Jiao Jiao's small body trembled violently, and a faint, pitiful "Mama" escaped his lips as he wheezed in pain. The sound was barely audible, but it struck Shudu like a thunderclap. His entire body tensed, and a wave of demonic energy began to seep out of him, thick and suffocating.
His eye glowed an ominous crimson, the light flickering like embers in a firestorm. Strands of his hair lifted as though caught in a phantom wind, charged by the malevolent power radiating from him. The air around him grew oppressive, like the calm before a devastating storm, pressing down on everyone nearby.
He turned his gaze toward the opposing pitcher, and his fury was unmistakable. His knuckles cracked loudly as his fists clenched, his nails lengthening into sharp claws. His fangs extended, gleaming like ivory daggers in his open snarl. He was no longer the composed and charismatic Shudu—he was a pure rage given form, ready to unleash havoc.
The rules of the game were clear: no fighting. A single act of violence meant automatic disqualification. But rules were a distant memory to Shudu now. His vision tunneled, focusing solely on the pitcher who had caused Jiao Jiao's suffering. The only thing that could quench his thirst for vengeance was blood—the pitcher's blood.
"Shudu Gongzi!" Li Zhameng called, panic edging his voice as he turned to Xue Laohu. "Shizun, can't we do something?"
Xue Laohu clenched his jaw, his sharp eyes darting to the umpire. "Hey, Umpire!" he barked, only to see the Sect Leader of Mount Dingfeng discreetly pass a pouch of silver taels into the official's hand.
"Paid him off," Xue Laohu muttered bitterly, shaking his head in frustration. "Corrupt bastard."
Just as Shudu stepped forward, his claws ready to rip through the mound and the pitcher alike, a soft whimper broke through his haze of rage.
He froze, glancing down sharply. Xue Tuzi was crouched beside him, his usual demeanor replaced by an unusual determination. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he had gently guided Jiao Jiao's trembling form to latch onto his chest.
The Gu worm clung weakly, absorbing the torrent of negative energy flowing from Xue Tuzi's body. Xue Tuzi's own hair began to rise, his eyes reddening faintly under the strain, but he held firm, his face taut with anger.
Shudu's glowing eye dimmed slightly as he stared down at Xue Tuzi, his rage battling with the sight of the tiny, fragile creature clutching desperately to life. His fists remained clenched, the veins in his arms bulging as he fought to suppress the murderous intent still surging within him.
Xue Tuzi's hand curled protectively around Jiao Jiao's tiny back, the other clenched tightly enough to draw blood from his palm. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as his menacing aura slowly began to subside.
Xue Laohu intercepted them before things escalated, stepping between Shudu and the opposing team with a calm but commanding presence. "Let's beat them on the field," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
Xue Tuzi furrowed his brows, hesitating as he glanced down at Jiao Jiao nestled against his chest. The little Gu worm suckled weakly, its tiny body still trembling but visibly drawing strength. "But Shizun…" Xue Tuzi began, his worry evident.
Xue placed a steadying hand on Xue Tuzi's shoulder. "Don't worry," he reassured him. "Jiao Jiao won't be playing anymore."
Shudu's snarl hadn't fully subsided, his sharp fangs still bared as his glare remained fixed on the opposing team. His claws twitched, itching to make contact with the Sect Leader of Mount Dingfeng, who was grinning smugly in the distance.
It wasn't until Xue Tuzi's gentle hand pressed against Shudu's chest that he paused. Xue Tuzi's eyes, fierce and narrow despite his usual coldness, locked onto Shudu's glowing red gaze. "Let's beat them," Xue Tuzi said firmly, his voice carrying a rare steel.
Shudu's snarl wavered as he looked down at Jiao Jiao, now nestled securely against Xue Tuzi's chest. Slowly, his demonic aura began to dissipate, the oppressive air lifting.
The Sect Leader of Mount Dingfeng sneered as he sauntered closer, his laughter grating and full of mockery. "Looks like you'll be missing a player," he jeered. "If you can't find a replacement, you'll have to forfeit."
He laughed loudly, but his amusement was cut short when Shudu lunged forward, claws inches from his face. Xue Laohu caught him just in time, holding him back with a grunt. "Save it for the field!" Xue Laohu hissed, his grip iron-strong.
Sect Leader Mao spat on the ground in disgust, muttering, "Cheating bastard."
The tension thickened until a voice rose from the crowd. "If I may," it said, calm and clear.
All heads turned to see Ma-lang, a towering figure who had been quietly watching the game from the sidelines. His calm demeanor belied the strength in his build, and his sharp eyes gleamed with determination. He stepped forward, bowing slightly to Xue Laohu. "I've been watching, and I'd be honored to help," he said, his voice steady.
Xue Laohu glanced at the Sect Leader of Mount Dingfeng, a smirk creeping onto his face. "We have an extra player," he announced, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
In the stands, Ma-lang's wife waved enthusiastically. "Good luck!" she called, beaming with pride.
