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"This place is like a tomb," Liu Zhege said flatly, his deep voice cutting through the musty silence of Qing Jing Peak’s library as they passed by. “Cold, dim, cramped. No wonder you're like this.”
Shen Jiu halted mid-step and turned, brow arched. "Does Bai Zhan even have libraries?" he asked coolly. "Or is it just rocks and muscle over there? Could it be, shidi actually can't read?"
Liu Zhege's temper flared. "You—!" He jerked his arm back.
"Ah! You idiot—!"
In his fit, Liu Zhege completely forgot about the enchanted cuffs binding their wrists together. His sudden movement yanked Shen Jiu backward off balance, and they collided, crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
!!
Shen Jiu’s face flushed red with indignity. He smacked Liu Zhege squarely in the chest. "Brute! Dumbass!"
"Ow! Stop hitting me and get off!" Liu Zhege snapped, though a blush crept up his ears. This bastard's too light, he thought, trying to keep still. He needs to eat more. "Don't act like I wanted to touch you!"
Around them, the faint rustle of onlookers quickly shuffled away. The two of them were loud enough to wake the dead, but not a single soul dared intervene.
After all, who would be foolish enough to dare scold Head Disciple Shen Jiu of Qing Jing Peak—renowned for his sharp tongue and sharper wit—and Head Disciple Liu Zhege of Bai Zhan Peak, the so-called "War God" of Cang Qiong Mountain sect?
They were infamous for their mutual hatred, clashing at every opportunity. Yet here they were, shackled together after a mission gone wrong. No amount of brute force or spiritual energy had broken the cuffs, leaving them with no choice but to scour Qing Jing Peak’s library for answers.
So far, all they’d managed to do was make a mess.
They glared at each other, breaths harsh, faces inches apart... until Shen Jiu shoved himself upright with a scoff. "Disrespect this space again, Liu-shidi, and I’ll sever more than just these cuffs."
Liu Zhege snorted. "Try it. See what happens."
They stalked off down the aisle—bound together, steps uncoordinated, bickering the whole way.
**
Four hours had passed. Mountains of manuals and unfurled scrolls littered across the tables and floor, yet the cuffs binding their wrists remained firmly intact.
Liu Zhege slammed a manuscript shut. "Dual Heart Ritual? Kiss of Mutual Release?! This is—this is—"
"Shut up and keep reading!" Shen Jiu snapped, barely looking up as he rifled through another scroll.
There had to be a normal way to break the damn spell!
At least neither of them had to eat, thanks to inedia. It spared them the awkwardness of navigating meals—or worse, the toilet—while shackled together. Still, the sheer length of time they'd spent searching was grating on Shen Jiu’s nerves.
Six more hours crawled by. It was deep into the night, the library long abandoned by the other disciples. Only the two of them remained, diligently reading through weighty volumes.
"Let’s just try one of these and get it over with," Liu Zhege muttered, pulling a scroll closer. He read aloud:
To dissolve demonic bindings between dual cultivators, both parties must synchronize heart and spiritual flow. Breathing in unison, each cultivator must place their hand over the other's heart. Maintain spiritual harmony until resonance is achieved.
Shen Jiu grimaced, apprehension clear on his face. But compared to the alternatives, this one was almost tame.
"...Fine," he bit out.
They knelt facing each other, the candlelight casting long shadows on the ancient shelves. For a moment, neither moved.
Then—slowly, hesitantly—they both reached out.
Shen Jiu flinched as Liu Zhege’s palm settled over his chest. His own fingers twitched, then stiffly pressed against Liu Zhege’s heart, its beat thrumming through the fabric—too alive, too close.
"This is ridiculous," Shen Jiu muttered.
"You think I like this?" Liu Zhege shot back, brow twitching. "Your heartbeat’s going insane."
"Yours too," Shen Jiu hissed. "Stop distracting me."
Shen Jiu's pulse was a frantic drumbeat beneath his ribs. Damn it. He risked a glance up—only to find Liu Zhege staring back, eyes serious now, reluctantly sincere.
They began to breathe together. Slow. Measured.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Two storm-tossed currents, crashing together.
And somehow—finding rhythm.
Now here comes the hard part, Shen Jiu thought bitterly.
Their spiritual energy flowed into motion, and Shen Jiu nudged his qi forward—uneven, fractured, the way it had always been.
