hell hath been borne

by calciumm (tiunsu)

Summary:

The master and disciple's vacation into hell and the ensuing chaos.

Notes:

kind of separate from its prequel because i like the ambiguous end of it and want to keep it open-ended (especially since i'm only caught up on translations), but i also wanted to have some fun with this setting. that said, please read the prequel or this will be really confusing!

Chapter 1

It had been two weeks since the disappearance of the Qing Jing peak lord and his top disciple. The disciple’s sword had been found, shattered to pieces, but there wasn’t a single trace of the peak lord remaining. Cang Qiong sect head Yue Qingyuan, who had seized temporary leadership of the currently indisposed Qing Jing peak, ordered a search to be done of the area surrounding the recently opened rift. With the danger of powerful demons in in the vicinity still eminent, it comprised only of seven highly skilled members, headed by Liu Qingge. They were to report back in another week’s time. In the meantime, other cultivator teams were being dispatched to civilian areas to record and curb demon activity.

All potential witnesses had either fled the scene to seek out help or had been unconscious at the time of the incident, the latter category having included the devastated An Ding peak lord Shang Qinghua.

“That… hateful beast was too powerful, it took me out in an instant,” he lamented, twisting his hands in guilt, in anguish. “If I had only been stronger, then perhaps senior martial brother Shen might not have…!” Shang Qinghua could not bring himself to continue, and so he parted, his disciples attempting to awkwardly comfort him as he went. Unfortunately, the report he gave was woefully feeble. Shang Qinghua’s description of the demon aggressor had been vague, too vague to go off of; his memory seemed to have been addled by the great hit to the head he had suffered.

The heavy losses suffered by each of the four sects made it difficult to continue on for all parties involved, but the world moved on regardless, indiscriminately. Several days after the event, the spoils resulting from the outcome of the Immortal Alliance Conference’s bet were transferred to Qing Jing peak: three thousand spirit stones, each carefully accounted for. A lofty prize won in the name of the absent Luo Binghe by his doting shizun Shen Qingqiu, his faith in his student so deep that naming such ridiculous stakes slid easily off his tongue.

Ming Fan, now saddled with the very same responsibility that Luo Binghe had taken from him and more, found himself staring down at the crates of valuable stones with unnameable emotion. He spat out a curse at the sight, unable to hold the poisonous words back any longer.  

“Shizun,” cried Ning Yingying at his side. Her eyes were deeply bruised with lack of sleep and her hair was unwashed, having begged for nights to join the search party for their peak members. “And A-Luo…!” She wept freely, pretty face contorted in anguish.

Ming Fan dashed at his own dangerously watering eyes and straightened his back, turning to the handful of wibbling younger disciple siblings at the door to the storehouse.

“Back to your studies!” he barked, startling the little buns into stiff-backed submission. “Do you want shizun to scold you when he returns, seeing how you slack off!?”

The children darted off in the direction of the courtyards immediately, stumbling over each other in their haste. “We can’t disappoint shizun,” Ming Fan heard them murmur amongst themselves. “We will make shizun proud!”

Ming Fan nodded along approvingly, and then, with dry eyes, set out to fulfill his duties for the day, tailed closely by the now quiet Ning Yingying. Resolve smoothed and lengthened their strides, filling them with new courage and purpose.

They were the esteemed Qing Jing peak’s senior disciples, students of the legendary Xiu Ya sword. This would not break them.

Shen Qingqiu would return, and they would not allow their hearts to waver on this.

 

_

 

It appeared to have been about thirteen days’ time since they had fallen into the abyss. Shen Qingqiu wasn’t entirely certain- time seemed to move differently here.

There was also the matter of his current imprisonment as of several hours ago to deal with. Spiritual energy at an all time low, he was helpless on top of being cold and uncomfortable. He eyed the rusty metal bars of his prison and filthy, bloodstained ground, then swept his gaze back up to the corpses in various states of decay mounted at their tips, impassive. He’d seen far worse and grotesque things in these past few days than one could ever imagine! If he balked at this then he would be disrespecting the noble efforts of the events of past to scare him witless!

After departing their crash site, they had trekked for a while, occasionally slowing to cut down demons. It had been going quite well, Luo Binghe growing more comfortable with using his powers at will with every day that passed. Shen Qingqiu had forbidden him from attempting more advanced maneuvers for the time being, fearing a berserk episode like that which had occurred when the seal on his blood had been lifted.

He handed Xiu Ya over to his student to use for the stickier bits, satisfied that this was handicap enough for an event that the original Luo Binghe had survived with his bare fists and the clothes off his back. And to his great pride and joy, Luo Binghe did more than survive - he thrived. He fought even more fiercely than the novel had described, perhaps because he had an indisposed audience this time.

Shen Qingqiu regretted not being able to help more, however, what with his weakened state and all. His body was currently as close to mortal as it could get, as without access to Mu Qingfang’s medicine and only Luo Binghe’s help clearing his meridians, the progression of the poison could only be slowed incrementally, a far cry from the effectiveness of the MuLiu combo.

Luo Binghe always wore a distressed expression whenever his shizun spat up blood, visibly bothered by his inability to truly help. It got to the point that Shen Qingqiu actually started to feel quite bad for his student, unaware that all he needed to fix his useless shizun was the employment of his handy ‘heavenly pillar’. Regardless, in the hopes that this cure would never be realized, Shen Qingqiu had come up with a shaky plan to cure himself, one that required the hypothetical third party he had yet to confirm.

He regretted, too, his spotty memory of the corresponding chapters to these events. Sometimes, Luo Binghe would present the freshly-killed corpse of a demon or plant sample to Shen Qingqiu, who found himself chagrined as he was unable to put a name to them.

He had initially speed-read through Luo Binghe’s adventures in his first few grueling days in hell, bored and eager for his evolution to begin. The content had been fluff for the most part as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky hemmed and hawed through his agonizingly slow advancement of the plot. Just thinking about all the useless side quests the author made Luo Binghe complete had had Shen Qingqiu crying out in impatience as each update left him waiting for resolution. Resolution! Was it so hard to achieve?

It was honestly quite peaceful, this absent-minded level-grinding, with all their attackers being smallfry. Even the miniboss that would grant Luo Binghe the mid-level magical amulet to help stabilize his powers went down far quicker than he remembered. Shen Qingqiu had found himself likening their journey to a field trip at times, he and his companion ooh-ing and ah-ing at the foreign sights when they weren’t vomiting in revulsion or running for their lives. Once one adjusted to the general desolateness of the place, with pits of fire and despair littered about, the demon world was quite charming, like an amusement park dressed up for the halloween season. Shen Qingqiu could take in the sights to his heart’s content, Luo Binghe dispatching any threat they passed. He imagined that this might be what a tourist in a caravan for observing wild lions on the savannah felt like.

And then they had been swept away by Mobei Jun’s lackeys, tipped off by the disturbances they had been causing along their merry way. They were separated, and Shen Qingqiu hadn’t seen his disciple since.

This was a plot point he didn’t recognize, and initially it had filled him with considerable alarm. He then thought on the major canon divergences he had already witnessed and firmly stamped out his panic. He would roll with the blows and he would survive or his name wasn’t Shen Qingqiu, protagonist thigh hugger!

...or so he hoped. His life expectancy wasn’t looking very promising right now, he realized as he looked back up at the corpses on the wall.

At any rate, the continuous exposure to demonic energy was doing wonders for aggravating Shen Qingqiu’s condition. He mechanically swallowed back mouthfuls of blood each time they came bubbling up, mildly concerned with how accustomed to the action he had become.

Blood seemed to be all he had tasted since starting this involuntary vacation to the demon world.

It didn't seem as if they were about to toss a sower into the cell with him just yet. Taking comfort in this, he settled back down to meditate, having nothing better to do but bide his time and delay the effects of Without a Cure as much as he could, all while hoping Luo Binghe would find his way to him soon.

_

 

Three slow days of nothing later, Shen Qingqiu startled out of his fitful slumber as an explosion sounded, rattling his cell violently. He dodged the skull that fell from above, watching the jaw detach itself and skitter across the ground listlessly.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the rumbling. Ah, he hoped the ceiling didn’t collapse. He didn’t have Luo Binghe’s protagonist immunity so he would most certainly die on the spot.

His undignified yelp was thankfully swallowed up by the cacophonous noise of Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun shattering through the ceiling in front of his cell, a comet of blue frost and swords sparking on impact. The demonic energy punched him in the gut with its intensity. Ah, Xiu Ya, he noted, taking in the familiar blade as it seemed to wink at him in the fighters’ pause, then melted into a blur of motion again as the contenders went soaring backwards. Shen Qingqiu went up to cling to the bars, for something to hold on to as the very air quaked, and to observe more closely with bated breath.

The Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe face-off was happening now, it seemed, three years earlier than scheduled, and he had front-row seats to the spectacle. This was the part in the movie where the audience was so riveted they dared not even chew the popcorn in their mouths, afraid to miss even a moment.

Blade showers formed from scrap metal and rained down on Mobei Jun, who countered with a curtain of black ice shards. Flames erupted from Luo Binghe’s hands and soared out in twisting geysers, casting flashes of deep shadow and white light across the handsome faces of Luo Binghe and Mobei Jun. The geysers turned to white crystal and shattered as Mobei Jun countered, forcing the element stronger against his own into submission with sheer will. Continuing to clash amidst falling hail at incredible speed, it was truly an inhuman battle.

It was then that Mobei Jun managed to get his hand around Luo Binghe’s throat, and squeezed tightly. Luo Binghe sputtered and thrashed as the demon king snatched Xiu Ya away and tossed it carelessly over his shoulder.

Shen Qingqiu’s stomach dropped, mouth going dry as he realized that as amazing as the protagonist was, this was a victory only possible after three more years of growth. To beat the fearsome Mobei Jun after just two weeks was obviously impossible. Shen Qingqiu had been too blindsided by his fate as Luo Binghe’s future lackey, forgetting that at this stage of the protagonist’s development, he was an overwhelmingly powerful enemy. Useless, why was he so useless!? What use was his raising the protagonist if he died before he was fully grown?

The agony in his face and weakening of Luo Binghe’s fingers around the hand at his throat had Shen Qingqiu catapulting into action, cold fear wiping out the cold his body felt, and all he could hear was his own pulse and gasping breaths.

Luckily, the fight had managed to upset the seal on his cell. Spotting a bar on the verge of breaking after the abuse it had suffered from the tremors, he tried to kick it in, and when that didn’t work, threw himself against it bodily. The impact rattled his bones, but his effort was fruitful as he toppled through and found himself on the other side. He did not hesitate as he dove for his sword, miraculously in one piece despite the fissure in its blade, and ran to his disciple as fast as he could.

 

【Note to host: If the protagonist dies here, then the account will be closed.】

 

Shen Qingqiu bit his lip so hard it bled and didn’t deign to respond.

Summoning up the pitiful amount of spiritual energy he’d managed to save up in the last few days (not enough, some panicking part of his mind hissed, it’s not enough -), he propelled himself forward, praying that his speed might make up for his greatly lacking strength.

Xiu Ya glanced harmlessly off Mobei Jun’s body and shattered, and the man didn’t even spare him a glance as he swatted him to the side as easily as he did to his lackey Shang Qinghua. Shen Qingqiu smattered against crumbling stone, blood flying from his mouth. Ah, Shang Qinghua, this hurts quite a lot! The things you do for your job, what a loyal employee you are!

He started to unstick from the wall. ‘Well, it was a good run,’ thought Shen Qingqiu as he toppled forwards facefirst, narrowly avoiding breaking his nose.

A roar rippled through the air, shaking Shen Qingqiu to his core. “SHIZUN!”

In the blink of an eye, Luo Binghe had shaken himself out of Mobei Jun’s grasp, pinning him to the ground with such force that the frozen stone crumbled and chipped at the impact. Blood spewed from Mobei Jun’s nose and mouth.

“Yield!” snarled Luo Binghe, teeth bared. Wild and untamed in that moment, his visage was vicious. Tendrils of demonic energy arched skywards off his body.

Shen Qingqiu shivered in delight. He appeared, he appeared, black lotus!!! Black lotus protagonist!!!

Mobei Jun stared up at Luo Binghe impassively, his gaze unreadable. Then, impossibly, the hard line of his mouth curved into a smile.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, letting his head flop backwards.

Luo Binghe’s started with shock, and then relaxed minutely, exhausted and disbelieving. Mobei Jun then effortlessly grabbed him by the scruff and strode towards a portal he opened with the wave of a hand, snatching Shen Qingqiu up at the last moment as if he was an afterthought.

As they stepped through, into a clean blue-accented bedroom, the System spoke again for the first time in weeks.

 

【Warning! If the protagonist does not return to the demon world in twenty-four hours to continue the ‘Legendary Demon Sword’ quest, 15,000 Coolness Points will be deducted!】

_

 

【Task: prepare.】

 

Shang Qinghua was so terrified at the System’s voice and the portal opening up in his room soon after that his resulting scream was entirely silent, fingers squeezing dangerously tight around his teacup. He watched with a dropped jaw as Mobei Jun emerged from it, torn up and covered in blood, toting the protagonist as well as the missing Shen Qingqiu to his absolute astonishment. He had thought the scum villain had just been vaporized at Mobei Jun’s hands, to think he had been alive this whole time!

Seeing the protagonist was being held like a shamed puppy, Shang Qinghua’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. Put him back, Mobei Jun, that’s the future king of the world!!!

Luo Binghe fought and hissed at Mobei Jun, panting with exertion. Shen Qingqiu was limp and silent in his other arm. Mobei Jun tossed both men onto Shang Qinghua, upsetting his table and sending lukewarm tea everywhere.

“Fix it,” he told him unhelpfully, then lay down in Shang Qinghua’s recently washed white sheets in his filthy clothing, boots and all.

Shang Qinghua had been wondering why Mobei Jun had been oddly absent, not having visited for the last little while after their last lovely meeting during the Conference. It seemed he had been preoccupied with hunting his new prey, the protagonist. He briefly imagined a cat playing with a hedgehog, amused by its points rather than frightened, and trembled.

Luo Binghe had fallen unconscious. Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but look into his filthy face and youthful features with fondness. His son was growing quite well!

Then he turned and made direct eye contact with the yet conscious Shen Qingqiu, who was watching him silently from the crook of Shang Qinghua’s own arm. A chill ran up Shang Qinghua’s spine, and he immediately jumped into executing his carefully-honed special attack to bide time as he tried to come up with a solution to this huge problem.

“Shen brother..! Shen brother, you are alive, you cannot know how worried this Shang Qinghua was for you! Ah, how terrible you look, quickly, we must treat your and martial nephew’s wounds!” he cried, tears falling from his eyes at the drop of a hat.

“Cut the crap, Shang Qinghua, Mobei Jun is literally sleeping in your bed right now.” Shen Qingqiu’s voice was low and hoarse. He hauled himself upright with great effort, appearing even paler against the deep bruising and blood on his skin. “Releasing demons of the ilk of Ghost Head Spiders on children? Have you no self-respect?”

Shang Qinghua sputtered, colour rising in his cheeks. “This is highly improper! How can you accuse me of such horrible things- what, what evidence do you have…” he trailed off, following Shen Qingqiu’s glance to his bed.

Ha ha ha, Shang Qinghua bade this life goodbye. He wondered weakly if he might be able to kill Shen Qingqiu now, weakened as he was. He was supposed to die sooner or later, why not now? 

“Yes,” said Shen Qingqiu. He paused, then added, quietly: “Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky?”

Shang Qinghua gasped and shook. The teacup he had continued to grip slipped out of his hands and left a wet spot over his crotch. “How… how do you know that ID?” he demanded tremulously.

Shen Qingqiu smiled, his eyes lighting up. “I knew it,” he breathed, and promptly passed out in Shang Qinghua’s lap.

 

【Mission objective: ‘Avoid discovery as a traitor to the sect.’ Failure to complete will result in penalization. Good luck.】

 

Fuck! No!!! Shang Qinghua teared up and took in the mess before him. Demon king, future demon king, missing scum villain and possible fellow transmigrator, all in the same room together, what jolly company he had this evening!

He laughed some, cried a lot, laid down and pretended to be dead for a while, and then set about dressing wounds and arranging mats to sleep on, all while praying that the low IQ of his cannon fodder disciples would stand strong and true through the night, and that they would choose not to investigate the noises coming from his house.

 

_

 

Luo Binghe was the first to wake, moments after Shang Qinghua had finished dressing his wounds and clothing him, and the first thing he did upon sitting up was lunge for the sleeping Mobei Jun in a fit of cold fury, determined to eliminate the perceived threat before it eliminated him.

Shang Qinghua barely managed to hold him back in time. “Martial nephew, no, you can’t!” he cried, fighting with the thrashing limbs of his darling son.

“Martial uncle Shang?” Luo Binghe was taken aback and stumbled backwards a few steps. “But why? How?” He was quite bewildered.

Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure of how to begin painting himself the innocent victim here. Really, what reason would he, the An Ding peak lord, have for preserving the life of the currently defenseless vicious demon on his bed?

