TBR CH7

Reuniting with an old acquaintance, Gu Shishu found himself unsure whether he should start with a simple long time no see.

How did he get in?

The thought crossed his mind, and then he saw that icy, water-like sword.

Fu Tingxue’s sword had already been drawn, yet no blood had been spilled.

Like its master, the blade, as pure as frost and snow, bore no trace of defilement.

Fu Tingxue halted at the entrance of the palace, standing in the space where light and shadow converged. His gaze drifted lightly toward Gu Shishu.

Seizing the moment when Shen Nian was still too dazed by the situation to react, Gu Shishu subtly shifted away from him.

For some inexplicable reason, he felt an odd sense of guilt.

Perhaps Fu Tingxue had seen nothing?

No… he must have seen.

From Fu Tingxue’s perspective, the exquisitely beautiful youth stood close to Gu Shishu, his face still streaked with unfallen tears, speaking in a soft, aggrieved tone—like a frightened rabbit pouring out his emotions. The distance between them was intimate, almost as if Gu Shishu had just held Shen Nian in his embrace.

A cultivator’s senses were sharp beyond measure. Even if he had no intention of eavesdropping, Fu Tingxue would still have heard Shen Nian denouncing Qingcheng Sect while praising the clarity and purity of the Demon Realm.

Anyone could tell he was currying favor with Gu Shishu.

It was the most clichéd caught in the act scene imaginable.

Yet at this moment, Gu Shishu found himself unusually lucid.

For the first time in centuries, this person stood before him again.

The way Fu Tingxue looked at him was as it had always been.

“Many years have passed. Demon Lord, I trust you have been well?”

The reflection of Shen Nian flickered briefly in the immortal’s eyes before vanishing without a trace. Then, turning toward Gu Shishu with a gaze as clear as a still pool, he refrained from inquiring about the situation at hand. Instead, he chose to respond to a question Gu Shishu had once asked—one that had never received an answer.

The black-haired Demon Lord met his gaze unyieldingly. In the span of a few short seconds, any hint of surprise in his eyes faded completely, replaced by a poised, effortless composure. He let out a low chuckle.

A sound that carried both amusement and indifference.

“I have been well. And you, Immortal Lord? Why such guarded silence?”

“I am the same.”

Fu Tingxue spoke quietly. And in his eyes, Gu Shishu, too, disappeared.

Everything irrelevant to him washed away like water, fading from his sight.

Fu Tingxue cultivated the Path of the Emotionless. Nothing was worth lingering over.

*

Shen Nian, trembling with apprehension, finally snapped out of his daze. Just moments ago, he had been pouring out his heart to the Demon Lord, only to be abruptly pinned in place by a gaze as clear and cold as winter’s frost.

Fu Tingxue’s presence was so overwhelming that, for a moment, he found himself utterly paralyzed.

As he gradually regained his composure, he noticed the strange atmosphere between Gu Shishu and Fu Tingxue—so intangible, so unspoken, that he couldn’t even find an opportunity to interject.

Only when that subtle, wordless tension between them dissipated did he finally let out a quiet sigh of relief.

This is how it should be.

There was nothing between them. Just strangers on opposing sides.

One was the supreme figure of the immortal sects, the other the ruler of the demonic path—sworn enemies, locked in perpetual conflict.

Recalling the background information provided by his system, Shen Nian reaffirmed his conviction: these two were adversaries, nothing more.

And yet… Fu Tingxue was the Sword Immortal of Qingcheng Sect. Why had he suddenly come here?

Could it be because of him? Had his fabricated backstory been exposed?

Or was Gu Shishu seeking revenge on his behalf?

Turning over the possibilities in his mind, only the last seemed even remotely plausible. Shen Nian’s eyes brightened with realization—he had indeed aligned himself with the most powerful force. Gu Shishu’s efficiency was unparalleled; he truly deserved his reputation as the strongest. A sense of arrogance swelled within Shen Nian, as though Gu Shishu’s protection was already his to command.

Fu Tingxue?

He’s nothing to Gu Shishu.

