TBR CH15

When Wusu saw Gu Shishu, Gu Shishu also saw him.

The Fox King had a pair of eerie golden eyes, his pupils now vertical, betraying a hint of wariness.

Gu Shishu always felt that he didn’t quite resemble a fox—but like what exactly? It was hard to say. After all, the bloodlines within the Yao clan were heavily mixed; who could really tell?

It was Wusu who spoke first. Here, he was a guest, but the host showed no inclination to welcome him.

But demons were like that—unconcerned with relationships, reason, or courtesy. Let alone Gu Shishu, who was not just a demon, but the Demon Lord.

The attendant who had led Wusu here withdrew quietly, leaving him standing alone in the vast hall. The Fox King took a subtle glance around the Demon Palace, then attempted to probe Gu Shishu’s cultivation level. As expected, his spiritual sense was completely obliterated upon contact.

Gu Shishu had grown even more powerful.

Wusu directly voiced his thoughts:

“It has been a long time. The Demon Lord’s cultivation has once again made great strides.”

Only then did Gu Shishu seem to truly acknowledge his presence. Those dark, abyssal pupils of his finally reflected the golden slits of the Fox King.

The Demon Lord curled his lips into a lazy smile.

“The Fox King seems to be doing well too. Your complexion looks much better than before.”

This was utter nonsense.

Because Gu Shishu truly didn’t think Wusu’s cultivation had improved much.

In fact, that itself was rather odd. The Fox King had once been an unparalleled prodigy, an exceptionally gifted talent—enough to unify the entire Demon Realm. If he had truly reached a bottleneck, then breaking through must be exceptionally difficult.

At present, he remained the strongest among the Demon, but at this rate, any up-and-coming challenger might soon pose a real threat.

Wusu noticed the strange look in Gu Shishu’s eyes and immediately understood—the Demon Lord must have sensed his stagnation.

If someone had dared point this out within his own territory, Wusu would have had them dragged off for a slow and painful demise while he watched with amusement. But here, in the Demon Palace, facing the Demon Lord, he did not have that luxury.

Suppressing his irritation and frustration, the Fox King’s tone noticeably cooled:

“The Demon Lord flatters me… Now, where is Fu Tingxue being held? I wish to see him first.”

Gu Shishu had the urge to toy with him.

Still smiling, he prodded at Wusu’s patience:

“Why the rush, Fox King? Could it be… that you don’t trust me?”

What a joke.

Neither of them trusted the other.

Yet Wusu didn’t take the bait. As the ruler of the Yao, he was accustomed to provocation, and though it irked him, it was not enough to make him lose composure.

“If even the leverage is hidden away, how am I to see any sincerity from the Demon Lord? If I were to trust so easily, I wouldn’t be Wusu, the ruler of the Yao.”

Gu Shishu considered this.

He was truly eager to see Fu Tingxue fall.

“Very well.”

The Demon Lord extended a hand—not for a handshake, but as a gesture to follow.

“You are a guest, I am the host. It would be improper to keep a guest waiting. Come with me to the dungeon.”

Wusu hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward.

What could be more satisfying than seeing one’s sworn enemy utterly ruined—on the brink of death?

Gu Shishu did not allow the Fox King to get too close, but Wusu could already confirm that the prisoner was indeed Fu Tingxue.

The very Sword Sovereign who had once stood under the dim heavens and driven his blade into Wusu’s body—

Now reduced to this.

A prisoner shackled in a dark, confined space, unable to move.

Wusu could feel his blood boiling.

In the shadows of the dungeon, his murky golden eyes gleamed with an unholy light. His lips twitched slightly—almost trembling with excitement.

His long-awaited vengeance was so close.

But before he exacted it, he wanted this once-proud celestial to suffer, to be utterly broken, to shatter his sword’s spirit—to destroy everything that defined him.

The old wound carved by Fu Tingxue’s blade suddenly felt less painful than ever before, as if it had never even existed. A swelling exhilaration filled Wusu’s chest.

There were other ways to rid himself of the lingering cold poison left behind by that sword wound, but they were too difficult, too costly.

Better to destroy the sword itself.

Better to destroy the one who wielded it.

Then the affliction haunting his body would vanish along with them.

Driven by this thought, Wusu stepped forward, eager to approach the bloodstained figure in the corner of the cell—

Only to be stopped by Gu Shishu’s outstretched arm.

The Demon Lord’s pupils were pitch-black. Though his lips still held a smile, his eyes were utterly indifferent.

“Fox King, you should know the rules of hospitality—guests must respect their host.”

Wusu’s expression did not change. He refused to take his eyes off Fu Tingxue.

Yet the Sword Sovereign never even looked his way.

It was as if he felt nothing beneath Wusu’s burning, ravenous gaze.

“What does the Demon Lord want?” Wusu finally asked.

“If it is within my power, I will grant it. But first, let me—”

Gu Shishu’s gaze turned icy cold. The dark aura emanating from him finally made the Fox King wary, forcing him to recognize his own misstep.

When Wusu turned back toward Gu Shishu, the beast-like greed and cunning in his eyes had not yet faded.

“I am waiting to make a deal, Fox King. You have inspected the goods—taking them without paying is not the next step.”

At last, Wusu snapped out of it.

He had been too reckless.

To openly covet the Demon Lord’s prize on his own turf—even if they shared a common enemy—was far too dangerous.

Gu Shishu’s invitation was an offer to share the spoils.

Why rush? Why hand over an advantage by being too eager?

With a deep breath, Wusu steadied himself and forced a practiced smile onto his lips.

“How could I ever doubt the Demon Lord?” he said smoothly. “It is merely that my hatred for this man runs too deep—I lost myself for a moment. Whatever the Demon Lord has planned, I will accompany him to the end.”

