The practice field stretched out before them, an expanse of freshly cut grass gleaming under the midday sun. Xue Laohu had spared no effort in its creation, commanding the disciples to mow the grass, sculpt a mound, and carefully place bases until the field mimicked the diagrams he'd seen in his beloved baseball scrolls. The scent of grass and soil hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint murmur of a nearby brook.
Xue Tuzi, Li Zhameng, Shudu, and the two little insect demons followed Xue Laohu to the edge of the field, each gazing at the peculiar setup with varying degrees of bewilderment. Xiao Zongzi skittered along Shudu's shoulder, tilting her head in silent curiosity at the foreign layout, while Xiao Jiao peeked nervously from the pouch strapped to Xue Tuzi's side.
"I've never seen anything so… flamboyant," Shudu uttered, crossing his arms as he scanned the bases. "So this is a baseball field, huh."
A flustered disciple came sprinting toward them, clutching an armful of scrolls. His robes were stained with dirt, and sweat dripped from his forehead as he skidded to a stop in front of the group.
"Thank goodness you're here!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "Grandmaster Xue has been working us like dogs—"
The words hadn't even fully left his mouth before Xue Tuzi's hand shot to his hair. In one smooth motion, he pulled free the silk ribbon holding it in place, and with a crack as sharp as thunder, lashed it to the ground. A crater erupted where the ribbon struck, a puff of dirt and grass flying into the air.
The disciple, Cheng Lan, yelped in terror, dropping the scrolls as he stumbled backward. Xue Tuzi's usually calm demeanor had been replaced with an icy fury, his sharp gaze boring into the trembling disciple like daggers.
"You dare disrespect my Shizun?" Xue Tuzi hissed, his voice dangerously low, each word dripping with menace.
Cheng Lan fell to his knees, his face pale. He groveled before Xue Tuzi, bowing so low his forehead touched the ground. "F-forgive me! I-I spoke without thinking!" he stammered, his voice shaking with fear.
Xue Tuzi's glare lingered a moment longer before he turned with a disdainful flick of his ribbon, letting it coil back into his hand. "See that you don't make the same mistake again," he said coldly, not sparing Cheng Lan another glance.
Li Zhameng, standing quietly to the side, observed the scene with his hands clasped in front of him. His tall frame remained composed, but internally, he was waging a silent battle against his own frustration.
If it were me, he thought, his imagination running wild, I'd go Bing! Bop! Boom! Boom! Boom! Bap! Bam! Each imaginary punch and kick landed with satisfying precision in his mind, sending Cheng Lan flying. He exhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay calm, though the corners of his mouth twitched with suppressed annoyance.
"Hmmm…" Li Zhameng finally broke the tension, his tone soft but inquisitive. "Does Shizun want us to work on these scrolls?" He glanced at the discarded pile, brushing off the tension with a deliberate question.
Cheng Lan scrambled to gather the scrolls he had dropped, his hands fumbling as he tried to avoid another scolding. Shudu, watching the scene with mild disinterest, stooped to pick up one of the scrolls that had rolled to his feet. Unrolling it lazily, he studied the diagram inside—a long, slender design that vaguely resembled a club.
"What is this?" Shudu murmured, narrowing his eyes as he examined the lines and annotations. "It's just a well-rounded stick…" His tone was puzzled flipping the diagram around.
Cheng Lan, now clutching the remaining scrolls, straightened up nervously. "Grandmaster Xue," he began, his voice shaky, "would like his disciples to build more supplies for the game."
Xue Tuzi's gaze snapped to Cheng Lan, cold and piercing. His ribbon twitched in his grip, a faint crackle of energy making the air hum around him. The warning in his eyes was enough to send sweat rolling down Cheng Lan's temple.
"Xue Shidi—" Cheng Lan started, but he froze mid-sentence, feeling the weight of Xue Tuzi's deadly glare. Hastily, he corrected himself. "Xue Gongzi… Grandmaster Xue said you—you're a great seamstress and asked if you could please create the uniforms." His voice wavered, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he thrust a scroll toward Xue Tuzi.
Xue Tuzi snatched the scroll with a flick of his wrist, unrolling it to examine the design. The sketches were like nothing he had ever seen before—form-fitting jackets, trousers, and caps with unfamiliar patterns. But Xue Tuzi's sharp eyes scanned the details with practiced ease. There was no challenge he couldn't conquer with needle and thread.
Cheng Lan, still trembling, turned to Li Zhameng and offered him another scroll, his hands shaking slightly. "This… this one is for the mitts. Grandmaster Xue hopes you can handle it."