He braced for a scoff, a sneer.
But Liu Zhege said nothing.
Instead, Shen Jiu felt it—Liu Zhege’s qi adjusting to meet his. Steady. Supportive. Smoothing the edges, covering the cracks.
This brute is compensating for me, huh? Shen Jiu's chest tightened, a wry smile tugged at his lips—
"Stop making that face," Liu Zhege muttered, taking his other hand and letting qi flow there too.
"What face?"
"Like you’ve already lost. It doesn’t suit you."
Shen Jiu huffed but didn’t reply, focusing deeper. He fed more qi into the flow, testing Liu Zhege’s response. To his surprise, it held. Their energies wove together, breaths and heartbeats syncing into calm.
Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. Time blurred into silence and glow. A soft aura bloomed around them, warm and still.
Then—nothing.
The cuffs didn’t budge.
Shen Jiu groaned, pulling back. "Useless."
Yet his body felt… lighter. Looser. Unburdened in a way it hadn’t been for years.
Even Liu Zhege stood taller, rolling his shoulders with a satisfied grunt.
"Your turn to pick," he said, nodding to the remaining pile of scrolls.
Shen Jiu casually picked up the scroll at the top.
Method of Release: A kiss, sincerely given and reciprocated in equal measure.
WHACK!
The scroll hit the far wall before Liu Zhege could even glance at it. Shen Jiu’s ears burned. How the hell did that one end up in there?!
Ignoring Liu Zhege’s raised brow, he grabbed another parchment.
Severance through Sacrifice
To forcibly break a demonic-bound curse, one cultivator must sever half their spiritual core and offer it as tribute. The effect is immediate and irreversible.
This…
Shen Jiu's fingers had gone cold. Half a spiritual core? That might as well be death for a cultivator. All that hard work, everything he strove for...gone, just like that. Even reading it filled him with dread.
A shadow fell over the text. Liu Qingge plucked the scroll from his grip and scanned the contents.
"You were considering this?" he said, voice sharp with disbelief. "Seriously?"
The faint warmth that had settled between them vanished instantly.
Shen Jiu jerked his head up. "I wasn’t."
"You stared at it long enough," Liu Zhege said flatly. "Whose half would you have given—yours, or mine?"
He didn’t shout. That would’ve been easier to brush off. Instead, his voice was low. Disappointed.
Certain.
Always like this, Shen Jiu thought bitterly. Always thinking the worst of me.
And maybe he wasn’t wrong to. Shen Jiu wouldn’t trust himself either.
"I said I wasn’t going to choose it," Shen Jiu muttered. He snatched the next scroll, read it, then shoved it into Liu Zhege’s hands. "We'll try this one."
Seven-Step Unbinding Ritual
A dance-like ritual requiring both parties to move in perfect synchrony, performed in the first light of dawn.
Liu Zhege said nothing, but the fire in his eyes had dulled into something colder—a look Shen Jiu knew too well.
Sigh. Shen Jiu stood up, smoothing out his robes. "Sunrise is close. If we rehearse now, we can finish the steps in time."
Liu Zhege exhaled and rolled the scroll shut. "Fine. It was getting stuffy in here anyway."
**
They crossed the Rainbow Bridge to the outer training grounds near Wan Jian Peak, where the morning light touched Cang Qiong Mountain first. The air was crisp, the sky a soft, smoky blue hinting at sunrise.
Shen Jiu and Liu Zhege stood at the center of the practice arena, hands reluctantly linked by the cuffs binding them together. They exchanged identical scowls before turning away, though their palms remained pressed together.
"According to the manual," Shen Jiu said, "the ritual requires seven synchronized movements, beginning with—"
He stepped forward, guiding Liu Zhege into the first stance—a slow pivot, their joined hands arcing like a drawn bow. Liu Zhege stumbled, his boot landing squarely on Shen Jiu’s foot.
"Tch." Shen Jiu inhaled sharply but but held his tongue.
"Sorry. Again?"
Shen Jiu nodded, resetting their position. "Left foot first. Mirror me."
This time, Liu Zhege moved too slowly, twisting their joined hands awkwardly.
Liu Zhege’s jaw tightened. "I don’t dance."
"Clearly."
They tried again. Another misplaced stomp.
"Focus!" Shen Jiu snapped, brow twitching.
"I am!" Liu Zhege hissed back, flustered. "This is ridiculous. Who designed this ritual!?"
