Shudu cradled Tuanzhu tightly in his arms, his body acting as a shield against the biting wind that howled across the water. Her tiny nubs clung to his robes, her face buried in his chest as sobs wracked her small frame. Over and over, she cried out for her Mama—each wail sharp enough to split stone.
"Listen to me," Shudu said at last, his voice firm but laced with sorrow. He lowered his head to her ear, whispering the words he knew would tear her apart. "You must forget him. That man… he is cold. Ruthless. He would see you dead without blinking. Do you understand?"
His voice cracked, trembling beneath the weight of truth he wished he didn't have to speak. Gently, he brushed his fingers along the raw, swollen gash on her cheek, his touch light as falling snow. Tuanzhu whimpered, her whole body shuddering beneath the weight of those words. Her violet eyes, now brimming with fresh tears, lifted to meet his—glassy, confused, heartbroken.
"Did he not cast you aside like vermin?" Shudu continued, each word burning in his throat. "He threw you away, Tuanzhu. It's better… it's safer if you let him go."
There was no answer, only the faintest nod as she sniffled, wiping her nose with her little nub. A long silence passed between them, broken only by the distant rumble of waves.
"The winds are growing stronger," Shudu murmured, glancing up toward the darkening horizon. The clouds were thickening, swirling in angry, spiraling patterns. A storm was coming—no, a typhoon. The boat rocked beneath them, its narrow wooden frame creaking under the weight of the rising waves. It was a humble fisherman's vessel, unfit for what was now brewing in the sea.
The boat was old, its timbers dark with age and swollen from years of ocean mist, lashed together with coarse hemp that creaked with every small wave. It floated low in the water, a humble craft meant for shallow inlets and quiet crossings—not the open fury of a coming storm. At its heart rose a curved bamboo canopy, lashed to the deck and ribbed like the belly of a sleeping beast. The narrow shelter offered little protection, but it was enough for now. Shudu crouched beneath it, the shadows of the woven slats falling like bars across his face. Tuanzhu pulsed faintly in his arms, warm and silent. He held the Gu worm tighter, pressing it to his chest protectively against the chaos gathering in the sky.
The wind had changed. The air, once thick with the hum of mist and the smell of ocean breeze, now carried a scent of salt and clashing waves. Beyond the reed-covered canopy, the sky fractured—gray peeling back to reveal bruised purple clouds, spinning slowly, darkly. The typhoon was no longer a rumor. It was a beast waking.
Water lapped against the hull with rising urgency. Shudu's knuckles whitened where they gripped the frame of the shelter, his eyes drawn to the narrowing line between safety and open water. This boat, this hollowed relic of wood and rope, would not last the storm. But it would carry him for now—just far enough, he hoped, to find the next breath.
Xue Laohu reached the storm-lashed shore of Toubiao just as the talismans burned away into the wind, their golden embers scattering like fireflies before vanishing. In a flash of light and swirling energy, Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng reverted to their human forms, stumbling forward with breathless urgency.
The moment his feet touched solid ground, Xue Tuzi began to panic. "Little One?!" he shouted, eyes darting frantically across the debris-strewn beach. "Little One, where are you?!" His voice cracked with desperation as the wind whipped through his drenched robes, flinging his earthy brown hair in wild tangles around his face.
"Watch out!" Xue Laohu shouted, grabbing him by the collar just in time to pull him back as a monstrous wave surged up the shoreline, crashing down where Xue Tuzi had stood a moment earlier. Saltwater sprayed over them, stinging their eyes and soaking their skin.
Xue Laohu coughed and wiped his face with a sleeve, glaring at Xue Tuzi. "Are you insane? You almost got pulled in!"
But Xue Tuzi wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on the distant storm, wide and unblinking, as though he could see something the others couldn't. His hand clutched at his chest, his nails digging into his robe.
"She's there," he murmured. "Shizun… I can feel her. Her spirit. Her fear. It's pulling at me."
