A violent tremor shook the silken cocoon, followed by the sound of ripping fabric. With a final, desperate wrench, Xue Tuzi tore his way through the layers of suffocating, soul-silk threads. He stumbled forward, gasping the free, cold air, his body aching his hair matted with a grimy, translucent residue. Sticky filaments clung to him like spectral fingers reluctant to release their prey, he wiped a hand across his face, clearing the viscous film from his eyes. The open wound on his abdomen had knit itself shut, thanks to the diligent work of the Gu worm. Nothing was left but a stark, twisted scar and a rust-colored stain of dried blood.
His gaze, sharp and frantic, swept the forest—and froze.
There, lounging upon a throne of woven tree roots was Ye Hu. The sight was a physical blow, stealing the breath from Xue Tuzi's lungs. His heart hammered against his ribs, a trapped bird beating against a cage of bone.
"How?" The word was a choked stammer, torn from a throat tight with disbelief. His eyes, wide and horrified, drank in the impossible scene. "I saw you die… How are you still alive?"
Ye Hu's response was not a mere laugh. It was a loud, billowing sound that seemed to originate from the shadows themselves. Slowly, deliberately, he rose from his seat. His imposing figure uncoiled to its full, menacing height, casting a long, predatory shadow that stretched across the ground to touch Xue Tuzi's boots.
He was a monument to corrupted power. The picturesque image of the ethereal, jade-skinned cultivator was utterly annihilated. In its place stood a monster. His skin was deathly pale, like marble veined with old poison, stretched taut over sharp, brutal bones. His lips pulled back in a smirk, revealing long, needle-sharp fangs that gleamed with a bead of viscous, violet ooze. His hair, once flowing like a waterfall of night, was now pulled taut and bound into a single, severe braid that fell like a serpent down his back.
And then there were the wings. They unfolded from his shoulders with a soft, leathery rustle, vast and terrifying. They seemed to be crafted from a tapestry of torment, the membrane a mosaic of frozen, petrified faces. Dozens of them, their features locked in a silent, eternal scream, their eyes vacant pools of terror. The colors shifted in the dim light—here the ashen grey of a forgotten elder, there the waxy pallor of a young disciple—a grisly gallery of his victims.
His eyes, pits of glinting darkness, finally settled on Xue Tuzi, and the smirk widened.
"Xiao Tuzi," Ye Hu's voice was a low, corrosive purr, dripping with mock endearment. "Did you honestly believe I would ever relinquish my own life?"
Ye Hu sneered, the words dripping with condescension as he closed the distance between them. Each step was a deliberate, predatory advance. He extended a hand, the air crackling around it, and sharp, obsidian claws retracted with a series of sickeningly soft clicks as he cracked his knuckles. The scent of frost and decay rolled off him in waves. "I merely… regressed." He scoffed, the term a gross understatement for the monstrous transformation he had undergone. He finally settled directly in front of Xue Tuzi, so close that the he could see the faint, spider-web cracks in Ye Hu's deathly pale skin.
A cold dread solidified in Xue Tuzi's gut. His fingers moved with a swift, practiced motion, firmly pressing the squirming Tuanzhu into the safety of his qiankun pouch. The little Gu worm let out a final, indignant squeak before the seal snapped shut, silencing her protests. His other hand clutched the silken ribbon hidden in his palm, its familiar texture a small anchor in the rising storm. He met Ye Hu's gaze, his own eyes narrowing into a deadly, unwavering look of pure loathing.
Ye Hu leaned in, his voice dropping to a intimate, venomous murmur that slithered directly into Xue Tuzi's ear. "Though I must confess, I still wish to take you—"
The sentence was left hanging, severed as Xue Tuzi exploded into motion. He delivered a ferocious, high-arching kick aimed squarely at Ye Hu's temple. The demon merely tilted his head with an infuriating, casual grace, the lethal blow whistling harmlessly through empty air. He stepped back, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he watched Xue Tuzi's brows furrow in fury, his chest heaving.
"Pity," Ye Hu mocked, "Your spiritual core is a rare delicacy. A beacon of pure energy that both cultivators and demons would wage wars to possess. An essence so potent…" He let the implication hang in the air before releasing a deep sigh.
"I still have a use for you, Xioa Tuzi. In fact, I am feeling magnanimous. I am even willing to forgive your treacherous, wanton little heart, and your… affiliation… with that bastard demon."
A guttural growl ripped from Xue Tuzi's throat. "I'd rather die than become your tool!" he spat, and launched himself forward.