The game resumed, and with Ma-lang on their side, the tides quickly turned. His power at the plate was unparalleled, sending balls soaring out of the field and earning roaring cheers from the crowd.
Meanwhile, Xue Tuzi, reinvigorated by his protective instincts, was a force to be reckoned with on the mound. His pitches pounded the strike zone with precision, leaving the opposing batters flailing.
Shudu, his rage now channeled into fierce determination, defended the bases with ferocity. Every runner who dared approach his territory found themselves staring down a near-demonic guardian, and not one made it past.
With Ma-lang's strength, Xue Tuzi's precision, and Shudu's unrelenting defense, their team surged into the lead. The crowd roared with every run scored, and the opposing team, once so smug, began to falter under the pressure.
Great, Xue Laohu thought grimly. It was the bottom of the ninth, and Dingfeng had shamelessly cheated their way into a dangerous position—two runners on base, no outs. To make matters worse, Sect Leader Mao was out of commission, sprawled in the dirt like a crushed bug after an opposing player had tripped and landed on him.
The crowd murmured nervously, the tension thick in the air as Xue Laohu clenched his jaw. If they couldn't field enough players, they'd have to forfeit the match. He glared at the umpire, who conveniently looked the other way, clearly bought off.
Then, from the stands, a regal figure rose, drawing all eyes. Lord Yanhua stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding attention. His heavy-set yet muscular frame carried a paradoxical charm—strength tempered by softness. His broad shoulders and powerful arms made him seem like a warrior from ancient legends, but his slightly rounded belly and calm, easy gait hinted at indulgence and comfort.
Trailing behind him like a delicate flower caught in a storm was his wife, Shiliu. Clad in flowing silks of soft lavender and cream, embroidered with intricate floral patterns, Shiliu's every step was a study in grace. The fabric of his robes fluttered with his anxious movements, and his long, jet-black hair shimmered under the sunlight as he hurried to keep up with his husband. With his delicate frame and porcelain-like features, Shiliu looked like an ethereal spirit who had wandered onto the field by mistake.
"Lord Yanhua," Xue Laohu called out, half in surprise, half in exasperation.
"I'm volunteering," Lord Yanhua rumbled, his voice deep and steady, as he rolled his shoulders in preparation. "Looks like you need someone to step in."
Shiliu, clutching at the edge of his husband's sleeve, gasped. "My lord, no! It's too dangerous!" His wide eyes brimmed with worry as he clung tighter, his silks billowing dramatically.
"Fear not, my love," Lord Yanhua said, placing a large, reassuring hand over Shiliu's dainty one. "Your Lord is more than capable of handling a mere game."
"But what if they hurt you?" Shiliu protested, his voice trembling. "What if they... bruise you?"
Xue Laohu groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We don't have time for this. Lord Yanhua, are you playing or not?"
"My lord," Shiliu continued, ignoring Xue Laohu completely as he tugged on Yanhua's sleeve. "Please don't!" Shiliu whimpered, his dainty hands clutching the hem of Lord Yanhua's robes. His long lashes quivered with unshed tears, and his rosy lips trembled, making him look heartbreakingly fragile.
Lord Yanhua sighed deeply, his chest rising and falling. With a patience honed by years of Shiliu's dramatic antics, he bent down and cupped his tear-streaked face. "My dear wife," he rumbled, his deep voice as steady as a temple bell, "it's just a game. Fear not. Your lord will return unscathed."
Shiliu's tears spilled over like pearls from a broken string. "But what if the ball hits you, my Lord? Or—or what if someone slides into you? It's so violent!"
Lord Yanhua chuckled softly, planting a kiss on Shiliu's trembling lips. "Your worry is touching, my love. But you must trust in my strength." He brushed a stray lock of hair from Shiliu's face, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle.
Shiliu, still unconvinced, buried his face in Lord Yanhua's chest. His sobs were muffled now, his delicate frame shaking like a leaf. Lord Yanhua patted his head tenderly, his large hand practically engulfing it.
From a distance, Xue Laohu stood tapping his foot, arms crossed. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he murmured under his breath. "It's not war—it's baseball! The only thing Lord Yanhua's in danger of is pulling a muscle or falling asleep between innings. Can we please get on with it?" Xue Laohu exasperated his tone dripping with annoyance.
Shiliu shot Xue Laohu a glare so sharp it could slice bamboo. "You wouldn't understand, you brute! You've never known love this profound!"
Xue Laohu snorted. "You're right. My apologies. Clearly, I've underestimated the life-or-death stakes of recreational sports."
Lord Yanhua chuckled again, this time with genuine amusement. "Grandmaster Xue, please give us a moment. My wife's affections deserve at least that much."
Lord Yanhua finally pried Shiliu off, his massive hands steady yet gentle. "I'll be back, my love. Wait for me."
As Lord Yanhua jogged toward the field, his robes fluttering, Shiliu stood by the sidelines, his hands clasped in fervent prayer.
