Crossing the Line Chapter 68

Xue Tuzi rolled his eyes, exasperated, and turned his head to look out the window. The sunlight poured into the room, bright and relentless, illuminating his disheveled state. His face fell as realization hit him: once again, he had overslept.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he demanded, his voice tinged with anger. He tried to push Shudu off his body, but Shudu only pressed him down more firmly, his weight making escape impossible.

"I didn't know that was my job," Shudu murmured, his lips grazing Xue Tuzi's ear as he spoke.

Xue Tuzi flinched at the sensation, his ear twitching involuntarily. He tilted his head, trying to shield the sensitive spot beneath his shoulder, his cheeks flushing in annoyance. "Get off," he whined, scoffing as he avoided Shudu's eyes.

Shudu arched a brow, leaning closer. His expression was a mix of curiosity and mild irritation. "Why won't you be more gentler?"

"Ugh," Xue Tuzi whined, his voice soft but edged with frustration. Shudu's overpowering presence weighed on him, making his breathing shallow.

The question hung heavily in Shudu's mind, gnawing at his thoughts. His sharp brows knitted together, his voice low and serious as he asked, "Have I ever taken advantage of you?"

Xue Tuzi's immediate response was a scoff, a derisive sound that held both irritation and disbelief. "Plenty of times," he said flatly, his tone laced with exasperation.

Shudu froze, the unexpected answer hitting him like a splash of cold water. His brows furrowed deeply as he leaned closer, his dark eyes searching Xue Tuzi's face. "When?" he demanded, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"Right now," Xue Tuzi whined, his words muffled as he squirmed beneath Shudu's weight. Shudu's broad frame pinned him firmly to the bed, making every breath feel labored, every attempt at escape futile.

From her perch on the headboard, Xiao Zongzi tapped her many spindly legs against the wood, the sound a rhythmic clatter of disapproval. Her small, glossy body gleamed in the sunlight as her eyes swayed, silently chastising Shudu's actions. She had witnessed this countless times before—Shudu's relentless teasing and Xue Tuzi's predictable flustered resistance.

Still unconvinced, Shudu tilted his head, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "How am I crossing the line?" he asked, his voice softer now but no less insistent.

Xue Tuzi turned his head sharply, his cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. He refused to meet Shudu's gaze, his voice dropping into a sullen murmur. "You're poking me."

Shudu blinked, taken aback by the vague accusation. "Poking you?" he echoed, his confusion deepening. "What are you even talking about?"

Xue Tuzi's lips pursed, and his doe-like eyes flicked upward, stealing a reluctant glance at Shudu. His face was a picture of stubborn defiance, though the pink tinge across his cheeks betrayed his discomfort. "Just… stop," he muttered, trying to wiggle free again, but Shudu didn't budge.

Xiao Zongzi clicked her legs more insistently now, her small body swaying as if to emphasize her disapproval. The tension in the room was obvious, the unspoken battle of wills between the two men playing out in every glance, every word.

Xue Tuzi turned his head away, his cheeks burning brighter. He bit his lip and muttered under his breath, "It's poking me."

Shudu blinked, his confusion evident. "What?"

"It's poking me," Xue Tuzi repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His doe eyes flicked upward, stealing a glance at Shudu's face, which remained frustratingly oblivious.

Shudu shifted slightly, and something hard and thick pressed more firmly between Xue Tuzi's thighs.

The realization dawned on Shudu, but he smirked instead of recoiling. "Oh, you mean this?" he teased, shifting again, the pressure intensifying.

Xue Tuzi gasped softly, his body betraying him as his legs parted instinctively. The heat rose in his chest, as he clenched his fists against the sheets. "Ah!" he snapped, though his voice quivered, lacking its usual bite.

"You're hot," Shudu observed, his smirk deepening. He slapped Xue Tuzi's legs closed, only for them to fall open again. "What's this? Can't control yourself?"

"Mn…" Xue Tuzi whimpered, biting down on his lower lip as his face flushed a deeper shade of pink.

Shudu leaned down, his lips brushing against Xue Tuzi's ear. "Is this crossing the line?" he murmured, planting soft kisses along the curve of his jaw.

Xue Tuzi's breath hitched as Shudu trailed kisses down his neck, lingering at the hollow of his collarbone. "Mn hmm," he answered weakly, his voice trembling as Shudu's lips explored the sensitive skin.

His hands roamed lower, flicking at the delicate jewels dangling from Xue Tuzi's chest. The faint touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he trembled beneath Shudu's touch.

Xiao Zongzi, still perched on the headboard, let out a sharp click of her legs, clearly disapproving of the scene unfolding before her.

"Am I still crossing the line?" Shudu teased, his voice low as his hand crept up Xue Tuzi's thigh.

Xue Tuzi's body tensed. His leg shot out, kicking Shudu squarely in the jaw, sending him reeling backward. "That's enough!" Xue Tuzi barked, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

The sudden movement startled Jiao Jiao, the little Gu worm who had been knocked out at the edge of the bed. He stirred, his whiskers twitching as he groggily surveyed the chaos.