He licked his lips and decided to try anyways. “So,” he managed.

Luo Binghe’s disoriented gaze happened to fall upon Shen Qingqiu at this moment, and he bolted to his shizun’s side with a mournful cry, uncaring of whatever it was Shang Qinghua was about to say.

“Shizun!” The boy stumbled to his knees, cupping Shen Qingqiu’s face tenderly and confirming that he lived and breathed.

Then he started to strip both Shen Qingqiu and himself, yanking the robes belonging to Shang Qinghua down their shoulders. Red lights blared in Shang Qinghua’s mind’s eye and he leaped forwards again, heart pounding. What was this event genre doing in his stallion novel?

“Luo Binghe! Please, eat something first, you mustn’t aggravate your wounds!” Shang Qinghua yanked his front closed for him and stuffed a pastry in his mouth before he could protest.

The boy spat the bun out, though he chewed and swallowed the mouthful already between his teeth. “I must help shizun fight the poison,” he told his martial uncle urgently, eyes darting from between Shang Qinghua to his shizun, unwilling to be impolite but desperate to fulfill his duty.

Right, right, right. Without a Cure , the poison he had named half-jokingly, too tired to come up with something appropriately dramatic. Shen Qingqiu was currently afflicted with it, and though his immortal body gave him strength enough to withstand the effects for a while, he would eventually succumb.

Shang Qinghua took in his martial brother and potential comrade’s wan face and shallow breathing. “Is it very bad?” he asked Luo Binghe very seriously.

“Yes,” heaved Luo Binghe, leaning over his shizun so that his hair cascaded over their faces, shielding the boy’s expression and his shizun’s torso from view.

Seeing how much pain the thought of losing his shizun gave his protagonist, the author could hardly deny him a helping hand. Also, he could not have Shen Qingqiu dying until he had some answers. He thought, then made his monumental decision. Very well, let there be a genre change! This would kill two birds with one stone: save Shen Qingqiu’s life and finally invite some romance into Luo Binghe’s springless youth, without a single lovely sister in sight. If it wants to bend then let it bend!

“There is one cure… to Without a Cure ,” announced Shang Qinghua after a dramatic pause. He watched as Luo Binghe’s head snapped up in shock, expression painful as if he did not dare to hope, yet hope he did, gazing at Shang Qinghua with starry eyes. This made him smug, and he pretended to think deeply for a moment, as if burdened by the weight of his great knowledge.

“You just need to… pa pa pa,” said Shang Qinghua, making a vague, staccato hand motion. He planned to explain the slang in terms of a ritualistic technique, and so stuck close to the basics.

Luo Binghe was obviously confused, not expecting this answer at all. “Pa pa pa?” he echoed back, uncomprehending.

Shen Qingiqu chose this time to reach upwards, and, very, very slowly, took his forefinger and thumb and pressed Shang Qinghua’s lips together. Then he looked, very intensely and very meaningfully, into Shang Qinghua’s shocked face.

“No,” he said as if speaking to a small child, or to a misbehaving dog.

Shang Qinghua was simultaneously ecstatic and terrified at seeing him awaken. This made him turn an interesting array of colours.

 

Chapter 2

Shen Qingqiu was getting quite tired of waking up to mayhem. Passing out and waking up, passing out and waking up; he understood the need for this plot device but why was he the one in this damsel-in-distress position so often as of late?

Luo Binghe’s face crumpled, seeing his eyes had opened. “Shizun, I’m so glad - missed you so much,” he choked out, cradling him close and sniffling, all while practically lifting him though his arms trembled with exertion. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I took so long…”

Shen Qingqiu leaned into him, heart warming at his disciple’s caring words. He went stiff, however, at hearing what else he had to say.

“Shizun, listen, martial uncle Shang says we can cure the poison if we can find and obtain papapa !”

“Oh, it’s not a thing , martial nephew,” Shang Qinghua couldn't help but correct him automatically, without consideration for his rapidly dwindling lifespan.  

Shen Qingqu’s head hurt. He tried to pull himself out of his disciple’s hold but gave up when it became evident Luo Binghe had no intentions to let go. “Doesn’t exist,” he managed to bite out. Then, “How dare you tell lies to my disciple?”

Shang Qinghua wilted under the force of Luo Binghe’s hurt, disbelieving stare. Shen Qingqiu could practically see the politesse sloughing off the boy with each instant, only to be replaced by thinly veiled disgust.  

He was manhandled into laying against his disciple’s chest, hair stroked gently as Luo Binghe had taken to doing in the last week or so. “Shizun, let’s go back,” pressed Luo Binghe, stubbornly desperate now for the prospect of an obtainable cure. “The Thousand Leaf Cleansing Snow Lotus, it should still be there!”

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes and sighed. “I told you not to worry about that, Binghe. It will not help.”

“But how do you know? How can you know?” The boy’s voice shook with the strain of keeping himself quiet, ever mindful of his shizun’s delicate state. His thoughtfulness touched Shen Qingqiu’s heart, but he remained firm.

“Enough, Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu’s tone was absolute and left no room for protest. As worked up as he was, it was likely Luo Binghe would have continued to protest, but the whispery edge to his shizun’s voice had him choking the complaints back down.

“Brother Shang,” said Shen Qingqiu when Luo Binghe fell silent. “Is this the human world?”

Shang Qinghua responded in affirmative.

“And will Mobei Jun wake up any time soon?”

Shang Qinghua obediently squinted at the form on his bed. “...perhaps not for another two hours or so.”

That would have to be good enough. Even if Mobei Jun woke earlier, he shouldn’t attempt anything- for one, the demon was not at all that foolish, nor did he seem to harbour any truly malicious intentions towards Luo Binghe based on his previous actions. He inclined his head in acceptance of this, then turned to Luo Binghe, who had grown stone-faced at this turn of events.

“This shizun would like for his disciple to rest and regain his strength; you are safe. I must speak with your martial uncle in the meantime.” He eyed the sweating Shang Qinghua and smiled, dangerously. “This is the person we had to see, the one who may be able to help this shizun.”

If it had been anyone else, Luo Binghe would have been disbelieving of this claim, fully aware of the undeniable truth that Shang Qinghua was allied with the very enemy who had attacked and kidnapped them. But since it was Shen Qingqiu speaking, he only spared Mobei Jun’s form a passing suspicious glance and lowered his head.

“This disciple understands,” he whispered. With hardened eyes, he turned to Shang Qinghua and said in a low voice, “If I hear anything out of the ordinary out there,” and did not continue.

Shen Qingqiu waved his hand, a little concerned about Luo Binghe’s lack of respect but too exhausted to do anything about it. “Enough, enough. Brother Shang, let us speak in private. Come, support me, my legs are rather weak right now. I would also not refuse a pot of tea.”

“ I will make the tea!”

Shen Qingqiu only responded to this whining with a stern look, and they departed the bedroom, leaving Luo Binghe alone with the unconscious Mo Beijun and a table full of snacks and cold tea.

 

_

 

Petulantly, Luo Binghe picked up the bun he spat out earlier and finished it in two bites, not one to waste food. Then, he proceeded to eat everything on the table. When he was done that, he hobbled over to the drawer set by Shang Qinghua’s worktable and discovered the peak lord’s sweets stash. He promptly devoured that too.

Finished with his petty revenge, he settled himself down to wait and keep watch over the soundly sleeping Mobei Jun. Though he would remain focused, he allowed himself the luxury of a warming talisman that he had also nicked from the drawers, adhered to his blanket. He needed to be in good condition to protect his shizun in case anything happened, and understood his shizun’s order for him to rest, but he could not in good conscience forgive himself in the event that Mobei Jun changed his mind and tried to kill them.

Luo Binghe had mixed feelings regarding Mobei Jun.

He didn’t understand him. The demon was much, much stronger than him. Just thinking about the difference in their strengths made him feel horribly, sickeningly weak. He was toying with him, he knew, for why else would he have kept him alive for so long, as well as spared him his life at the cusp of the abyss?

And, though he was fiercely grateful for this, he still could not understand why Mobei Jun had not killed his shizun on the spot. He had kept him alive, thrown him into a supervised cell, and had used him to taunt Luo Binghe, almost as if he was aware of the affluence of shizun’s position, and thus of his political weight as a hostage. Luo Binghe had dreaded an imminent war between humans and demons initially, until he realized they were just players in Mobei Jun’s twisted child’s game, as feeble and light as straw for him to move as he wished.

‘You can have your human back,’ Mobei Jun had said, not deigning to call Shen Qingqiu by name, ‘If you can beat me, brat.’

