CONGRATULATIONS, USER
SCARLET RECKONING: MENDING THE FRAGILE BOND – COMPLETE
+500 POINTS EARNED
x2 POINTS FOR PHYSICAL VULNERABILITY
The sharp clatter of digital coins filled Xue Loahu's ears, reverberating like a jackpot siren inside his skull. His eyes fluttered open, sticky with sleep. A thin line of drool traced the corner of his mouth, which he wiped away with the back of his hand as he let out a long yawn. The room was still dim, the soft glow of the interface bathing his face in sterile light. The system's neon-bright screen hovered inches from his eyes, flashing with pixelated fireworks and programmed applause. Congratulations, it chimed in a cheery voice that felt far too loud for the early hour.
"Yeah, yeah…" Xue Laohu muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The cold floor sent a shiver up his spine as he stood, bones cracking in quiet protest. He blinked at the interface still floating mid-air, reaching out with one hand to swipe through the update.
His fingers skimmed over the digital logs. Character stats flickered and shifted beneath his touch. Then he paused. Shudu's icon, once adorned with five radiant hearts that shimmered in warm pink, now pulsed erratically—hearts dimming and flaring before finally fizzling into a flat, lifeless black.
Xue Laohu stared at it in silence, shoulders sagging slightly. "That's not good…"
A heavy breath escaped him as he tapped over to Xue Tuzi's profile. A static hum filled the air as his avatar appeared.
"I'd really rather not know," he mumbled under his breath, grimacing. With a quick flick of his wrist, he dismissed the entire interface, the screen collapsing in on itself with a sharp ping.
Silence settled over the room again, broken only by the soft rustling of fabric as Xue Laohu grabbed a his worn robes from the chair beside his bed. The ship cut through waves gilded by the first light of dawn, salt sprayed misting the air. Shudu's blade carved arcs through the ocean mist, its jagged edge—still scarred by the beast's acidic innards—glimmering like a shard of night sky. The sword was monstrously heavy, its hilt dipped in gold, from a drowned dynasty, yet it danced in his grip as though weightless. He pivoted, boots grinding against the deck's planks, and swung downward in a strike that split the wind with a thunderous crack. The force should have staggered him, but he flowed into the next stance, muscles coiled like river dragons beneath his clothes.
Xue Laohu's chuckle cut through the rhythm. "Impressive!" He said leaning against the mast, arms folded, eyes sharp as ever. "Even the Emperor's Blacksmiths would weep to see such a relic tamed."
Shudu froze mid-form, blade suspended as if held by invisible chains. Sweat streaked the spider tattoo along his neck, but his voice was steady, almost playful. "This venerable one is honored to receive Grandmaster Xue's praise."
Xue Laohu chuckled, whipping out his fan out as he strode forward, tapping the sword's flat with his fan. It rang like a distant temple bell. "A blade this stubborn deserves a name. Have you chosen one?" Shudu turned toward the rising sun, the light catching the sword's imperfections—etchings of ancient battles, grooves where the demon's bile had failed to corrode it. He raised it high, watching gold fire race along the steel. "Wuji," he said. Infinity. The word hung between them, quieter than the sea's breath.
Xue Laohu's grin softened, a rare flicker of reverence in his gaze. "A name for a weapon that outlives kingdoms. Fitting."
The sword trembled not from strain, but as if awakened and for a heartbeat, the horizon seemed to stretch endlessly, swallowed by the dawn. The ship finally docked, its wooden hull groaning as it scraped against the pier. A chorus of gulls cried overhead, and the salty breeze of the port drifted in through the open cabin windows, stirring the curtains and the hair of the few who remained inside.
Xue Tuzi had slept straight through the morning's journey, curled into himself like a cat, while Li Zhameng clutched the side of the ship, his complexion pale and his stomach long emptied from seasickness. Xue Laohu entered Xue Tuzi's room, leaning down to gently nudged him awake.
"A-Tuzi," he said, his voice quiet and warm. "Wake up. We're back on land."
Xue Tuzi furrowed his brows, eyes fluttering open. For a moment, his vision blurred, then focused on the familiar face of his Shizun. He felt a weight shift on his chest—round, soft, and warm—and looked down to see Tuanzhu, the Gu worm, snuggled against him. He patted her tiny head gently.
