Shuanglian, ashamed and indignant, reached out to strike. Nezha simply caught the hand and kissed the resisting fingertips, sucking on the fingers.
The Clam Spirit's body was truly strange—every part of it made Nezha want to like it.
Nezha's lips were beautifully shaped, perfectly formed, thin and vividly colored. With mouth open, holding the jade-green finger joints, Nezha's position was lower than Shuanglian's, eyes looking up from below. Shuanglian was rendered weak all over by that single glance.
"…Don't bite." Afraid. Nezha had a record—those sharp teeth grinding against fingertips, no telling when they might bite down.
Nezha licked the fingers, then kissed the lips, tongue probing inside, churning Shuanglian's world upside down. Though young in appearance, the frame was not small. Two hands clasped the Clam Spirit's wrists, thighs pressing against the Clam Spirit's legs.
Nezha felt four limbs weren't enough, so simply manifested six arms, four extra phantom limbs sprouting from the body.
Poor Clam Spirit.
The air heated up. Shuanglian felt more than one pair of hands roaming. Today's ru skirt had a low collar, leaving only a bodice beneath—if Nezha stripped that away, there would be nothing left.
Shuanglian protected desperately, but two hands were no match for a god's six. After a few breaths, Nezha hooked the bodice with a pinky, dangling it before Shuanglian's eyes.
Look at the little Clam Spirit—arms pinned above the head, utterly defenseless, no way to deal with Nezha. The only option was to gaze at Nezha with pleading eyes: "Third Prince, spare me."
No chance. Nezha pressed the Clam Spirit down, looked over every inch thoroughly, lips following close behind, kissing wherever they pleased, sometimes biting with teeth.
The Clam Spirit realized begging was useless. Seizing a moment of distraction, Shuanglian actually broke free of the arms, trembling as Shuanglian crawled toward the head of the bed, muttering "Guanyin," "Bodhisattva," "Jade Emperor," or "Buddha Ruyi," each followed by a desperate "save me."
"Wuu… Guanyin, Nezha is bullying me…"
"Buddha, Buddha…" The Clam Spirit struggled to crawl away, "Muzha, Jade Emperor, someone discipline the Third Prince, he's ravaging innocents…"
"Anyone, please—"
Save? Discipline?
How could Nezha let Shuanglian run? A hand scooped the person back, pressing down and leaning in: "What use is begging them? Better to beg me. I'm a god, with Buddhist connections besides. Gods and Buddhas are right here on the bed—why not beg me?"
True. Since the Investiture of the Gods ended and Nezha ascended to heaven, his relationship with King Li was less father and son, more bitter enemies.
Nezha had long stopped acknowledging Li Jing as a father. The grudge remained in the heart, once even seeking to repay the old grievance. Waiting for the day Li Jing's pagoda left his hand, to pierce a hole through Li Jing with the Fire-Tipped Spear—that would be true satisfaction.
The father and son clashed three or four times. The Jade Emperor had headaches over it. Once it even escalated to Ruyi's intervention, who personally reinforced King Li's Treasure Pagoda and enlightened Nezha's Lotus Body.
After that, Nezha's power multiplied, his abilities vast. Ruyi ordered Nezha to worship the pagoda as father. Both sides gained something, and the feud was temporarily resolved.
For Nezha, Taiyi Zhenren had brought him back from death, and Buddha Ruyi had granted him boundless divine power. The eldest and second brothers each followed one master—one with Ruyi, one with Guanyin. Nezha had connections across Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism, yet was bound by none.
When the Clam Spirit was bullied by Nezha, where could Shuanglian go for justice?
Worship gods—the god was the one. Worship Buddhas—the Buddha was the one.
Shuanglian only remembered the old monsters of the deep sea saying gods and Buddhas save all sentient beings, that they would rescue weeping believers.
Whimpering prayers to gods and Buddhas, begging them to discipline the demon king who broke the law knowingly. But when Shuanglian looked up, Shuanglian discovered the god and Buddha was the one doing the bullying.
Nezha was both the lawbreaker and the judge. Shuanglian was cornered at the edge of the bed. Four hands parted the arms and legs respectively, while the remaining two roamed freely.
Nezha's mouth was free, asking: "See? That one called Nezha—is he bullying you?"
The little Clam Spirit trembled: "…"
Nezha put on an air of noble integrity: "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid. Tell me. I'm the finest of upright officials, most impartial and incorruptible, specializing in righting wrongs."
The Clam Spirit, with no way out, stammered out everything: "He… he kissed me, bit me, wanted my pearls, bullied my shell…"
Nezha let out a long "Oh," tone steady, leisurely: "Is the Third Prince Nezha truly so detestable?"
