(◕‿◕✿)

Each spiritual weapon had a crystal embedded in its hilt—a spiritual stone that melded the blade to the wielder’s core. By stepping on Fu Jing’s sword, Xuan Qi had shattered the blade and destroyed the crystal.

While Fu Jing couldn’t use the weapon to kill the demon (for now) he still wanted to fix it. Showing the hilt to Xiao Song, he asked, “Do you know where I could find a spiritual stone?”

Xiao Song shook his head.

Fu Jing had figured as much, given that Xiao Song was still quite young and had much to learn.

That didn’t pose much of a problem, though.

As long as they were in the capital, Fu Jing had no qualms about consulting other demons and yao.

And luckily enough, a few weeks later, his inquiries bore fruit. The people pointed him to a cave hidden deep within a part of the woods Fu Jing hadn’t explored yet.

Fortunately, Xiao Song seemed quite familiar with the area and took the lead after they politely declined a shady demon’s offer to guide them.

Their trek led through a dense, pitch-black forest. The air was heavy with yin energy, a chilling stillness that clung to the pine and fir trees like a ghostly fog. The more they advanced, the more difficult it became to push through the underbrush.

The cave was at the heart of the forest, carved by nature into a small mountain. It led into a cool chamber of stone where stalactites hung like jagged teeth, mirrored by stalagmites rising from the floor. What was most curious, though, was the bright and pulsating blue light within.

Fu Jing’s heartbeat quickened.

This looked promising.

Stepping closer, he found the light’s source: a massive glowing crystalline boulder in the centre of a pool. Its water was as clear as the crystal itself, and each glow was as steady as a heartbeat.

This had to be it!

Fu Jing wasted no time. He rolled up the hems of his pants and fastened his robe securely around his waist to keep its sleeves dry before wading into the knee-deep water.

Xiao Song, on the other hand, patiently waited at the pool’s edge. He hated water and avoided its wet touch as much as possible.

Fu Jing didn’t mind. Since harvesting spiritual stones was a one-man job, he luckily wouldn’t need Xiao Song’s help anyway.

At least, that’s what he thought.

The moment his fingers brushed the boulder’s surface, something unexpected happened.

It moved.

Fu Jing froze, blinking in confusion.

That was odd. These kinds of boulders usually didn’t move. They also didn’t unroll. And they most certainly didn’t sprout enormous wings that spanned the entirety of the cave, knocking stalactites from the ceiling and sending dangerous shards of stone crashing around as they flapped.

Fuck.

Fu Jing barely had time to react before the dragon-like boulder—no, creature—fully emerged, its glowing form bathing the cavern in a dazzling, blinding blue. It wasn’t until it faced Fu Jing, letting out an ear-splitting screech, that he finally dashed out of the water, snatching Xiao Song in the process.

But he was too slow.

Before he reached the mouth of the cave, the creature had already caught up to them and lunged with one of its massive crystal-like claws.

There was no time for Fu Jing to dodge, let alone gather spiritual energy to fight back—so he could only curl into a ball, shielding his head with his arms and bracing himself for the inevitable blow.

Except… it never came.

When Fu Jing looked up, slowly, carefully, his breath caught. Towering over him like a massive bear was a hulking black beast, its powerful form standing between him and the glowing monstrosity.

It was Xiao Song!

Fu Jing was astonished once more. It turned out that his tiny companion was a shapeshifter that had just saved his life.

Before things could get worse, Fu Jing didn’t hesitate any longer and sprinted out of the cave.

“Xiao Song!” he called over his shoulder as he kept running. “I’m safe! Hurry and get out!”

He dashed into the forest, closely followed by Xiao Song, who had reverted to his small, feline self.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the crystalline dragon to exit the cave as well. Judging by its clumsy movements and sluggish attempts to gain altitude, Fu Jing had probably woken it from a deep slumber. It screeched in frustration, the sound piercing the night as it pursued them with earth-shattering stomps.

Xiao Song’s ability to transform was remarkable, but he couldn’t hold it for long. Even if he were able to maintain his larger form, he and Fu Jing stood no chance of defeating this monster. They tried to escape, but the dragon’s rampage left no room to hide. Trees were violently uprooted and smashed aside as the creature relentlessly barrelled forward.