Xue Laohu followed his gaze. Far out on the horizon, the ocean was a churning mass of grey and black, waves towering like mountain peaks beneath a sky boiling with clouds. Thunder grumbled in the distance, a low, threatening growl that echoed across the shore. Lightning forked through the sky, illuminating the silhouette of a vessel, barely visible, caught in the maw of the storm.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw. "Damn it… they are right at the center of that mess."
The scent of salt and storm hung thick in the air, and the wind had begun to howl low and restless, stirring the waves into choppy unrest. Xue Laohu stood at the edge of the shore his long robe flapping at his ankles, eyes narrowed against the brightness of the sky turning to look at the village's wharf. All around the village harbor, boats were being tied down or hastily stripped of their sails—but one remained untouched, looming proud and solid against the brewing chaos.
The Chuan was no fisherman's skiff nor reed-planked ferry—it was a true sea-faring ship a merchant vessel with a broad, high hull painted in deep lacquered black, its sides studded with square golden bolts like a warrior's armor. Above the deck, tiered sails of thick canvas hung from tall masts, pleated like the wings of some ancient beast. Each was bound by bamboo ribs, weather-worn but unyielding, built to catch the wind and not break beneath it.
Ropes thick as a man's wrist coiled neatly along the rails, and a red banner snapped at the stern, its silk bleeding color into the storm light. There were guards posted on the dock, spears in hand and eyes sharp—but it was clear they were watching the weather more than the road.
Xue Laohu's mouth curved, barely. That one.
Behind him, his disciples shifted with the silent nodding as they made their way to the ship.
It was a ship built to ride through chaos, a fortress set to sail—and if Shudu had taken to the water, then this was the only vessel fit to follow. Xue Laohu crouched low behind a stack of crates, his tone clipped and cold as he laid out the plan. "Meng Meng, use the sleeping pellets to knock the guards out—quietly. A-Tuzi and I will board first and make sure the ship is clear. Once I signal, we move. Understood?"
Li Zhameng gave a quick nod, as he loaded the specialized pellets into the gun. The wind howled over the docks, blending with the crashing of waves and groaning wood. Just as he raised the weapon to take aim, a sharp voice rang out.
"Hey, you! What the hell are you doing there?" A guard stomped toward him, spear clenched tight in his fist. His steps were heavy and deliberate. Li Zhameng paused.
From the shadows, Xue Laohu winced. "Shit," he muttered, slapping a frustrated hand over his mouth. Beside him, Xue Tuzi tensed. "Shizun," he whispered, panic rising, "he's been caught! What should we do?"
But Xue Laohu only shook his head grimly. "No time. This distraction buys us exactly what we need. Let's move."
Without another word, the two slipped like shadows onto the ship, leaving Li Zhameng behind on the dock.
Back at the pier, Li Zhameng slowly concealed the weapons as he watched the guard's eye gleamed with cruel amusement.
"Well, well," the man drawled, his grin crooked beneath a black eye patch. "Looks like I caught myself a pretty little thing."
Li Zhameng took a deep sigh, his sea foam green eyes slowly rolling, but the guard crouched with lazy confidence, reaching out a rough hand to brush his cheek.
"No need to be scared," he whispered, voice oily as his fingers toyed with a loose strand of Li Zhameng's hair. "We've been out at sea a long, long time. No dolls to play with. You might do just fine."
Another voice approached from behind. "Didi, what've you caught there?" A heavy-set man lumbered into view, his distended belly wobbling with each step. His beady eyes searched until they landed on Li Zhameng, lighting up with sick delight.
"Oh-ho," he chuckled darkly. "Been a while since I had something soft to unwind with."
The younger man smirked, lifting the strand of Li Zhameng's hair to his nose, inhaling deeply. "Da Ge," he said with mocking reverence, "this one's a siren. Just fell into my net. I'll share, of course—but since I caught him, I go first."
Li Zhameng's stomach twitched. His nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Boy, you've been mistaken. I'm no woman!" he sneered smacking the filthy finger away from his hair.
But the younger man only chuckled. "Oh, we're not mistaken at all. This ship only carried crusty old merchants—no sweet little dolls like you."