"Tuanzhu," he whispered, voice still groggy. "We're here. Wake up."
Together, they disembarked. The wooden planks of the dock creaked underfoot, warm from the sun. Xue Laohu reached into the inner pocket of his robes, fingers brushing damp paper. He pulled out a small, soggy bundle, the shrinking talismans. The ink had bled into useless smudges.
"Tch." He frowned. "Ruined from the storm. Looks like we're traveling on foot."
Behind them, Li Zhameng took his first steps off the ship, his face returning to its usual color now that the ground no longer swayed. He exhaled deeply, as if stepping into heaven.Then, a sweet voice rang out over the buzz of the busy port.
"Fresh fruit! Gongzi—would any of you care for sweet lychees? Just picked this morning!"
The group turned. A young woman stood nearby, her basket balanced effortlessly against her hip. Her skin was the warm color of sunlit sand, and her hair was tied into a high bun, loose strands dancing around her face like sea foam. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. Shudu was already sauntering over with his sword on his back, his steps fluid, eyes lit with mischief. He leaned in, a wolf's grin curling on his lips.
"Tell me, Xiao Jie…" he drawled, his voice silk. "Do you sell antidotes as well? Because one glance at your smile—and I've been thoroughly poisoned."
The girl's cheeks flushed a brilliant pink. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to stifle a nervous giggle.
"Aye, Gongzi," she said, bashfully. "You should focus on the fruit, not flattery! Try the lychees—they're very sweet."
Shudu picked one delicately from the basket, his fingers brushing hers with calculated precision. He rolled the fruit in his palm and sighed, eyes locking on hers.
"I am but a poor wanderer, rich only in honest words," he murmured. "But if your heart were among these fruits…" He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear, "…I'd barter my last copper for it."
Xue Tuzi stood a short distance away, his arms crossed tightly. His fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeves as his jaw clenched. His gaze pierced through the space between them, brimming with emotion he refused to name. Then, something caught his eye—a crooked little stall at the edge of the pier. An old fortune teller sat hunched over a stool, her powdered cheek resting in a gnarled hand. Her stall was barely more than a wooden board with strange charms and bones scattered atop it. She tapped the wood with her bony fingers, eyes fixed on him with unsettling intensity.
Xue Tuzi stiffened. He quickly reached into his lapel only to find Tuanzhu's qiankun pouch, warm with the presence of the slumbering but no coin purse. He let out a resonated breath and turned to his Shizun.
"Shizun," he said, bowing his head. "This disciple begs your pardon. I wish to seek counsel from that fortune teller—but I am without coin."
Xue Laohu didn't hesitate. He reached into his robes and pulled out his coin purse, handing it over without a word. Xue Tuzi's eyes widened. He threw his arms around his Shizun in a sudden hug before stepping back and bowing deeply.
"This disciple is unworthy of Shizun's generosity," he murmured.
"Just go," Xue Laohu said, shaking his head with a small smile.
The old woman cackled hoarsely as Xue Tuzi approached, then hacked up a thick wad of phlegm, spitting it to the side. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing her red rouge across her wrinkled face.
"Well, well," she rasped, eyes gleaming. "Another lost boy with a heavy heart."
Xue Tuzi hesitated, then knelt before her. "Years ago, a fortune teller told me I would have a joyful marriage. But my life has been anything but that. Could it be… could she have been wrong?"
The old woman extended her hand, expectantly. He placed the coin purse in her palm. Her brow arched at the weight, she then nodded slowly, clearing her throat.
"Joy comes to those who wait," she said, her voice distant and strange. "But beware… beware of familiar faces."
Before he could ask what she meant, his Shizun's voice rang out.
"A-Tuzi! We're leaving!"
He turned and waved—but when he looked back, the fortune teller was gone. So was the stall. The board, the stool, everything—vanished without a trace. Brows drawn together, he pouted, arms crossed as he trudged back to rejoin the others, her words echoing in his head. As he neared the group, the fruit vendor's giggle reached his ears again, sweet and syrupy, making his teeth clench. He rolled his eyes hard enough to see stars.
She handed Shudu a bamboo container packed with lychees. "Take these," she said, cheeks still rosy. "For your silver tongue."