Shudu groaned, rubbing his cheek where Xue Tuzi's kick had landed. "What was that for?" he asked, standing up.

Xue Tuzi ignored him, scrambling off the bed. His robe hung loosely around his shoulders, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of skin. Shudu's eyes followed him, a wicked glint in his gaze.

But before Shudu could make another move, Jiao Jiao shot a thread of silk, covering Shudu's face with sticky webs.

"Ugh, seriously?" Shudu muttered, trying to peel the threads away.

Xue Tuzi seized the opportunity. He undressed dipping his fingers into a jar of fragrant oil, rubbing it into his skin before slipping into a fresh set of robes tying the belt neatly around his waist. His hands worked quickly, combing his hair and securing it with a pink ribbon. By the time Shudu managed to free himself from the silk threads, Xue Tuzi was fully dressed, looking composed and regal.

Shudu stared at him, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Done already? But it's not like I haven't seen it all before."

Xue Tuzi shot him a glare, his cheeks still faintly pink. "Don't push your luck," he said curtly, smoothing down the folds of his robe.

Xue Laohu paced back and forth in the courtyard, his irritation growing with every passing moment. The morning sun hung high in the sky, and yet there was no sign of Xue Tuzi. Unable to wait any longer, he made his way to his disciple's room, his steps brisk and purposeful.

As he approached the door, a low groan drifted from within, muffled but unmistakable. Xue Laohu's brows furrowed, his hand pausing mid-air before pushing the door open. Another groan, louder this time, left no room for hesitation. With a swift motion, he shoved the door wide open, stepping into the room.

What greeted him, however, was not what he had expected.

Inside, Shudu loomed over Xue Tuzi, a mischievous grin splitting his face as he pinched the beauty's cheeks mercilessly. "Ah, Grandmaster! This venerable one has successfully roused your lazy disciple," Shudu announced, his tone smug as he flashed a full-toothed smile.

"Shizun!" Xue Tuzi cried out, his voice high-pitched and indignant. He batted Shudu's hands away, his eyes, rimmed red from frustration and embarrassment, shotting daggers at Shudu.

Xue Laohu stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, his sharp gaze darting between the two men. His hand instinctively raised his folding fan, snapping it open with a flick of his wrist to partially shield his face. For a brief moment, he had thought… something entirely improper was taking place.

"A-Tuzi," Xue Laohu said finally, his voice cold and stern, "you've overslept."

Xue Tuzi immediately lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his shame. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun and begs for punishment," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he cupped his hands and bowed.

"Grandmaster Xue," Shudu interjected smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back. His smirk only grew as he glanced at Xue Tuzi, who glared at him in silent fury. "If it pleases you, this venerable one can administer the punishment personally."

Xue Tuzi's head snapped up, his eyes widening in alarm before narrowing into a fierce scowl. "You—" he started, but Xue Laohu cleared his throat, silencing him.

"That…" Xue Laohu began, his tone careful as he snapped his fan shut with a sharp clack, "…won't be necessary."

Xue Tuzi released a quiet breath of relief and immediately dropped to his knees, bowing deeply. "Shizun is most forgiving. This disciple is unworthy of such kindness."

Xue Laohu nodded curtly, turning on his heel without another word. Xue Tuzi scrambled to his feet, shooting another glare at Shudu before hurrying to follow his Shizun out of the room.

As they left, Shudu remained behind, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk still playing on his lips. He watched Xue Tuzi's retreating figure, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. Xue Tuzi, for his part, didn't dare look back, though he could feel the weight of Shudu's gaze on him like a physical touch.

Xue Laohu said nothing as they walked through the courtyard, his fan now resting against his side. He clearly had no intention of asking about the earlier scene, his silence an unspoken command to leave the matter untouched.

Shudu, watching from the doorway, chuckled softly to himself. "It seems this venerable one's charms are… misunderstood," he mused, before turning back into the room. Whatever had passed between them, Shudu knew Xue Tuzi's version of events would undoubtedly paint him in the worst possible light. But that was precisely what made it fun.

Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng's training regimen was nothing short of grueling, a relentless test of their strength, stamina, and willpower. Designed by Xue Laohu to mold them into warriors of unwavering discipline in the up coming Disciple Showdown. Xue Laohu believed that only through suffering could one achieve strength, and thus he sent the two disciples on countless punishing tasks. One of the most infamous among them was the ascent of Mount Dingbu, a towering peak shrouded in mist and treacherous paths. This wasn't merely a climb; they were required to carry grannies from the village on their backs, each laden with baskets of provisions and herbs. Every step tested their resolve, their legs quivering under the weight. The air thinned as they ascended, and the paths turned into narrow ledges barely wide enough for a footstep.