To make matters worse, Fu Jing’s foot caught on an exposed root, sending him crashing to the ground with a sharp twist of his ankle.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he grabbed Xiao Song and held him tightly in his arms as he scrambled backwards until his back hit the rough bark of a tree. Left with no other choice, he faced the monstrous beast, now only mere metres away.

The dragon had spotted them and was fast approaching, raising a claw to shred them to pieces.

Fu Jing clutched Xiao Song tightly to his chest, his heart pounding.

This was it.

But before the creature could strike, its movements suddenly stopped.

A strong hand had gripped the creature by its head and brutally smashed it against a tree. A second later, the headless body keeled over with a resounding crash.

Fu Jing’s wide eyes slowly travelled upward to see the imposing figure standing above the dragon’s lifeless body.

It was Xuan Qi.

The demon scrutinised his hand as if disgusted by the blood and gore that covered it. Then, his sharp gaze darted toward Fu Jing, who remained crouched against the tree with Xiao Song in his protective arms.

Xuan Qi stepped closer to Fu Jing, glaring at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was… just exploring…” Fu Jing said. It wasn’t even a lie.

Xuan Qi snorted. “You think I’m stupid?”

He grabbed Fu Jing by the arm to yank him to his feet, and used his other hand—the clean one—to delve into the folds of Fu Jing’s robe.

“Hey!”

But before Fu Jing could protest any further, Xuan Qi had already fished out what he was looking for: Fu Jing’s spiritual weapon—or what was left of it.

Xuan Qi inspected the hilt, turning it in his hand every which way.

“How naive can you be? You should know there is no such thing as spiritual stones in the demon realm.”

“I could still cultivate one…,” Fu Jing meekly replied.

Xuan Qi let go of Fu Jing, who, due to his still trembling legs, promptly collapsed back to the ground.

“Say you manage to fix this,” Xuan Qi said, his voice laced with disdain, “What’s your plan? Killing me?”

Fu Jing still held Xiao Song in his shielding arms, averting his eyes. “…No…”

Xuan Qi was silent for a moment. Then, without warning, he pulverised the hilt.

“No!” Fu Jing blurted, watching in horror as the particles fluttered to the ground, the last remnants of his hope destroyed.

Xuan Qi placed a hand on his hip, tilting his head toward the sky. “It’s almost full moon. You should come with me.”

Fu Jing shook his hanging head, his face hidden in shadow. “I’ll come later.”

Xuan Qi rolled his eyes, but left with no objections.

As soon as the demon was gone, Fu Jing’s shoulders began to shake. Tears spilled down his cheeks, falling onto Xiao Song’s small face. His voice cracked as he choked out, “See? He’s so heartless!”

Xiao Song felt a bit helpless, gazing at the weeping man with sorrowful eyes. To better comfort Fu Jing, the kitten transformed into a long form that gently coiled around Fu Jing’s shoulders like a furry snake.

Filled with disappointment, Fu Jing decided not to return to the palace right away. Instead, he headed to a nearby tavern, seeking to drown his sorrow. After the mistreatment, Fu Jing couldn’t face the demon and drink his blood in a sober condition.

The tavern was bustling with life. Nearly every seat on the first floor was occupied by guests. Despite its crudeness, the flickering candlelight cast a warm, inviting glow.

Fu Jing had never really drunk before, aside from the occasional sip during celebrations. So when he took a seat at the counter, he found himself at a loss, unsure what to order.

He observed the patron to his left downing a drink served in a golden cup. The liquid was a dark red, almost the colour of blood, but the scent wafting from it was incredibly sweet.

“What’s that?” he asked the bartender, pointing at the drink. “Demonic alcohol?”

The bartender chuckled dryly. “Yes, it’s liquor. Simple and plain alcohol, no need to put ‘demonic’ in front of it.”

Fu Jing eyed the drink, chewing on his lower lip as he debated whether to order it. He was a bit apprehensive, given he didn’t know his own limits.

As he was mulling over this, the bartender raised an eyebrow. “Want to try it?”

The question was as good as an invitation. Fu Jing nodded to himself, his decision made. He looked the bartender square in the eye and replied with a resolute “Yes.”

The bartender shook his head as he chuckled again and poured Fu Jing a cup of the crimson liquid. Before passing it to Fu Jing, however, he paused, giving him a sceptical once-over. “How do you intend to pay?”