"Don't worry. This official's investigations require evidence. Tell me, specifically how he bullied you—the more detailed the better. This official will seek justice for you and have him punished properly."
Nezha forced Shuanglian to use Shuanglian's own mouth, piecing together the details from memory, speaking word by word, clearly, the specifics of how Nezha had bullied Shuanglian.
Shuanglian had no choice. As if by speaking it all out, the person behind would be able to save Shuanglian.
With every sentence, Nezha drew closer, breathing heavier, the lotus-root body burning hot, eyes blazing with alarming brightness.
Nezha even continued the actions according to Shuanglian's words, asking with feigned kindness: "Like this? You like this?"
Shuanglian: "I don't know… I really don't know."
By the time Shuanglian finished speaking, Nezha had played with every part. Lazily toying with Shuanglian's hair strands: "So I really am that bad."
Nezha thought to himself—yes, the Third Prince Nezha was truly detestable, beastly in conduct.
But the worst part was that Shuanglian had knelt and worshipped the very magistrate who was the culprit.
Nezha released Shuanglian. The Clam Spirit was covered in marks, collapsing limply onto the bed.
Something felt missing in the heart, unclear what.
Nezha: "Was the case this official just judged fair?"
Clam Spirit: "…"
Nezha: "If you think it unfair, I'll invite the Great God of the Three Altars and Sea Assembly to arbitrate."
Shuanglian wilted, looking at Nezha with grievance.
Nezha smiled until the eyes curved, eyes even brighter: "Go on, cry."
The Clam Spirit's eyes reddened, tears glistening at the corners, threatening to fall but not quite.
Nezha's smile faded. Having bullied her to the point of no retreat, he still wasn't satisfied.
Why wasn't he satisfied?
The immortal's flowing robes draped over Nezha's long legs, beneath which he wore his usual bloomers—normally suited for battle, but today they felt somewhat cumbersome.
Perhaps this was heaven's punishment for bullying the Clam Spirit too harshly. Punishment that made his mouth water, his heart and belly burn with dryness, his limbs run hot.
Shuanglian had been tormented until her eyelids could barely lift, her skin marked with kiss bruises from his sucking.
She noticed the thing pressing against her: "Third Prince Nezha, your… thing is burning me?"
Nezha kissed her neck: "I don't know. Might be the Demon-Subduing Pestle. Nothing to worry about."
Shuanglian was greatly alarmed.
Next door lived Muzha and Guanyin, and in this vast courtyard, she was the only demon. Could Nezha be planning to subdue her?
The timid Clam Spirit voluntarily tilted her head, obediently offering herself for kisses: "Third Prince, I'm a good demon. Please don't subdue me."
Shuanglian capitulated at lightning speed, because Nezha's process for subduing demons was extremely simple and quick.
When he discovered a demon, he wouldn't ask questions at all—unlike other immortals who would first test the waters. In Nezha's eyes, there were only those who deserved to be struck down and those who didn't.
A Buddha's face with a demon's heart—he would go straight for the killing blow. The moment a head appeared, it was dead, slain on the spot.
A few days prior, when the Jade Emperor ordered him to subdue a demon, Nezha had seen the monster and immediately revealed his Three Heads and Six Arms, unleashing treasures like the Demon-Slaying Sword and Demon-Slaying Saber all at once. In a single exchange, he'd beaten the demon back to its true form. When the demon begged for mercy, he killed it with one spear thrust.
When Nezha returned to the Heavenly Court to report, he heard the demon was Manjusri Bodhisattva's mount. He said airily: "So it had an owner."
The wronged Bodhisattva had nowhere to lodge a complaint, and could only privately resent that Nezha had been sent to subdue demons. Publicly, he had to wave his hand and say, "Ah, that wicked beast brought this upon itself—it was its destined tribulation. The Third Prince cannot be blamed for what he didn't know."
But everyone knew the truth in their hearts—Nezha's fearsome reputation preceded him. This wasn't the first time he'd killed a demon that had an owner. He knew perfectly well! He did it on purpose!
If even immortals dared not provoke him, Shuanglian was even more terrified of being taken away. Yet her thoughts refused to die, and she still hoped for Guanyin next door to save her.
Little did she know, a quarter of an hour earlier, the same matter had been discussed next door.
Muzha and Guanyin were outside. At night, a cool breeze drifted by. The house was one Nezha had picked out and purchased, with excellent soundproofing. Nezha had used a magic treasure, so those outside couldn't hear a single sound.
Guanyin and Muzha were devoted to Buddhism, uninterested in worldly affairs, and wouldn't pry into what the two were doing inside the room.
