The forest held its breath.
Only the sound of Shudu's sword cut through the silence, slicing clean arcs through the damp night air. His blade hissed as it whipped side to side, its steel glinting faintly under the star light. Each movement was sharp, deliberate. Sweat trickled down his brow and caught at the edge of his jaw before slipping down the curve of his neck. He exhaled slowly, shoulders taut with tension. Then he paused.
His eyes flicked to the side. Still no sign of Xue Tuzi.
Xue Loahu and Li Zhameng lay by the fire, wrapped in their cloaks, deep in sleep. The low crackle of the flames did little to ease the unease creeping into his chest. Shudu's fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword before he sheathed it behind his back with a soft click. He turned, silent as a shadow, and walked toward the last place he'd seen Xue Tuzi vanish—into the trees, toward the river.
The forest swallowed him quickly, branches clawing at his shoulders, the starlight patchy and reluctant. When he reached the riverbank, the world felt unnaturally still. No frogs. No crickets. Just the sluggish gurgle of the water, as if it too was reluctant to move.
Then he saw it.
The ribbon.
Snagged on a thorn bush, fluttering faintly in the wind soft silk, frayed at the edges, and stained. Shudu reached for it, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric. His frown deepened. A trail of hoofprints gouged into the mud beside the ribbon, leading off into the trees. His hand tightened around the ribbon the hoof prints leading straight to Lord Chanchu's manor.
The manor loomed like a corpse left upright in the darkness. Lanterns flickered along the eaves, casting long, shivering shadows. But the silencewas unnatural. It wasn't peace. It was absence. The kind of stillness that preceded something unspeakable.
Shudu stepped lightly through the gates, his footfalls echoing louder than they should've in the deadened air. The guards were already dead—every one of them. Their throats bore the same mark: a long, clean slit, precise enough to bleed them slowly and cruelly. One guard had collapsed against the gatepost, eyes wide in disbelief, as though still trying to grasp how death had crept up on him.
Inside, the bodies continued.
A man's body lay slumped against a hallway pillar, blood soaked into the hem of his robe. His throat, too, was opened like a book. The wound gleamed wet in the lantern light, still fresh. The air was thick with the copper tang of blood and something fouler underneath—something that smelled of bile, waste, and rot.
Then came the sound.
Dull grunts. Ragged huffing breaths. Muffled, but unmistakably human.
They came from deeper within the manor—behind the grand double doors at the end of the corridor. The doors were carved with intricate peach blossoms and golden phoenixes in mid-flight, symbols of prosperity and love. The sight of them now, with blood pooled beneath them and silence pressing at their seams, was perverse.
Shudu stood before the doors, his hand hovering.
Then—a sound.
Wet. Heavy. Rhythmic.
It was the sound of a blade slicing through soft flesh. Not quickly, but slowly. With purpose. Like a butcher dismembering a carcass, not in haste, but in reverence.
Schlop.
Thwick.
Squelch.
A low, sloshing noise followed, like something thick and intestinal being turned inside out. Each movement was deliberate, patient and methodical. Not rage, but ritual. It crawled into Shudu's ears and made his stomach clench.
He pushed the door open.
The stench hit him like a wave.
Hot, rancid, and aggressive—meat left too long in the sun, mixed with something darker, more putrid. His throat constricted immediately, the bile rising as he staggered forward.
Inside, the air swarmed with flies.
Lord Chanchu's body lay sprawled across the chamber floor, grotesquely disassembled. His belly had been split wide open, a gory cavity glistening with half-spilled entrails. His eyes were frozen in a wide, horrified stare, lips peeled back in a final scream that had never reached the air.
And kneeling over him—was Xue Tuzi.
The man didn't look up. His knife rose and fell in slow, mechanical thrusts, sliding deep into the mess of Lord Chanchu's torso. Blood splattered across his arms, his robes, his face—none of it seemed to register. His eyes were vacant, hollow, as if whatever had once lived behind them had packed up and left.