The lake below Mount Dingbu was a thing of beauty, its surface a shimmering mirror reflecting the sky above. Scattered across its surface were large rocks, their mossy edges slick and precarious. It was there that Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng sparred in a unique and perilous training exercise. They leapt from rock to rock, their movements fluid and precise despite the risk of slipping into the icy water below. Xue Tuzi, with his quick reflexes, darted forward, his fist cutting through the air toward Li Zhameng, who twisted to the side and retaliated with a powerful kick. Their shouts and the sharp crack of their blows echoed across the lake.

Li Zhameng, as clumsy as he was, misjudged his landing. His foot slipped on the slick surface, and he plunged into the freezing water with a loud splash. Xue Tuzi burst into laughter, holding on to his stomach tears gleaming at the corner of his eyes. Li Zhameng surfaced with a scowl, his teeth chattering, while Xue Tuzi's laughter grew even louder.

Their training wasn't just physical. Meditation under the waterfall tested their mental resilience. The water cascaded down in an unrelenting torrent, its icy touch numbing their skin and biting deep into their bones. Li Zhameng sat with perfect stillness, his breathing deep and even, his focus unwavering. Xue Tuzi, however, struggled. His teeth chattered, and his shoulders hunched against the cold. After what felt like an eternity, he leapt out with a shout, shaking like a drenched dog. Just then, Shudu arrived, his nonchalant presence a stark contrast to Xue Tuzi's shivering form. He draped a thick towel over his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"For someone who laughs so easily, you're quick to run from a little cold," he teased softly, his lips brushing Xue Tuzi's icy cold lips.

"Enough." Xue Tuzi's voice was cold as he tilted his head away, brushing off Shudu with a sharp motion. He stepped back, gripping the towel in one hand and drying his damp hair with a rough determination, as though the task alone could erase the awkwardness of the moment. His robes clung slightly to his lean frame, the faint scent of mountain herbs clinging on to him. Shudu hesitated, his hand still half-raised, but Xue Tuzi's firm tone left no room for argument. A hint of hurt flickered across Shudu's face before he quickly masked it.

The morning air buzzed with anticipation. It was the day of the Disciple Showdown, a prestigious tournament held every spring at Sect Mount Dingbu, where elders presented their finest disciples to compete for honor and recognition. The sect's grand courtyard had been transformed into a bustling arena, banners of crimson and gold fluttering in the wind. Disciples and spectators gathered in droves, the murmur of excitement growing louder with each passing moment.

Xue Laohu, known for his strict yet fair demeanor, stood at the edge of the platform. With only two disciples under his tutelage, Xue Tuzi and Li Zhameng, he held his head high. His sharp eyes gleamed as he introduced his students, the weight of his trust evident in the slight nod he gave them. Beside him, Elder Yanse, draped in robes of deep amber, presented her chosen disciples: the twin prodigies Fei Hong and Fei Fen, along with the quiet but deadly Cheng Lan. Despite her vast number of students, she had carefully selected only the best. Other elders arrived in succession, their disciples lining up behind them in perfect formation.

Then came Elder Zhiwu, a figure of elegance and authority, who turned every head as he walked to the center of the courtyard. Unlike the others, he brought only one disciple: Ci Hua, the shining star of the sect. The crowd stirred as Ci Hua stepped forward, his every movement exuding effortless grace. With his striking features and unparalleled martial arts skills, Ci Hua was a figure of reverence, admired and envied by many. His dark hair was tied back neatly, leaving his chiseled face fully visible, and his robe, a deep shade of red, embroidered with silver clouds, shimmered in the sunlight.

A group of female disciples flocked to him, their voices melodic as they wished him good luck. Ci Hua barely acknowledged them, his attention seemingly elsewhere. He held a single peach blossom to his nose, inhaling its delicate fragrance before crushing it between his fingers. The petals fell to the ground like tiny drops of blood, but his sharp, predatory gaze lingered—not on the cheering crowd, but on Xue Tuzi.

Xue Tuzi stood apart from the commotion, adjusting the sash of his robe with a quiet focus. The sunlight highlighted his cold beauty, his expression unreadable. He exuded a quiet beauty that drew people in without effort. Ci Hua's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. He had admired Xue Tuzi from afar for months now, captivated by his beauty and skill. But the pride that had earned him the admiration of others was also his greatest weakness. To confess his feelings to Xue Tuzi, to risk rejection, was unthinkable. And so he watched, his yearning hidden behind a mask of cool composure.

The deep, resonant sound of drums broke through the air, signaling the start of the tournament. The crowd fell silent as the elders took their seats on an elevated platform. Xue Tuzi glanced over his shoulder, catching Ci Hua's gaze for the briefest moment. A flicker of something—recognition, annoyance, or perhaps amusement—crossed his face before he turned away. Ci Hua's jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist.

"Let the Disciple Showdown begin!" a voice announced, loud and commanding. The courtyard erupted into cheers as the first match was called, but Ci Hua remained still, his eyes locked on Xue Tuzi like a hunter watching his prey.