The moment Shudu felt the birth of the Gu worm, its demonic qi thrumming faintly through the earth like a heartbeat, he wasted no time. His steps were swift as he made his way up the winding paths of Mount Dingbu, the air around him tense and crackling with suppressed energy.
When he arrived, the first thing he saw was Xue Laohu's panicked face, pale and drawn under the dim torchlight. "Shudu…" Xue Laohu murmured, voice trembling as if torn between relief and fear.
But Shudu didn't give him the chance to speak. His sharp voice cut through the heavy night air. "Where is it?"
Xue Laohu flinched, his eyes widening in alarm. His fingers fumbled together nervously, the sleeves of his robe slipping down to reveal how tightly he was wringing his hands. "Wh-why do you ask?" he stammered.
There was still blood clinging in the air, the faint scent of the Gu worm's qi, and Shudu could smell it — raw and metallic — no matter how faintly Xue Laohu tried to mask it. His gaze hardened. Xue Laohu had tried to treat the wound, Shudu could tell; he had hastily patched up the Gu worm's injured cheek, but the deep gash cut by the mirror still lingered in the air, an ugly reminder of negligence. For a newborn to suffer such a wound—it was unforgivable.
Seeing the hesitation flicker across Xue Laohu's face, Shudu's fists curled at his sides, knuckles whitening. His brows furrowed, deep and dangerous. "Where is it?" he demanded, each word cutting sharper than a blade as he strode past, heading directly towards Xue Tuzi's quarters.
"She's — she's in the infirmary!" Xue Laohu blurted out, stumbling to block his path.
"She?" Shudu's footsteps slowed, a brief flicker of something—surprise, wonder—crossing his usually stoic face. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Yes!" Xue Laohu exclaimed, seizing the opportunity to soften the mood. He awkwardly patted Shudu's rigid back, laughing nervously. "It's a girl. Congratulations."
But Shudu had no patience for celebrations. Without another word, he followed Xue Laohu down the corridor. They moved quickly, their steps echoing through the stone halls until they reached the infirmary. There, nestled inside a small woven basket lined with a blanket so soft it seemed to shimmer under the torchlight, lay the tiny Gu worm. Shudu's breath caught. She had finally fallen asleep, her tiny body curled into herself, shivering even within the silken cocoon. Her lashes were long and trembling, still wet with the tears she had shed, and her little face—so heartbreakingly delicate—bore the angry mark of the injury along her cheek.
Shudu knelt beside the basket, his heart swelling painfully in his chest. He reached out, brushing his finger across her big jelly like forehead with a touch so gentle it was almost reverent.
"Why is she here?" he asked at last, his voice low, dangerous.
Xue Laohu, sensing the growing storm, quickly snapped open his fan to hide his face. He chuckled weakly, the sound strained. "Well… she had a tiny little accident…"
Before the words could fully leave his mouth, Shudu's hand shot out, grabbing Xue Laohu by the collar and dragging him down to eye level.
"Let me explain!" Xue Laohu gasped, frantically slapping his hand against Shudu's to pry him off.
But Shudu's grip only tightened. His eyes, burning with cold fury, made it clear he was already imagining all the ways Xue Tuzi would suffer for allowing harm to come to little Gu worm. Through Xue Laohu's stammering explanation, Shudu pieced together enough. It didn't matter if Xue Tuzi had been exhausted from the incubation, or emotionally broken by the birth. Excuses meant nothing. One thing was certain, Xue Tuzi could not be trusted with her. Wordlessly, Shudu reached into the basket and scooped the trembling Gu worm into his arms. She stirred, letting out a soft, pained whimper against his chest, as Shudu tightened his hold around her, shielding her from the world.
"I'm taking her," he said, voice rough with emotion he didn't bother to hide.
"Where are you taking her?" Xue Laohu asked, voice thin and wavering as he fumbled nervously with the edges of his sleeves, trailing behind Shudu like a shadow desperate to catch up. His steps were quick but unsteady, while Shudu moved with cold, unrelenting purpose, the newborn Gu worm cradled protectively against his chest.
Shudu didn't so much as glance back. His jaw was set, his expression carved from stone. "Home," he scoffed, the word sharp and bitter on his tongue.
He dropped his gaze down to the tiny figure trembling in his arms. Even through the blanket, he could feel how frail she was, her small nubs curling unconsciously against his robes, seeking warmth, seeking safety. His chest tightened painfully at the sight of her injured cheek, the faint, angry line that marred her delicate skin—proof that she had already suffered more than she ever should have.
Home.