Fu Jing froze. He didn’t have any money. And with his robes all tattered and covered in grime, he probably didn’t make a reliable impression. He cleared his throat.

“Xuan Qi will pay,” he replied with confidence. “What? You don’t believe me? Why don’t you go ask him?”

“…”

The bartender sighed, but without much of a choice, he handed the drink to Fu Jing.

After taking a cautious sip, Fu Jing’s eyes widened in astonishment. It was really sweet! And so rich in flavour!

“Are you sure this is liquor? I can’t taste any alcohol in it.”

The bartender grinned. “Yeah, gotta be careful. You might get drunk before you know it.”

This was perfect. Fu Jing had never been too fond of the bitter taste of human wine, but this? This he could drink like tea. And so, he did.

By the time he’d downed his third—or was it his fourth?—drink, Fu Jing was already dead drunk. His head was swimming and his vision blurry when someone slid into the chair to his right.

It was a strikingly handsome man with black hair and two prominent horns on his forehead. Unlike Xuan Qi’s horns, however, these were yellow, matching the stranger’s gleaming golden eyes.

Fu Jing narrowed his eyes and looked to his left, moving his head like a lizard. Xiao Song still sat perched on the counter and tilted his head.

For a brief, drunken moment, Fu Jing had thought the kitten had transformed into a demon.

The stranger broke the silence with a radiant grin. “Mind if I join you?”

Fu Jing sized him up. Upon closer inspection, his other features—apart from the horns—also resembled that of Xuan Qi. His face, however, appeared to be a lot younger and cheekier, his skin much smoother than that of Xuan Qi.

Without waiting for Fu Jing’s response, the stranger leaned closer, a sly smile playing on his lips. “You smell very sweet, you know that?”

Fu Jing frowned. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he smelled like. A bit concerned, he lifted his arm to sniff himself.

The stranger burst into boisterous laughter. “Hahahaha! And you’re funny, too!”

Realising how ridiculous he must look, Fu Jing’s face flushed red and he hastily lowered his arm.

The stranger had propped an elbow on the counter, his cheek resting on his hand as he stared at Fu Jing with an intensity that should’ve been unsettling—but it wasn’t. On the contrary: something about this unknown demon was alluring.

The man leaned closer, his golden eyes glinting with mischief, until their faces were mere inches apart.

Taken in by his presence, Fu Jing didn’t mind that this stranger had hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his face upward.

It wasn’t that Fu Jing wanted to kiss this stranger, but something inside him urged him not to resist, almost as if persuading him. His eyes fluttered closed.

But their lips never met.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice behind Fu Jing asked.

Fu Jing blinked in a daze. “Huh?”

The seat next to him was empty. The stranger had vanished into thin air.

Fu Jing whipped his head around—maybe it had been Xiao Song after all?

But the kitten still sat at the counter, staring back at Fu Jing with big, innocent eyes.

Had it been a hallucination? Was Fu Jing really that drunk??

Whatever the case, Fu Jing squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head until Xuan Qi snapped him back to reality.

“Did you just wait for me to pick you up? I thought you said you’d come yourself.”

Fu Jing turned to the demon, who stood behind him with his arms crossed. He dramatically stretched out his own arms and demanded, “Carry me home!”

Xuan Qi cocked an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”

“Maaaaybeeee,” Fu Jing drawled, jerking insistent hands toward Xuan Qi.

The demon sighed, then stepped forward, circling one arm around Fu Jing’s shoulders and the other under the crook of his knees to scoop him up.

Lifted like this, Fu Jing was startled for a moment, then quipped, “Is this my lucky day? You usually carry me around like dead prey!”

He was the only one laughing at his joke.

Xuan Qi glanced down at him, deadpan.

“Oh, by the way,” Fu Jing patted Xuan Qi’s chest, “You gotta pay up.”

“…”

Back at the palace, Xuan Qi unceremoniously threw Fu Jing onto a luxurious divan in the bedroom. Fu Jing blinked in surprise, pushing himself up on his elbows. “That’s new.”

Xuan Qi stood over him, arms crossed. “It’s best for you to lie down. And since you don’t want to dirty the bed…”

Fu Jing hummed. “How thoughtful.”