"Blame the ancients," Shen Jiu said, rolling his eyes.
The next few steps devolved into a stumbling mess—Liu Zhege overcorrected, slipped, and nearly knocked them both over. Shen Jiu caught him with a firm grip on his wrist, steadying him with ease.
"You fight demons with this coordination?"
"Usually, they don’t require dancing," Liu Zhege grumbled. "Where’d you learn to move like this anyway? The brothels?"
The words were out before he could stop himself. He winced.
Shen Jiu’s fingers twitched against his, but his voice stayed eerily calm. "When I was a child." No elaboration.
Liu Zhege blinked. Pompous young master training, he supposed.
Yet, despite their grievances, Shen Jiu was taking this seriously. Not just going through the motions, but truly committing—to the form, to the ritual.
For all his arrogance and trickery, Liu Zhege had to admit: Shen Jiu never half-assed anything.
Liu Zhege straightened his back. If he's giving it his all… I should too.
They tried again.
One step, then another—pivot, press, turn. Shen Jiu moved like flowing water, and this time, Liu Zhege moved with him. Their feet traced slow circles into the earth, movements martial yet graceful. Shen Jiu spun outward, tethered by the cuff between them, then reeled back in closer.
By the fifth repetition, their steps finally aligned.
Their first perfect rehearsal.
High above, the sky had shifted: clouds edged in gold, the horizon blooming with pale pink. Dawn was only breaths away.
They exchanged a silent nod.
Again.
Their hands pressed together, the ritual beginning anew. A breath in, a step out. Fluid. Seamless.
Between the fourth and fifth step, Liu Zhege leaned in slightly.
"…I’m sorry," he murmured. "For what I said earlier. And before."
Shen Jiu’s lashes flickered, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he reined in his expression. "No need to mention unnecessary things."
At the final step, Liu Zhege’s arm curved around Shen Jiu’s waist, their faces a hair’s breadth apart.
"It’s necessary to me," Liu Zhege whispered, his grip tightening.
Shen Jiu’s breath caught. His eyes flicked up, wide and searching—for any doubts, any uncertainties.
There weren't any.
He didn’t pull away. Neither did Liu Zhege.
Above them, the first true rays of dawn split the clouds.
They both glanced down at the cuffs, expectant, as a faint glow shimmered along the bindings.
But…
Nothing.
No surge of spiritual energy, no satisfying release. Just the same stubborn bond as before.
A beat passed—then Liu Zhege chuckled softly, the sound warm and unguarded. Shen Jiu let out a quiet huff of amusement as well, the tension dissolving into something lighter, almost sheepish.
Their hands were still touching. Liu Zhege’s thumb brushed absently over Shen Jiu’s knuckles, his tone teasing. "Guess it’s my turn to pick next?"
Shen Jiu’s mouth curved—just slightly—dangerously close to a smile when—
"Shen-shixiong? Liu-shidi?" A voice rang out across the field.
They jerked apart like guilty children.
Wei Hong, Wan Jian Peak’s head disciple, jogged up with a lazy wave. "Greetings, martial brothers! Uh… what are you two doing out here?"
His gaze flicked between their faces, their cuffed wrists, the trampled dirt of their makeshift dance floor. "…Training?"
Shen Jiu cleared his throat. "Just testing a ritual to remove this.” In perfect sync, he and Liu Zhege both lifted their wrists to show the cuffs.
"Oh. Why didn’t you come to me?" Wei Hong asked, tilting his head. "Wan Jian Peak has the Blade of Mutual Suffering, remember? Would’ve sliced that clean off."
"Ha?"
"Yeah. One of its functions is to sever cursed bindings between cultivators. I told you two about it when we got it a few months ago!"
...
Shen Jiu and Liu Zhege turned slowly to face each other, eyes wide in matching disbelief.
Did… did they really forget something that crucial?
No wonder their shizun and shifu were so unbothered by their complaints!
Liu Zhege opened his mouth to say something, but Shen Jiu got there first—flat, clipped, and just a little too fast.
"Shut up."
Wei Hong blinked.
A grin tugged at Liu Zhege's lips. "Wasn’t gonna say anything."
But he looked like he was thinking it very loudly.
Shen Jiu and Liu Zhege followed Wei Hong to the Wan Jian Peak armory—their fingers lightly brushing as they argued.