The first day had gone like this.

Mobei Jun beat him down again and again, for how long Luo Binghe was not sure, but every time he faltered, Mobei Jun would command him, in so haughty a tone that Luo Binghe’s teeth clenched in remembrance.

Get up!

Fight!

Get up!

Fight!

Get up or the human dies!

Needless to say, Luo Binghe got up every time.

Mobei Jun seemed to confirm something as his maneuvers grew sharper, more cutting and accurate as time passed. The floating pool reflecting Shen Qingqiu in his cell rippled and nearly evaporated altogether as Luo Binghe grew more desperate and frustrated.

He had stopped, suddenly, and Luo Binghe had stared at him like a ravenous beast, blood still roaring with battle in his veins.

Mobei Jun had only raised a brow, then forced him into a room with an opalescent floor, a bundle of bandages, and a massive chunk of raw meat, the origin of which Luo Binghe had not been able to parse. The only reason Luo Binghe did not tear the door open again and run after the demon to attack him was because Mobei Jun threatened to drown Shen Qingqiu if he so much as thought of leaving. As proof of Shen Qingqiu’s life, he left the reflective pool in the room with him.

He gazed at it in between his snatches of fitful sleep, hungrily taking in his shizun’s straight-backed posture and his occasional yawns and nose scratches. He ended up eating the unidentified meat to keep his strength up after testing it for poisoning, and started to plan.

Patiently, he rested, and he waited. When, predictably, a demon came by to deliver more food (for why else would Mobei Jun have fed him and given him healing aids if he did not need him alive?), Luo Binghe simply snapped its neck and tossed it behind him to avoid discovery. He gave his shizun’s reflection a final look and, tearing his eyes away, started searching the icy palace for the filing rooms with efficient, clear-minded focus. A demon as prideful as Mobei Jun was bound to have transportation arrays somewhere, or how else could he have appeared during the Conference so suddenly, without any indication of his approaching presence? Travelling by foot seemed too far below him.

After long observation of the supervising pool, he thought he could believe it projected the genuine, current state of Shen Qingqiu. What he could not put his faith in was, for once, Shen Qingqiu’s strength. The Qing Jing peak lord needed medicine urgently, and the only way to obtain it was to return to the human world. Luo Binghe planned to steal a few arrays, find Shen Qingqiu, and escape back home as quickly as they could. He only hoped the Mobei Jun’s strange desire to keep him alive held strong through their escape.

He managed to sneak around unnoticed for a while, but was found out by a small spiked demon, its presence so weak that he had failed to notice it coming up from behind a corner.

“It’s here, king!” it had squealed, and then Mobei Jun was upon him.

This time the man tossed him Shen Qingqiu’s sword. Luo Binghe expelled a wave of spiritual energy through its length, clearing its surface of stains, and turned to face Mobei Jun.

“So eager to fight, hm? Would you like to watch your human die now? Or would you rather I killed you first to spare you the trouble?” Mobei Jun’s voice was a quiet rumble in his throat. His own sword was held relaxed at his side, its blood-red blade deeply menacing despite how open and unguarded its wielder’s posture was.

Luo Binghe was sick of this game. He knew he wasn’t strong enough, but his most important person was counting on him to win.

So he inhaled smoothly, took a deep breath, and settled into an offensive stance.

“I will defeat you today, Mobei Jun,” said the boy, the very image of the wolf shedding its sheep’s skin.

This lead to that, and that lead to this, and now here they were, at An Ding peak, in the An Ding peak lord’s private chambers, with the enemy sprawled in his bed as if it was his own. Luo Binghe attempted to draw several truths together from what information he had gleaned.

Shang Qinghua was undoubtedly a mole for Mobei Jun. The issue of his relationship with Shen Qingqiu complicated his murder, which would cut off one advantage of the demons against humankind. His time spent in the abyss, though short, had shown him very clearly the difference in potential between demonic and spiritual cultivation. It wasn’t likely Shang Qinghua practiced demonic cultivation- was there a possibility of blackmail involved, then?

He sat and puzzled very seriously over this.

As focused as he was on his thoughts and on Mobei Jun’s figure, he startled slightly when he saw his shizun re-enter the room, alone. He sprang up to help him to a mat, taking the sheet from his own to cushion him better.

Without his usual fan to conceal his features, Shen Qingqiu’s exhaustion was especially obvious. “I thought I told you to rest, Binghe.”

“I could not possibly, shizun.”

The peak lord’s expression became complicated, narrow brows dipping minutely. He made as if to speak, then sighed and managed a wan smile. “Very well. Then this shizun shall watch over Mobei Jun while this disciple sleeps. You fought excellently, I am very proud.”

Luo Binghe smiled shakily at him, painfully aware of his crushing losses, and endlessly grateful for this undeserved praise, then pressed the line of his body against his shizun’s, laying him down with his weight. He reassured himself with his warmth and the even beating of his heart, then tucked his chin over the curve of his collarbone and started to whittle away at the poison in his shizun’s spiritual veins.

Shen Qingqiu tutted at his disobedience but allowed it, fondly scolding, “Look how sticky you are, doing this for your shizun so often when he doesn’t even need it, how are you still so spoiled even though you’re so big?”

Luo Binghe turned his head and stared at the vulnerable swell of Shen Qingqiu’s throat to ground himself. Swallowing, he admitted, “I was very worried that you would die.”

The hand patting his head stilled. “...I will not die, not unless you wish it.”

Luo Binghe heard this as an assurance of Shen Qingqiu’s immortality, and felt tears well up as he took in this white lie.

He cried quietly into Shen Qingqiu’s neck, breathing in his shizun’s scent with deep gasps. “But the poison… the poison, you’re already dying… What can I do, what can I possibly do for you now…?”

Shen Qingqiu said nothing, allowing his disciple to cling and cry himself out. When Luo Binghe’s cries calmed, his tears were wiped away with a smooth thumb.

“I will not die.” Faintly, Luo Binghe saw that Shen Qingqiu seemed to be thinking of adding something, but cut himself off. “Please, Binghe, sleep.”

So he did, to the slow stroking of his head by a familiar hand, pressed to a familiar chest.

 

_

 

An hour before, Shen Qingqiu found himself cutting his criticism of Airplane’s shit writing and planning off early, having forgotten how limited their time was in his frustration.

“Anyways,” he started after he’d taken a sip of now lukewarm tea. “I’d like to know: has the System said anything to you recently?”

Shang Qinghua sighed. “Um, yes. It told me that if my treachery is discovered by the sect, I’ll be penalized. For some reason it’s always been insistent that my character stick to the canon path as closely as possible.”

“I see. I was told my account would be terminated if Luo Binghe does not return to the demon world in…” He checked with the System. “Eighteen hours.” It was incredibly maddening that his number of points currently totaled 14,940, a mere hairsbreadth below the 15,000 point penalty. The System had been quite stingy with rewards after its initial generosity from fulfilling the key task! After that, he had been lucky for 10 points at the strangest of times!

“Right,” said Airplane sadly. “He must suffer to become a king. I wrote that.” Then, “Wait, does that mean you’ll die!? And leave me alone here?”

Shen Qingqiu thought about the state of his body in his home world and grimaced. “Well, yes. I’m not sure what will happen to this body after that, or even to this world. If the original Shen Qingqiu returns, then he will die at the hands of Luo Binghe, and then you will die at the hands of Mobei Jun.” He took another sip of tea. “But I have a plan to keep you and my own poisoned body alive, given that you help me return Luo Binghe to the demon world and save my own life now.”

He leaned in and whispered a few words into Shang Qinghua’s ear. They seemed to both astonish and touch him greatly.

“You… You were actually a really loyal reader of my novel, huh? Even I forgot about the existence of the Sun and Moon Dew Flower seed - your attention to detail is really impressive, Cucumber bro!”

Yes, yes, he had been stupidly invested. He waved his hand dismissively. “Do you remember where it is?”

Shang Qinghua shook his head. “How could I possibly remember a little detail like that on the spot? Give me some time, I need to think about it a while!”

“Remember it before fifteen hours have passed or I’ll go out and tell everyone Shang Qinghua is a traitor and brought demons into the Conference.” He had plenty of evidence, thanks to his close perusal of the original text.

A single tear fell from Airplane’s eye. “Ah… alright, alright, let me just finish this first and then I’ll start thinking!” He took an insultingly minuscule sip from his half-empty teacup, looking absolutely pitiful.

Shen Qingqiu made a motion as if to throw open the door and go dashing outside. Shang Qinghua threw what remained of his tea back like it was a shot.

