TBR CH14

“…Will this work?”

Fu Tingxue extended his hands, between his frost-pale wrists stretched a delicate shackle, its surface engraved with intricate runes. The chain disappeared behind the back of his neck, restricting his movements.

This was the Immortal-Binding Chain, a restraint that any knowledgeable cultivator would never mistake for a mere rope. When placed upon a cultivator, it could suppress their entire cultivation.

Of course, this was not exactly an Immortal-Binding Chain.

Gu Shishu had modified it.

Perhaps no one in the cultivation world had ever considered reversing a restraining artifact into a harmless ornament.

Maybe because the idea was too unorthodox, implementing it was surprisingly straightforward.

Gu Shishu narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Fu Tingxue. The overall effect was rather satisfactory. The immortal appeared truly constrained, like a lone crane ensnared in a net, no matter how much it struggled, unable to escape.

Of course, in reality, he could escape.

Fu Tingxue had initially suggested using a real Immortal-Binding Chain—it would be less likely to arouse suspicion. But Gu Shishu believed that any cultivator faced with the prospect of losing their cultivation would experience nothing but a profound sense of powerlessness.

The cost was too great. No justification could make up for it.

Besides—Gu Shishu’s gaze darkened slightly—if Fu Tingxue truly lost his cultivation, was he not concerned for his own safety?

If the Demon Lord wished to kill a powerless mortal, it would take less than a second.

His complete lack of wariness irked Gu Shishu for some reason.

The current setup was better. The seemingly trapped immortal lowered his gaze, yet his sword intent remained undiminished—Qing Shuang, the clear frost sword, concealed within his spiritual consciousness, ready to be drawn at any moment.

Anyone who dared attempt to seize or defile him would likely find themselves cut down instead.

Gu Shishu nodded. He shifted slightly, his voice low and raspy:

“Mm. Just a bit more disguise, and it will be perfect.”

The disguise itself was not difficult—deep, bloody wounds, a nearly extinguished aura. Gu Shishu almost felt like they were bullying their target.

A Demon Lord and a Sword Sovereign, conspiring together to craft an illusion—

It sounded ridiculous.

Which was precisely why it would be convincing.

“Does it hurt?”

Gu Shishu adjusted Fu Tingxue’s posture slightly, his fingertips pressing through a layer of fabric onto the immortal’s shoulder. It was merely a casual touch, but Fu Tingxue tensed ever so slightly.

Gu Shishu realized the gesture was a bit inappropriate—the distance between them too close.

Even after all these years, Fu Tingxue’s body was still as cool as ever.

Without a sound, Gu Shishu withdrew his hand from the immortal’s shoulder.

Fu Tingxue gave a slight shake of his head, indicating that he was not particularly uncomfortable.

Then he lifted his gaze to meet Gu Shishu’s.

At this moment, their positions seemed utterly unequal—like a true prisoner before a victorious conqueror.

The Sword Sovereign appeared stripped of his immortal grace, leaning weakly against the prison wall, his robes stained with blood—some of it seeping into his frost-white hair. There was a kind of breathtaking, shattered beauty to him, as if a priceless jade had fractured.

He looked utterly defenseless.

Not just because of the chains coiled around his wrists and neck, but also the heavy shackles that bound his ankles, adding to the illusion of helpless captivity.

If one concentrated, they would hear the faint rise and fall of his breathing, utterly devoid of any sharpness or aggression.

Gu Shishu studied him in silence for a long moment.

Then he laughed.

“…What is it?”

Fu Tingxue, who in reality could shatter these restraints at will, had played the part so well that the restrained immortal’s eyes now carried a flicker of confusion.

“Nothing,” Gu Shishu said. “I just remembered when you first arrived.”

Finding the power dynamic slightly off, he leaned in, lowering himself to eye level with Fu Tingxue, allowing him to see the subtle hues in the immortal’s irises more clearly.

“You laughed at me for saying I would imprison you.”

His voice carried an amused lilt.

“And yet now, it’s you who suggested this entire plan.”

—”Is the Demon Lord not going to imprison me?”

Fu Tingxue pressed his lips together, as if recalling his own words.

Gu Shishu was actually thinking—since when had this aloof and untouchable Sword Sovereign learned to lie so effortlessly?

His performance was remarkable.

Gu Shishu had never noticed such a talent in him before.

But the question itself was too intrusive.

Then again, intrusion was also a form of intimacy.

So when Fu Tingxue asked, he offered an offhand remark, a fleeting thought that had just crossed his mind.

What he had not expected—

Was that for the first time, Fu Tingxue seemed… unsure how to respond.

The immortal who now sat before him, seemingly shattered, was in truth unshaken. His sword intent, like the frost and snow, remained utterly unaffected.

Yet at Gu Shishu’s teasing words, that icy lake of his eyes rippled, faintly disturbed.

Gu Shishu froze for a moment.

A bold thought crossed his mind.

…Was he embarrassed?

A mere slip in conversation, a careless jest tying two separate moments together—

And yet, Fu Tingxue reacted.

But upon closer inspection, there was indeed a fleeting hint of embarrassment and irritation in his eyes—like a pale-colored petal falling upon the center of a frozen lake.

That faint hue overlapped inexplicably with a certain shade he remembered from a hundred years ago.

Gu Shishu’s thoughts wavered. It felt as if that petal, light and ephemeral, had not only drifted into Fu Tingxue’s gaze but also spread through his own heart, leaving behind an unclear and indistinct emotion.

He was just about to speak—”You—”

But then, he saw Fu Tingxue’s gaze sharpen, that brief moment of softness vanishing in an instant.