“Good.”

Seeing Wusu finally regain control, Gu Shishu’s tone relaxed slightly.

“No need for excessive courtesy between us. Tonight, I have prepared a banquet—I hope the Fox King will do me the honor of attending. These matters… require careful planning.”

Before leaving the Yao Realm, Wusu had already arranged for his subordinates to handle affairs in his absence. He had no reason to decline.

Besides—

He wanted more time to savor his vengeance.

“Then I shall accept the Demon Lord’s hospitality.”

Demon and Yao—the two supreme rulers of their respective realms—stood side by side, calmly discussing the fate of the celestial prisoner before them.

Having reached a tentative agreement, Gu Shishu suddenly felt a flicker of curiosity.

What was Fu Tingxue thinking, at this very moment?

Just now, when he saw the Fox King staring intently at the Sword Sovereign in the corner, Gu Shishu felt an intense, inexplicable discomfort. And when Wusu took a step closer, Gu Shishu felt an even stronger sense of territorial violation.

At this moment, he even found himself displeased with Fu Tingxue.

Not with him—but with his posture.

Since this was all an act, they had not arranged for Fu Tingxue to appear overly submissive. Yet, seeing him leaning weakly against the walls of the dungeon, shackled, eyes lowered—Gu Shishu’s fingers twitched slightly, an unfamiliar urge rising within him—an urge to destroy something.

He himself found it rather inexplicable.

But he didn’t want to see Fu Tingxue like this—and even more than that, he didn’t want anyone else to see it.

Thus, the Fox King’s first visit to the prisoner was cut short—even sooner than they had originally planned.

Powerful figures often have an inherent desire to dominate the weak, especially those who rule over others, wielding absolute power over life and death.

Gu Shishu had defeated many enemies before—enemies who once stood high above others, only to fall at his feet. Watching them disgraced, ruined—that had always been part of his spoils of war.

He was a demon—he took pleasure in such cruel amusements.

Gu Shishu could only chalk it up to an obsession left from centuries ago, something that continued to influence his actions without him realizing it—a mere habit, perhaps.

For instance—right now.

Wusu walked ahead, but just before leaving the dungeon, Gu Shishu turned back.

His gaze fell upon the figure clad in dust-stained white robes.

In that moment, Fu Tingxue—who had kept his gaze lowered all along—finally lifted his eyes.

For a brief instant, their eyes met.

Just a fleeting moment—less than a second.

No humiliation. No suppression.

Only the same eyes he had always known.

Perhaps Fu Tingxue hadn’t expected to be caught staring—he hesitated slightly before turning his head away.

Gu Shishu suddenly felt a strange sense of déjà vu.

Hadn’t this happened before—many, many times?

Had he really forgotten?

The expectation placed upon him had come from Gu Shishu of centuries past.

When he first entered Qingcheng Sect, he had not yet realized that he was born with a demonic body. But the moment he lost control for the first time—when he discovered, to his despair, that he could not suppress the strange aura within him—everything changed.

That was when he first understood—his very existence was a sin.

The so-called righteous cultivators whispered behind his back, wondering how the Sword Sovereign could have taken in such a cursed disciple.

The elders of Qingcheng Sect, once impartial, now pointed at him, declaring:

“If this child is not eradicated, he will surely become a great calamity.”

Then came the divine judgment—

Eighty-one strikes of heavenly tribulation.

Each one lethal.

In the end, he lowered his sword—standing beneath the pitch-black sky, watching as the final bolt of divine lightning came crashing down.

His body was drained of all strength, even the ability to lift a single finger.

In his pitch-black pupils, the blinding white of the thunder filled his vision.

I’m sorry.

It looks like I won’t be able to drink pear blossom wine with you next spring.

But Gu Shishu did not regret it.

Yes, he had a demonic body, but he had never once lost control and hurt another—even when doing so meant enduring excruciating agony, forcing himself to resist the violent nature etched into his very being.

Not once had he forgotten who he was.

He was Fu Tingxue’s disciple.

He was the first disciple of Qingcheng Sect.

If one misstep would bring shame upon his master, then he would not take it.

Fu Tingxue was noble and untouchable.

Fu Tingxue had unparalleled swordsmanship.

Fu Tingxue’s name should remain unsullied.

Fu Tingxue.

Fu Tingxue.

Fu Tingxue.

If his very existence was a sin, then dying here was not such a bad ending.

But then—

He saw that blade of Clear Frost.

He froze.

He had been waiting to die in silence, resigning himself to his final fate—

As a righteous cultivator, as a disciple of Qingcheng Sect, who had never harmed another.

But someone did not want him to die.

And that someone descended upon him like a deity.

Qingcheng Sword Sovereign—Fu Tingxue.

His sword was faster than the heavens’ judgment.

But the final bolt of heavenly tribulation was not meant to spare its target—

It was meant to annihilate anyone it struck, reducing them to nothingness.

Fu Tingxue intervened—and for the first time, the immortal being before him wavered.

The Sword Sovereign—who had always stood aloof, untouchable—

Was forced to his knees.

A single knee pressed against the rain-soaked ground.

One hand propped against his cheek—shoulders trembling.

The silver of his eyelashes fluttered faintly, like the wings of a butterfly.

Then—

Blood seeped through his fingertips.

Drop by drop—

Scattering before Gu Shishu.

Disappearing into the wet earth.

Gu Shishu hated this moment.

He hated it for many years.

Perhaps even centuries.

And today—one hundred years later—

He realized that he still had not forgotten.

He did not want to look at it.

Just like back then—

When he had given Fu Tingxue his final blessing.

“I hope you will remain forever untouchable.”