. I can make you one."
The words brought forth a distant memory, one buried beneath years of silence, yet still as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.
He had been Jiao Jiao's age once—small, shivering, alone. His hands were raw from scrubbing filthy rags in a bucket of icy water. He had clenched his teeth, biting back the cold, trying to finish the task before his fingers went numb.
And then, he had appeared.
A tall figure, strikingly beautiful, with long, silken black hair tied into a high bun. His eyes, dark and knowing, shone with warmth as he approached. His hands were clasped behind his back, hiding something from sight.
Xue Tuzi, wary and exhausted, had turned his head up to meet the man's gaze. The young man crouched down, his elegant fingers reaching out to tap the tip of Xue Tuzi's nose.
"Xiao Tuzi, today is a very special day."
Xue Tuzi sniffled, pulling his arms from the frigid water, wiping them haphazardly on the sides of his tattered pants. "Why is that, Gege?"
The young man's smile deepened, his voice low and warm. "Because today is the day you were born."
Xue Tuzi's breath hitched.
"I have something for you," the man continued. From behind his back, he revealed a small, all-white stuffed rabbit. A delicate pink bow was tied around its neck, neatly knotted.
"Do you like it?"
Xue Tuzi stared, eyes wide with wonder. His little hands trembled as he reached out, grasping the rabbit tightly. The soft fabric, the warmth of the gift—it was unlike anything he had ever been given before.
Tears welled up, spilling over his cheeks as he clutched the rabbit to his chest. His voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Thank you, Gege."
And for the first time, he had something—someone—to hold onto.
Xue Tuzi let out a soft exhale, his fingers absently brushing through Jiao Jiao's dark hair. The child had finally fallen asleep, his tiny body rising and falling with each peaceful breath. Ensuring the blankets were snug around him, Xue Tuzi stood and quietly made his way back to the table, resuming his work on the child's garments.
Outside, just beyond the glow of the lantern, a single vibrant red eye gleamed in the darkness, peering intently through the window. The gaze was unblinking, watching every movement within the room like a predator studying its prey.
"Master," a voice murmured from above.
Xiao Zongzi dangled lazily from her web, her many legs twitching as she observed the scene below. Her eyes reflected the faint glow of the lantern inside, glimmering with amusement as she watched Shudu crouched at the windowsill.
"Will you not be going inside?" she asked, raising a delicate brow.
Normally, when Shudu found himself locked out, he made his displeasure known in the most disruptive ways possible. He would bang relentlessly on the window until Xue Tuzi relented—or if patience ran thin, he'd simply break the window and climb in as he pleased. There had never been a force strong enough to keep him away from the warmth of the beauty's bed. And yet, now… now he simply lingered outside, watching from a distance.
Shudu clicked his tongue in irritation, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, still locked on the beauty inside, were dark with frustration.
"Tch. He's such a good, doting mother… I might as well give him another child," he muttered mockingly, though there was a bitter edge to his words. He leaned against the windowsill, his clawed fingers drumming absently against the wood.
Inside, Xue Tuzi sat with unwavering focus, needle and thread gliding through fabric with precision. Jiao Jiao, curled up in a bundle of fur and robes, slept soundly, oblivious to the piercing red gaze watching him.
Shudu's frown deepened. "Xiao Jiao has him completely under his spell, yet he won't listen to me," he spat, his frustration mounting. His creation—the demonic Gu worm he had meticulously cultivated—had turned out to be an anomaly, something that defied expectation. Jiao Jiao was unlike any other Gu worm in existence. The child had a will of his own, unbound by Shudu's influence.
It should have been impossible. And yet, here he was, watching his so-called creation snuggle into Xue Tuzi's embrace like an ordinary, pampered child.
Shudu exhaled sharply, tilting his head back with a dramatic sigh.
"My wife and child are having pleasant dreams in the comfort of a soft bed, while I—the husband—am left out in the cold," he lamented, his voice dripping with theatrical sorrow.
Above him, Xiao Zongzi shook her head, her eight legs swaying idly as she spun another strand of silk.
"Master, you have only yourself to blame," she said dryly.
Shudu shot her a glare but said nothing. He knew she was right. And that only made it worse.