Before Li Zhameng could take it, Xue Tuzi's hand darted out, snatching the scroll away. "I'll take that one as well," he said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Li Zhameng's lips parted in an exaggerated pout, his cheeks puffing out indignantly. "A-Tuzi!" he huffed, crossing his arms. "You just want to do all the work just to get all of Shizun's praise!"
Xue Tuzi sighed, rubbing his temple. "Shizun thinks very highly of you, Meng Meng," he said, his voice even but with a hint of exasperation.
Li Zhameng's eyes brightened instantly, hope flickering in his gaze. "He does?"
"Of course," Xue Tuzi said smoothly, his lips twitching into a sly smile. "He thinks you could even manage to sew a mitt… successfully." The last word dripped with playful sarcasm, and Xue Tuzi chuckled softly into his sleeve.
Li Zhameng's cheeks burned as he stomped a foot in frustration. "A-Tuzi!" he snapped, his voice a high-pitched whine.
"Gotta side with little bunny on this one," Shudu drawled, his smirk wide and toothy as he rolled the scroll of the bat design back up. "Meng Meng's not exactly capable to sew, is he?"
Xue Tuzi's smirk vanished instantly, his brow twitching in irritation as Shudu casually leaned against a post.
Shudu held up the scroll, his sharp eyes glinting. "I could use a hand making these bats. Besides, Grandmaster Xue prefers strong, well-built men."
Li Zhameng's indignation melted away as his eyes sparkled with newfound enthusiasm. "Really?" he asked, his voice rising with excitement.
"Damn right. He can't stop staring at my figure," Shudu said with a smug grin, running a hand down his chest. The smooth, deliberate movement highlighted the contours of his muscular physique, his well-defined frame visible even beneath the snug fit of his dark shirt. His shirt clung in all the right places, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist.
Xue Tuzi groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself," he muttered, his tone sharp and unimpressed as he clutched his scrolls closer to his chest.
Cheng Lan, clutching the final scroll tightly, hesitated before clearing his throat nervously. "Finally, Grandmaster Xue also asked… uh…" His gaze flickered uncertainly between Xiao Zongzi, perched in her usual corner, and Xue Tuzi's pouch, where the gelatinous head of Xiao Jiao had just popped out.
Cheng Lan swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he stammered, "He asked… um… them…" He gestured vaguely toward the demon pets, his hand trembling slightly as he struggled to find the proper words.
"Their names," Xue Tuzi interjected, his tone clipped, "are Xiao Jiao and Xiao Zongzi." His glare intensified, daring Cheng Lan to make another misstep.
"Yes, of course!" Cheng Lan squeaked, bowing his head quickly. "Grandmaster Xue asked Xiao Jiao and Xiao Zongzi to please create sturdy, rubber-like balls." He wiped at his damp forehead with a handkerchief, his movements jerky as he tried to calm his nerves. He then stepped forward hesitantly, holding out the scroll.
Xue Tuzi snatched it with a sharp flick of his wrist, his expression unreadable as he scanned its contents. Meanwhile, Xiao Zongzi descended from her web gracefully, her many legs moving with eerie elegance, while Xiao Jiao gurgled curiously from the pouch, his jelly-like head bobbing.
"They'll get it done," Xue Tuzi said curtly, shooting Shudu a sidelong glance. "Unlike a useless insect who only knows how to stand around and admire themselves."
"Jealous?" Shudu quipped, flashing his sharp teeth in a grin. "I can't help it if I'm a work of art."
Li Zhameng, still holding his scroll, quietly muffled a laugh behind his sleeve, earning a disapproving look from Xue Tuzi. As Cheng Lan bowed again and scurried off, Xue Tuzi sighed, his fingers brushing lightly against Jiao Jiao's jelly-like head as if to reassure the creature.
The group began their preparations in earnest. Shudu grabbed Li Zhameng by the collar and hauled him into the dense forest to search for the perfect wood to craft sturdy bats. The sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling their path as they wandered deeper into the trees. "Pick something hefty but balanced," Shudu barked, smirking as Li Zhameng stumbled over a tree root.
Li Zhameng shot back, rubbing his shin and muttering under his breath about being dragged into manual labor.
Meanwhile, Xue Tuzi and Jiao Jiao arrived at the village's market to buy silk for the baseball uniforms. He adjusted the drowsy Jiao Jiao nestled in his pouch, the gu worm's gelatinous head peeking out as his whiskers twitched at the scent of roasted chestnuts.
