TBR CH35

5. Formation of the Bond

Having shared a drink, the two who were about to become Dao companions were now ready to proceed with the main ritual.

In the cultivation world, Dao companion ceremonies vary greatly, with the bonds formed between individuals differing in strength. Some carefree cultivators opt for bonds that are less restrictive, allowing them to part ways more easily and move on to the next partner without much hindrance.

Naturally, the contract chosen by the Demon Lord and the Immortal Lord was the highest-tier bond, known as the Tongxin Contract, which used heart’s blood as the medium. Once established, this contract was irreversible, linking the two from the depths of their souls and intertwining their fates.

Fundamentally, the materials required were not complex, nor did the contract demand spiritual power from either party. It was said that in ancient times, a Dragon Sovereign once formed this contract with a mere mortal. What the Tongxin Contract truly required was complete and utter sincerity—without absolute devotion, the title of Dao companion would not take hold.

It was rumored that some couples, upon attempting the contract, discovered they were unable to complete it and had to settle for a less demanding Dao companion bond. Among them, some eventually succeeded after years of companionship, while others became estranged partners—remaining together in name only, yet emotionally distant.

Fu Tingxue’s lips curled slightly into a smile. His smile was truly captivating, radiant like the moon.

“Demon Lord, please proceed.”

The immortal activated his spiritual sense, and a faint sting arose in his heart as he extracted a single drop of heart’s blood. That drop of crimson, resembling a red agate, traveled along his meridians until it finally reached its destination with a faint cough from Fu Tingxue.

The Immortal Lord reached out and gently brushed his own blood-red lips, letting the blood bead rest upon his frost-white fingertips. The contrast—such pure whiteness against a droplet of red—was striking, reminiscent of a lone plum blossom on snow.

Gu Shishu hesitated not in the slightest. Unlike human blood, his was the deep black of the demon race, dark as ink.

Under the guidance of their spiritual power, the two distinct blood droplets gradually fused together. Bathed in the vast celestial light, they simultaneously recited the incantation in their hearts. Though initially a blend of vermillion red and obsidian black, the merging blood ultimately took on a lustrous, translucent gold.

The guests, who had been holding their breath, finally exhaled in relief.

This was the critical moment. The transformation of the blood into a unified hue signified that their emotions had withstood the trial of the Tongxin Contract. At this instant, the contract had been successfully formed, and the Dao companion ceremony was complete.

A faint pain pricked at their hearts as the blood transformed into radiant motes of light, dispersing into the air before merging into the bodies of Gu Shishu and Fu Tingxue. Both felt the tremor of their souls as the bond between them solidified.

A contract sigil should appear, but it would manifest directly over the heart of the one who initiated the ritual.

Now was not the time to check.

Gu Shishu met Fu Tingxue’s gaze. Neither of them harbored the slightest doubt about their bond. In unspoken harmony, they activated the spell, placing full trust in the Tongxin Contract, unlike the anxious onlookers below.

The contract had formed. It was only natural.

Because they both believed—not only in their love for the other, but also in the other’s love for them.

Now, there was no longer any room for doubt. The assembled guests had become witnesses, and soon, the news of the Immortal Lord and the Demon Lord’s union would spread throughout the cultivation world. This was an unreserved and pure devotion, observed by all.

Finally…

Fu Tingxue thought.

Finally, this day had come.

Gu Shishu thought the same. A sense of clarity, as if the clouds had parted to reveal the moon, washed over them. The contract confirmed it—they understood, without words, that the other felt the same way. Though this day had been delayed for centuries, it had, at last, arrived.

From this moment forth, there would be no more concealment, no more opposition, no more separation.

Two hearts, united as one,

To remain together, morning and night.

6. The Storybook

Though it was a grand ceremony, to the Demon Lord and the Immortal Lord, its significance lay more in the public acknowledgment of their bond. To Gu Shishu, the opinions of others mattered little. Thus, standing before all to form a Dao companion bond, exchanging heart’s blood, and forever linking their fates—this was more than enough.

Now came the time for them to simply be together.

They had long grown accustomed to one another’s presence, having spent countless years side by side. Yet, on this special day, Gu Shishu still felt a subtle shift in the air, something distinct from the ordinary. Their wrists, bound by the ceremonial red thread, reminded him of their connection, yet he found himself momentarily at a loss—what should he do, or say, to the Immortal Lord now?

The newly sealed contract still burned faintly at his heart. He turned to look at the Immortal Lord and saw a softness in his eyes, like a tranquil spring lake. Was this the effect of the bond? He could almost feel the slight acceleration of the Immortal’s heartbeat.

They took this seriously. That was why they felt nervous.