Shen Qingqiu smiled, then turned to head back to the bedroom to sleep some more. The System had taken to giving him convenient alarms every few hours, he had no fear of oversleeping as of now. As he slid the hallway door open, Shang Qinghua called out, “Wait!”

He turned back reluctantly. Airplane’s pained expression had taken on a shade of concern. “Are you honestly going to just replace a body that’s already cultivated to the mid-core formation stage that easily? Why go to so much trouble when the solution is right there in front of you? Looking at that boy, he wouldn’t be unwilling!”

Shen Qingqiu’s lip curled. “The location,” he spat, then swept off as gracefully as he could with his limp.

“You aren’t even going to tell him?” Airplane’s cry went unanswered.

 

_

 

【Warning! One hour left to resume task! Failure will result in a 15,000 point penalty!】

 

“Too salty,” said Mobei Jun, despite continuing to shovel Shang Qinghua’s food into his mouth without stopping. Shang Qinghua muttered something darkly under his breath and teetered where he stood, looking very much like he hadn’t slept for years.

Shen Qingqiu felt a little bad, but couldn’t spare too much pity on the man who had created this mess in the first place. At any rate, Airplane had eventually ended up remembering the location of the Sun and Moon Dew Flower seed, and had circled it on his map for their future perusal. Shen Qingqiu would generously allow him two weeks of rest as he got things back in order at his peak and reforged Xiu Ya, of which only the handle and an inch of the blade remained, and then they would set off to retrieve this important item.

It turned out that Mobei Jun had brought them to Shang Qinghua’s house because he was too lazy to walk the steps back up to his own bedroom to rest, and so had used one of the many transport arrays set for Shang Qinghua’s bedroom at his belt instead. The only reason he decided to take both him and Luo Binghe was because Luo Binghe’s wounds were quite serious, and he would only remain still if he was appeased by the presence of the human hostage. He also, apparently, had simply missed bullying Shang Qinghua, ordering him about with a sort of concealed glee. As for why he was so interested in Luo Binghe, his demonic blood and potential had reminded him that he was currently in need of a right-hand man. Shen Qingqiu figured he wanted him around to ward off his uncle, Linguang Jun, when he would inevitably go to claim the Mobei family inheritance and officially rise to the throne.

He moved to sit by his disciple, gazing at his slack face. Luo Binghe was still dead to the world, having slept the whole day away. Shen Qingqiu would have to wake him soon to say his goodbyes, for they wouldn’t see each other again for the next five years. Seeing how tired his disciple was, Shen Qingqiu gave himself thirty minutes. Thirty more minutes of rest, and then he would see his disciple off.

Those thirty minutes passed slowly, many things running through Shen Qingqiu’s mind as he watched Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun bicker over nothing. The scene was thought-provoking, and he watched with amusement.

 

【Warning! Five minutes remaining!】

 

A red counter started to flash in the corner of his sight. Ah!!! Oh no!!! He lost track of time! Shen Qingqiu shook Luo Binghe so violently that even Shang Qinghua and Mobei Jun turned to look. The poor boy woke with a jolt, biting his tongue as he tried to speak. “Sh-i-i-zun???”

“Binghe, Binghe,” rushed Shen Qingqiu, grasping his disciple by the shoulders. He looked into his eyes. “There is no time, you must leave for the demon world with Mobei Jun at once. After five years, the weapon I told you about - you must master it. Only then can you return.”

Luo Binghe shook off the last vestiges of sleep quickly, blinking quickly as he digested this shocking piece of news. “What do you mean, only then I can return?” he said, disbelievingly. “Why should I go with that man?”

Shang Qinghua took advantage of the resulting silence to suggest to Mobei Jun in a trembling voice that he take out a transport array soon.

Shen Qingqiu exhaled deeply, maintaining eye contact with his disciple. The look in those bright eyes made his chest seize up. The counter continued to tick. “Trust me,” he said. “It’s for your own good. Five years, Binghe, and remember what I told you. Learn to control your powers.”

He swiftly hit Luo Binghe’s pressure points, and the boy collapsed, wide-eyed, into Shen Qingqiu’s arms. Shen Qingqiu swept him up and offered him to Mobei Jun, who took the lean body with a pointed look.

“You will not implicate that one, or I will kill this brat,” he said, frost escaping his mouth threateningly.

‘As if you could kill the protagonist, you lackey, he will overcome you in no time!’ thought Shen Qingqiu vindictively. He nodded to Mobei Jun nonetheless. “We understand each other.”

Mobei Jun did not acknowledge him. Instead he turned and placed his free hand square over the crown of Shang Qinghua’s head, squeezing down and making the An Ding peak lord tremble in fear. Then he activated the array and started to step through.

Just before the portal closed up completely, Shen Qingqiu met his disciple’s eyes.

He couldn’t help himself. “Come home soon, Binghe,” he whispered, and watched the portal dissipate into the air, a faint flicker of purple in the evening light. A victory chime sounded in his head.

 

【Quest resumption complete!】

 

He closed his eyes, too worn to truly feel relieved.

“Did you make it?” asked Airplane as he fixed his hair.

“Yes,” said Shen Qingqiu. He shook off his pain. “Let’s go, then.”

 

_

 

Liu Qingge’s search party accepted An Ding peak’s Shang Qinghua into their ranks as the man claimed to have remembered something very important after weeks of intense reflection. He claimed he knew in which direction Shen Qingqiu had gone flying. They travelled quickly in the indicated direction, and discovered Shen Qingqiu fast asleep, his broken sword at his side, in a field of plants emitting a pollen that knocked out any who inhaled it. Shang Qinghua happened to have enough cloths handy for them to retrieve the Qing Jing peak lord from the natural trap without any casualties.

Shen Qingqiu was seen to by Mu Qingfang immediately, the man having flown over the moment the news arrived. After being supervised for three days, all through which Mu Qingfang made it known that his condition was miraculously good considering he hadn’t had any treatment in half a month, Shen Qingqiu was finally allowed to return to Qing Jing peak.

The celebrations were very unbefitting of Qing Jing peak’s scholarly, serious reputation, but Shen Qingqiu could hardly put up a harsh word against the little faces, sticky with tears, all around him. They clung to his clothes and his limbs, crying “shizun, shizun” over and over again, as if they could hardly believe he was there.

After he had sent them all back to their studies, each with smiles on their faces, he turned automatically with a name on his tongue, only to have it fade into the air as he found the spot by his side unoccupied.

 

_

 

And Luo Binghe?

Qing Jing peak’s top disciple Luo Binghe was still missing, probably dead, and would stay that way for years.

Notes:

whew. ok one more part and we done

Chapter 3

Notes:

never said he couldn't visit

Ming Fan rapped his knuckles against the door, two quick, consecutive knocks.

“Shizun? This disciple has brought tea and snacks.”

There was the sound of a fan opening from the other side. “Enter.”

As he set the table with the contents of his tray, Ming Fan couldn’t help but glance up at Shen Qingqiu through his bangs. The lower half of the peak lord’s face was concealed by his fan, but there was a fine crease between his brows. If Ming Fan had to put a name to the emotion he saw there, it might be ‘mournful’.

He sat attentively as his shizun set his fan down to sample the tea, a hand held delicately to the cup’s base, ever elegant. Ming Fan held his breath in anticipation.

Shen Qingqiu set the cup back down. “Take this away, this shizun does not have an appetite today.”

Ming Fan concealed his clenched fists behind his back. “Of course, shizun. Please don’t hesitate to notify this disciple should you find yourself wanting for anything else.”

The master made an assenting noise, turning to gaze out the window. Ming Fan knew he would not be called. Shen Qingqiu did not acknowledge him again, not even as he hastily cleared the table and departed, the door rattling soundly behind him. The image of the forlorn man outlined in midday light made his throat itch.

Ning Yingying had been passing by as he exited the bamboo house, a line of fish at her back. He answered her inquiring look with a shake of the head.

‘That damned Luo Binghe,’ thought Ming Fan emphatically as he looked to Zheng Yang’s burial site, a mere few metres away from where he stood.

 

_

 

After things at Qing Jing peak had settled some, Shen Qingqiu went to retrieve Zheng Yang’s fragments and reforge Xiu Ya at Wan Jian peak. He brought his disciple’s sword into the caves with him, unwilling to part from its pieces so soon.

He remained there for several days, and emerged with a new Xiu Ya, one with a sturdier blade and a subtle crimson glimmer in the right light. It held a passing resemblance to Luo Binghe’s shattered Zheng Yang. Shen Qingqiu thought this might be because it was almost exclusively wielded by the boy during those days in the demon world, as well as the close presence of Zheng Yang’s shards during the reforging. Doubled with the fact that this sword did not have a soul, really, not after its true owner had disappeared with this Shen Qingqiu’s appearance, it made sense that it might imprint instead on the one who had last wielded it so diligently.