"Stay put," Xue Tuzi chided, though his fingers brushed Jiao Jiao's antennae fondly. "We're here for silk, not snacks."
As he haggled over a bolt of indigo fabric, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a frayed cloak the color of burnt charcoal, half-hidden in the shadow of an alley. His breath hitched. A fortune teller. Her stall was little more than a rickety table draped in moth-eaten velvet, a brass bowl of smoldering incense staining the air bitter-sweet.
Xue Tuzi dug into his pocket, heart sinking as his fingers closed around a single silver coin. The fortune teller's hood shifted as he approached, revealing a face like crumpled parchment dusted with ash. Her knuckles, gnarled as tree roots, rapped the table.
"A question burns your tongue, boy." Her voice rasped like dry leaves. "Speak it, or begone."
Xue Tuzi slapped the coin into her palm. "What path leads to joy?"
The woman wheezed snatching the coin in a blink of an eye. Her milky eyes rolled back, fingers skittering over a deck of cracked bone tiles. Jiao Jiao whimpered, retreating into the pouch.
"You…are a thread frayed loose. Alone, you fall. Bind your thread to others, or unravel."
A shriek of laughter erupted nearby—children chasing a wooden hoop. Xue Tuzi turned, distracted by their gleeful chaos. When he glanced back, the alley was empty. Only the serpent tile remained, its carved scales glinting mockingly.
He sighed deeply, making his way back to Sect Mount Dingbu, there he locked himself away in his quarters, the sound of fabric snipping and thread pulling filling the room as he focused on sewing the uniforms. His hands moved with practiced precision, needle darting in and out of the fabric with ease. Beside him, Jiao Jiao spun fine threads from his jelly-like body, squeaking happily as Xue Tuzi wove them into the garments. Xiao Zongzi perched nearby, expertly spitting sticky strands into her web. Each spit was deliberate, creating a rubber-like material that she meticulously shaped into the balls they would need for the game.
In another part of the sect, Xue Laohu made his way to Sect Leader Mao's study. The room was serene, its walls adorned with exquisite calligraphy and ink paintings of mountains and rivers. The air was fragrant with the aroma of freshly brewed tea, and Sect Leader Mao himself sat at a low table near the window. He gazed out at his koi pond, the sunlight reflecting off the rippling water as he sipped his tea.
A loud, vibrating voice shattered the tranquility. "Sect Leader Mao!"
The sudden boom startled Sect Leader Mao so badly he choked on his tea, coughing violently and slamming a hand against his chest. "Grandmaster Xue!" he wheezed, his beard dripping with tea as his whiskers quivered with indignation. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"
Xue Laohu strode in confidently, snapping his fan open and wafting himself with an air of authority. "Sect Leader Mao, as you know, we need nine players for this game. Thus far, I have gathered six." He paused dramatically, pointing the fan directly at Sect Leader Mao. "And you, my dear Sect Leader Mao, will be my seventh."
Sect Leader Mao's eyes widened in disbelief. "Preposterous! I cannot play," he grumbled, hastily patting his soaked beard with a handkerchief.
"Neither can the others," Xue Laohu replied smoothly, closing his fan with a sharp snap. "But with practice, I am confident you'll rise to the challenge. Besides," he added, his smirk barely hidden behind his fan, "wouldn't you like to show up that decrepit brother of yours?"
Sect Leader Mao bristled, his whiskers twitching as he muttered under his breath. Xue Laohu's words had hit their mark; he knew exactly how to needle Sect Leader Mao's pride. With a deep sigh and a reluctant nod, Sect Leader Mao finally agreed.
Xue Laohu smiled triumphantly as he departed, though his mind was already racing. With Sect Leader Mao secured, he still needed two more players. As he pondered his next recruits, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he called, closing his fan as the door creaked open.
Two identical women entered, bowing gracefully with their hands cupped. "Grandmaster Xue, please accept us as part of your team," they said in perfect unison.
The pair were twins—Fei Fen and Fei Hong. Their matching hairstyles of neatly tied buns and straight-cut bangs gave them an almost doll-like appearance, but their striking eyes set them apart. Fei Fen's irises were a warm honeycomb hue, while Fei Hong's were a deep, inky black, gleaming like polished onyx.
Xue Laohu raised a brow, studying them with interest. The twins were known for their martial prowess, having trained under Elder Yanse, the only female elder on Mount Dingbu. Elder Yanse was a formidable presence, renowned for her stoicism and unparalleled skill, though she hardly ever spoke to Xue Laohu.