Instead of finding something deliberate to do, Gu Shishu walked toward the rear of the hall—only to be greeted by an overwhelming display of wedding gifts. The chamber gleamed with brilliance, filled with treasures so rare and exquisite that even he had difficulty recognizing them all. Some of these items were undeniably valuable—whoever had chosen them had indeed spared no expense.

Upon reflection, though, it made sense.

During his years in the Qingcheng Sect, Fu Tingxue had rarely appeared in public. Though he handled many matters, he only personally involved himself in major decisions. Ceremonial events were even rarer. Countless beings across the Three Realms had benefited from the Immortal Lord’s aid, yet few ever had the opportunity to offer him gifts. Now, many had seized the chance to present their most sincere blessings.

As for Gu Shishu, the reason was naturally different. The Demon Lord disliked interacting with outsiders, and those who sought to gain favor by offering gifts were invariably turned away at the gates of the Demon Palace.

But today was their grand wedding. If a gift could stand out, perhaps it would earn the favor of the two supreme beings of the immortal and demon realms—a prize beyond material worth. Painful as it was, such an offering was a worthy gamble.

And so…

Gu Shishu couldn’t help but chuckle as he pointed to a stack of books in the corner.

“Immortal Lord, take a look. Who could have sent these? It’s truly amusing.”

Fu Tingxue followed his gesture, his gaze landing on the covers of the books. His expression stilled.

Why were their names on them?

Not only their names, but also ink-drawn portraits—though the rough paper and the mediocre artistry left them barely recognizable.

Recovering slightly, Fu Tingxue reached out and flipped open a page.

He quickly regretted it.

But Gu Shishu was not so inclined to let it go. Pressing down on the Immortal’s hand before he could close the book, his smile deepened, clearly waiting for a reaction.

Fu Tingxue had no way to counter. Avoiding the inked words, he turned slightly to the side, though his peripheral vision still caught glimpses of the text.

“I… I don’t know,” he murmured, lips pressing together. His beautiful eyes looked at Gu Shishu, avoiding the writing entirely.

“I mean—we clearly never—I’m not saying I dislike it, but…”

The immortal took a slight breath; he had finally, if only temporarily, freed himself from his bewilderment and was determined to reread those words.  

The pages of the book happened to be open to a scene where two characters, caught in intense emotions, were entangled. Though the words were not overly explicit, they were enough to make one blush and set their heart racing. The author had arranged for the two to be on opposing sides, bound by a deep-seated enmity, yet they were fated to break this taboo in bed.  

Watching the person who bore his name in the story react in various ways, Fu Tingxue, as the real one, only felt a scorching heat burning his fingertips and face. In a small voice, he said:  

“We are not like this.”  

“Not like what?”  

To be honest, the two in the book were completely different from their real-life counterparts. That was why Gu Shishu had only found it amusing after a glance and wanted to use it to tease the immortal.  

He was certainly not as crazed and obsessive as in the story, where an overly heavy-handed description painted him as sinister. As for the immortal lord in the book, he was nothing like the real one—awkward in every way possible.  

In short, apart from the names, there was no resemblance at all.  

Yet, when the immortal tried to pick out one thing, he thought for a moment and said:  

“…For example, I am not like how the book says—I do not like you.”  

Despite all the glaring differences, Fu Tingxue was most concerned about this single flaw. Gu Shishu pressed down on the book’s pages and covered his hand. His fingers were slender and pale as frost, yet they were trapped in place, like a captured white jade butterfly.  

The red string around their wrists drew infinitely closer, trembling as they overlapped.  

“The book is indeed inaccurate, but I feel there’s more than just that,”  

The demon lord said unhurriedly, a spark of fire smoldering in his pitch-black eyes. Fu Tingxue felt the heat seep into his fingertips under Gu Shishu’s hold.  

“Why don’t we find a time to put it to practice? Let the immortal show me—where exactly is it different?”  

…  

Later, Gu Shishu found the name of the person who had sent these books among a long list of gifts.  

It was not entirely unexpected.  

The Yao King, Wusui.  

Of course, he had sent many other congratulatory gifts, but compared to his status, they were rather modest. This was likely due to Gu Shishu having been utterly ruthless when robbing him in the past. To expect the Yao King to send a similarly grand gift to the immortal lord might indeed be pushing things too far.  

A well-timed gift was better than an expensive one.  

Wusui, being a fox with more brains than his brother, had carefully selected these books, choosing only those with the highest reputation from the market. However, when he saw his subordinates tearfully moved by the stories and sighing over the hardships of love, he felt utterly baffled. In his heart, he once again reaffirmed his resolve to stay away from romance and focus solely on his career.  

In the end, was this gift reliable? He had some doubts. But later, when he collaborated with the demon lord again, he heard the other express satisfaction with his taste in gifts.  