Taking advantage of the night, Muzha hurried back: "Master, the Great Tang is prosperous and peaceful. Daoism is the state religion, Confucianism flourishes, and the Tang King knows nothing of the Three Stores of True Scriptures."
Guanyin held the Jade Pure Vase, pondering for a few breaths. The Tang King revered Daoism above all. If she and Muzha appeared before him abruptly and proposed spreading Buddhist scriptures, the emperor would surely be fearful and suspicious—he would never agree to the scripture-seeking mission.
Seeing Guanyin silent, Muzha stood quietly by. When it came to the matter of choosing someone for the scripture journey, Muzha hesitated, then finally advised: "Master, a few days ago Nezha killed Manjusri Bodhisattva's mount… He's not suited for the scripture journey. Better to tame that monkey instead."
"…" Guanyin opened her eyes. "Is Manjusri Bodhisattva not Nezha's senior uncle?"
Muzha lowered his head in shame: "Yes. Back at Chentang Pass, Nezha dared to commit patricide. Fortunately, Manjusri Bodhisattva intervened and stopped him, disciplining Nezha with a beating. He hasn't held a grudge to this day."
Manjusri Bodhisattva was lax in discipline, and his mounts frequently escaped to the mortal world to cause trouble. Nezha's blades had eyes—he specifically targeted his mounts.
Every time one was killed, the stoic Manjusri Bodhisattva would say, "Thank you, Third Prince, for cleaning house," then silently go back to raising a new one.
Guanyin: "Didn't he even beat King Li's white lion?"
"No." Muzha didn't know what to say. In truth, Nezha had even beaten his own father and two elder brothers.
Back at Chentang Pass, he'd witnessed with his own eyes seven-year-old Nezha chasing down his father.
The hot-blooded young Muzha had gone to stop him, angrily scolding his third brother for being a wicked wretch—there were no parents in this world who weren't good to their children.
Nezha turned around and stopped. Muzha thought his third brother had listened. But then Nezha grabbed a golden brick and struck his own elder brother without hesitation. He knocked his brother to the ground, and with one less person blocking his path, Nezha continued his pursuit of Li Jing.
After that, Manjusri Heavenly Lord had come forward to stop Nezha, binding the seven-year-old brat and beating him with a Flat Staff.
On the surface, Nezha admitted his mistakes. Everyone thought his bloodlust had diminished—which should have been a good thing—but who would have thought Nezha was so petty and vindictive. [Note]
Muzha sighed. No one in the entire family could control Nezha. He and Li Jing had no time to worry about the girl Nezha had brought home; they only knew that their third brother had suddenly had a revelation and found someone he cared for.
But with a temperament like his, did their third brother truly understand what it meant to care for someone?
Such extra concerns weren't Muzha's place to worry about. He could only hope that demoness could keep Nezha leashed.
Muzha received his orders and left the courtyard, and Guanyin also transformed into a mortal and departed. In the vast, empty courtyard, only Nezha and Shuanglian remained in the side chamber.
Shuanglian still didn't know that Guanyin and Muzha had left. Worried about Nezha's Demon-Subduing Pestle, she dared not move, even lowering the hands that had been shielding her body.
Nezha used all six arms, unsure how to quell the fire in his heart. He'd tried his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his teeth—still uncomfortable.
He only knew that he had to hold her tightly in his grasp, never let go.
Nezha's hands searched for a long while, pinching here, kneading there, his breath scorching hot: "Little Clam Spirit, where have your pearls gone?"
The Clam Spirit stammered, unable to speak clearly. Nezha had no time for beating around the bush now—his organs were all burning, the young body feverish and unbearable.
The Clam Spirit was cool, and he held it tightly to his chest, but it wasn't enough. What exactly was wrong?
Nezha explored with focused intensity, tumbling onto the couch together with Shuanglian, clothes and bedding in complete disarray. He knelt between Shuanglian's legs, and through layers of fabric, instinctively thrust forward.
"You reckless Clam Spirit, you've made this prince gravely ill. Take a good look—what have you reduced me to?" Nezha said in a muffled voice. "Confess quickly—what poison have you administered to me?"
Nezha didn't understand a thing, and poor Shuanglian suffered for it. At his waist hung many trinkets—pendants, the token symbolizing his identity as the Great God of the Three Altars and Sea Assembly, the jade talisman for summoning the water army, and various decorative odds and ends.
Beautiful they were, but truly tormenting as well.
No matter how fine the heavenly court's fabric, it could not compare to Shuanglian's skin. Unable to bear it any longer, Shuanglian said, "Third Prince, my hand… can… resolve your affliction."
Nezha paused, looking down. "Really?"