The Debt of Blood

The storming wind ceased.
The clouds scattered.
A cluster of crimson butterflies appeared from nowhere, fluttering softly around me.
They landed upon my wounds—each wing turning into a patch of flesh, mending the torn skin.

Soon, the pieces that Jin Xiu had carved away grew back whole.
But my left eye socket remained empty, hollow and cold—
for my eye still hung from the pouch at her waist.

I extended my hand toward her.
“Give it back.”

Jin Xiu shivered.
“In your dreams!”

Her face turned pale as parchment, lips trembling, yet she clutched that pouch with desperate force.

I didn’t want to waste words.

Two steps forward, I raised my hand slightly.
The pouch tore itself from her grasp, the fine brocade splitting open midair.
The eye she had toyed with for days fell neatly into my palm.

I closed my fingers, murmuring a small incantation to cleanse it of her foul aura.
Then I lifted my hollow gaze toward her.

“I never do business at a loss,” I said softly.
“You took one of my eyes—so I’ll take both of yours.”

Jin Xiu stumbled backward, grinding the words from between her teeth.
“You… you’ll never…”

I sighed.
Through my mind flickered countless memories that were not my own—
for now Bai Xi and I were one, and her thoughts had become my thoughts.

“Jin Xiu,” I said gently,
“Every sin must be paid for, in time.”

“Don’t you dare hurt the Princess!”

The ground shuddered beneath my feet.
Jun Ye leapt before Jin Xiu, his childlike face twisted with fury.
His brown eyes blazed red, sparks of fire licking in their depths.
Then, before my eyes, he transformed—his body expanding, bones cracking, fur erupting.
A towering beast stood in his place, three zhang tall, a tail like an iron pillar, each step shaking the heavens.

The true form of the Heavenly Beast Clan.

But Jun Ye’s bloodline was thin, his divine heritage diluted.
Even in his beast form, he was hardly worth fearing.

A loyal dog—nothing more.

“Jun Ye—” Jin Xiu gasped.

“Princess, run!” he roared.

Jin Xiu dissolved into a plume of smoke, vanishing into the wind.
Using the last of his strength, Jun Ye cast a teleportation spell to send her far away.
A red flash split the air, and his monstrous shadow loomed over me.

“As long as I draw breath,” he growled,
“you’ll never harm the Princess!”

“Where did you send her?” I asked.

His only answer was a deafening roar.
Twin fangs, two feet long, struck toward me.

I drifted upward, hovering in the air, and as he lunged past,
my hand plunged into his chest.
I closed my fingers around his heart and tore it free.

Jun Ye’s howl shook the desert.
He collapsed with a thunderous crash, dust rolling like waves.

When it cleared, he had returned to human form again—a white-haired boy, pale-faced, coughing blood.
“As long as I live,” he gasped, “no one… will ever harm the Princess…”

I knelt beside him, stroking his neck gently.
“Do you even know who the man you killed was?”

He bared his teeth.
“Whoever dares harm the Princess… deserves death!”

I smiled faintly and crushed his heart in my hand.
“No matter.
With you dead, Jin Xiu is already my prey.”

Jun Ye’s eyes went wide.
“You—”

I raised my hand, and my left eye floated into the air.
Whispering an ancient spell, I watched as the orb shimmered, glowing like a star,
then streaked away like a meteor.

Jun Ye stared, horrified. “You—you—”

I smiled and uttered the name of the curse.
“Tong Sheng Zhou—the Oath of Shared Life.”

By this vow, sworn upon my lost eye,
I would not kill Jin Xiu—
and until the vow was fulfilled, my eye would never return to its place.

It was a terrible spell, one that doomed both parties to ruin.
The caster must sacrifice a piece of their own body.
But it carried one exquisite benefit—
I could track her, wherever she ran, for a thousand miles.

A perfect curse for those who crave destruction on both sides.

Jun Ye screamed—a sound so piercing it rattled the heavens.
The sand trembled beneath us.
Then flames erupted from his body.
He burned like a man of fire, the air thick with the scent of ash.

The crackling of his bones echoed like fireworks.
His monstrous face twisted, half-hidden in the blaze.

“I… I won’t let you… harm her…”

Even with a fragment of Bai Xi’s power, I dared not confront that fire head-on.
He was burning his soul.

He didn’t want to live—he just wanted to drag me down with him.

Naive.
Did he think his dying flame could stop me?

The fire trapped me in place, searing the air,
until his final scream faded into silence.

What was left of him—blackened bone—crumbled into dust,
carried away by the desert wind.

“Was it worth it?”

I wasn’t sure if I was asking Jun Ye… or myself.

Eternal damnation—that was his reward.

I brushed the soot from my robes and turned to leave.
Then a pair of trembling arms wrapped around me from behind.

“Qiao Qiao…”

I had almost forgotten him.
Gu Yi.

With Jun Ye’s death, the illusion shattered.
He had regained his mind.
Now he stood before me, trembling, his eyes unable to meet mine.

Though the spell had lifted, the memories remained.
The horror of the last ten days flickered in his gaze—
the slick feel of the dagger in his hand,
the sound of my screams,
the moment he gouged out my eye.

Gu Yi, I’m Qiao Qiao—don’t you remember me?
Gu Yi, you promised never to hurt me.
Gu Yi, please… don’t take my eye… please…

Madness and memory—they were nearly the same.

Two tears rolled down his pale cheeks.
His voice broke. “Qiao Qiao…”

“Go.”

I looked at him steadily.
I knew he hadn’t meant it.
But knowing that didn’t mean I could forgive him.
Not killing him was mercy enough.

“I understand.”

His voice was soft—resolved.
Then, in one swift motion, he snatched the dagger from the sand and raised it to his own face.

A-Bao squeaked sharply.
Before the blade could pierce his eye, I flicked my wrist, knocking it away.

“What are you doing?”

“I hurt you there,” he said quietly. “So I’ll hurt myself the same.”

I laughed coldly. “Do you think mutilating yourself will undo what you’ve done?
Gu Yi, to me now—you’re just an ant.
And an ant’s death means nothing.”

He froze, disbelief filling his eyes.
“You… you’ve changed…”

I raised my sleeve.
The wind shifted—the sky itself darkened.

With one step, I crushed him beneath my heel.
“Gu Yi,” I said softly, “if you truly wish to atone, there will be plenty of chances.
But this—” I pressed harder, feeling his chest tremble beneath my foot—
“This pitiful display of remorse is only to ease your own guilt.
Keep your life.
If I ever need it, I’ll come and take it myself.”

Gu Yi’s eyes closed.
Blood and tears mingled, streaming down his face.

He knew, as I did—
some things, once done, can never be undone.