Chapter Text
"Qingqiu-shidi, are you sure you're up for this? If it's too much, you can head back to camp first…"
At the gentle, concerned tone of Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu jerked his head upwards and narrowed his eyes. "I'll be fine. I'm not so weak as to jeopardize our entire mission just because one of my old disciples has come knocking," he said, a little frostier than he'd intended, but he didn't feel any guilt for it.
Not even when Yue Qingyuan drew back slightly as if he'd been stung. But he said nothing, only dipping his head and backing away.
Shen Qingqiu snapped open his fan and turned toward the hills that crested the horizon, which merely hours ago had seemed lifeless and empty. Now, black-and-red tents and banners dotted each one.
He had arrived.
Breathe, Shen Qingqiu. Breathe. He had meant it when he said that he wasn't going to be weak, but that didn't mean he wasn't still afraid. It was a ball of fire in the pit of his stomach, burning until it filled his lungs with smoke. But he couldn't rely on anyone for comfort. Not even Yue Qingyuan. Especially not Yue Qingyuan.
"Are all your weapons concealed?"
He felt his waist, where he'd stuffed talismans and paper bombs and a dagger, and nodded once. His sword, Xiu Ya, was also sitting in the qiankun pouch inside his sleeve.
"Yes," Wei Qingwei said, resummoning his own blade and slashing at the air. "If that demon tries anything…we'll be ready."
"Remember, peace first. Fighting is only a last resort," warned Yue Qingyuan.
"We're aware, Zhangmen-shixiong," Qi Qingqi said, her arms folded. "Let's just get this over with."
"Very well. Time to head out."
The group snapped the reins of their horses, calling "jia!" and riding toward those hills. Shen Qingqiu watched as they grew in size the closer they got, swallowing them like the gaping maws of a dragon. Despite this slightly claustrophobic image, it was otherwise a surprisingly picturesque location, with apple blossom trees blooming freely all around them, and a thundering waterfall sounding nearby. The sky was similarly beautiful, a brilliant azure tinged with the slightest of pink, indicating the beginning of sunset. But there was something eerie to the calm.
He tried to ignore the foreboding feeling. It wasn't the time to panic; even as his nerves rattled away, he kept them locked in a box deep inside his mind, steeling himself for what was to come. He straightened his back and tried for an indifferent—if not neutral—expression, even as his heart hammered against his ribcage. I will stay calm. I will stay calm. I will stay calm. There's nothing to be afraid of. It's only a former disciple. A boy. As the main tent came into view, however, he felt enough sense of peril that he wondered briefly how difficult it would be to try and flee from the area, riding on their swords.
"Stop," Yue Qingyuan commanded, squeezing his legs against his horse and pulling on the reins. It reared back slightly, neighing, before stomping its hooves.
The others followed suit.
It was when they were dismounting that a smooth, velvety voice called out to greet them: "Welcome, esteemed guests! Zhangmen-shibo, you look well."
"Greetings, Luo Binghe." The man turned and nodded in acknowledgement, his voice stiff.
Shen Qingqiu paused where he stood by his horse, his fingers stilling on its saddle. Despite the mantra he'd been chanting moments ago, he found that blood was roaring in his ears and his heart seemed to have sped up into the rhythm of a war drum, with his mouth going dry. He didn't want to turn around.
"Shizun."
The newcomer's voice was right behind him now, and he could practically feel the man's breath on his neck, causing a shiver to run down his spine like lightning tingling.
"Do you need some help with your horse?"
"Luo Binghe." He took a deep breath as quietly as he could before turning around. "You gave up the right to call me 'shizun' a long time ago."
The man standing before him was petting Shen Qingiqu's white horse with a smile, his eyes crescented. He was taller now. And bigger too, with broad shoulders and a solid chest, which the loose, open collar of his black robes revealed. These robes were far more intricate than anything he'd ever worn as Shen Qingqiu's disciple, the edges lined with silver thread that glittered under the sun. It transformed him from the boy in rags that Shen Qingqiu remembered into a man—one that exuded confidence and power.