Without another word, Xuan Qi produced his dagger and slit his wrist, dark crimson pooling at the wound. As promised, he had a cup ready, tilting his wrist to let the blood flow into it.

Once the cup was filled to the brim, he extended it toward Fu Jing, who only stared at it.

“What, you want to have tea first?” Xuan Qi grumbled.

Fu Jing let out a nervous giggle and received the cup.

As he watched the swirling liquid, its metallic stench assaulting his nose, his mind flashed back to the almost-kiss in the tavern. He licked his lips, then abruptly shoved the cup back into the demon’s hands.

“You do it!”

Xuan Qi cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. He knocked back the blood, letting it pool in his mouth without swallowing. Then, he leaned down and sealed their lips together, pouring the thick liquid into Fu Jing’s mouth.

Somehow, this wasn’t satisfying. Fu Jing didn’t know what he’d expected. This wasn’t a real kiss after all. It wasn’t backed up by passion or affection. It was just a means to an end. And the rusty tang made it all the worse.

Fu Jing grimaced, swallowing reluctantly.

However, thanks to the alcohol coursing through his veins, he barely felt the pain. Drunk, the torment was much easier to endure, becoming nothing more than a distant, muffled ache.

The next morning, Fu Jing woke with a groan, pressing a palm to his throbbing temple. He arduously sat up, propping his elbows on his thighs to hold his head up.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or depressed.

Depressed, because he felt a deep sense of humiliation, knowing he’d had no choice but to give the demon the satisfaction of seeing him suffer, even after experiencing such a great injustice.

And relieved, because while he certainly felt like shit and the pain lingered on, he’d barely registered anything of what had happened the night before. His entire discomfort was more akin to a bad hangover than anything else.

Either way, it was time to leave.

After donning his robes, he briskly strode into the main hall. Xuan Qi lounged on his throne with a scroll in his hand, nonchalant as always.

“Xuan Qi.”

The demon looked up as if he hadn’t noticed Fu Jing entering, then grinned.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

 “Shut the fuck up. You owe me a spiritual weapon.”

“I owe you shit.” Xuan Qi leaned forward, his grin sharpening. “But tell you what: I’ll arrange for one if you stay here.”

Fu Jing folded his arms, his tone reflecting the smugness of his expression. “That’ll just make it easier for me to kill you.”

Xuan Qi laughed. “I only made the offer ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t take it.”

Fu Jing dropped his arms again, his hands curled into fists. “I don’t want the weapon to kill you!” He took a deep, irritated breath. “You know very well that I can’t.”

“Then what do you want with it?”

Fu Jing’s outer robe had slipped off one shoulder with his abrupt movements, so he tugged it back into place. “I don’t know yet…” He averted his gaze, the hand tightening around the fabric. “All I know is that you’ve stripped me of everything… and maybe I just want to reclaim some of my independence.”

Xuan Qi leaned back, interlacing his fingers on his lap. “Give me a good reason and I might consider it.”

Fu Jing was struck speechless. What better reason could he give?!

He stamped his foot. “Ugh! You’re worse than my dad. I’m leaving!”

The kitten seemed to feel better and Fu Jing puffed a soft laugh. When he reached down to stroke its head with a finger, the cat closed its eyes, leaning into the touch. It began to purr, trying to roll on its back, but the movement pulled at the injury on its stomach. It yelped in pain and immediately started to lick the wound.

Fu Jing watched it for a moment, then thought it must be hungry. He pursed his lips, scanning the area for something to eat—but the forest offered nothing edible.

He briefly considered picking up the kitten and carrying it to the nearest village, but he’d never held a kitten before. He was afraid of doing it wrong, afraid he might hurt it—especially since it was already injured.

With a sigh, he finally stood and dusted off his robes. “You wait here while I get something to eat.”

Fu Jing wasn’t sure whether the kitten understood him or not, as it just stared back at him with its large eyes. Feeling a bit awkward, he waved at it before turning to leave. But the moment he took a step away from the cat, a miserable wail pierced the air.

Fu Jing froze.

So the kitten didn’t want to be left alone. Fair enough.

He turned back and tried to explain, “You need something to eat, but I can’t carry you…”

The kitten shook its head.

“Well, then…”

Wait.

The kitten shook its head?!

“You… You can understand me?”

The kitten nodded.