The thought was almost laughable. Shudu had no home. No haven. No place where he belonged. His life had been built on blood, betrayal, and exile. Yet somehow, the moment he held her, he knew: wherever he was, that would be her sanctuary. Anywhere was better than this place—a place where her first breath had been met with reproach, where even those meant to protect her had hesitated. Shudu shifted her slightly in his arms, tucking the blanket tighter around her to guard her against the chill of the night. She let out a soft, broken sigh against his chest, as he lowered his head, pressing his forehead gently to hers.
"From now on," he whispered, so quietly it was almost a prayer, "you're the only thing I will care about, Tuanzhu."
The morning sun filtered weakly through the thin paper screens, casting long, pale stripes across the dusty floor. Xue Tuzi stirred beneath his sheets, his body sluggish, his head pounding with a heavy, numbing ache. His mouth was dry, tongue thick from the sedatives they had forced him to take. For a moment, he lay there, disoriented. Then, like a jolt of lightning through fog, memory slammed into him.
The Gu worm.
His heart seized. Panic tore through him as he shoved the covers aside, staggering to his feet. His knees buckled under him but he didn't care—he had to find her. His mind flashed through scattered, broken images: waking in a fevered frenzy, grasping, clawing, confusion blurring the lines of reality. He had thought—in his delirium—that the Gu worm was Xiao Jiao, the one he had lost. His hands, meant to comfort, had struck instead.
He remembered the cry, clear and sharp, cutting through his haze.
"Mama, it hurts!"
The sound alone gutted him. His chest ached with guilt so heavy it felt like it could crack his ribs.
I hurt her.
The realization twisted through him like a blade. I hurt her...
A sharp knock broke through his spiraling thoughts. Shakily, Xue Tuzi stumbled toward the door and yanked it open. Xue Laohu stood there, a tray of tea balanced carefully in his hands. His expression was cautious, voice soft, almost pitying. "Xue Tuzi… I brought you some tea."
Xue Tuzi looked a wreck—hair tangled and uncombed, cheeks blotchy and damp from crying, lips cracked from dehydration. His robe hung crookedly off his frame, his whole body trembling with desperate energy.
"Shizun," he croaked, voice raw and hoarse. His hands gripped the doorframe like he needed it to stand. "The Gu worm. Where… where is she?"
Sweat beaded on Xue Laohu's forehead. He walked in slowly, setting the tray down with a small, careful clink. He exhaled, bracing himself.
"She was a little… injured," Xue Laohu began carefully, not meeting Xue Tuzi's pleading gaze. "So I took her to the infirmary to treat her—"
He didn't even finish the sentence. Xue Tuzi shoved past him, stumbling toward the door, wild urgency in his eyes. But Xue Laohu moved quicker, stepping into his path and blocking him with a firm hand pressed against his chest.
"Wait—listen. Shudu came and took her."
Xue Tuzi froze as if struck. He turned his head sharply, wide eyes locking onto Xue Laohu's face. His fists clenched at his sides until his nails bit into his palms. Xue Laohu exhaled heavily, sympathy etched into every line of his face. "You were in no condition to care for her. You were… in such disarray. I thought it best. Shudu will protect her."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Xue Tuzi's head lowered, his shoulders sagging under the crushing weight of shame. His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, "Shizun…I didn't mean to hurt her. I was just… I was scared… I didn't know…"
Tears welled up again, spilling over as he placed his trembling hands over his face, trying in vain to hide the rawness of his sobs. "I'm sorry," he wept. "I'm so sorry. I want to see her… I want her back…"
His knees nearly gave out from under him, and Xue Laohu reached out with a sigh, patting his head gently, as if comforting a wounded child. There was no rebuke, only a deep, heavy sorrow between them.
Suddenly, a sharp chime echoed inside Xue Laohu's mind. He winced, pressing a hand to his temple as the familiar, garish neon glow of the system's screen blinked into existence before him.
NEW MISSION ALERT
SCARLET RECKONING: MENDING THE FRACTURED BOND
Objective:
Shou MC must confront the Gu worm's lingering resentment after violently rejecting her, risking his own spiritual stability to prove their symbiotic connection transcends pain.
Reward:
+500 Life Points
Double Points for Physical Vulnerability
Penalty:
Failure to reconcile will shatter Shou MC's Cultivation Core.
-500 Life Points
The message burned itself into his vision, Xue Laohu's frown deepened as he read the flashing words. His hand unconsciously tightened on Xue Tuzi's shoulder.
