Chapter 10: Code Contract: The Blood Oath of the Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox

As soon as Shen Yan stuffed the cold silver bell into his pocket, his chest tightened violently.

The phone screen was still lit, battery at just twelve percent, the Terminal Interface flashing frantically: 【Warning: High-risk contract fluctuations detected】【Cross-species energy transmission risk level—dead end】. His fingers trembling, he tapped open the Protective Shield generation script. The progress bar had just crawled to eighty-seven when the entire screen crackled with a burst of sparks, the device so hot he could barely hold it.

“It’s over, I’m really cooked now.”

Before the words faded, a flash of purple appeared before his eyes.

Luo Li was already standing in front of him, her cat ears flattened back, vertical pupils narrowed to slits. The tip of her finger glowed red, a drop of blood floating in mid-air like a miniature warning light. Shen Yan tried to retreat, but his legs felt welded to the ground. His Source Code Spiritual Root was pounding wildly inside him, as if sensing something it shouldn’t touch.

“Nine-Tailed Celestial Fox·Truth-Binding Soul Contract.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze frost.

A crimson pattern split open between her brows, and a chain of light shot out like a living serpent, plunging straight into Shen Yan’s chest. He felt a torrent of scalding energy crash into his meridians, his internal organs as if twisted by a wrench. The Terminal spat out one last line: 【Illegal Memory write! Core Protocol being overwritten!】

His vision was instantly flooded by a waterfall of Code, not flowing from top to bottom, but surging backward—countless lines of red Error Reporting drilling into his brain through his eyes, ears, and nostrils. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out, his body convulsing as if set to vibrate mode.

Just as his consciousness was about to shut down, a dull gray Permission Window suddenly popped up in his mind, resembling an old-fashioned computer’s command-line Interface.

Without thinking, driven by the muscle memory of writing Code, he raised his hand and typed a Command into the void:

Import System

Execute Isolation Program—Target: Foreign Energy—Mode: Forced Lockdown

A silver Code Flow erupted from his fingertips, surging upward against that crimson chain of light. The two forces collided in his chest with a muffled thud, like a dud firecracker set off inside his ribcage. He was thrown backward, slamming against the tree wall and sliding to the ground.

The chain of light snapped.

But his chest felt no better; a searing heat was firmly lodged over his heart, like a red-hot branding iron. Looking down, he saw a translucent mark surfacing on his skin, shaped like a curled fox, pulsing faintly with each heartbeat.

Luo Li staggered, bracing herself against the wall, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. She stared at Shen Yan, her gaze as if she wanted to dismantle and reassemble him: “Mortal, how dare you tamper with a Celestial Fox’s Blood Oath?”

“If I hadn’t, I’d be your lifetime bound user by now,” Shen Yan coughed up a mouthful of bloody saliva, his voice hoarse. “You try to lock my soul, and you blame me for countering with a System interception?”

The air froze.

The silver bell chimed softly, her tail rigidly straight, her killing intent suffocating. But then the Terminal popped up with a new Notice: 【Anomaly Log: Cross-species energy interaction successful. Generated ‘Symbiotic Will Module’】

Shen Yan stared at the line, then suddenly laughed: “I’m not one of Ye Shi’er’s people. But him and me… we really did run from the same piece of Code.”

He raised his eyes, meeting hers directly: “If you want to restart the Star Rail, biting people to sign contracts won’t work. That thing can’t even pass Compilation.”

Luo Li didn’t move.

After a long while, she raised her hand to wipe the blood from the corner of her mouth, her voice cold as shards of ice: “Though the Contract is broken, the Karma is already tied.”

After a pause, she added: “There are remnants of my Demon Power in your body. If not harmonized within three days, your Meridians will shatter completely.”

“So?” Shen Yan tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So—” she narrowed her eyes, “you owe me three life-saving favors.”

“Even IOUs come with interest.” He tried to push himself up but slumped back down as his arm gave way. “Are you so sure I’m worth three?”

“Whether you’re worth it or not, it’s too late now.” She turned and walked toward the edge of the Formation, her steps slightly unsteady. “The mark is already set; you can’t escape. And I… can’t leave either.”

She sat cross-legged not far from him, closing her eyes to regulate her breathing. Her tail flicked unconsciously a couple of times, as if agitated by something. The star-shaped earring had completely shattered, its fragments scattered on the ground, flickering twice before going dark.

Shen Yan leaned against the tree wall, the mark on his chest still burning hot. He reached out to touch it; it didn’t feel like a scar, but more like a tiny chip embedded there. His phone had long since gone black, its casing cracked open, the smell of scorching still lingering.

“Hey,” he rasped.

Luo Li didn’t open her eyes.

“You said you’re a Guardian, guarding for three years?”

“Mhm.”

“What’s in it for you? No one knows you’re here, and no one’s giving you a year-end bonus.”

Her eyelashes trembled slightly. “I don’t need to know.”

“But you could have left.”

“If I left, the Formation would collapse, turning ten miles into ruins.”

“Is it worth it?”

She finally opened her eyes, turning her head to look at him. “And you? A mortal who doesn’t even know who he is, fighting so desperately to stay alive—what are you after?”

Shen Yan was taken aback.

He remembered the day of the car accident, the first line the System popped up: 【Welcome back, Host】.

He remembered Ye Zhao’s sword automatically severing the blood web in the subway station, the uproar in the black market auction hall the moment the armor self-destructed, and the poisonous mist surging in the sewer as he bit the Tip of the Tongue to write blood Rune Code…

“What I want is simple,” he said quietly. “I want to know who wrote this Code.”

Luo Li looked at him but said nothing more.

The Star Map continued to spin, its blue light flickering between them, brightening and dimming. The Runes at the top of the tree hollow occasionally flashed, as if the Server was still loading a Patch. Shen Yan felt the remnants of Demon Power slowly circulating within him, like an uninstallable Background Process that occasionally jolted him.

He raised his hand, wanting to open the Terminal again, but only pressed futilely against the black screen.

“If only the phone could Charge…”

“The Demon Clan doesn’t use electricity.”

“I know. But I can bring my own portable charger.”

Luo Li twitched at the corner of her eye and ignored him.

Shen Yan closed his eyes, his consciousness beginning to drift. He knew he couldn’t sleep—if he did, he might never wake up. But his eyelids felt as heavy as lead weights, and the mark on his chest burned intermittently, as if reminding him—this Code had already started to Run.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard faint footsteps.

Cracking open one eye, he saw Luo Li walk up to him, crouch down, and slip a bluish-green pill into his mouth. The pill dissolved instantly upon contact, a cooling sensation flowing down his throat, temporarily suppressing the burning pain in his Meridians.

“Life-extending,” she said. “Don’t expect me to feed you every day.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Next time, I’ll treat you to hotpot.”

“The Demon Clan doesn’t eat humans.”

“I know. I can order a split pot.”

She stood up and walked back to her spot, her tail lightly sweeping the ground.

But this time, she did not fully close her eyes, instead occasionally glancing at the man slumped in the corner.

His breathing was erratic, his chest heaving violently, the fox-shaped brand pulsing faintly beneath his skin like a second heart forcibly implanted.

The blue light inside the tree hollow gradually dimmed, the Star Map still Floating, Data Streams flowing slowly between the Runes.

Shen Yan’s right hand still rested on his phone, the Tip of the Finger twitching slightly, as if continuing to write some unfinished Program in his dreams.

Luo Li stared at the glowing brand and whispered something, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

In the next instant, she suddenly raised her head, her ears abruptly perking up—

From deep within the tree’s heart came an extremely faint click, as if some ancient mechanism had been quietly Initiated.

(End of Chapter)