The immortal slightly turned his head. Though behind him was nothing but a dark, rough wall, his eyes seemed to pierce through it, focusing on something far beyond.

Gu Shishu sensed it as well.

The Demon Realm had an unexpected visitor.

The Fox King, Wusu, had arrived—openly releasing his aura.

Gu Shishu and Fu Tingxue were not the only ones who noticed Wusu’s arrival. Shen Nian and his system sensed it too.

By this time, the night was deep. The young, beautiful child of fate had endured another day of ruthless physical training. Now, lying on his bed, half-asleep and utterly exhausted, he was suddenly startled awake by the blaring alarm in his mind.

The system gave him no time to recover, its usual mechanical voice now bordering on an outright shriek.

“Host! Host! A previous target has approached! You must figure out the situation immediately—whatever you do, do NOT be seen!”

“Who?” Shen Nian asked instinctively.

“Your previous conquest—the Fox King, Wusu!”

For a moment, he didn’t react. Then, as he registered the words, his face turned deathly pale, and he stammered,

“N-No… Explain clearly! Wasn’t the problem supposed to be the Human Emperor?”

After days of mental preparation, Shen Nian had convinced himself that Jing Qianshan would never find the Demon Palace. Even if he saw the empty estate, he wouldn’t immediately suspect anything. Most importantly—right now, he had a bigger fish on the hook.

Shen Nian understood priorities, but he still couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of his previous conquests.

He had always been greedy.

Yet he never expected that not only was the Human Emperor searching for him—now even the Fox King had come knocking.

“How did he know I was here…?”

Shen Nian murmured to himself. Then, a terrible realization struck him. His eyes widened in panic, hope flashing desperately across his face.

“System,” he inhaled sharply, his voice trembling, “he… he’s not here for me, right?”

For the first time, the system gave him a somewhat reassuring answer.

“No signs indicate that the illusionary retreat has been tampered with. The Fox King is likely unaware of the truth.”

The excuse Shen Nian had used on Jing Qianshan was that he was suffering from a terminal illness and needed to retreat to a secluded place, away from his lover, to recover. But with Wusu, he had to be far more careful—after all, the Fox King was skilled in medicine and poisons.

Thus, he had taken a different approach.

He had used a borrowed body—one with an inherent flaw in its spiritual core, hand-picked by the system. With this fragile vessel, he had played the part of a tragic yet resilient lover, allowing Wusu to gradually discover his “hidden illness.”

A fractured spiritual sea—a defect that required decades of secluded cultivation within an ancient formation to mend.

Wusu had meticulously gathered the rare treasures needed for the healing array, arranged a secret and impenetrable retreat, and finally, with great reluctance, kissed his beloved goodbye—promising to wait for the day they could reunite.

Thus, Shen Nian fled completely and cleanly.

As long as Wusu still loved him, he would never question whether Shen Nian was still inside that closed retreat.

He had no way to verify it.

Confirming that his illusion hadn’t been exposed, Shen Nian finally exhaled in relief.

He asked the system anxiously, “Then why is he here? How long is he staying? Should I avoid going outside for the next few days?”

The system was not omniscient—it didn’t know Wusu’s exact intentions either.

After a brief pause, it simply advised,

“Host, you must immediately figure out why the Fox King has come. At the same time—you must NOT let him see your face.”

For the first time, Shen Nian felt that his “Irresistible Charm” was becoming a liability.

Because under its beautification effect, his appearance automatically adjusted to match the ideal beauty in the eyes of those who beheld him.

Meaning—no matter how much he tried to disguise himself, if Wusu so much as caught a glimpse, he would immediately recognize him as his beloved Nian Nian.

This realization sent a fresh wave of panic surging through him. Desperate to avoid the problem, he muttered,

“…Maybe I should just stay inside…”

The system interrupted him immediately.

“Host, you must NOT make the Fox King suspicious—and even more importantly, you must NOT make the Demon Lord suspicious.”

Over the past few days, Shen Nian had devoted himself fully to conquering Gu Shishu. Everything was going smoothly—the Demon Lord had already showered him with rare treasures and wealth, filling an entire chamber with gold and gems.

This was the perfect time to press forward and take full advantage of the momentum. If he suddenly stopped appearing…

Wouldn’t that be even more suspicious?

The Human Emperor, the Fox King, and the Demon Lord—the difficulty of each conquest had increased progressively. But according to the system’s hierarchy, it was not just a simple matter of difficulty ranking.

The Fox King was far more important than the Human Emperor.

And the Demon Lord—capturing his heart would bring greater rewards than both of the previous conquests combined.

Shen Nian had never questioned why. But he had weighed the benefits.

Even though he was panicking, he understood the priorities the system was emphasizing.

“…What if I pretend to be sick?”

The moment this thought crossed his mind, he realized it was useless.

The Demon Lord would almost certainly invite Wusu to examine him.

And Wusu, with his medical expertise, would easily expose the lie.

Shen Nian bit down hard on his lip, the pain keeping his thoughts clear.

No—the situation was not that dire yet.

Gu Shishu was falling for him.

And Wusu… Wusu was deeply devoted to him.

Neither of them had reason to doubt him yet.

They might not even mention him.

There had to be a way. There was always a way.

After all—he was the child of fate, blessed with a golden finger.

Taking a deep breath, Shen Nian slowly calmed down.

But still—if the worst-case scenario did happen—if he was recognized, if his deception unraveled—

If he had to choose…

Who to abandon, who to sacrifice…

The answer was obvious.

It wasn’t even a question.