Shudu accepted it with a flourish, flashing his teeth. "Silver?" he said, his voice low. "When your eyes put the moon to shame? I'll return someday—this humble thief must steal another glance."
Xue Laohu noticed the pinched look on Xue Tuzi's face and leaned in.
"And the rest of the money?" he asked, palm outstretched.
Xue Tuzi blinked, then gasped, recalling how he had handed over the entire purse.
"Shizun—this disciple begs for punishment! I—I gave her the whole bag—!"
"The whole thing?" Xue Laohu groaned, running a hand down his face. "… we'll be sleeping under the stars tonight."
Their journey back to the sect was cloaked in silence—too quiet for Xue Laohu's liking.
The soft rhythm of boots against dirt was the only sound for miles. The sky stretched gray above them, low clouds drifting like heavy thoughts. Xue Tuzi trailed only a few paces behind his Shizun, his face stormy and eyes downcast, arms locked around his chest. His silence wasn't just pensive—it was pointed. A few steps farther behind him, Shudu strolled at his own pace the sword clinging behind his back, carelessly tossing lychees into his mouth, chewing with maddening serenity. Li Zhameng, meanwhile, walked next to Xue Loahu murmuring teasing remarks into his ears that made the grandmaster sweat and blush.
Xue Laohu didn't need the system to tell him something was wrong. There was no notification, no "New Mission Unlocked," but he didn't need one. Anyone with eyes could see it—Xue Tuzi and Shudu hadn't spoken a word to each other since they'd pierced out of that beast's belly. Something had curdled between them. Something unspoken. And maybe, Xue Laohu feared, something irreversible.
Shudu pulled another lychee from his pouch, turning it over in his fingers with a smile. "Tuanzhu," he called sweetly.
From within Xue Tuzi's qiankun pouch, the little Gu worm stirred. Her plump head wiggled free from the pouch's edge, her eyes blinking sleepily before darting around in search of the voice that had called her. Then, spotting Shudu, her eyes lit up. Shudu had peeled the lychee open, revealing its translucent flesh glistening with juice. He held it up like an offering. Tuanzhu's tongue flicked across her lips. In a flash, she squirmed free of Xue Tuzi's arms and launched herself forward.
"Tuanzhu—!" Xue Tuzi called out in alarm, but it was too late. The greedy little worm had already landed squarely in Shudu's outstretched hand, her mouth agape.
With a smug grin, Shudu dropped the entire lychee into her mouth.
It didn't take long.
Tuanzhu's cheeks puffed out. Her eyes went wide. The pink of her skin turned an alarming shade of cherry red. Her tiny limbs flailed, mouth twitching violently as she tried to spit the fruit out—but the pit was lodged deep.
"Tuanzhu!" Xue Tuzi screamed, rushing forward with terror flashing in his eyes. He snatched her from Shudu's arms and cradled her with trembling hands, pressing his thumbs into her round belly, applying quick, practiced thrusts. A moment later, with a wet sputter, the lychee pit popped from her throat and landed on the forest floor. Tuanzhu gasped, coughing wetly. Her little body trembled as she clung to Xue Tuzi's sleeve, tears welling in her glossy eyes.
"There, there," Xue Tuzi whispered, patting her back gently. His voice had gone soft again—soothing and protective. He then cast a sharp, venomous glance at Shudu. "Hmph," he scoffed, turning his back and walking away, arms wrapped tightly around Tuanzhu like he'd never let her go again.
Shudu watched his retreating figure—shoulders stiff, hair swaying gently with each step. A sigh escaped his lips. He wandered over to a blooming peach blossom tree near the trail, plucked a single flower, and brought it to his nose. The scent was almost right—delicate and fragrant—but just a note off from what Xue Tuzi's robes smell like.
Almost.
With a quiet growl, he crushed the blossom in his palm. Its petals crumpled, spilling from his fingers like pink ashes before he stomped them underfoot.
They walked until sundown.
The forest deepened around them, cloaked in the cold breath of early night. Crickets chirped faintly from the brush, and a pale orange glow touched the edges of the horizon.
"We'll have to camp here for the night," Xue Laohu finally announced, his tone weary with frustration. His eyes drifted to Xue Tuzi, who stood with his head bowed, face full of guilt.