And as if to affirm his thoughts, Gu Shishu spoke, his question directed precisely at this matter:

“Does the Immortal Lord recognize him? His name is Shen Nian. He claims to be an outer disciple of Qingcheng Sect, forced to flee after suffering persecution at the hands of his fellow sect members. He fell from the Fallen Immortal Platform and ended up here.”

Once again, Shen Nian felt the weight of the Sword Immortal’s gaze upon him—deep, black as ink, yet bearing no discernible emotion. A slight nod followed, as if acknowledging his understanding.

Gu Shishu smiled faintly.

“Immortal Lord, have you nothing to say in response?”

“Qingcheng Sect will provide you with an explanation,” Fu Tingxue stated, his reasoning clear and his tone decisive.

“In that case, hand him over to me. I will take him back to the sect, ensure his safety, and conduct a thorough investigation.”

This was an outcome Shen Nian absolutely could not accept. But, of course, he had prepared for this.

His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he pleaded,

“I don’t want to leave… I—I would never doubt the Immortal Lord, but I’m afraid… afraid of seeing them again if I return to Qingcheng Sect. I don’t want to go back.”

It was an obvious insinuation—he did doubt Fu Tingxue.

To lend credibility to his words, he even solemnly swore,

“Could I have some time…? I—I’m not ready yet. But I promise, I will find the strength to face it.”

Yet, no matter what he said, Fu Tingxue remained as unmoving as frost and snow.

He merely looked at Gu Shishu.

Gu Shishu pondered for a moment, and then, at last, the black book hidden within his sleeve trembled, reminding him of its presence.

It was a reminder that he had promised to deal with the Child of Fate. If Shen Nian were sent far away, that goal would become much harder to accomplish. The tome was warning him—either he kept Shen Nian close, or he would have to go to Qingcheng Sect himself.

But Gu Shishu had no intention of making such a foolish move.

Feigning reluctance, he turned to comfort Shen Nian, assuring him that he would not be forced to leave—that another solution would be found.

As for what that solution would be…

Gu Shishu glanced back at Fu Tingxue.

The immortal stood still, his expression as cold and unmoving as an ice-carved statue.

Gu Shishu, however, blinked.

His hand moved subtly, forming a silent gesture.

A signal only two people in the world could understand.

*

It seemed the Demon Lord had been swayed by the beauty’s whispered words. His cold indifference toward Fu Tingxue had turned to outright disdain. Casting an icy glance at the Sword Immortal, he sneered,

“What now? Qingcheng Sect, a so-called bastion of righteousness, commits such vile and repulsive acts, and now you expect him to return? Do you think he’ll willingly submit to your whims?”

“I—” The white-haired Sword Immortal began to speak but was immediately cut off.

“Especially you.”

A deep crimson glow flickered in the Demon Lord’s eyes, his aura surging with oppressive force.

“Fu Tingxue, Sword Immortal of Qingcheng Sect—did you really think I would forget what you did?”

Shen Nian’s heart leapt.

Of course.

It was well known that Gu Shishu’s departure from Qingcheng Sect had been anything but amicable, with Fu Tingxue at the center of the conflict. That much was true.

How fortunate I am.

As the Child of Fate, Shen Nian shed false tears while maliciously observing the unfolding situation. Were it not for the inappropriate timing, he might have curled his lips into a smile.

Fu Tingxue, too, seemed unprepared for Gu Shishu’s revival of the past. For the first time, a trace of hesitation flickered in the usually cold and composed immortal’s eyes.

“Demon Lord,”

He lowered his gaze, appearing to yield under the overwhelming disparity in power, as though further argument was meaningless.

“…Then what do you intend to do?”

Gu Shishu had been waiting for this very question. Seeing how cooperatively Fu Tingxue had spoken it, he unexpectedly felt a sense of tacit understanding between them, as if they were following an unspoken script. Even the stifling tension in his chest over the past few days seemed to dissipate.

“Until Shen Nian is ready,”

The Demon Lord spoke slowly, delivering a demand both mocking and laced with amusement.

“I must trouble the Immortal Lord to remain here as a hostage. Otherwise, you know well what fate awaits Qingcheng Sect.”

Detaining the revered Sword Immortal of the celestial realm within the Demon Sect—it sounded absurd.