He didn’t know what to make of this development. Shen Qingqiu tried to avoid drawing Xiu Ya when he could. If Liu Qingge noticed the difference during their spars, he did not comment on it.

The transmigrator duo had since journeyed out and acquired the Sun and Moon Dew Flower seed, and so Shang Qinghua set to work trying to obtain more seeds to work with with their one sample. While the An Ding peak lord busied himself with perfecting the harvest, Shen Qingqiu went crawling back to his own peak to wait.

The System had fallen completely silent in the meantime, reduced to ‘self-help mode’, whatever that was. Even Shang Qinghua’s System was down - all the Systems of this world were apparently tied to the energy source Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu spent the rest of that year absently, going through the motions. He did not think he operated any differently than he had the previous year, but his colleagues and disciples had taken to walking on eggshells around him, to his mild offense and consternation. He thought he might be sick if he heard another person describe him as ‘soulless’.

Sometimes he left, to get away from the stifling atmosphere and distance himself from his thoughts. The laughing shadow of a child followed him, in his kitchen, in the courtyard, in the corner of his eye. He fled from it when its weight grew too suffocating.

Even in his absences, Qing Jing peak continued to be completely devoid of any mention of Luo Binghe.  

 

_

 

Shen Qingqiu woke one day to the faint metal of blood wafting to his nose. Stiffening, he sat abruptly up in bed and twisted forwards in a flourish of silk sheets, hand reaching for the handle of his fan.

A scan of his room brought up nothing out of the ordinary, really, his books and scrolls still scattered on the ground in his own special, personalized order.

It was only that there was a lightly steaming dish of congee on his table, a pot of tea and half-filled teacup at its right.

How strange. Ming Fan knew better than to enter his chambers before he was awake and without his assent. He dragged himself over to the table nonetheless, finding the scent was oddly delectable for a concoction of his current head disciple’s.

He partook of the tea, first. He put a hand to his mouth in shock at the taste. Delicious!

Upon lifting the lid to the teapot, he found that the leaves had been cleanly removed once the tea had reached the perfect strength. Ming Fan had neglected to employ this trick, his own respectable family having raised him to believe that keeping the leaves in and drinking quickly helped to warm the body and circulate spiritual energy. Shen Qingqiu was a very slow drinker with a sensitive palate; this method was almost entirely unsuitable to him.

Pleasantly surprised at his disciple’s sudden improvement in tea brewing, he reached eagerly for his spoon to dig into the congee, saliva pooling in his mouth. Several slices of perfectly cooked meat were piled to the side, and a line of chopped green onion was lain artfully in the middle. It looked like a photo taken straight from a cooking blog.

The first bite had his toes curling in delight. Good, how very good this was! He couldn’t hold back the pleased sounds that escaped from him as he ate, rejoicing in this fantastic meal after so long with too-sticky rice and bland rolls.

He was finished with it too soon, and wondered briefly if it might be too undignified to lick the bowl clean.

He did it anyways, after a moment’s thought. There was no one to watch, what did he care?

The image of the empty bowl brought a familiar outline to mind. Oops, not today! He waved the fog away before it had time to fully form.

When he saw Ming Fan again later that day, he gave him an approving pat on the shoulder. The young man clapped a hand to the spot his shizun had touched and looked quite bewildered. How humble of him, was he acting shy because he had gone into his shizun’s quarters without permission to surprise him?

This cannon fodder character had really come such a long way and developed such depth, this shizun could only be proud of his growth. Shen Qingqiu ruffled his hair, then departed, in a very good mood.

 

_

Shen Qingqiu was rather saddened to find out that that morning’s high-quality fare seemed to have been a fluke. He requested that Ming Fan make the same thing for him the following morning and had been sorely disappointed by the textures and tastes he encountered. It wasn’t bad food in the least, but his tongue had been spoiled rotten and could not take it. He sent it all away after just a single bite.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have acknowledged Ming Fan’s achievement in public? The disciple hardly seemed the easily flustered type, what with his default tendency to boast and be raucous about it, but perhaps he had gotten ahead of himself this time. He was a man now, true, but he was still very young. Vulnerable. He shouldn’t allow his prejudice against the original Ming Fan trample the currently blooming Ming Fan.

He was a teacher, the one and only master of Qing Jing peak! He created opportunities, he did not crush them.

Yes, he nodded to himself, the next time this old man would let Ming Fan’s efforts go silently appreciated.

In the hopes that he was present the next time Ming Fan’s inspiration struck, he took to remaining almost exclusively at his peak, the frequency of his business and pleasure trips halting almost entirely.

Qing Jing peak’s disciples were pleased with their master’s attention.  

 

_

 

It was another eight months until Ming Fan’s genius returned. Again, he woke to a whiff of blood, barely there, and a table full of freshly-prepared food. Dumplings this time - he scarfed it all down, humming all the way.

When he lifted the teapot to pour himself another cup, he saw that there was a small bowl of tang yuan behind it.

Dessert! Qing Jing peak did not allow dessert usually, it was considered unnecessary to their lifestyle. ‘What on earth are you thinking, Ming Fan!?’ he thought even as he popped one of them into his mouth, almost near tears at its flavour. It burst on his tongue as he bit into it delicately. Wonderful, a perfect harmony!

He sat back in contentment when he had finished.

He sought out Ming Fan in study hall after he floated out of his post-meal bliss, and, unable to help himself, gave the boy a conspiratory smile from across the room and pressed a finger to his lips. Our secret, he tried to project telepathically.

Ming Fan turned an alarming shade of puce and straightened his spine, hardly seeming to breathe as he turned rigidly back to his desk, the hand holding his brush trembling violently.

Shen Qingqiu left him alone, after that.

 

_

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes darted downwards, to where Shen Qingqiu’s hands were clasped at his front. His fan was abandoned on the table behind them, where sat a heavy pouch full of medicine and souvenirs from a market by the sea.

“And your body, shidi?” His voice sounded clearly in the night.

“Fine,” replied Shen Qingqiu. A fine tremor ran through his fingers.

The sect head studied his face a moment longer, expression difficult, then nodded in complacence and stepped out, into the snow. His exposed temple took on a shade of blue.

“Then I will see you next month,” he declared, and departed.

Shen Qingqiu watched him go, shrinking into a dot in the distance before disappearing entirely. When he finally retired inside, he drew a sheaf of paper from his stores and started to write.

This letter wouldn’t find its way to its recipient. Shang Qinghua had defected to the demon world a week ago, vanished without a trace.

In the slim chance that his comrade might be able to escape long enough for them to complete their safety net, he wrote anyways.   

 

_

【System rerouting… Downloading updates… Initializing...】

 

The third time he smelled blood, almost a full year later, it was very difficult to open his eyes. (His dreams were haunted by a limbless body, limp on a rope-) Still, he roused, pulling himself upright with some effort.

The table by his bed was empty.

He stared at it, almost offended by its emptiness. Come, now, he had been looking forward to this for far too long!

Then he heard a clatter from the kitchen. His shoulders slumped in relief.

Too early, then. He settled back into the covers to sleep some more, not thinking anything of his premature awakening as he drifted back into darkness. (The head turned to face him. Its remaining eye was wild with pain. It screamed at him, gurgling on its own blood-)

It seemed he had hardly closed his eyes for a moment when he found himself opening them again, blearily staring up at the shape above him.

“Good morning, shizun,” it said, warmly. The shadows rearranged themselves and Shen Qingqiu found himself staring into a painfully familiar face, smiling sunnily.

Luo Binghe was resplendent, dressed in the deepest of blacks and the most vibrant of reds. Gone was the willowy boy of past, to be replaced by this tall and broad-shouldered man. A white bandage looped around one muscled forearm, and his wavy hair fell freely over his back. He was very, very handsome.

He was also covering all the possible exits with his body.

No, it was too soon, they weren’t ready - Shen Qingqiu swallowed around his painfully dry throat and spoke, gathering up his threadbare courage.

“Luo Binghe,” he greeted, voice still rough with sleep. He didn’t dare to speak informally with the fearsome king before him.

The smile melted off Luo Binghe’s face. Shen Qingqiu’s blood chilled at the sight. “...why do you call me so distantly, shizun?”

He did not dare!!! The power emanating from this impressive figure was palpable, he could only sit and shake at this taunt!

“...I can see you have become strong. Five years have not yet passed - you are truly very talented. How can this shizun call himself as such when you have clearly long since surpassed him?” Polite, respectful, stay calm, stay calm.