“Can you speak?”

The kitten shook its head again.

Fu Jing sighed. So they could only communicate with Yes and No questions. He pondered for a moment. “Okay, do you want food?”

The cat just blinked at him.

Was that a yes or a no??

Fu Jing’s eyes wandered from side to side, then back to the kitten.

Next try, “Are you hungry?”

The cat tilted its head. It looked incredibly adorable, but it didn’t help at all.

Did it not understand after all?

Fu Jing sighed. “Should I carry you?”

The cat nodded vigorously.

“Fine, but don’t scratch or bite me if I touch the wrong spots,” Fu Jing warned. “I will drop you.”

This time, the cat closed its eyes and gave a satisfied meow. It almost looked like it was smiling.

Fu Jing carefully lifted the kitten from the ground, cradling it in one arm while supporting its weight with the other.

He walked to the nearest town, where he first stopped at a herbal shop to purchase ingredients for a wound-healing balm. It happened to be the same shop where he’d bought the demon-calming incense not too long ago.

Next, he sought out a place that served fish, hoping to feed the kitten.

Much to Fu Jing’s relief, once he’d set down a plate of freshly grilled fish, the small cat immediately dug in.

A smile bloomed on Fu Jing’s face as he watched the kitten eat merrily away. It was such a tiny creature that it could’ve easily fit on the plate itself—twice over.

Fu Jing took care of the small black kitten for several days until its wound was fully healed. He kept it close, providing food and keeping watch over it as it rested and recovered. Each day, he would gently clean the wound, apply the healing balm he’d made, and offer the kitten soft foods to help it regain its strength.

Once the kitten was able to leap and roll around with new-found vitality, Fu Jing knew it was time to let it go.

He returned to the woods, where he carefully set the kitten down, expecting it to happily run off.

Yet, the kitten followed him when he walked away. Fu Jing looked at it in astonishment.

“You’re free.”

The kitten only stared up at him with big, round eyes. When he turned to leave again, it continued to trail behind him.

Fu Jing laughed softly. “You want to stay with me?”

“Meow!!” it confirmed.

Truth be told, Fu Jing was a bit relieved. In what little time they’d spent together, he’d grown quite fond of that little creature. The thought of having it by his side felt like a small comfort in the midst of everything.

Being a kitten still, Xiao Song’s playful nature was boundless. He turned everything into a game, from pouncing on shadows to chasing leaves that swirled in the wind.

Xiao Song once confidently climbed a tree to chase a flock of birds. Unfortunately, he overestimated his own hunting abilities, and as he lunged for a branch, his clumsiness got the better of him. He lost his balance, tumbling into a pile of leaves.

Fu Jing laughed at the ruffled kitten—after making sure he was unharmed, of course.

Though Xiao Song couldn’t respond verbally, he could communicate with his face and actions. Over time, Fu Jing found himself talking to Xiao Song as though he could truly understand every word. The kitten would often respond with a tilt of his head, an approving meow, or by raising his paw.

At night, the two shared a bed in guest houses, usually with Xiao Song curled up on Fu Jing’s chest. Fu Jing told the kitten all about his past in the human realm—but also everything he’d experienced during his time in the demon realm.

How Xuan Qi had tricked him and now refused to let him go. How he tried to escape and how he’d failed.

“Xuan Qi is such a vicious beast!” Fu Jing complained. “Do you know him?”

Xiao Song nodded, his wide eyes shimmering with what looked like awe.

“…Do you like him?” Fu Jing asked tentatively.

Xiao Song nodded again, this time with much more vigour.

Fu Jing had figured as much. Being the demon lord, it only made sense that every other creature in this realm respected him. But somehow it still stung a little to know that even Xiao Song would feel that way.

“Pah! Back home, I’m the strongest,” Fu Jing said with a sour face. “I even defeated Xuan Qi! The fight down here wasn’t fair from the get-go… And then he robbed me of everything! My armour, my powers, my dignity… And my home.”

At the thought of his home, Fu Jing suddenly turned wistful, his heart heavy with gloom. He missed it. He missed it so much it ached.

If it hadn’t been for the demon, what would he be doing now?

Perhaps, he’d be training alongside his companions and enjoy one of his mother’s home-cooked meals afterwards. Or maybe he would be studying with his father—who also happened to be his teacher.