Flies feasted freely now, their wings humming like a funeral choir. They gathered on the corpse in fat clusters, crawling between folds of flesh and over the wet shine of exposed organs. They buzzed around Xue Tuzi's head, clung to his sweat-drenched hair, danced across the blood-slick floor.
One landed on Shudu's shoulder, bloated and slow, its legs tickling his collarbone.
He flinched violently, flicking it away. His stomach twisting.
Xue Tuzi was still at work, carving into what remained of Lord Chanchu. His disciple robes clung to him, soaked and stiff with blood, each stroke of his blade methodical, precise, almost reverent. The foul stench rising from the corpse—meat turned sour, bile and death mingled—coated the air like miasma. As Shudu took a few steps forward, Xue Tuzi turned his head, movements languid, as though surfacing from a dream. His face lifted to meet Shudu's gaze, those obsidian eyes wide and glassy, pools of darkness with no bottom. A slight tremble passed over him as he murmured, "You're too late. He's already dead."
His lips pulled back into a smile—too stretched, too knowing—the small mole at the corner of his mouth made it all the more eerie, like a beauty mark worn by a predator. Then came the laughter, erratic and breathless, bubbling from his throat before catching on something inside of him. He choked. Coughed. Collected himself. Slowly, almost tenderly, he stood, the bloodied blade slipping beneath the fold of his sleeve like a hidden thought. "I knew you'd come," he whispered, voice softer now, more delicate.
He stepped toward Shudu on silent feet, the warmth of his smile mismatched against the slaughter around them. Without hesitation, he slipped his arms—still slick and red—around the demon's neck and pressed close, holding him as if they had not just met in a room filled with death.
Despite the carnage he was pristine. Not a single strand of his hair was out of place; his robes, though soaked through with gore, were perfectly arranged. His skin was unmarred—no bruises, no scratches, no wounds. He was a flawless jade statue that had been dipped in a vat of crimson, the blood merely a coating on his impenetrable surface. Even with the foul stench of death choking the room, Shudu caught it—a faint, undeniable wisp of peach blossoms emanating from the skin of Xue Tuzi's neck. That peculiarly alluring scent cut through the miasma, a terrifyingly beautiful fragrance that, even now, sent a primal shiver of desire through him.
Shudu's eyes darted once more to the ruin on the floor—Lord Chanchu's body flayed open, intestines glistening under the dull lantern light, a slick feast for the buzzing swarm of flies. Their wings beat in a slow dirge, filling the room with the steady hum of decay. He returned his gaze to the man embracing him—this feverish, dangerous beauty.
Xue Tuzi's face hovered mere inches from his, his expression dreamlike, lips parted in a wide, drunken smile. That mole, small and dark, nestled on the corner of his mouth like a whispered secret. His breath, abnormally, smelled sweet—honeysuckle steeped in sun-dried tangerine peel. Enticing. Treacherous. Shudu knew that beneath the softness of that smile lay a blade sharpened just for him.
"You came for me," Xue Tuzi murmured again, voice trembling like the last note of a broken instrument.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to Shudu's.
He sighed, playing the fool, feigning ignorance even as a drop of Lord Chanchu's blood slid off the hidden blade and dripped onto his collar. His arms snaked around Xue Tuzi's waist, as he kissed him back—deeper, hungrier, tongue tracing the sweet heat of the other's mouth. He didn't care about the dagger at his back. The danger only made it burn hotter.
Xue Tuzi's porcelain skin flushed with color, a feverish bloom. His kisses grew wild, messy, frantic with desire.The demon let it build, let it scorch, until he tore his lips away.
"If you're going to do it, then do it," he said, voice low, guttural. "Don't hesitate. If it's by your hands, then so be it."
His lone crimson eye burned, smoldering as he stared into Xue Tuzi's empty ones, his fingers tightening around the beauty's hips in warning—or invitation.
Xue Tuzi blinked slowly, as if waking from a spell. The blade slipped from his fingers with a soft clatter, vanishing into the blood-slick floor. His touch—cold as jade—brushed against Shudu's throat.
