All the disciples gathered in the central courtyard, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and nervous excitement, as they prepared to draw lots for the first round of the Disciple Showdown. The air was thick with murmurs and the occasional sound of clinking bamboo sticks as the lots were shuffled in a bronze urn. Sect Leader Mao's commanding voice called the disciples forward one by one, each stepping up to determine their fate.
Shudu, who had no part in the competition, lounged comfortably at the edge of the chaos. He reclined in a chair, his long legs propped up on a low table, and a faint smirk played on his lips. A bowl of plump, glistening grapes rested beside him, and he lazily popped one into his mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness. The golden sunlight filtered through the surrounding trees, casting playful shadows across his sharp features.
Above him, Xiao Zongzi, the little spider demon who had taken up residence in the sect, was busy spinning an intricate web at the edge of the pavilion roof. Her tiny legs moved with precision as she worked tirelessly, no doubt hoping an unsuspecting insect would stumble into her trap. Shudu gave her an idle glance but paid her no real mind. His attention was instead drawn to the warm weight nestled against his shoulder.
Jiao Jiao, the tiny Gu worm, had made himself comfortable in the crook of Shudu's muscular neck. The little creature's pearlescent carapace shimmered faintly in the sunlight, and his round, trembling eyes were fixed on the bowl of grapes. With a soft hum of desperation, Jiao Jiao rubbed his head affectionately against Shudu's cheek, his whiskers twitching as if to plead for attention. His tiny mouth quivered, a thread of drool already forming as he watched grape after grape disappear into Shudu's mouth.
"Hmph," Shudu muttered, turning his head away with an exaggerated scoff. "Now that your mama isn't here, you want to act sweet? Tch. Don't think I'll fall for it." His tone was gruff, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.
Jiao Jiao let out a pitiful squeak, his big, glossy eyes shimmering with unshed tears as if his very heart was breaking. A bead of drool hung precariously from his tiny lips, threatening to spill onto Shudu's shirt. Shudu cracked one eye open, peeking at the desperate little creature, and let out a long-suffering sigh.
"You're such a pest," Shudu grumbled, plucking a grape from the bowl. With a deft flick of his fingers, he tossed it into Jiao Jiao's waiting mouth.
The Gu worm chirped with delight, swallowing the grape in one eager gulp—but immediately began to choke, his tiny body turning a bright, cherry red. He thumped his little legs against Shudu's shoulder in a panic, his whiskers flailing wildly.
"Idiot," Shudu muttered, quickly patting Jiao Jiao's back with two fingers. The Gu worm finally managed to swallow, coughing lightly as his color returned to normal. Shudu shook his head, his lips curling into a lopsided smirk. "That's what you get for being greedy. He cuts them up for you, doesn't he?"
The thought of Xue Tuzi brought an amused chuckle to Shudu's lips. Xue Tuzi's attentiveness to Jiao Jiao bordered on obsessive. He always ensured the water in Jiao Jiao's bath was the perfect temperature, blew on every single bite of food to cool it down, and meticulously cut everything into tiny, manageable pieces to avoid any chance of choking. Shudu often teased him about his overprotectiveness, but deep down, he couldn't help but be impressed. If there were a "Mother of the Year" award, Xue Tuzi would win it without contest.
"Look at you," Shudu said, nudging Jiao Jiao's round little head with a finger. "I've spent centuries cultivating you into a demonic insect, and you turned out to be a spoiled brat. You're supposed to strike fear into the hearts of men, not beg for grapes like a baby."
Jiao Jiao let out an indignant squeak, puffing out his tiny chest as if to protest the insult. But when Shudu offered him another grape, his pride crumbled instantly, and he greedily accepted it, munching happily.
Shudu leaned back in his chair, exhaling as he watched the disciples begin to pair off for their matches. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Xue Tuzi, who stood with his usual stoic grace, his lot already drawn. For a brief moment, Shudu's smirk softened into something gentler.
"Well," he murmured under his breath, "if anyone can win, it's him." Jiao Jiao chirped in agreement, and Shudu let out a quiet laugh, plucking another grape from the bowl.
Xue Laohu arrived at the loge seats with his usual air of relaxed authority, a faint smile lingering on his lips after mingling with the other elders. As he took his seat, he reached up and pulled off his wig with a dramatic sigh of relief, letting his short, shaggy hair breathe. His wispy bangs fell loosely across his forehead, brushing the corners of his sharp eyes. The moment the weight of the wig was gone, he groaned, pulling out his folding fan and fanning himself with an exaggerated flourish.