The clearing became a blur of motion. Over a hundred blows were exchanged in the span of a few heartbeats—a flurry of jabs, kicks, and blocks so fast they were little more than afterimages. The air itself trembled with the force of their collisions, a percussive symphony of violence. They were a maelstrom of fury and power, neither willing to cede an inch.
Then, a devastating punch broke through Xue Tuzi's guard. It landed across his jaw with a sickening crunch, the force lifting him from his feet and sending him flying backward. He twisted in mid-air, using his heels to gouge twin trenches in the earth, skidding to a shuddering halt just inches from smashing into the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree. Pain bloomed hot and sharp along his face. He wiped at the corner of his mouth, his hand coming away stained with crimson. He flinched at the metallic taste, his expression one of pure disgust, and spat a glob of blood onto the ground between them.
"I'd rather die," he repeated, his voice a raw, bloody scrape of defiance, "than become your tool."
A flicker of impatience, cold and sharp, crossed Ye Hu's features. "So be it," he hissed, the words slithering through the air. "A broken tool can still be useful; I can always make it work for me!"
He lunged, his extended claws becoming a blur of lethal darkness aimed directly at Xue Tuzi's chest, seeking to tear through flesh and bone to claim the prize within. Xue Tuzi twisted aside with the last dregs of his agility, the eviscerating strike missing its mark but shredding the front of his silken robes to ribbons. The tattered fabric fell away, baring his heaving chest to the now cold night air. A single, perfect trickle of scarlet began a slow, deliberate path down the pale skin of his abdomen.
With a predator's relish, Ye Hu brought a bloodied claw to his lips. His tongue, unnaturally long and dark, darted out to clean the crimson droplet, his eyes locked on him. Xue Tuzi could only stand there, panting, the truth a lead weight in his gut. The soul-silk cocoon had sapped most of his Qi; each breath was a struggle, each movement a drain on his dwindling reserves. He was fighting on borrowed time, and they both knew it. To continue was to dance on the edge of a cliff, guaranteeing a fall into Ye Hu's clutches.
Yet, surrender was not in his nature. Their brutal dance resumed. With a flick of his wrist, Xue Tuzi sent his silken ribbon whistling through the air, a silver serpent seeking to ensnare or lash. But Ye Hu was a phantom, his movements a taunting blur, effortlessly evading every strike. A few lowly insect demons, emboldened by the spectacle or seeking their master's favor, foolishly dove into the fray. They became mere casualties, dispatched by Xue Tuzi's desperate, whipping ribbon in a series of sickening crunches and brief, silenced shrieks.
Ye Hu's brows furrowed in distaste. "Back off!" he demanded not even glancing at the fallen. "This is my fight. My prize. If you value your wretched lives, scram."
The remaining insect demons needed no further warning. They valued their pitiful lives enough to nod frantically before scattering into the night, fleeing toward the distant, still-blazing sect grounds.
Spitting a mouthful of coppery blood onto the earth, Ye Hu turned his full, undivided attention back to Xue Tuzi, a wicked smile twisting his features. He moved like a thunderclap. One moment he was steps away, the next he had slammed into Xue Tuzi, driving him hard into the ground. The impact drove the air from the other's lungs. Before he could even gasp, searing agony erupted in his shoulders as Ye Hu's claws sank deep, pinning him to the earth like a rare butterfly. Rivulets of warm blood began to seep down, staining his pale skin and the torn robes beneath.
"Give up," Ye Hu spat, leaning close, his weight immense. He twisted his claws, sinking them deeper, and a strangled groan was torn from Xue Tuzi's throat. His brow furrowed against the blinding pain, his body trembling with the effort to resist, to not scream.
But it was not a scream that came. Through gritted teeth, his voice raw with more than just physical anguish, Xue Tuzi forced out the question that had been festering in his heart, the truth he needed more than he needed air. "Tell me the truth…" he gasped, his eyes blazing with a final, desperate fire. "All that kindness you showed me… the guidance, the protection… Was that all for show? A performance? Did you always intend to use me?"
Ye Hu's monstrous form seemed to still, the glinting darkness in his eyes flickering with something unreadable. The hesitation was a mere crack in his terrifying facade, but it was there. "That night," he began, his voice a low, "If you had never left… you would be standing by my side even now, compliant, powerful… mine." A long, theatrical sigh escaped him, a puff of frost in the charged air. "But here you are, defiant to the last. Xiao Tuzi, always so determined to chew through his Gege's hand."
