The journey back to Sect Mount Dingbu was nothing short of a nightmare. The path was long, winding through treacherous terrain—crumbling cliffs, root-choked forests, and rivers swollen from spring melt. And Xue Laohu, disheveled and mud-splattered, was stone broke. Not a single coin to his name. He trudged beside his sheathed sword with a face like thunder, muttering curses under his breath.
"Ugh," he groaned, pushing a low branch out of his way only for it to whip back and smack him in the face. "A-Tuzi gave every last coin to a fortune teller. A fortune teller, of all things."
The memory still burned: Xue Tuzi, eyes wide and pleading, dropping the entire purse—his entire purse—into the wrinkled hands of an old crone with missing teeth and a voice like gravel.
Now they had nothing—no food, no horses, no hired transport. And while Xue Laohu's sword was sharp enough to split a mountain and enchanted enough to fly him across provinces, it could only carry one person at a time. Four grown men dangling from it like ducks on a skewer? Not possible. The shrinking talismans that might have helped? Useless. The ocean water from their last mission had soaked through their packs, leaving the paper seals soggy and inert. Nothing but faded ink and regret.
So they walked. And at night, the fire sputtered weakly against the damp cold, their blankets doing little more than soaking up the dew, Xue Laohu sat with his arms crossed as he scowled at the flames. The cold had crept in steadily, wrapping the camp in damp fingers, and though the flame crackled stubbornly, it was not enough. Across the small clearing, Xue Tuzi was already bundled snugly in Shudu's arms, tucked so tightly against the demon's chest that their breaths rose and fell in perfect unison. Xue Tuzi, ever chilly by nature, seemed to all but disappear inside the embrace—Shudu holding him like a snake coiled around its treasure, protectively, possessively.
Li Zhameng lay sprawled and restless. Occasional shivers churned across his skin as he twisted and turned, seeking a comfort the fire's warmth could not quite provide. His brows were wrinkled in fitful sleep. Finally, he burrowed deep into his own robes, pulling the fabric up above his chin.
Xue Laohu watched him for a long moment before he sighed softly. Slowly, he took off his outer robe. He leaned over and laid it across Li Zhameng's form with care. As he did, his fingers brushed—almost accidentally—across the other man's cheek. The touch was so gentle it made Li Zhameng's long black lashes flutter in response.
Across the camp, the others were already fast asleep. Xue Tuzi let out a soft, sleepy sigh, shifting slightly in Shudu's arms. Shudu, of course, didn't budge—his hold only grew firmer, like he might crush Xue Tuzi into his ribs if he could.
Xue Laohu exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sat upright, back to the fire, eyes scanning the treetops. With everyone asleep, he could finally think. And ask the question that had been gnawing at him for days.
"System," he muttered, under his breath, "Hey yo, system?"
There was a strange, wet hacking noise—like someone choking on a bone—followed by the sound of something thick being spat into a spittoon. Then a few wheezing coughs, and finally, a smug little rasp:
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's eye twitched. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This novel couldn't be any more ridiculous."
Xue Laohu gave a tired groan, glancing sideways at the pair still tangled up together. "Are we done yet? A-Tuzi and Shudu are together now. And I know for a fact they've copulated. Plural. Repeatedly."
The system made a processing noise.
"Like, last night," Xue Laohu went on flatly. "And the night before. And the one before that."
His eyes narrowed as he watched Shudu shift in his sleep, nuzzling into Xue Tuzi's neck like a smug housecat. He knew Shudu's patterns too well by now—how he would murmur low and filthy things against Xue Tuzi's skin, how he'd nibble the poor beauty's ear, trailing kisses down to his throat while whispering, "Tuzi, please…"
Xue Tuzi would try, try to resist. His voice always trembled with guilt. "Shushu… what if Shizun and Meng Meng wake up?"
And Shudu, shameless as ever, would always reply, "They've never woken up before."
Then came the kissing. Desperate. Obsessive. A promise hidden between teeth and lips.
"I'll be gentle," Shudu would lie.
He was never gentle.
Xue Laohu had spent far too many nights pretending not to hear the soft moans, the stifled gasps, the way Xue Tuzi whimpered like a flute half-plugged. He'd perfected the art of turning over and stuffing waxed cotton in his ears, pretending it wasn't torture.
So if that wasn't enough for the system—what was?
"System," he said slowly, brows furrowing. "Explain yourself. Have I completed the main story goal, yes or no?"
There was a beat of silence.