And danger.
"I suppose you're right. You never really did view me as your disciple, anyway, did you?"
Shen Qingqiu lifted his chin slightly, meeting his gaze, with his own eyes half-hidden beneath his lashes. Despite his words, Luo Binghe didn't sound angry. Even his expression could be described as gentle, but there was almost something sinister to it—a tightness to his smile that betrayed his seemingly laidback demeanour.
Luo Binghe. A boy he'd resented for having what he never did: a loving mother. An innate talent for cultivation that was discovered at an early age. An easy temperament. An ability to charm the women around him without even meaning to, including Shen Qingqiu's own favourite disciple. And an innocence that seemed impossible to shatter—for a time, anyway, until he'd discovered the boy's demonic heritage and sent him hurtling down into the Endless Abyss.
He wondered, for a moment, how much of that boy remained in this man. How much of this wolf remained nothing more than an innocent puppy.
As he pondered this, Luo Binghe's smirk grew, and he grasped Shen Qingqiu's hand, bending down to press a kiss against his knuckles that made the other man freeze. "You're staring, Shizun. Do you like what you see?"
He jerked away, taking a step back until he couldn't anymore, his back bumping into the horse. Luo Binghe's arm shot out to steady him, and Shen Qingqiu tried not to shudder as he felt the muscle rub against him. Even with his skin being covered by his robes, he felt as if he was being scalded. "Don't touch me," he gasped, shoving him away. Even his chest was firm. "I told you. You—"
"I know. I lost that privilege a long time ago. But Shizun"—Luo Binghe grinned wolfishly—"I think I prefer it this way. Unless…" Now he leaned in, his breath warm on his ear. "You'd rather me call you Qingqiu?"
Shen Qingqiu felt like he was burning.
"Luo Binghe," Yue Qingyuan's voice cut in like a knife, severing whatever that was between master and disciple. There was a tinge of warning to his voice, yet his face remained pleasant on the surface. He tilted his head toward the tent. "May we begin negotiations?"
"Ah, of course. Forgive me for being a bad host," Luo Binghe chuckled, pulling away and walking over.
Shen Qingqiu finally felt like he could breathe again, a lot of the tension seeping out of his shoulders and causing him to sag. He hadn’t stopped feeling wound up tight though, watching Luo Binghe lead them into the tent. He hadn't realized until he was standing face-to-face with him, only centimetres apart, but Luo Binghe was taller than him now. He towered over Shen Qingqiu. He had trapped Shen Qingqiu. And Shen Qingqiu had the sick, nauseating feeling that if Luo Binghe had attacked, he would have easily overpowered his former shizun.
The nerves continuing to burn inside him seemed to burn even brighter all of a sudden, red-hot and intense, and he drew in another sharp breath to calm himself. He ignored Yue Qingyuan's concerned look as he marched into the tent after Luo Binghe.
I will stay calm, he told himself. I am not going to be weak.
Luo Binghe had settled himself on a divan on the other end, leaning back with his legs crossed. Shadows danced across his face, partly illuminated by the fire in the lamps above, which burned in metal bowls dangling from the top by chains. He waved his hand. "Make yourselves comfortable."
Despite the numerous seats surrounding them, Yue Qingyuan remained standing. He bowed. "I want to first thank you for being willing to discuss these matters with us. The common people have all been rather nervous, you see, since they heard that you have been appointed the Demon Lord."
"It's only natural," he replied. "Change always seems to scare you humans so much."
Shen Qingqiu stared at him. When did you start referring to us as something different from you? He couldn't help but remember the boy who had pleaded with him to understand as they stood over the fiery depths of the Endless Abyss—insisting that he wasn't actually a demon with malicious intentions. That he was still human. Still Luo Binghe.
"We ask that your military stop encroaching on human territory and leave all humans alone," Yue Qingyuan continued. "We cultivators will also back down after that, allowing you to continue as you have in the Demon Realm."