"Ugh," Xue Laohu grumbled, leaning back in his chair. "How do you people manage such long hair? It's unbearable." He ran his fingers through his cropped hair, savoring the freedom.
Shudu tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His own hair was kept to a single long rat-tail braid that fell neatly down his back. "This venerable one supposes Grandmaster still wishes to please the masses by wearing his hair 'properly' around the other elders."
Xue Laohu snorted at that, waving his fan lazily as he lounged in his chair. His legs sprawled apart in a manner that was anything but dignified, his entire posture radiating a casual defiance of propriety. "Bah, pleasing the masses," he muttered, though a sly smile crept onto his face. "I'll take comfort over appearances any day."
Shudu's eyes flicked down to the bowl of grapes resting on the table beside him. With unhurried grace, he plucked another and popped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet juice as it burst against his tongue. His gaze drifted toward Xue Laohu, who continued to fan himself with exaggerated motions, clearly reveling in his small rebellion against the sect's expectations.
"Who does Grandmaster Xue believe will win this tournament?" Shudu asked, his voice casual as he reached for a tangerine. He began peeling it slowly, his fingers deft and deliberate, the fragrant citrus scent filling the air around them.
"Xue Tuzi, of course," Xue Laohu replied without a moment's hesitation, his tone brimming with confidence. He snapped his fan shut and rested it against his knee, his eyes narrowing slightly as he gazed at the arena below.
Shudu raised an eyebrow at the certainty in Xue Laohu's voice. "Oh?" he murmured, his tone light but probing. He paused, peeling away another strip of tangerine skin before continuing, "Is he your favorite disciple, then?"
The question caught Xue Laohu off guard. He jolted upright, his posture stiffening as he turned to face Shudu with a nervous laugh. "No! No, of course not. I have no favorites," he said quickly, his voice a little too loud and a little too rushed.
Shudu's eyes glinted with amusement, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "I don't blame Grandmaster," he said, his tone both teasing and conspiratorial. His gaze shifted back to the arena, where Xue Tuzi was in the middle of a heated fight. With a precise and calculated move, Xue Tuzi swiftly apprehended his opponent, his movements as fluid as water and as sharp as steel.
Shudu's lips curled into a faint smile as he watched. "He is… exceptional," he added, his voice soft but carrying a weight of meaning.
Xue Laohu followed Shudu's gaze, his fan pausing mid-motion as his eyes lingered on Xue Tuzi. "He is," he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. But then he straightened up, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if to dispel the sentiment. "Still, all of my disciples are exceptional in their own ways."
Shudu hummed in response, not entirely convinced. His sharp eyes flicked back to Xue Laohu, watching the subtle tension in his face. Shudu leaned back in his chair, plopping a tangerine slice into his mouth, his thoughts drifting as the cheers of the crowd swelled around them.
Xue Laohu glanced sideways at Shudu, catching the unwavering intensity in his gaze as Shudu watched Xue Tuzi in the arena below. The crowd roared with excitement, but Shudu's expression remained stoic, his eyes following Xue Tuzi like a predator observing prey.
Raising an eyebrow, Xue Laohu placed his fan down on the armrest of his chair and turned fully toward Shudu. "Do you like A-Tuzi?" he asked bluntly, his voice carrying just enough weight to demand an answer.
Shudu didn't immediately respond, his gaze still fixed on the arena. When he finally did, it was with a scoff, a low sound of dismissive amusement. "Hmph." Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back into his chair with a casual air, one leg propped over the other. "He has a nice body," he said nonchalantly, his tone utterly matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather.
Xue Laohu froze for a moment, his face falling in exasperation. He dragged a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as though trying to gather his composure. With a furrowed brow, he turned to Shudu again, his expression somewhere between disbelief and resignation. "Is that all?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
Finally, Shudu tore his gaze away from the arena, turning his head to face Xue Laohu. His sharp, cold eyes bore into Xue Laohu's with an intensity that could freeze fire. "Grandmaster Xue," Shudu began, his tone calm but laced with an edge that made it clear he was done with the playful banter. "Demons have no use for love or affection. We breed. We dual cultivate. Ours is a relationship of give and take—no more, no less. Unlike you humans, who waste time on such frivolities." His words were laced with quiet disdain, though his expression remained unreadable.