FINAL MISSION ALERT: THE LAST CURSE: LOVE OR OBLIVION
OBJECTIVE: DEFY THE ETERNAL CURSE. PROVE THE SHOU AND GONG'S LOVE IS UNBREAKABLE
USER, YOU HAVE GUIDED THE SHOU AND GONG THROUGH TURBULENCE. THEIR HEARTS NOW ENTWINED WHERE FATE FORBADE IT.
Xue Laohu stared at the floating screen with narrowed eyes, sitting cross-legged by the fading fire, one hand lazily propping up his cheek. The cold nipped at his exposed skin, but his annoyance burned hotter.
"Seriously?" he muttered.
The letters flashed on in blinding neon, as dramatic as ever.
HOWEVER, THE NOVEL DEMANDS FINAL CONFIRMATION: ARE THEIR TIES TRULY UNBREAKABLE? OR WAS YOUR INTERFERENCE MERE ARTIFICE?
His head snapped up. "My interference?" he barked. "You miserable piece of shit system—you dragged me into this mess! I didn't choose to get trapped in your bargain-bin dog-blood romance!"
He jabbed a finger at the glowing text, fury burning behind his eyes. "I never interfered—I fixed it!"
But the system had no interest in his complaints.
THIS IS NOT A MISSION OF POINTS, BUT OF SURVIVAL.
SUCCEED, AND YOUR EXISTENCE AS NARRATOR MAY CONTINUE.
FAIL, AND THE VOID WILL RECLAIM YOU.
The screen pulsed once… and then blinked into darkness, leaving only the low, steady hiss of the wind through the trees.
Xue Laohu let out a strangled groan and grabbed a fistful of his own hair, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. "Void will reclaim me, my ass," he muttered.
The breeze rolled over him then—sharp and sudden, cutting through the thin inner robes he'd changed into hours earlier. He shivered despite himself. His outer cloak had already been sacrificed earlier to Li Zhameng, who was curled up like a discarded dumpling on the other side of the fire, still trembling under layers of cloth.
Xue Laohu's eyes shifted to the other side of the camp, where Shudu and Xue Tuzi were practically buried in one another. Xue Tuzi's cheek was pressed against Shudu's collarbone, lips parted slightly in a peaceful sleep, while Shudu held him like he was afraid he would vanish with the morning mist.
Xue Laohu sighed.
His gaze returned to the other figure across the fire still shivering. He rose with a grunt, dusted off the pine needles clinging to his knees, and crossed the distance between them in two steps. He knelt down, wrapping his arms around Li Zhameng in one smooth motion.
"I'm cold too. Let's sleep together tonight," Xue Loahu murmured.
Li Zhameng's emerald eyes flickered in the firelight as he turned, slipping his arms around Xue Loahu's neck to draw him closer.
Xue Loahu's body stiffened, heat rushing up his spine as the warmth of the embrace sank into him. The gentle hands holding him in place kept him frozen—he didn't dare move, barely even breathed—yet his heartbeat raced wildly. His cheeks flushed, and a certain part of him stirred with unmistakable urgency.
"Shizun," Li Zhameng whispered with a wicked smile, easily noticing the effect of their closeness. His hand slid down from his Shizun's chest to his navel and down to the hardening length below, stroking it without hesitation.
"Meng Meng…" Xue Loahu gasped, swallowing hard as he fought against the forbidden urge to defile his disciple. But when two fingers slipped teasingly into his crevice, his resistance crumbled. His release came in a sudden rush, spilling out of him like rainfall before his strength gave way.
Exhausted, he collapsed against Li Zhameng and drifted into sleep.
Not a single day passed without Shudu doting over Xue Tuzi like a lovestruck servant attending a precious emperor. He brought him wildflowers from the valley, fresh herbs for teas that Xue Tuzi drank, and fruits stolen right from the trees. He draped him in affection, never once letting him lift a finger if he was tired. If Xue Tuzi so much as yawned, Shudu would sweep him up in his arms, carrying him like the rare treasure he believed him to be—shielding him from sun, wind, and the chill of mountain air with the diligence of a loyal hound desperate to please.
As they made their slow ascent through the forested path winding up Mount Dingbu, they passed under a gnarled jujube tree heavy with ruby-red fruit. Shudu stopped without hesitation, catching a fallen branch before it slapped against Xue Tuzi's shoulder. "Wait here," he murmured, already reaching up to pluck the ripest clusters. He gathered them in his tunic, the front of his shirt bunched and sagging under the weight.