Rumor had it that Elder Yanse once harbored feelings for Xue Laohu during their days as disciples under the same Great Grandmaster. However, Xue Laohu had rejected her, and since then, she had remained distant, her demeanor icy even in formal sect gatherings. She had never married or taken a cultivation partner, leading to whispers that she still nursed lingering feelings for him.
The girls had heard whispers of the rumor and leapt at the chance to meet their Shizun's unrequited beloved. Xue Laohu, as the stories promised, was indeed as handsome as he was charismatic. His short, shaggy hair framed his face with a boyish charm, the wispy bangs softening his otherwise rugged features. Though not as muscular as Shudu, his lean, toned physique and broad shoulders radiated an effortless strength.
Even the jagged, uneven cut of his hair, which robbed him of the polished air of a grandmaster and lent him the rough edge of a bandit, could not diminish his allure. If anything, it added to his charm, making him all the more intriguing. The girls exchanged knowing glances, their eyes sparkling with mischief as they nodded to each other in silent agreement—their Shizun undeniably had good taste.
"You girls want to join the team?" Xue Laohu asked, his tone filled with genuine astonishment. It wasn't every day that life dropped solutions to his problems right into his lap.
Without hesitation, the girls dropped to their knees, bowing low as they declared in unison, "If Grandmaster Xue would allow us, we humbly wish to participate in this game."
For a moment, Xue Laohu looked taken aback, but then a wide, amused smile spread across his face. He gave a slight nod, his expression one of approval. "Alright, that settles it. Both of you will start practice tomorrow."
Their mission accomplished, the girls stood and excused themselves, their hearts alight with triumph. As they departed, they couldn't help but steal a few more glances back at the enigmatic figure who had lived up to every word of the rumors.
In the stillness of the cold, dark night, the open window allowed a sharp breeze to seep into the room, flickering the soft glow of Xue Tuzi's candles. He let out a quiet sigh, watching as the little Gu worm, Jiao Jiao, struggled to keep his big eyes open, yawning tirelessly as he spat out more silk with unwavering diligence.
"That's enough for tonight," Xue Tuzi said gently, his voice low but warm. He carefully reached over, cradling the Gu worm in his hands, releasing a faint sound that seemed to soothe the room. Scooping Jiao Jiao up, he tucked him into a soft bed lined with silk, ensuring the little one could rest.
Nearby, Xiao Zongzi had already succumbed to sleep, sprawled out atop a collection of balls she had tirelessly spun earlier in the evening. Xue Tuzi smiled faintly at the sight, his weariness momentarily forgotten as he stretched his arms, preparing to finish his work. Turning to the half-assembled garments for the uniform, he resumed sewing, the rhythmic sound of needle and thread filling the quiet space.
But Jiao Jiao, sensing that he had not joined him in bed, stirred restlessly. With a determined squiggle, the little Gu worm wriggled free and climbed up onto the table, curling up stubbornly next to the candle.
"Xiao Jiao," Xue Tuzi murmured with a resigned sigh. He paused his work and reached for a small basket, stuffing it with soft layers of silk before wrapping Jiao Jiao snugly in a blanket and putting him inside. Cradling the basket in his hands, he placed it gently beside him. "You must sleep, but if you insist, you may stay by my side."
With that, Xue Tuzi returned to his work, his focus unwavering even as the hours dragged on. The needle glinted in the candlelight, stitching patterns of care into the fabric, until at last, exhaustion took hold of him. His head drooped forward, his slender fingers slackening, the unfinished garment resting against the table.
Suddenly, the open window admitted a strong gust of icy wind, and with it came Shudu, his silent steps betraying his warrior's training. His sharp gaze softened as it landed on Xue Tuzi, hunched over the table, a needle still dangling from his delicate fingers. Beside him, Jiao Jiao lay peacefully tucked under a nest of blankets near the guttering candlelight.
"Idiot," Shudu muttered under his breath, his tone exasperated yet tinged with affection. "You're going to catch a cold."
With a shake of his head, Shudu grabbed a nearby blanket, draping it gently over Xue Tuzi's slender shoulders. As he leaned down to adjust the blanket, his eyes were drawn to Xue Tuzi's soft, full lips, the little mole at the corner trembling faintly with each quiet breath.
Unable to resist, Shudu pressed his lips against Xue Tuzi's in a lingering kiss, savoring the warmth of his skin and the softness that drew him in. His lips lingered on the tiny mole, placing a gentle kiss there as if sealing the moment.
Satisfied, Shudu straightened, casting one last look at the sleeping figure before stepping back into the shadows of the night, the cold wind closing behind him.