Xue Laohu didn't immediately respond, his hand still hovering near his face as he studied Shudu with a mix of curiosity and unease. The man's words carried a strange weight, a reminder of the vast chasm that separated humans from demons, no matter how human Shudu seemed in that moment.
The roar of the crowd erupted once more, drawing their attention back to the arena. Another disciple had fallen, his sword clattering to the ground as Xue Tuzi stood over him, his expression calm but unyielding. Xue Tuzi's chest rose and fell steadily, his grip on his ribbon firm as the defeated disciple stumbled to his feet, bowing in submission. There was no celebration, no arrogance in Xue Tuzi's demeanor—only the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly who he was.
Shudu's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Xue Tuzi. His expression softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his gaze before it vanished, replaced once more by his icy detachment.
Li Zhameng's streak of improbable victories had turned him into the unlikely talk of the tournament. Mediocre at best in skill, he had advanced purely through a series of bizarre circumstances. His first opponent had stepped out of bounds mid-match and been promptly disqualified. His second match ended before it began when his opponent forfeited due to an unfortunate bout of stomach pain. And the third? A head-on collision with Li Zhameng had left the other disciple unconscious, much to the shock of the audience. Despite being an NPC in the novel, Li Zhameng had one defining trait: an absurdly hard head. Both Xue Tuzi and Xue Laohu often joked that his skull must be made of stone, citing their own painful experiences of accidentally bumping into it during training.
His next match, however, promised to be different. He was to face none other than Fei Fen, the beautiful and graceful disciple of Elder Yanse. Fei Fen stepped into the arena with an air of elegance, her movements light and deliberate as if she were gliding on air. Her twin sister, Fei Hong, stood on the sidelines, cheering loudly and waving her hands with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Go easy on him, Fen Fen!" Fei Hong yelled, her voice ringing over the crowd. Around her, disciples waved flags and banners adorned with Fei Fen's name, the rhythmic beat of drums and the sharp blare of horns adding to the chaotic din of excitement.
In the loge area, Elder Yanse made her entrance, her presence commanding attention despite her petite frame. She moved gracefully, her long robes flowing behind her as she ascended the stairs and took a seat not far from Xue Laohu and Shudu. Her sharp eyes flicked to them almost immediately, narrowing with suspicion as they landed on Xue Laohu. She didn't bother to mask her disdain, glaring at him for a moment before turning her face toward the cheering crowd below, her expression softening as she spotted her disciples rallying behind Fei Fen.
"Ah, Elder Yanse!" Xue Laohu's voice broke through the tension with an easy, wide grin that revealed his perfectly white teeth. He inclined his head slightly, his fan resting on his lap. "A pleasure to see you again."
Elder Yanse turned back to him, her eyes narrowing further as she scanned him up and down. "Grandmaster Xue?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief and suspicion.
"Yes, it's me," Xue Laohu replied, his grin unwavering. With a casual chuckle, he gestured toward his head. "I took off that ridiculous wig."
Elder Yanse's eyes widened in shock as she took in his appearance. His short, shaggy hair, with its wispy bangs, was a scandalous departure from the polished and regal image befitting a grandmaster. For a moment, she stared at him, her disbelief obvious. How could this man be Xue Laohu? she thought. Her heart raced as memories of the man she had loved over a thousand years ago resurfaced. The Xue Laohu she knew had been cold and distant, his sharp glare cutting through anyone who dared to approach him. He rarely spoke, and when he did, his words were laced with sternness and authority. He carried himself with a rigid elegance, an untouchable figure of icy perfection.
But the man before her now? He was talkative, charismatic, and amiable—everything the old Xue Laohu was not. Her lips tightened as she tried to reconcile the stark contrast. "How… unbecoming," she finally muttered, her tone laced with disapproval.
Xue Laohu laughed at her reaction, a rich, unrestrained sound that seemed to irritate her further. "Unbecoming? Perhaps," he said, leaning back in his chair and fanning himself lazily. "But it's a relief to rid myself of all that pomp and pretense. Life is too short to suffocate under layers of tradition, wouldn't you agree, Elder Yanse?"
She narrowed her eyes further, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I don't recall the Xue Laohu I once knew ever entertaining such thoughts," she said pointedly, her voice low but sharp.