 

【-50 Coolness Points!】

 

The announcement came at the same time that Luo Binghe reached towards him, startling him so terribly that it seemed as if he was flinching away from the calloused hands.

The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears as Luo Binghe withdrew his hands fast as a whip, a look of extreme hurt distorting his strong features. The half-demon took in Shen Qingqiu’s defensive body language and stepped back twice, thrice. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the chitter of birdsong outside.

Finally, Luo Binghe said, in a near whisper, “Perhaps... your body hurts quite badly. This disciple will not touch you, then. I will put this away for later. Please rest for now, you must be tired-”

As he spoke, his body shifted sideways, and Shen Qingqiu’s gaze slid to his bedside table behind him.

On it was a bowl of steaming congee and a pot of tea.

The cloying smell of blood was suddenly too strong in his nose. Revolting.

He felt his temperature rise with his sudden stress. His hands clapped over his mouth and he retched on instinct, his mind aware that the effort was futile but still useless against the whims of his panicking body. When, when did he first swallow it, Luo Binghe’s demon blood!? It had been two times already, wasn’t this volume of blood too excessive when he needed only a drop to have him on his knees?

“Shizun!?” Luo Binghe was on the bed with him suddenly. Shen Qingqiu could hardly see him past his streaming eyes.

His hands were pulled away from his mouth and his nape grasped tightly. He fought and thrashed, gasping, as the rim of a cup was delivered to his lips. Another retch built up in anticipation of metal on his tongue.

Instead, water, clear as dew, was poured into his gasping mouth.

This was so unexpected that he choked, spewing water all over his front. Lightheaded from coughing, he did not resist the hands that rubbed his back soothingly.

Soothingly?

Luo Binghe was speaking again, he noticed distantly. “...your medicine yet? Shall this disciple g-get it for you, will you be alright while I’m gone? Shizun’s condition wasn’t supposed to be this severe-”

Shen Qingqiu looked into Luo Binghe’s face with sudden clarity, searching. He saw, finally, the exhaustion, the hurt, the concern, the stray piece of green onion in his hair.

Could it be? It couldn’t possibly...

“Binghe,” he rasped, new strength coming to him with a tentative hope. “Tell me truthfully: why are you here today?”

Luo Binghe was silent for a very long time. He seemed to find something favourable in Shen Qingqiu’s face the more they looked at each other, and gained resolve. “....this disciple is here because of his impatience. Unable to stand five years apart from shizun, I worked to attain Xin Mo as quickly as I could so that I might return to his side.”

His heart most certainly was not fluttering. Luo Binghe had performed the real-life equivalent of recklessly playing a Pokemon game without stopping to train in the tall grass, dashing from gym to gym and enduring much hardship along the way. Where the original Luo Binghe had fulfilled every side quest as he walked the path of the main quest, leveling up slowly and carefully, this one had taken nothing but the straight path, never straying from his purpose. In the time it took for a bird to hop from one branch to another, he had bulldozed through the Elite Four and become Champion. Even for the protagonist, wasn’t this too amazing!? The protagonist halo must have worked hard these last few years!

Shen Qingqiu patted his favourite student’s head for the first time in far too long a while. His hair had grown coarser as time passed. “You did very well, this shizun is very impressed. You must have suffered. And… welcome home.”

Content bloomed in Luo Binghe, his posture going liquid as he pressed himself into the hand at his crown. “It was all thanks to my shizun’s teachings and belief in this disciple,” he murmured through a shaky smile.

“No, no,” chuckled Shen Qingqiu. He felt dizzy with the strength of his own slow, disbelieving relief. “It was all due to your own efforts. This shizun truly does not know if he has anything more to teach you at this point. I am beneath you, now. The world is yours to take.” Go forth, protagonist! Fulfill your destiny! This old teacher was currently so proud he might cry!

Luo Binghe frowned, leaning back on his haunches to better look at Shen Qingqiu. “I will always have something to learn from shizun, he will never be inferior to me,” he said seriously.

How humble, how noble! Shen Qingqiu smiled indulgently at him, finally reconciling the man’s face in front of him with the round-faced child he remembered. “Very well, shall we be equals, then?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes widened, the tips of his ears flushing. Shen Qingqiu delighted in this, seeing his disciple so unchanged from the white lotus he knew and loved.

“E-Equals…” Luo Binghe stammered.

“Yes, equals.” Shen Qingqiu gave him one last pat and shakily stood, making his way to the table. “And where is your portion? Let us dine together and talk before the food goes cold.”

So they did, with Shen Qingqiu revelling internally at how noble and strong his disciple was- still was. They ate slowly, savouring the meal, made even tastier by the company they kept.

Shen Qingqiu’s early guesses were confirmed as Luo Binghe retold the tale of his adventures, watered down by his modesty. His story was devoid of any mention of the side stories and fluff Shen Qingqiu remembered, though this meant that Luo Binghe had also somehow avoided starting his harem even in the demon world, where his original had acquired a hearty handful of wives. This was a little concerning, if only because the original Luo Binghe had calmed the clashing demonic and spiritual power in his body after acquiring Xin Mo by… making use of the more spiritually powerful members of his harem to absorb his excess demonic energy.

He studied his disciple. He seemed quite at peace currently, at equilibrium internally.

He was about to ask if Luo Binghe had found a woman yet when he was cut off before he could speak.

“Say, shizun,” said Luo Binghe, suddenly looking quite shy. “I’ve actually prepared a present for you.”

Oh? Shen Qingqiu motioned to the table and its contents. Already, he wanted to eat it all over again. “This was not it?” He paused, then smiled conspiratorially. “And the other two times, too, how sneaky you are! You didn’t even greet this shizun!” He was ashamed that he had even believed Ming Fan was capable of this high-class cuisine, a trademark of the protagonist!

The other man flushed as red as his robes for the second time that morning. “No, shizun, the other thre- two times were apologies.”

“Apologies?” Shen Qingqiu echoed.

Luo Binghe searched for something in his sleeve. “Yes, I took your blood those times to work on my present,” he said. “It took… multiple tries.”

Goodness! Was that what the smell of blood was, then? Shen Qingqiu was glad he had not accused this pure-hearted man of poisoning him with his blood! Admittedly, though, the prospect of his disciple sneaking into their home to take his blood, multiple times, was rather worrying.

He watched in curiosity as Luo Binghe retrieved a small opaque bottle, and made a motion as if asking for Shen Qingqiu’s arm. Puzzled, Shen Qingqiu gave it to him.

Black liquid fell from the bottle and onto his skin, red boils erupting on contact. Sower’s venom! Shen Qingqiu’s pulse spiked and his eyes went darting to the window.

Then Luo Binghe pressed his free hand to the boils, and when he lifted it next, the boils had completely disappeared, leaving behind clean, unmarred skin.

“I found out that I can do this with other demonic poisons,” said Luo Binghe, completely unnoticing of how much his shizun was sweating. “Sowers are very weak so their venom doesn’t require a lot of effort to dissipate. Using the samples of your blood that I acquired, I tried adding my own blood to cancel out Without a Cure, but at that point the poison had been in your system for too long. Separating the components in this way is no longer possible.” He shifted so that he was in front of Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu had an inkling of where this was going, and felt sweat beading at his brow anew.

“Then I discovered a solution. It includes an exchange of blood and one of energies.” He got on his knees before his widening eyes, his motions smooth as if he had practiced them many, many times.

“Shen Qingqiu,” and his name was like a death sentence on his lips, strangely intimate in its formality. “Will you trust me with your body, your heart, and your life? In return, I will give you my all. The debt I owe to you, I will repay with the rest of my life.”

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t bear to look at his earnest eyes for a moment longer. He pushed him backwards in a panic, a hand fluttering over his face in lieu of his fan, too far for him to summon with his diminished strength. He struggled to think, think, think! “If you really believe that this shizun would let his disciple taint himself like this, then you are very wrong, Luo Binghe.” His voice came out quite icily in his distress.

Luo Binghe was braced on his elbows, blinking up at him in confusion. “But I didn’t-” Then it came to him, and betrayal flashed on his face. “You knew . This whole time, you knew, and you never told me.”

Ah, so it had come to this. Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes. “I could not possibly have asked that of you, Binghe,” he tried, gently. “Such a shallow thing, it would only have hurt you in the end. If you’re saying this because you feel guilty that I shielded you that day, don’t. It was only this shizun’s duty, standing in front of his disciple. And this shizun has told you already that he will not die.” Because he had another way, though it didn’t seem that would be happening any time soon, anymore. Damned Airplane.