His mind wandered back to a memory from his teenage years.

Jin Yang had dragged Chen Xing onto the training ground by the ear, as he so often did.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch!!” Chen Xing yelped.

Fu Jing laughed at this scene. “What’s Chen Xing done this time?”

“He tried to eat fucking moonseed berries. Again.”

“They look like wild grapes!” Chen Xing tried to justify his action.

Jin Yang was fuming. “You–!!” He took a deep breath before continuing to lecture Chen Xing. “You have to pay better attention in class—they’re poisonous!”

Chen Xing lowered his eyes, his lips curling into a pout.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jin Yang crossed his arms before addressing Fu Jing, “Anyway, how about you?”

“I didn’t manage to complete the task dad requested,” Fu Jing shrugged, “I probably won’t get any dinner tonight.”

Chen Xing looked at him in concern. “Should we bring you something?”

“Nah,” Fu Jing replied. “I failed. It’s a fair punishment.”

“Should we help you practise?” Jin Yang offered.

Fu Jing smiled, tired. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Jin Yang nodded, then suddenly squinted his eyes, looking past Fu Jing. “Hey… who’s that behind the tree?”

Fu Jing turned to look.

Peeking out from behind a birch tree was a young boy. Fu Jing laughed softly.

“Oh, that’s Liang Feng. He’s been following me around for a while now.”

Jin Yang quirked an eyebrow. “Why’s he hiding?”

“He’s scared of you,” Fu Jing answered without hesitation.

This answer shocked Jin Yang to the core. “Me?!”

Fu Jing shrugged again. “You have an intimidating personality.”

Jin Yang was speechless.

“Why don’t you call him over?” Chen Xing suggested, glancing toward the boy with a gentle smile.

Fu Jing turned back around and gestured for Liang Feng to come over with an inviting wave of his hand.

Liang Feng looked around. Seeing no one else nearby, he pointed at himself in disbelief. When Fu Jing nodded, a delighted grin spread across the boy’s youthful face, and Liang Feng eagerly jogged over. Stopping in front of his seniors, he bowed deeply.

Fu Jing smiled. “Training is over for today. Why are you still following me?” he asked, his tone kind and curious rather than scolding.

Liang Feng beamed at him, his face filled with admiration. “Because you’re amazing! I hope to become your disciple one day! I can’t wait to be taught by you!!”

Fu Jing puffed a soft laugh, ruffling Liang Feng’s hair. Chen Xing chuckled at the boy’s unbridled enthusiasm, and even Jin Yang’s sceptical expression softened into a warm smile at these sincere words.

He’d had a difficult past, no doubt, but right now, Fu Jing missed his mother’s embrace and his father’s approving pat on the shoulder. His companion’s encouraging words and Liang Feng’s insistence on becoming his disciple.

As Fu Jing reminisced, his wistful gaze drifted out the window. He couldn’t help but wonder what they would think of him now. Were they worried at all?

A single tear ran down his cheek, bitter sorrow tightly clutching his heart.

Suddenly, a light weight shifted on him—Xiao Song had lifted his head and was nudging Fu Jing’s chin with his tiny head.

Fu Jing’s lips curved into a faint smile. He wrapped his arms around the little cat, pulling him close.

“You also don’t have a home, huh?” he murmured softly.

Xiao Song shook his head, his ears drooping.

“That’s alright,” Fu Jing whispered, stroking the kitten’s fur. “We can be each other’s home.”

As Fu Jing drifted into a peaceful sleep, another memory began to resurface—a scene from his young adulthood.

His chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths as he removed his silver helmet. His hair was damp, plastered to his gallant features with sweat. But he didn’t mind—quite the opposite: it was the mark of another well-deserved victory.

He’d done it once again. He’d slain a beast all by himself.

This time, it had been a huge shadow creature haunting a forest and causing untold hardship to the people of a nearby village.

He emerged triumphantly from the dense woods—though the moment he spotted his two companions, his haughty and aloof demeanour gave way to a graceful smile.

“Well done!” Chen Xing applauded.

Jin Yang stepped forward and clapped Fu Jing on the back. “Your father will be proud.”

They didn’t linger too long after delivering the good news to the villagers, heading home right away. The second they set foot in their hometown, a figure sprinted toward them, waving his arm over his head.