"Ah, but time changes us all, doesn't it?" Xue Laohu countered smoothly, his grin never faltering. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, "I've simply embraced the freedom that comes with age. Surely you must understand."
Elder Yanse's gaze flicked toward Shudu, who sat quietly beside Xue Laohu, peeling another tangerine with methodical precision. The demon said nothing, his expression impassive, though there was a faint curve to his lips that suggested he was thoroughly entertained by their exchange.
Shudu leaned back in his chair, peeling the tangerine with practiced ease as his sharp eyes flicked toward the arena. He spoke without looking at Elder Yanse, his voice low and smooth. "Let's place bets. Who do you think will win?"
Elder Yanse, perched stiffly in her seat, spared him only a glance before scoffing. She didn't bother to dignify his question with an answer, instead turning her gaze back to the arena with an air of quiet disdain. Her disinterest only seemed to amuse Shudu, who smirked faintly as he popped a tangerine slice into his mouth.
Xue Laohu, meanwhile, had drifted nervously toward the rail of the loge seats. His fingers gripped the wooden edge as he watched Li Zhameng step hesitantly into the arena below. The young man's unease was obvious, his shoulders slightly hunched, his steps lacking the confidence of a seasoned fighter. Unlike Xue Tuzi, who would face anyone—man, woman, or even someone's grandmother—without hesitation, Li Zhameng struggled deeply with the idea of hurting women, even in the context of a competitive match.
This hesitation stemmed from his past. Li Zhameng had grown up without a father, and his admiration for his mother knew no bounds. She had been his entire world, the anchor that kept him steady even through the most turbulent times. When she fell ill, he had done everything in his power to save her, amassing an insurmountable debt in his desperate search for a cure. He bought every medication, tried every remedy, and even prayed to the heavens, but her illness ultimately claimed her life. Left alone and drowning in debt, Li Zhameng had been forced into the cruel world of human trafficking, where his life had spiraled further into despair—until, by sheer chance, he was accidentally purchased by Xue Laohu.
The system had described Li Zhameng as a mere NPC, an unremarkable background character with no special qualities or talents. Despite this, he poured every ounce of himself into training, spending endless hours perfecting his swordplay and martial arts. Yet, no matter how much effort he put in, he remained painfully average. How was someone like him supposed to defeat Fei Fen, one of Elder Yanse's most skilled disciples?
Xue Laohu sighed heavily, running a hand through his shaggy hair. His brow furrowed with concern as he watched Li Zhameng step into the center of the arena to face his opponent. Fei Fen, graceful and confident, stood tall on the opposite side, her twin sister cheering her on with fervent enthusiasm from the sidelines. The contrast between them couldn't have been starker.
A firm hand suddenly pressed down on Xue Laohu's shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts. He glanced up to see Shudu leaned beside him, his expression calm but his eyes keen with interest. "Does Grandmaster Xue doubt his disciple?" Shudu asked, his voice carrying an edge of challenge.
Xue Laohu hesitated, his lips parting but no words coming out immediately. How could he explain the truth? That the system had branded Li Zhameng as an NPC, a character destined for mediocrity in the grand scheme of the story? Yet, despite this, a part of him—a growing, nagging part—still wanted to believe in his disciple. Perhaps it was foolish, but the thought of seeing Li Zhameng succeed stirred something in him.
He turned his face toward the arena, his hands cupped around his mouth as he called out, "Meng Meng!"
The unexpected name echoed across the arena, and Li Zhameng startled slightly, his head snapping toward the source of the voice. His eyes widened as they landed on his Shizun standing at the edge of the loge, waving his fan energetically in a cheering motion. "Good luck!" Xue Laohu shouted, his grin wide and genuine, his enthusiasm infectious.
Li Zhameng's face softened, the nervous tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He nodded once, a flicker of determination sparking in his eyes as he turned back to face Fei Fen. The gong rang out, signaling the start of the fight, and the crowd erupted into cheers.
Shudu smirked, his gaze shifting from Xue Laohu to the arena. "Grandmaster Xue," he murmured, his tone laced with amusement, "for someone who claims to have no favorites, you certainly make it obvious."
Xue Laohu shot him a sideways glance, his cheeks flushing faintly. "I'm just encouraging my disciple," he retorted, though his voice lacked conviction. Shudu said nothing, merely chuckling softly as he turned his attention back to the fight.