The mission was clear—if Xue Tuzi couldn't repair the bond with the Gu worm, the consequences would be catastrophic. Not just for his spirit, but for his very life. Xue Laohu exhaled slowly, forcing calm into his voice. He needed to guide Xue Tuzi carefully now, needed to help him survive this. He frowned, his brows knitting tightly as he stared at the flickering screen of the system suspended before him. In his arms, Xue Tuzi wept quietly, clutching onto his robes like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.
Softly, Xue Laohu raised a hand, brushing away the hot tears that rolled down Xue Tuzi's pale cheeks his touch light.
"Come on," he said gently, voice low and sure. "Let's go find her."
Later, Xue Laohu sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, a cup of freshly brewed tea warming his hands. The steam curled lazily upward, fogging the surface and distorting his reflection in the dark liquid. His gaze was hard, thoughtful, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders.
He exhaled slowly, lifting his head toward the dim ceiling.
"Hey yo, system," he called out casually, as if summoning an old, troublesome acquaintance.
In response, the air shimmered, and a familiar neon screen materialized with a cheerful chime, bright letters spinning into view:
WELCOME USER TO—
Before the system could continue its irritatingly perky introduction, Xue Laohu snapped his fingers sharply, sloshing tea onto the rim of his cup. His patience was already threadbare.
"Skip the pleasantries," he muttered, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Coordinates. Shudu. Now."
The glowing characters on the screen seemed to freeze mid-animation, almost affronted. For a second, the system whirred audibly, as if grumbling under its breath, reluctant to comply. Then, with a few angry flickers, the screen twisted itself into the shape of a spinning golden compass.
A low, passive-aggressive hum buzzed from the system's voice before a new display bloomed outward—a three-dimensional, translucent holographic map. Xue Laohu leaned closer, taking a brisk sip from his tea as he watched the holographic map blossom before his eyes. The coordinates glowed sharply, painting a pulsing red dot deep in the East Sea, roughly two hundred li offshore from Toubiao Village.
The moment he registered the location, Xue Laohu choked on his tea, spitting it out in an undignified spray.
"The ocean?!" he coughed, thumping his chest with a fist as he glared at the map. "All the way in the middle of the damn ocean?!"
Cursing under his breath, he shoved aside the cup, its contents sloshing dangerously, and whirled on his heel, robes flaring behind him. His stained sleeve flew up as he stormed out into the courtyard. There, under the slanting morning light, he found Xue Tuzi pacing nervously back and forth like a caged beast, his hands fidgeting in front of him. Across the way, Li Zhameng sat cross-legged near a flower bed, in deep meditation.
"We have no time to waste!" Xue Laohu barked, his voice cutting sharply across the courtyard. Both disciples snapped to attention, startled.
He knew their capabilities well—Xue Tuzi, for all his skill in cultivation, favored the flowing combat of ribbon techniques and had never been adept with the sword. Li Zhameng was even less reliable; he could barely maintain balance while flying, often careening through the sky like a drunken bird.
There was no helping it. He would have to rely on the Ant Crossing Hour Talismans—rare charms capable of granting shrinkage. Seventy-two minutes. No more, no less. It would have to be enough.
Fishing swiftly into his sleeve, Xue Laohu pulled out two talismans, the yellow papers humming faintly with spiritual energy. "We need to get there fast. On foot, we'd never make it before nightfall—we can't risk delay."
He slapped the first talisman onto Xue Tuzi's back with a sharp flick of the wrist. It adhered instantly, the magic shrinking down to the size of a coin, pulsing once before vanishing beneath his robes. Xue Tuzi stiffened, still visibly shaken but determined, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Li Zhameng's eyes widened as Xue Laohu turned toward him, talisman in hand, he pressed the talisman against his back as well, the magic absorbing into him with a soft hiss. With both preparations complete, Xue Laohu stuffed his two disciples into the open folds of his robe, the motion inadvertently baring a glimpse of his toned chest.
Just as he finished his preparations, the system's interface shimmered back into view, a translucent mist framing stark red warnings that scrolled ominously across the screen:
WARNING:
TYPHOON SEASON ACTIVE
DANGEROUS SEA CONDITIONS DETECTED
HOSTILE AQUATIC LIFE DETECTED(Man-Eating Fish Activity High)
PROCEED AT OWN RISK.
Xue Laohu clicked his tongue, irritated but unsurprised. "Of course," he muttered. "Of course it couldn't just be a simple rescue mission."
Without wasting another second, he hopped into his sword effortlessly gliding into the sky, his robes snapping like banners in the rising wind.
And toward the endless, glittering stretch of the East Sea, he flew.
Blah Blah Blah:
I pulled something out of nowhere in order to problem solve. My apologies. I typically do not like using hat tricks but today was necessary. I've been itching to write about the ocean.