Moreover, who knew how long it would take for Shen Nian to overcome his psychological obstacles? Until then, if the Demon Lord wished to avenge his beloved, he would undoubtedly exploit every opportunity to humiliate and suppress his captive.

Only Gu Shishu could be audacious enough to make such a demand.

And Fu Tingxue actually dared to agree.

“Demon Lord, I trust you will not go back on your word.”

He lowered his gaze to his hand, where his sword remained drawn, yet he was already a prisoner.

It was almost time.

Gu Shishu turned his attention to Shen Nian. From the Child of Fate’s perspective, everything that had transpired seemed to be for his sake. Aside from the unexpected detail of Fu Tingxue staying behind, everything had gone according to his desires. His face unconsciously revealed an expression of joy and dependence.

Yet, Gu Shishu merely crushed a communication talisman, summoning his subordinates.

“Take him back first,” Gu Shishu gestured toward Shen Nian. “You’ve had a fright today—go and rest.”

*

The day’s events had been a whirlwind, but for Shen Nian, the rewards had been significant. Satisfied, he walked toward his temporary quarters, only to freeze slightly upon seeing the subordinate waiting for him.

Why… why is it still that guard who took the blame for me earlier?

The once-devoted gaze of infatuation was now absent, replaced by an unsettling coldness. The man regarded Shen Nian with nothing but detached professionalism, devoid of any personal sentiment. The contrast was stark, and Shen Nian found it deeply unsettling.

As they reached his lodgings, he attempted to smile as he once had, but the guard didn’t even spare him a glance.

“System,”

He called out in his mind, though he already understood the answer.

“My charm ability… why…?”

“Host,” The system’s robotic voice remained as impassive as ever, yet it sounded particularly indifferent at this moment.

“I have long reminded you that the Irresistible Charm Aura is merely a form of forced psychological manipulation. It can be broken by sufficiently intense negative emotions. Fortunately, at least your image remains intact in the Demon Lord’s eyes.”

A strange unease settled in Shen Nian’s heart. He had never truly studied the fine print of his abilities and artifacts—he had been distracted when the system explained them to him.

It was like skimming through a website’s security policies—just scroll to the bottom and click agree.

Surely… aside from this, there wouldn’t be any other issues.

Right?

*

The moment Shen Nian left, Gu Shishu stepped toward Fu Tingxue, halting just three steps away.

“Wasn’t the Demon Lord supposed to imprison me?”

Fu Tingxue raised his eyes to meet his, and for a fleeting moment, there was a glint of something unreadable—neither displeasure nor amusement, yet carrying a hint of teasing.

Gu Shishu opened his mouth, only to suddenly feel a deep sense of awkwardness regarding his own prior actions.

Did Fu Tingxue look at him just now the way he himself had looked at the records in the black book?

He must have appeared utterly ridiculous.

The ever-arrogant and unyielding Demon Lord found himself speechless for several moments before forcibly changing the subject:

“How did you get in? Did you use your sword?”

“I did not kill anyone,”

With composed elegance, the immortal turned his blade sideways, showing him the unmarked edge.

“I only used the dull side to knock them unconscious.”

After the war between the celestial and demonic realms, Fu Tingxue’s sword had been left broken, with only one edge still sharp. Though he had reforged it, the ruined side remained jagged and uneven, an irreversible wound.

Yet he still wielded it as before.

For a man like him, a sword with only one sharp edge was more than enough. Instead, it now carried an added sense of mercy.

His Clear Frost sword was no longer merely a blade of execution—it was also a blade of absolution.

Gu Shishu stared at the sword for a long moment before finally averting his gaze.

“I should explain the current situation to you…”

*

The world believed that Gu Shishu and Fu Tingxue, having severed ties, were now sworn enemies—fire and ice, forever at odds.

The truth, however, was more complicated. While some of it was indeed true, it had never been quite that extreme.

In Gu Shishu’s view, their falling-out had been a clean break, a dignified separation.

And after all these centuries, he had not forgotten the unique means of communication they had once devised—the silent signals exchanged before an act, such as the subtle gesture he had just made.

No problem.

Follow my lead.

Perfect understanding. As always.

Fu Tingxue’s arrival was unexpected.

But if they were to work together—he would be Gu Shishu’s greatest ally.