As expected of himself, Wusui thought. Yet, at the same time, he felt a bit uneasy—was this a subtle hint for him to keep sending things to the immortal lord?  

—Truly, the demon clan was full of cunning tricks.  

7. Sigils  

As night fell, the guests settled in, but the drunkenness only deepened under the cover of darkness.  

Several red candles were lit in the immortal’s bedchamber.  

Their glow was warm, casting a hazy light throughout the room. The candle flames burned steadily, flickering only occasionally but never wavering. Under this light, everything seemed to take on an inexplicable air of intimacy.  

Gu Shishu told the immortal that in the mortal world, red candles like these were always lit in the bridal chamber. And so, Fu Tingxue had truly gone to fetch them. The original spiritual lamps in his room had been set aside. He thought about how Gu Shishu had grown up in the mortal world—though his childhood was far from pleasant, perhaps he still held some interest in old mortal customs.  

Yet, the concept of a bridal chamber was rare in the cultivation world. Daoist partner ceremonies were merely rituals that linked two people’s spiritual senses together, unlike mortal weddings, where many couples only met for the first time on their wedding night.  

Thus, most relationships among cultivators already resembled those of old married couples.  

But as Gu Shishu led Fu Tingxue into the palace chamber, his eyes wavered slightly under the flickering candlelight, dark and unfathomable. From behind, he wrapped his arms around the immortal and gently inhaled the scent of his hair. The red string that had been tied to his hair slipped loose, falling to the floor unnoticed.  

Yet, the red string around his wrist could not be undone—if anything, it appeared even more vivid.  

“I like it very much,”  

The demon lord slowly undid the silk sash on the immortal’s robe. Under the warm candlelight, it was as if he were patiently unwrapping his own gift.  

“The red candles are beautiful, Ah-Xue, and so are you.”  

The immortal’s robe slipped down loosely, baring a small patch of skin just below his heart. After their spiritual contract was formed, a sigil had been conjured upon his skin—just a tiny mark, yet strikingly vivid against his cold, jade-like complexion.  

It was the shape of a crimson plum blossom.  

Hmm, it suited him well.  

Gu Shishu tugged open his own collar, curious to see what kind of sigil had appeared on him. Unlike the immortal, the demon lord’s chest was not smooth—there, an old sword scar remained, left by Fu Tingxue centuries ago.  

That sword wound had long since faded to a mere scar. If he had wanted to, Gu Shishu could have erased it.  

But it had remained.  

Now, tracing along that old wound, the sigil on his chest seemed drawn with cinnabar ink—just a few strokes, yet full of life.  

It was the outline of a crane, its wings unfurled, as if soaring into the sky. Though it was only a silhouette, it was undoubtedly white. Its wings had been formed precisely along the lines of Gu Shishu’s scar—without a doubt, this was the mark of their spiritual bond.  

Why a crane?  

Fu Tingxue’s eyes showed a hint of confusion, and Gu Shishu chuckled softly.  

“In my heart, you are like a crane, Immortal Lord,”  

He leaned in and whispered. Fu Tingxue instinctively reached out, pressing his hand against the scar over Gu Shishu’s heart, only to hear the other laugh lowly.  

“Lofty and untouchable, as cold as frost, just like a lone crane in the winter sky.”  

“So now, the crane has landed upon my heart.”  

The words were too moving. Fu Tingxue’s hand stiffened slightly, but his ears turned red. Only then did he realize that his thoughts had been completely laid bare, with no way to escape. Gu Shishu caught his reaching hand, adjusting the folds of his robe, only for them to slip open again, exposing the sigil over the immortal’s heart.  

To Gu Shishu, the immortal was like a crane—thus, the sigil had given him a crane.  

And to the immortal, what was Gu Shishu?  

The answer was already plain to see.  

In his cold, colorless world of snow,  

Fu Tingxue had always thought so, though he had never spoken it aloud:  

In my long, solitary life,  

You are the red plum upon my heart, like a stroke of cinnabar.  

…  

In truth, they no longer needed candlelight. With their cultivation, they could see perfectly even in complete darkness.  

Yet, beneath the flickering flames, everything was tinged with a soft, rippling glow.  

The twin-plum blossoms on the table remained in full bloom, sustained by spiritual energy. The sigils upon their hearts wavered like shadows in the night, drawing close again and again, yet never quite touching—just like the red string entwining their wrists, sometimes tightening, sometimes slackening.  

The red candles burned lower and lower, until at last, the flames flickered out.  

Yet, the warmth of their touch remained. Even the faint taste of salt from unshed tears was gently kissed away, replaced with endless whispers of devotion.  

In the silent darkness of the palace, someone murmured softly to another:  

“I love you.”