"Do you hate me?"
"Am I dirty to you?
Then he leaned in again, this time not for a kiss, but a bite—sharp and teasing, just shy of pain—before sealing their mouths together once more. The sting ignited something in Shudu, but the softness of Xue Tuzi's lips betrayed the violence. They moved against each other like petals in the rain—aching, desperate and alive. When they parted, just long enough to breathe, Shudu's breath caught in his throat. The sweetness was dizzying. It clung to his tongue like a poison he welcomed.
"Why do you enjoy hurting me?" Shudu asked, voice ragged, tears stinging the edges of his eyes.
Xue Tuzi was a siren in flesh, luring his prey into the rocks only to drown them slowly.
"How many men have you entrapped with your lust?" he growled, his voice a simmering threat wrapped in longing.
His lips trailed to the curve of Xue Tuzi's neck, kissing the flawless skin there, inhaling that familiar sweetness. One hand reached up, tilting Xue Tuzi's chin upward, his thumb brushing over the tiny mole as if it might whisper secrets into his skin.
"Yet your lips are a poison I can't reject," he murmured. "Your body is a temptress that calls my name. Tell me—how long do you plan on torturing me?"
Xue Tuzi's heart hammered against his ribs, wild and frantic, stealing the breath from his lungs—as Shudu lured him into bed.
The bed was a monument of dark indulgence, it was the same bed Xue Tuzi had once laid on before slamming the vase onto Lord Chanchu's face and escaping. Its redish brown frame polished to a liquid gleam so deep it seemed to drink the candlelight.
Across its towering posts a dragon and phoenix writhed in an eternal chase the dragons claws outstretched, the phoenix's wings flared in flight their wooden bodies locked in a fight. The sheets were surprisingly immaculate, Lord Chanchu reveled in their soiled aftermath but these were a blinding white, like fresh snow at the peak of a mountain.
Shudu's breath seared Xue Tuzi's skin, heavy and unsteady, as if he were fighting the urge to bite, to claim, to devour the trembling flesh beneath his lips.
"Allow me to ruin you properly," he growled, stripping himself bare in seconds before clawing through Xue Tuzi's robes, the reek of blood no match for the hunger in his grip. He parted his legs to receive him, before the demon sunk his member deep into that tightly knitted orifice he spat on it. The saliva dripped down as the opening suckered its lips inviting the demon over.
His manhood slid in like a confession. Xue Tuzi's gasp was sharp as the demon thrusted, his body trembling like a bowstring pulled taut by Shudu—the pain rewriting into something sweeter, as he stroke deeper smacking him with force.
Each scrape of Shudu's teeth sent tremors down Xue Tuzi's spine, the maddening nibbles turning his ear a burning, cherry-red. He turned his face away, breath hitching—too sensitive, too much—but Shudu followed, relentless. The ticklish torment blurred into something dizzying, a friction that left Xue Tuzi torn between wrenching free and beggingfor more.
Shudu had longed for his body, his thrist wouldn't be quickly satiated, he wanted to defile him—to stretch him and tear him to pieces, his movements becoming more erratic. His lungs burned, his throat raw—Xue Tuzi gasped like a broken dog, the jewel resting heavy on his tongue, its surface slick and shimmering with each labored breath. Shudu bit into the other's nipples, forcing a soft moan out of his soft lips, flicking the gems with his tongue, sending a jolting vibration down Xue Tuzi's spine. His body convulsed in ecstasy a slow, sinful red suffused his face as he surrendered to Shudu's doing.
Sweat glided down the hard planes of Shudu's chest like liquid sin, Xue Tuzi traced its path with featherlight fingers—each touch a silent claim. His doe eyes, wide and dark, held Shudu's gaze captive, refusing to yield even as his fingertips mapped every ridge of muscle, every shuddering breath. Xue Tuzi's muscles jumped under his skin, his chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm, as if his lungs could no longer keep pace with the wildfire spreading through his veins. He could no longer control himself, he began to leak coating his belly own belly with a thick layer of his own seed.