With that, he began untying his belt, the leather whispering against the wind.
The older guard groaned with pleasure, already fumbling with the knot of his own waistband. "Pay was shit anyway," he grumbled. "Stingy old bastards. Least we get some fun outta this."
"Da Ge," the younger man said again, voice smoother now, "I'll handle the back. You can enjoy the front. Sound fair?"
"Tch." Was the only sound that escaped from Li Zhameng's lips. The younger man leaned close, ripping off his eye patch with a theatrical flourish—revealing an empty socket, deep and raw.
He grinned. "Now, where were we?"
Then—crack!crack!
Two sharp gunshots split the air like thunder, echoing across the dock and sending a flock of birds screeching into the sky. The guards froze, eyes widening in disbelief.
Li Zhameng, had pulled the gun from beneath his sleeve in a flash and fired. The sleeping pellets hit their targets with perfect precision—one striking the younger man's exposed neck, the other embedding in the older man's shoulder.
"What the—" the younger guard began, but the word slurred in his mouth. His smirk faltered. He swayed once, then toppled sideways, eyes rolling back. The older guard blinked, confused, stumbling toward Li Zhameng with a groan—only to crumple a moment later, snoring before he hit the ground.
He scoffed at the two men kicking them a couple of times to release his frustration, then he let out a long, exasperated sigh, swiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Now I really know how A-Tuzi feels," he muttered, eyeing the two unconscious guards collapsed face-down, backsides unceremoniously in the air. The sleeping pellets had worked perfectly. Without another word, he scurried onto the merchant vessel, his boots thudding across the wooden planks as he made his way below deck. The dim corridor smelled of salt, damp wood, and something faintly medicinal. At the far end, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette and rushed over to Xue Loahu.
As the ship sailed into open sea, the winds grew wilder, the waves angrier, and the sky darkened with storm. Xue Tuzi paced the deck like a restless spirit, hands clenched together as his eyes casted toward the horizon. Guilt tugged at his heart—the memory of Tuanzhu's cries echoing louder than the crashing waves. The sun dipped lower, and the sky bloomed in streaks of blood-orange and smoky grey. Xue Laohu approached him quietly, the wind catching his robes as he placed a firm hand on his disciple's back.
"A-Tuzi. Night is falling. You should come inside."
He gave a slow nod, his brows still knitted in worry as he cast one last glance toward the churning waters before descending into the ship's interior. He entered one of the cabins and laid on the bed, but rest eluded him. His thoughts twisted like the storm outside.
Eventually, the silence became too heavy to bear. He slipped out of bed, barefoot, the wooden stairs creaking beneath his weight as he made his way back up to the deck. The night air was bitter cold, the salt-laced wind tugging at his hair and robe. Only the stars and a sickle-shaped moon lit the endless black sea. He clung to one of the wooden pillars as waves crashed against the ship's hull, soaking his feet and numbing his fingers.
"A-Tuzi?" came a voice from behind, sharp with alarm.
Xue Laohu stepped onto the deck, eyes narrowing. "I checked both chambers. What are you doing up here?"
"This disciple is unable to sleep," Xue Tuzi replied, bowing his head. "I apologize for troubling Shizun."
A sudden gust sent spray splashing across them. Xue Laohu grimaced and pulled off his outer robe, wrapping it around Xue Tuzi's trembling shoulders. "Come on," he said gently. "Why don't you sleep in my room tonight?"
They descended into the lower quarters, footsteps soft against the boards.
But their passage hadn't gone unnoticed.
Li Zhameng sat upright in bed, eyes wide. He'd only just dozed off when the sound of voices and footsteps stirred him. His heart began to race. The thought of them slipping into the same room struck him like a dagger. Jealousy flared—hot, irrational, and suffocating. His thoughts twisted into images he couldn't bear. He bolted out of bed, storming across the hall. His hand reaching for the doorknob. He yanked it open with a slam.
The room was quiet.
Xue Laohu sat on the bed, fully clothed, reading a sealed letter by lamplight—Sect Leader Mao's familiar red wax still visible on the page. Xue Tuzi peered from behind him, startling him as he made his way back into the room.