It was Liang Feng, who almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to reach them.

Jin Yang folded his arms and shook his head, chuckling softly.

“I admire your patience,” he said before Liang Feng had reached them.

Fu Jing smiled. “He’s alright.”

“Maybe you should consider it,” Chen Xing said.

Fu Jing lightly shook his head. “I don’t take disciples.”

After being bombarded with a torrent of enthusiastic praise from Liang Feng, Fu Jing kindly excused himself. The fight had completely exhausted him, and all he wanted was to return home.

Home, where his mother awaited him with his favourite after-battle meal: homemade roast duck!

“Oh, your father will be so proud,” she said, her voice and face delighted as she placed a filled bowl in front of Fu Jing.

Fu Jing offered a tired smile before digging in. The glistening strips of duck sat atop a steaming bowl of fluffy white rice. After simmering for hours in a rich, glossy broth, the meat was tender and fragrant, with the skin still slightly crisp at the edges. On the side was stir-fried pak choi, briefly cooked with garlic and a pinch of salt. Its mild flavour cut through the richness of the duck, bringing balance to the meal.

The meal was simple, but rich in warmth, washing away the exhaustion of the day.

Fu Jing glanced at the empty seat at the table where his father should have been. As much as he’d hoped his father would’ve joined them, Fu Jing knew the man was likely too busy, as he often was.

His father was a strict man whose approval was hard-earned. But as long as Fu Jing was strong and successful, as long as he proved himself worthy, his father would acknowledge him.

And that was all Fu Jing needed.

As he was savouring each bite, darkness suddenly swallowed his vision. He froze mid-bite, then turned his head from side to side, but he couldn’t see anything. His hands fumbled across the table in search of something—anything—to ground himself.

“…Mom?” he nervously called out.

No reply.

Just as he thought of getting up, he felt the ground slipping away beneath his feet. Then the chair, and finally his armour.

Everything was slipping away.

He was slipping away—from who he used to be.

When his vision returned, he found himself surrounded by a black void. Lost and confused, he desperately tried to orient himself until a figure emerged from the depths of the shadows.

Fu Jing’s eyes were fixed on the familiar leather boots of his despised demon. His gaze only slowly travelled up to Xuan Qi’s face, which was split by a smug grin.

At this sight, a violent tremor shook Fu Jing’s heart.

He’d fought so hard to become the person he was today, and the demon had crushed it all to dust.

Now, Fu Jing merely was a shadow of his former self.

Fu Jing jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in heavy gasps. It took him a moment to steady himself. Remembering he wasn’t alone, he promptly glanced to the side, afraid his abrupt movements had disturbed Xiao Song. But the kitten was still sound asleep, peacefully curled up.

This adorable sight calmed Fu Jing’s nerves a little. He rubbed his eyes, still groggy from exhaustion, before gazing out the window.

Even though he’d woken up, his nightmare continued. The moon was almost full.

“Time really flies, huh…” he murmured to himself.

He would have to return to the demon; at least for the night. The thought of it drew a weary sigh from Fu Jing’s lips.

“I’ll have to pay Xuan Qi a visit—you know, to suppress the curse,” he explained to Xiao Song later that day. “You can’t come with me, though. I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

Xiao Song’s pleading eyes made it hard to leave, but Fu Jing didn’t want him under any circumstances to witness the torment he was about to go through. Didn’t want the cat to see him in his wretched state.

Fu Jing walked through the palace, his face sour, his eyes downcast. When he entered the main hall, he couldn’t bear to look at the demon.

He felt incredibly awkward at the prospect of what was about to happen—but he also knew he had no other choice. As much as it irked him.

He stood by the door, clenching and unclenching his fingers several times, his gaze firmly trained on the ground.

“So, what now?”

Xuan Qi sat casually on the throne, book in hand, and waved him over. “C’mere.”

Setting the book aside, he picked up the dagger he’d already prepared and held it out. “You wanna do it? Might make you feel better.”

Fu Jing accepted the dagger. “Oh, so now you’re being considerate?”

Xuan Qi shrugged. “Never too late for that.”

He extended his wrist, but Fu Jing hesitated, fingers tightening around the hilt.

“What’s wrong?” Xuan Qi asked.

“Can we… do this somewhere a bit more private?”