At the same time Shudu had come to a complete stop ejaculating onto Xue Tuzi, each labored breath made his bare chest tremble, the aftermath of pleasure or pain indistinguishable. He pulled out but only slightly, as a thick creamy fluid oozed out of Xue Tuzi's behind, that small tight entrance had been ruptured open three fingers width's wide. He had successfully forced it to dilate birthing pockets upon pockets of his own semen.
A fly waddled across Lord Chanchu's eyeball, perched atop his dilated pupil, and rubbed its spindly legs—as if polishing the lens of his final, frozen glare.
Yet the eye itself…
It remained fixed on Xue Tuzi, watching, unblinking, as Shudu's lips met his, as fingers tangled in hair that still smelled of blood—his blood.
Death had not shut those eyes.
They stayed open, clouded yet piercing,
mirroring the lovers' embrace in their milky depths…as though at any moment, Lord Chanchu might stir awake.
With every ragged cry that tore from Xue Tuzi's lips, Shudu grew more excitable - drunk on the power to wring such beautiful sounds from trembling flesh.
"Shushu... love me—please love me," Xue Tuzi gasped between ragged breaths, his voice trembling. Blissful tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes, his skin flushed a feverish pink, every inch of him alight with desperate need.
Shudu strokes became harsher, his lips grazing the shell of Xue Tuzi's ear in a whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "Hmm…" A low, rough hum, vibrated against sensitive skin. "But do you, love me?" The words were a velvet rasp, teasing and dangerous.
"You demand every last drop of my love," Shudu snarled, his grip tightening like a vice, "but what of yours? Does that frozen heart of yours even beat for me?"
The pain was sharp and searing, Shudu's teeth pierced the tender flesh of Xue Tuzi's neck. A gasp tore from his lips, his body arching against the brutal claim. Blood welled, crimson and hot, tracing a slow, sinful path down his throat.
"A-ah…!" Xue Tuzi's groan was a fractured thing—half agony, half something far more dangerous. A plea. A surrender.
Shudu pulled back just enough to give Xue Tuzi's body a break before he embedded himself deeper, his movements full of vigor as if attempting to punish the beauty, but he only relished each penetration.
Xue Tuzi's hands moved of their own accord, drawn to the demons body like a starving man to a feast. The taut ridges of his abdomen, the hitch in his breath—every detail burned into his mind, as he wrapped his legs tightly around him.
He clung to the demon, crushing their lips together in a kiss that tasted like damnation and desire. Every press of his mouth was a plea—take me, ruin me, keep me. The kiss ignited Shudu who released everything onto him, groaning as his member swelled veins pulsing, soiling the sheets.
Shudu's head fell back with a ragged exhale, his throat working as he swallowed thickly. His lips parted around unsteady breaths, each gasp hitching as Xue Tuzi's mouth blazed a trail of fire from his jawline down to his heaving chest.
With their bodies no longer locked the beauty's tongue flicked out in a teasing caress, the jewel embedded in it catching the light before dragging deliciously across Shudu's skin—the rough, hard gem contrasting sharply with the wet heat of his mouth. A shudder ran through Shudu's body, his muscles tensing then yielding as he surrendered completely to the sensation.
Xue Tuzi's hands mapped the expanse of Shudu's back, fingers pressing into taut muscle as his lips worshipped every inch of exposed skin. Each open-mouthed kiss to Shudu's broad shoulders drew another broken sound from the demon's throat, his body arching instinctively toward the intoxicating mixture of pleasure and pain.
Xue Tuzi's groin was scorching hot, his eyes wandered down to the demons backside, landing on a pair of dimples on Shudu's firm cheeks. He licked his lips bringing his manhood closer to the demons backside entrance, in an attempt to mount him.
But the lustful act wasn't welcomed instead it ignited something far darker. The touch might as well have been a brand—Shudu's body jerked as if struck, his demonic heart flaring. His corrupted heart answered with conflagration—what should have been worship became kindling for the demonic fire raging in his veins.