"Meng Meng?" he whispered, confused but gentle.
Xue Laohu raised a brow. "Weren't you asleep?"
Li Zhameng's eyes winced, his face burning. "This disciple… also couldn't sleep."
Xue Laohu sighed, long and deep. "Then I suppose," he said, folding the letter and setting it aside, "since the storm's getting worse, we'll all huddle together tonight."
In the quiet dark, nestled between the rise and fall of shallow breaths, Xue Tuzi stared up at the ceiling. Sleep eluded him like a ghost just out of reach. The bed, for all its comfort, felt wrong. Li Zhameng radiated heat like a fever—too much, too suffocating—and Shizun, who lay on the other side, was cool as moonlight, distant and untouched. There was only one body whose warmth he longed for, one he ached to curl against like a moth drawn helplessly to flame.
"Shudu…" he whispered, the name a curse and a craving. A quiet sigh slipped from his lips as he slid out from beneath the covers once again, his bare feet silently meeting the chilled wooden floor.
Up on deck, the storm had calmed into a thick fog of sea mist. The air was dense with salt and the creak of ropes swaying against the mast. He gripped the railing, staring out into the gray-black expanse—until a shadow stirred at the edge of the fog.
A tall figure stood at the bow, half-shrouded in moonlight. Long hair, plaited into a braid, twisted in the wind like a banner. Xue Tuzi's heart slammed against his ribs. No—impossible.
"Shushu!" he cried, running toward the figure, hand clutching at his chest as it thundered. The figure turned.
Under the pale glow of the crescent moon, Shudu's smile bloomed—cold and sharp, with gleaming canines that shimmered like silver. His crimson eye caught the light, reflecting it back like a predator in the dark.
"Did you miss me?" he murmured, voice velvet-smooth and thick with mockery.
Xue Tuzi didn't hesitate. He threw himself into Shudu's arms, rising on his toes to embrace him, burying his face into his neck. Their lips met, feverish and desperate, the kind of kiss that tasted like obsession and ruin. Shudu's arms locked around his waist, pulling him in tighter as the kiss deepened. It was all teeth breath and aching mouths until they parted, gasping.
"Where is she?" Xue Tuzi asked, panting, his lips red and raw.
Shudu's smile didn't waver. "Who?"
"The Gu worm. Where is she?" he repeated, voice cracking with panic.
"You killed her," Shudu said flatly, his eye narrowing. "Don't you remember?"
The embrace shifted. His grip tightened—fingertips digging into Xue Tuzi's hips, nails biting into flesh. His voice turned guttural. "You destroy everything that wants to love you."
Xue Tuzi's breath hitched. His body tensed.
Shudu stepped forward. "Your Didi? Dead—because you couldn't protect him. Xiao Jiao? Sacrificed himself to save you. And your precious Gege? He chose death over you." His voice broke into a sneer. "You kill the ones who care."
"No…" Xue Tuzi whispered, stumbling back, trembling.
"Look at you." Shudu raised a hand and pointed. "You're no better than a demon."
Xue Tuzi looked down. Blood—thick and warm—was dripping from his hands. His vision blurred.
"You don't deserve love," Shudu growled. "You'll bring ruin to your Shizun. And to Li Zhameng."
"No…" he gasped again, chest tightening.
Shudu's hand shot out and seized him by the throat, lifting him off the deck with terrifying ease. "Sooner or later," he snarled, "you will be their downfall."
Xue Tuzi kicked and struggled, air choking in his lungs, the sky spinning above him—and then—
A freezing slap of ocean water smashed into his face.
He jolted awake, gasping, his back slick with sweat, eyes wide and wild. The taste of salt lingered on his tongue. He was still on the ship. Still between the storm and the darkness. Alone.
But that voice…
It echoed in his mind.
You don't deserve love.
Blah Blah Blah:
I just wanted to remind everyone he's still under the effects of the Scroll of Recurring Nightmares so it's nothing but bad dreams for him. (•ᴗ•)