“Bullshit,” breathed Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu flinched when he let out a bark of wild, unrestrained laughter. “Shizun, you are both the kindest and the cruelest person I know. Always lying, always hiding something. But regardless, I…”

“I… really love you.”

Those naked words would have made anyone go red until their ears emitted steam. “What are you saying? You do not know yourself,” Shen Qingqiu snapped, a chill settling through his words. He spoke as if commanded. “You are too young. You are confusing your respect for this shizun with the care one has for a lover. You must not waste your youth on this old man.”

Luo Binghe’s teeth gnashed at his lower lip. His expression was one of desperation, of agony. “I am not a child. I have not been a child for a very, very long time. I know what I want- I have known what I wanted, what I needed, for years. You, shizun. It was always you. I can't leave you like this, not when I have the power to fix it!”  

“Fine, then,” hissed Shen Qingqiu, throwing out an arm in frustration. “Cure me. And then we will never speak of it again.” If this was what it took for the protagonist to return to his straight and noble path, he would be willing to make even this sacrifice.

“I don’t want that!” Luo Binghe’s cry was plaintive, all of a sudden. It set Shen Qingqiu’s teeth on edge. “I love you, you're special to me and I'm special to you, I know this very well! I thought of nothing but shizun these past few years, and I will continue to do so long into the future. To me, shizun is the most beautiful and most fascinating person in the world. Nobody else could ever compare.”

What a powerful offense! He was being far too stubborn! “You could have Sha Hualing, loyal, beautiful,” whispered Shen Qingqiu. “Liu Mingyan. Powerful. Intelligent. Even Ning Yingying. Sweet and gentle. All of them, even.” What he was supposed to have. 

Luo Binghe grew more visibly frustrated with each woman he named, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “You're always trying to push me towards women! I'm sick of it! I don’t care about any of them, I just want you! Can't you trust that I know myself, and that I know you?”

Shen Qingqiu spluttered, surging upwards. “You are- will be a king! It is your destiny to have a beautiful queen at your side-”

“That kind of destiny- I don’t want it. I refuse to accept it. I’ll change it just like I did my ‘destiny’ to be a murderous demon. What I want is an- an equal , shizun- I just want you.” The waterworks finally, finally made an appearance, Luo Binghe becoming overwhelmed with the force of his emotion. The sight made Shen Qingqiu’s knees weak. “Is it impossible? Is it me, after all? Is my demon’s blood too filthy for you, shizun-”

Ah, damn it, this sticky, spoiled protagonist!!! Shen Qingqiu’s hands flew up to Luo Binghe’s face, its contours still unfamiliar under his touch. He looked into the blinding vibrance of the emotion he saw there, unchanged from the last time he had seen him nearly three entire years ago. Dark, bright, intelligent, compassionate. So very Binghe.

“No,” he said, with great feeling. “Nothing about you is filthy, is wrong. Demons and humans all can be terrible, can be kind, there is… there is no such thing as that kind of… destiny… written in blood...” He found it quite difficult to look at Luo Binghe, now, and settled on staring at his ear instead. He felt numb all over from how quickly his heart beat in his chest. A traitorous flush had settled all through his body.

“Yes,” said Luo Binghe faintly, leaning into his touch. Tears dropped from his eyes like precious jewels. “You did say that, before.”

“So I did.” He kept his eyes firmly on his ear.

“You don’t hate me, shizun?”

“I could never.”

“...do you like me, shizun?”

“...I like you well enough.” He… he couldn’t believe he was letting this happen. To hell with it all, he looked into Luo Binghe’s face instead, and saw he was really quite handsome, and very, very close. His breath caught in his throat.

Luo Binghe swallowed, eyes fixed on Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. “...did you miss me, shizun?” The query travelled to him on the barest of whispers.

 

【Updates implemented! Running multiple choice cutscene...】

 

【Q: Did you miss me? (30 sec. remaining)

 

A : I missed you so much, it felt like my soul had left with you that fateful day

B : (remain silent)

C : Not at all! 】

 

What, seriously, now??? What a way to uselessly complicate things! The world around him froze, the only colour coming from the multiple choice screen in front of him. Ah, A was so cheesy, no one in their right mind would believe in it! C was absolutely out of the question- but did he really want to stay quiet, here!? The timer continued to tick, getting menacingly louder as time started to run out.

Fine, B! B, B, B! Shen Qingqiu button-mashed the option furiously.

Colour and motion seeped back into his surroundings, and Shen Qingqiu remained silent, though his hands continued to cradle his disciple’s face. The silence stretched on.

Luo Binghe closed the distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against his. They moved slowly, awkwardly. Shen Qingqiu was finally released from the System’s freeze with a gasp, and then things became rather wet and warm. The sensation was alien to him, but somehow, it was comfortable. Easy. Shen Qingqiu let himself be carried away.

Luo Binghe pulled away first, eyes glossy. “To be honest, shizun,” he said, voice soft. “I need to return to the demon world rather soon to take care of some things. I would like to. Take care of you now, in case it ends up taking longer than expected. I would rest easier, knowing you were no longer in immediate danger.”

And Shen Qingqiu thought it was impossible for his face to get even hotter. “Right,” he coughed into his fist. “You know what you’re doing?”

Luo Binghe looked away, back to the table. “I do. More or less.” Shen Qingqiu felt his chrysanthemum clench in alarm at this statement. “...there is a way to make it easier, the... exchange go smoother.” He reached towards the objects on the table.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes bulged as he zeroed in on the teapot. Was he going to use the tea to-

The half-demon unwound the bandage round his arm, revealing a long-healed over wound. He reopened it with a scratch, squeezing a drop of blood into the cup Shen Qingqiu had used. Then, trembling, Shen Qingqiu handed him his own arm. His finger was pricked and a drop of his own blood put into Luo Binghe’s cup.

They linked arms. Shen Qingqiu stared into his cup, at the blood pooled there. One couldn’t tell what great potential it had, when it sat there like that. It looked harmless.

They looked at each other.

...and it was harmless.

“Do you trust me?” asked Luo Binghe.

Of course. Of course he did, he had- “Always,” said Shen Qingqiu, damn it all.

Together, they drank.

As Luo Binghe spread the snow white sheet he had prepared onto the bed and pressed Shen Qingqiu against it, he apologized profusely for the informality of it all, promising infinitely better days in the future.

Shen Qingqiu brought him down and spoke into his ear to appease him. “We can always have another one,” he told him. Whatever this was.

Luo Binghe smiled into his throat, satisfied. His hands travelled down, down...

 

_

 

[ Please enjoy this livestream of nature sounds as we await the host’s return! ]

 

_

 

In this life, it is the reinstated Shang Qinghua who helps Mobei Jun ascend the throne. There is never a need for the plant bodies he prepared, here. Mobei Jun, king of the north, and Luo Binghe, wielder of Xin Mo, work with the human world’s sects to bridge the gap between humans and demons. Threats of interspecies war vanish on the horizon, with the setting sun. Shen Qingqiu has a miraculous recovery, Sha Hualing and Ning Yingying open a children’s home, Liu Qingge takes on a disciple, and Shang Qinghua makes very salty broth.

The System is set aside to collect dust, its purpose finished.

Years later, at their bamboo house on Qing Jing peak, Luo Binghe sits up in their shared bed, stretching languidly as the sunlight whispers against his brow.

Shen Qingqiu lounges in the silk sheets, his hair having somehow made it in all directions during the night. He looks adorably sleep-rumpled as he peels one watery eye open to meet his former disciple’s gaze. Luo Binghe leans down to pluck a stray strand of hair from between Shen Qingqiu’s lips and presses his mouth against smooth, warm skin. It must be the umpteenth time he has seen him like this, but his heart pounds with the force of his love every time.

“My queen,” he breathes, utterly content.

Shen Qingqiu smacks him across the back, mouth quirking in poorly concealed amusement. “Shut up, you,” he hisses, then pulls Luo Binghe down against himself again.

On the floor, cast messily about, are deep red robes, the colour of blood.  

Red, red, and red.

EXTRA:

“So where was your first date?” asked Shang Qinghua, straightening the questionnaire in his lap.

“The Endless Abyss,” said Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu in unison, and they glanced at each other. Shen Qingqiu snapped his fan over his face to conceal his blush at Luo Binghe’s grin.

Shang Qinghua only rolled his eyes and moved on to the next question.

Notes:

so that was really cheesy!!!!!!!!! im embarrassed!!!

there are many many holes, maybe i'll go back and iron some of them out as we get further into translations- regardless, i had a lot of fun writing this, i hope this was an enjoyable read for you too!

Notes:

tick tock

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of together we fall