Biting into one, juice flooded his mouth, tart and honey-sweet. He chewed once, then spat out the pit into the grass with practiced ease. Carefully, he split the fruit, turning to where Tuanzhu peeked out from the folds of Xue Tuzi's robe. Her glossy, jelly-like head bobbed gently with every step Xue Tuzi took, her wide, violet eyes full of curiosity. She loathed being stuffed inside the qiankun pouch and preferred instead to ride nestled against Xue Tuzi's warmth, swinging freely with the movement of his gait.
Shudu approached her with a soft smile. "Here, for my princess," he cooed, offering her the fruit half. She opened her tiny maw, needle-like teeth glinting in the dappled light, and greedily chomped it down. Her soft, bulbous form wiggled in delight.
The other half, warm from his palm, Shudu lifted to Xue Tuzi's lips.
Xue Tuzi blinked, startled, then parted his lips just slightly. Shudu pressed the fruit gently against his mouth. He accepted it, his round eyes locking on to Shudu's face as the sweet juice burst on his tongue. His lashes trembled—soft, long, and damp with morning mist. A single drop of juice trickled down the curve of his lower lip, sliding into the tiny mole that marked the corner like a deliberate beauty mark drawn by fate.
Shudu's gaze lingered there.
Wordlessly, he reached out and brushed the juice away with his thumb, then brought it to his lips, licking it clean with a playful smirk. "Sweet," he said, though he wasn't just talking about the fruit.
Then he took Xue Tuzi's hand—small, pale, and cold—and laced their fingers together. His own were rough and scarred from battle, the contrast striking. He fed him another jujube, and another, eyes never leaving Xue Tuzi's face as he watched him chew with pink cheeks and puffed-out lips.
Meanwhile, Tuanzhu watched. And watched. Her beady eyes crinkled with happiness at first, expectant as she sat with her tiny mouth opened once more. Surely, she thought, her next bite would come soon. But instead, Shudu leaned in and pressed his mouth against Xue Tuzi's, stealing a deep, leisurely kiss that lingered with all the warmth of the jujube between their tongues.
She blinked.
Then her eyes narrowed into furious slits.
With zero hesitation, she bit Xue Tuzi's chest.
"Ah—Tuanzhu!" he gasped, breaking the kiss and jerking back. A small drop of blood welled where her sharp teeth had broken skin.
Shudu sighed as Tuanzhu hissed, flopping over dramatically in a huff. "Jealous, aren't you?" he murmured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another jujube. With a gentle chomp, he bit it in half and spat out the pit.
"For my little girl," he said, extending the plump piece to her, rubbing her cheek with a fingertip.
Tuanzhu, still fuming, narrowed one eye, then flicked her tail with disdain and slapped the fruit from his hand.
Xue Tuzi frowned, voice sharp. "Don't be spoiled. Take it."
She turned to look at him, the mole on his lip stretching as he smiled gently at her. Grumbling, Tuanzhu finally accepted the jujube, chewing resentfully.
"She's turning into a brat," Shudu laughed, pulling Xue Tuzi into a loose side hug and planting a kiss on his forehead. "You coddle her too much."
"She's still small," Xue Tuzi said matter-of-factly.
"Spoiled."
But Tuanzhu, now happily munching, was no longer paying attention. With her belly full, she hopped down from the robe and settled herself between Xue Tuzi and Shudu's joined hands. She swung gently with each step they took forward, her gelatinous body wiggling in delight as the breeze swept past her quivering antennae.
"Careful not to fall," Xue Tuzi said softly, tightening his hold on Shudu's hand just enough to keep her safe between them.
But the moment was shattered.
A sudden clamor rose from further up the path—footsteps, and then a chorus of voices.
"Shu Ge!!"
The group of young demons—men and women alike—came rushing toward them, their faces lit with adoration and excitement. In an instant, Xue Tuzi dropped Shudu's hand. And Tuanzhu fell with a wet plop between them, flailing her little nubs squeaking in protest.
Xue Tuzi's expression suddenly shuttered and turned cold. His eyes narrowed as the crowd swarmed around Shudu, touching his arms, calling his name, smiling too brightly. Xue Tuzi's hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides. His jaw tightened. He said nothing. But the air around him shifted—like a drop in pressure before a storm.
Xue Laohu had watched this exact scene unfold far too many times on their long, arduous journey back to Sect Mount Dingbu. If he had a coin for every dramatic run-in, he would've become filthy rich. Every time it happened—every sighing maiden or blushing young man running up to Shudu with stars in their eyes—he thought: Surely, this is it. The final mission is complete. The system will chime now, surely this one will do it.
But the system never did.
Not even once.
No matter how many times Shudu stumbled upon someone he had once accidentally promised to marry, the story refused to end. And with every encounter, Xue Tuzi's mood turned from mildly sour to volcanic.