Xue Tuzi's fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his own palms, drawing pinpricks of blood. "I'd be praising a false hero," he spat, the words laced with a venom. "I was never anything more to you than a vessel. A prized jar to be filled and then shattered for your gain!" He didn't know if his body trembled from the agony searing through his shoulders or the pure, incandescent rage that burned in his chest, but he harnessed every last spark of it. With a guttural cry, he mustered a surge of desperate strength, lunging forward to deliver a savage headbutt directly to Ye Hu's face.
The crack of the impact was sickeningly solid. Ye Hu staggered back, a line of crimson now welling from a gash on his forehead. He touched the wound, his fingers coming away stained, and a dark, appreciative smile touched his lips as he looked at the blood. "At the time," he admitted, his tone almost conversational, "my cultivation was inferior. Stunted. I wasn't even aware of the treasure you carried within you." He brought his bloody fingers to his mouth, cleaning them with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue, his eyes never leaving Xue Tuzi. "It wasn't until I made my pact… until I embraced the true depth of my power… that my senses were opened. And I realized how truly, profoundly special you were."
"A spiritual core like yours is a celestial event, born only once in a millennium. Pure, untainted, a fountain of primordial power." His voice dropped to a covetous whisper. "Of course I coveted it. What true cultivator wouldn't? I wanted to drain that brilliant energy, to make every last drop of it my own."
He threw his head back and let out a loud, echoing laugh that seemed to shake the very leaves from the trees. He wiped the fresh blood dripping into his eye, his gaze returning to Xue Tuzi with a hunger that was both spiritual and deeply, unsettlingly physical.
"Not to mention," he purred, "it was attached to such a devastatingly pretty face."
They surged forward simultaneously, their forms dissolving into another whirlwind of violence. More than a hundred blows were exchanged in a heartbeat, each strike as swift and deadly as a passing wind, the sound of their collision a rapid, percussive beat. But Xue Tuzi was fading. His steps became uncoordinated, his feet stumbling over roots and rubble. His vision began to blur at the edges, darkening as Ye Hu released a thick, cloying miasma that burned his lungs with every ragged breath. He coughed violently, the convulsion causing his hand to spasm and lose its grip on his silken ribbon.
It was the opening Ye Hu needed.
In a blur of motion, he closed the distance, slamming Xue Tuzi back against the gnarled trunk of a petrified tree. Before Xue Tuzi could even gasp, Ye Hu spat a stream of thick, adhesive silk, binding his arms and torso tightly to the bark, entombing him in a cruel parody of the cocoon he had just escaped. Xue Tuzi struggled, attempting a desperate kick, but his resistance was futile against the binding threads.
Ye Hu leaned in, his claws tracing a delicate, terrifying line around the circumference of Xue Tuzi's chest, shredding the last of his robes to fully expose the smooth, unmarred skin over his sternum. "I only need the core," Ye Hu murmured, his voice a chilling caress. "There is no need for the vessel to walk away."
With brutal finality, he sank his claws deep into Xue Tuzi's thigh. An agonized scream, raw and unrestrained, was torn from his throat, echoing through the desolate forest.
It was this specific distress a resonance of pure agony, that finally spurred the tiny Gu worm sealed within the qiankun pouch into a desperate, irreversible action.
From within the enchanted bag, a frantic, scrabbling energy erupted. Tuanzhu gnawed with a feral desperation at the spiritual seams of her prison. With a final, shredding pull, she burst free—a minuscule, silvery bolt of pure loyalty.
In a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow, she launched herself through the air, her body coiling and striking like a living whip. She sank her needle-like fangs, sharp enough to pierce immortal steel, deep into the back of Ye Hu's bloodied hand.
A jolt of surprise and searing pain shot up the demon's arm. "Maggot!" he spat, the word a venomous curse. He retracted his maimed hand from Xue Tuzi's leg, his other claw rising to swat the insignificant pest into a pulp of gore and chitin.
He flung her but not into oblivion, but directly into the waiting, cupped hands of an approaching figure who had materialized from the swirling miasma like a vengeful ghost.
Before Ye Hu could even process the interruption, before his snarling focus could return to sinking his claws into Xue Tuzi's other leg, the world dissolved into a single, perfect arc of silver light.
It was not a wild swing, but a surgical strike. A sword, cut through the charged air. There was no roar of energy, no deafening clap of thunder—only a clean, sharp shing that seemed to sever the very tension in the clearing. The blade passed through Ye Hu's outstretched arm, just below the shoulder.
Blah Blah Blah:
This was suppose to be the final chapter but I wrote too much so the grand finally will be in the next chapter followed by an Epilogue.