With Lord Yanhua stationed firmly at third base, his imposing figure loomed like an unmovable mountain. The moment the bat cracked against the ball, the crowd held its breath. The runner on second bolted, but Lord Yanhua, sharp and calculating despite his leisurely demeanor, was ready.
Xiao Zongzi, the spider demon known for her unparalleled precision, had already captured the ball in one of her many dexterous limbs. Without hesitation, she launched it with a cannon-like throw, her segmented arm a blur of motion. The ball streaked through the air like a comet, heading straight for Lord Yanhua.
He planted himself like a fortress, his broad shoulders squared as the ball hurtled toward him. With a single fluid motion, he caught it cleanly, pivoted, and tagged the runner out with such decisiveness that the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Now there are two outs and a runner on second base!" Ying Wu's excited voice boomed over the field. "Dingbu has the lead in the bottom of the ninth!"
The crowd was on its feet, tension electrifying the air. All eyes turned to the mound where Xue Tuzi stood, his expression calm but focused as he prepared his pitch.
However, the batter had other plans. His smirk was sinister, his eyes narrowing on the beauty standing at the mound. Shudu, ever perceptive, caught the malicious intent and immediately signaled Xue Tuzi with a discreet gesture.
Xue Tuzi gave a slight nod, his hand tightening around the ball. With a determined wind-up, he unleashed a blazing fastball. The batter, ignoring the pitch entirely, swung his bat—not at the ball, but directly at Xue Tuzi.
The bat flew through the air like a missile, slamming into Xue Tuzi's chest with a sickening thud. The impact sent him flying back several feet, landing hard on the ground.
Shudu gasped, his red eye widening in horror.
From the sidelines, Jiao Jiao, nestled temporarily in a small basket, let out a piercing scream. "Mama!" the little Gu worm cried, his tiny nubs trembling as his bug-like eyes fixated on Xue Tuzi's crumpled form.
But the chaos wasn't over. The ball, still in motion, had found its unintended mark—the batter's face. It hit with such force that it spun rapidly in place, steam rising from the impact as it left a vivid red imprint. The batter laughed deliriously, his sinister smirk now lopsided, before collapsing like a felled tree.
Shudu hesitated, torn between rushing to Xue Tuzi's side and finishing the play. His hands trembled, his demonic aura sparking faintly, but Lord Yanhua's booming voice cut through his indecision.
"The ball—toss it!" Yanhua commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Snapping back to the moment, Shudu snatched up the ball, his movements swift despite his lingering worry. With a sharp, powerful throw, he sent it hurtling toward third base.
The ball landed in Lord Yanhua's waiting hand with precision, and he tagged the runner out in a single motion. The game was over. Sect Mount Dingbu had won.
The crowd erupted in thunderous applause and cheers, the tension exploding into jubilant celebration. Shudu, tore off his mask, his chest heaving, immediately darted toward Xue Tuzi's
side, his usually composed face now a storm of worry. Dropping to his knees, he gently cradled Xue Tuzi in his arms, his touch tender yet desperate. His fingers ghosted over Xue Tuzi's abdomen, his sharp gaze assessing the damage.
"A few broken ribs… internal bleeding," Shudu murmured, his voice tight with concern as his demonic aura began to ripple faintly around him. His crimson eyes softened momentarily, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looked down at the fragile figure in his arms.
Xue Tuzi grimaced, his pale face damp with sweat. His head tilted weakly toward Shudu, his brows furrowed in discomfort. "D-did… did we win?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, strained but laced with determination.
Shudu's tense expression broke into a small, relieved smile, though his worry lingered in his glowing eyes. "You bet your ass we did," he said softly, his thumb brushing over Xue Tuzi's plump lips with reverence. His fingers traced the delicate mole at the corner of his mouth.
Scooping Xue Tuzi into his arms, Shudu stood with effortless strength, Xue Tuzi let his head rest against Shudu's chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat offering a strange comfort amidst the pain.
Shudu's gaze snapped up, locking onto the players from Mount Dingfeng with a glare so cold it could freeze fire. His demonic aura surged, the air thickening with an almost tangible menace as his hair rose and his fangs elongated ever so slightly.
"Get the hell out of here," Shudu growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word dripping with venom.
From the stands, Jiao Jiao squealed, his tiny nubs waving excitedly. "Mama won!" he cried, his voice piercing through the celebrations.
The players from Mount Dingfeng recoiled, their bravado shattering under the weight of Shudu's fury. Panic flashed across their faces, and they scrambled to retreat, tripping over one another as they fled. Their Sect Leader hesitated, his teeth clenched in frustration, but the sight of Shudu's towering presence and simmering rage froze him in place.
"Wait for me!" he finally stammered, his voice cracking as he turned tail and ran after his team, his dignity trailing behind him like a forgotten banner.
The field fell silent save for the murmurs of the stunned crowd. Shudu, now far more composed, glanced down at Xue Tuzi, his expression softening as his aura began to dissipate.
"Let's get go," he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to Xue Tuzi's lips before striding off, his movements firm but careful.