They came in droves. Wide-eyed, clutching gifts, recounting tales of how they'd been saved with Shudu's name trembling on their lips. The most common story seemed to be about a demonic spider. Apparently, Shudu had saved no less than forteen different people from some a venomous spider, who was none other than Xiao Zongzi. His partner in crime.
Xue Tuzi would roll his eyes so hard they threatened to disappear into his skull. Arms crossed, lips tight, the tip of one foot tapping dangerously against the dirt path, he'd huff like a kettle nearing boil.
Shudu, the poor fool, would always do the same thing. He'd deny it. "I've never seen this person in my life." He'd grovel, throwing himself at Xue Tuzi's mercy, tail tucked, begging for forgiveness as if he were some pitiful dog who'd run off with the neighbor's and finally come crawling back home.
But this group… this group was different.
They didn't treat Shudu like a heroic savior. They didn't scream or swoon or throw themselves at him with weepy declarations of love. No. These ones were calm. Almost too calm. Their presence was chilling in its unity.
"Shu Gege, you've come back," a soft voice called.
A young man stepped forward, hair braided loosely over one shoulder, eyes the color of blood-orange dusk. He clung to Shudu's arm with quiet familiarity, his voice warm with nostalgia. Shudu blinked, clearly caught off-guard.
Before he could respond, another voice rang out—this one sharper, tinged with a practiced pout.
"Shu Ge, where have you been?" a girl asked, stepping forward with her hands on her hips. Her hair was tied high in a swinging ponytail, the braid thick and precise. The moment she stepped closer, Xue Laohu noticed a detail that unsettled him: they all had braids. Braids of different styles, but unmistakably uniform. And each one had crimson eyes.
"Why haven't you visited?" another chimed in, this time from behind. They circled in, not hostile, but insistent.
Shudu's posture grew rigid. His smile faltered. Slowly, he turned his head—searching.
Xue Tuzi was already walking away, the slope of his back stiff, fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was tight enough to crack bone. He didn't say a word, but his anger clung to the air like mist before a storm. He looked like he was ready to vanish into the trees and never return.
Shudu's heart lurched.
"No," he said suddenly—loudly. His voice rang out over the murmurs of the group. "Wait—Tuzi!"
Before Xue Tuzi could take another step, Shudu had lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, his grip unyielding.
"This is my wife," Shudu declared, turning to face the entire group, voice ringing with finality.
He entwined his fingers with Xue Tuzi's and held his hand high, as if presenting him to the heavens. Xue Tuzi tried to jerk away, his eyes flashing with fury, but Shudu only gripped tighter, refusing to let go.
Meanwhile Tuanzhu lay sprawled on the dirt floor, her round little body upturned like an overturned tortoise, her stubby nubs flailing helplessly in the air. Each desperate wiggle only seemed to dig her deeper into the dirt, her tiny nubs scraping uselessly against the ground. A pitiful, high-pitched whine escaped her as she rocked side to side, her efforts growing more frantic with each failed attempt.
"M-Mamaaa—!" she wailed, her voice trembling with frustration and fear. Tears welled in her big, glossy eyes, streaking down her dusty cheeks as she cried out again.
The sound pierced through Xue Tuzi's angry stupor. His ears twitched, his mind snapping to attention at the distress in her voice. In an instant, he was moving, his angry demeanor shattered as he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest.
"Tuanzhu," he murmured, brushing the dirt from her carapace with quick, worried strokes. Her tiny body trembled against him, her nubs clutching at his sleeves as if afraid he'd let go.
"I'm sorry, little one," Xue Tuzi murmured softly, cradling the gelatinous Gu worm in his palms. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her round, jelly-like head, the translucent skin of her body pulsing faintly beneath his touch. Tuanzhu gave a low, satisfied trill, her stubby limbs relaxing slightly—but her eyes, narrowed slits of lingering resentment, still glared past him.
Xue Tuzi turned his head sharply, shooting a scathing look over his shoulder—directly at Shudu. It was the kind of look that could freeze molten lava. A look that said: This is your fault.
Shudu flinched as if struck, visibly wilting under the weight of Xue Tuzi's wrath. He straightened awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, eyes darting nervously between Xue Tuzi and the still-pouting Tuanzhu.
Then, as if to salvage the moment, Shudu blurted out again, "My wife and child," puffing his chest with sudden, misplaced pride.
Before Xue Tuzi could react, Shudu slithered his arms around his waist, nuzzling close like a scolded dog trying to win back affection. His voice dropped to a warm, coaxing murmur. "My beloved and our precious daughter…"