Xuan Qi raised his eyebrows but didn’t object. “Sure. Where to?”

“...The bedroom.”

As ironic as it was, in all his time here, the bedroom had become the only place that felt remotely like a sanctuary.

In the bedroom, Xuan Qi sat on the edge of the bed, presenting his wrist once more. He was holding out his left arm, so Fu Jing grabbed his right and, without hesitation, drove the dagger down.

Xuan Qi grinned. Fu Jing’s intention was all too clear. “Could’ve been a bluff, y’know? What if my left arm is the dominant one?”

“It’s not.” Fu Jing said, dragging the dagger across Xuan Qi’s skin. Hot, thick crimson gushed from his arm as if it were a well of blood, but the demon didn’t even flinch.

Fu Jing continued, “You always cut your left arm open.”

A glint of amusement flickered in Xuan Qi’s eyes. “How very demonic of you.”

Fu Jing shot him an icy glare.

“Told you, humans are the most wicked of creatures,” Xuan Qi said.

Fu Jing ignored the remark and instead yanked on Xuan Qi’s arm. “Get off the bed.”

Xuan Qi frowned, slightly puzzled.

“You’re sullying the sheets,” Fu Jing explained.

The blood had already left a single drop, slowly seeping into the white fabric like spilled ink.

Xuan Qi blew a sigh through his nose, but did as requested, stepping off the bed and raising his arm to Fu Jing’s mouth. “Go on, then.”

Fu Jing squeezed the dagger in his clammy hands, the sheer dread of the impending agony locking his arms in a paralysing grip. “Do you… do you have a cup?”

Xuan Qi glanced at the moon outside. There wasn’t much time left. “Bit late for that. I’ll give you a cup next time.”

Fu Jing nodded almost imperceptibly, then took Xuan Qi’s arm in both hands. He knew his life depended on it, yet he could only watch as the blood flowed out. 

His breath shuddered, and tears welled up in his eyes.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? You have to,” Xuan Qi replied sharply, his face severe.

Seeing Fu Jing this petrified, Xuan Qi sighed anew. Then, without warning, he pushed Fu Jing against the wall next to the bed.

He lifted his wrist to his own mouth before bracing one arm against the wall and grabbing Fu Jing’s chin with the other. He tilted Fu Jing’s head up and firmly pressed their lips together, forcing the blood down his throat once again.

Fu Jing’s eyes widened, but he didn’t resist. Surrendering to his fate, he closed his eyes, only reluctantly swallowing the blood. After three gulps, he slapped the demon’s shoulder to indicate he’d had enough.

Xuan Qi pulled away.

Tears and blood streaked Fu Jing’s face. His lips trembled. “I hate you…”

“I didn’t force you to eat that berry.”

Fu Jing lowered his gaze. Moments later, the searing pain shot through his body. A sharp gasp tore from his throat as his entire body tensed violently, his muscles locking up as if bound by an unseen force.

He grasped Xuan Qi’s firm arms, his fingertips digging into the demon’s skin. A tremor ran through him, his body quaking under the sheer intensity of the pain.

His knees buckled beneath him, and he would’ve crumpled to the floor if not for the pair of strong arms that wrapped around his waist and lifted him up. Fu Jing instinctively clung to the demon, his limbs coiling around Xuan Qi like a frightened child grasping onto a parent.

His entire body stiffened in agony, a deep groan escaping his throat.

“If it hurts too much, just bite me,” Xuan Qi offered.

Fu Jing didn’t need to be told twice. His teeth sunk deep into the demon’s neck, his nails digging into his skin.

The harder the cramps hit, the fiercer his bite became. Even after he’d broken skin and blood filled his mouth, he didn’t let up. Since he’d already ingested the demon’s blood, a few drops more wouldn’t make a difference.

Outside, the wind chimes sang softly on Xuan Qi’s balcony, a cruel contrast to Fu Jing’s pained whimpers.

Wave after wave of excruciating convulsions tore through his body, and only when it felt as if his innards had been thoroughly charred did his limbs slacken.

Once Fu Jing had stopped moving, Xuan Qi carried him to bed.

Fu Jing didn’t utter a single word. Completely drained of energy, he simply closed his eyes.

Was this really going to be the rest of his life?

Xuan Qi pulled the blanket over him.