Luo Binghe hummed his acknowledgement.
"This compromise could open the way for truce. We could both conserve our energy, rather than waste it on wartime stratagems and—"
"I don't mind backing down. But before I can do that, I only have one other condition I wish to set."
Yue Qingyuan frowned. "What is it?"
Luo Binghe looked over at Shen Qingqiu, who immediately stiffened under his piercing gaze. The Demon Lord was silent for a couple seconds before the corners of his lips ticked upwards. "I ask that you hand me Shen Qingqiu."
The entire tent seemed to freeze, and Shen Qingqiu himself felt as if he had been doused in ice. His nerves began to sizzle, threatening to consume him in their flames. So this was his plan all along then. He wants to get revenge.
"You…what?" Yue Qingyuan's smile stayed on his face, but it was obvious it was cracking.
"You heard me. I want Shen Qingqiu."
All the Peak Lords glanced back at him, and Shen Qingqiu wondered for a moment whether he had offended all of them enough that they would all give him up in a heartbeat. But of course, Yue Qingyuan seemed determined to protect him.
A foolish decision, really.
"We can't possibly allow you that," he was saying, sounding strained.
"Besides this, I have no other ambition. Give me him, and I will stand down. Refuse, and I will raze Cang Qiong Mountain to the ground."
"The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is like a family. We all look out for one another. If you take him, we won't be able to stand down."
"Oh?" Luo Binghe arched an eyebrow. He leaned forward with an almost amused smile, although his eyes were glinting with something fervent and frenzied. "Is that why Shang Qinghua defected? Is that why Shizun killed Liu-shishu? Is that why Shizun abused me and tried to kill me, shoving me into the Abyss?"
"This…"
Seeing that things were falling apart, Shen Qingqiu wondered whether he should run or not. He wasn't so selfless as to be willing to sacrifice himself for the Peak. For all his talk about family, Yue Qingyuan had overlooked the fact that those ties in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had long been fractured. The incident involving Liu Qingge was proof of this: he really hadn't meant to get him killed, but not even Yue Qingyuan believed him. He thus doubted any of the sect actually viewed him as family. He took a step back.
But Luo Binghe had had his gaze pinned on the man, and seeing his sudden movement, his eyes lit up with lightning and his lips stretched in a predatory smile. "Shizun~" he singsonged. "I thought you might try to run. That's why I had my demons encircle the area." He clapped his hands and some demons began marching inside, with the tallest one, dressed in a heavy fur-trimmed cloak, grabbing Shen Qingqiu by the arm.
Luo Binghe leaned back again with a satisfied laugh. "I'm glad I still know you so well after all. That I know how terrible you can truly be."
"Qingqiu-shidi…" Yue Qingyuan turned to him, something flickering across his face. Disappointment? An apology?
Shen Qingqiu ignored him, keeping his glare on Luo Binghe. "Let me go, you beast."
"Or what, Shizun?"
"I'll kill you," he snarled.
Now Luo Binghe's smile faltered slightly, and his expression seemed to darken.
But Shen Qingqiu plowed on, relentless and cruel. "I should've killed you, back then. I should've killed you many times over. Because you're nothing more than scum—just demon scum."
"Shizun," Luo Binghe said coldly, the smile having fallen off his face completely. His demon mark and usually jet black eyes were now glowing red. Staring into that brilliant vermillion, it made Shen Qingqiu wonder if this always happened when he was angry or using his powers. It was almost entrancing. "How you wound me so."
And before he could even react, the Demon Lord was already in front of him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him into the ground. He let out a strangled gasp, his back throbbing painfully.
"Xiao Jiu!"
In his panic, Yue Qingyuan had forgotten the boundaries erected around his and Shen Qingqiu's relationship. Even as his vision blurred, Shen Qingqiu wanted to yell at him not to call him that. To never call him that again.
Through bleary eyes, he could barely make out Luo Binghe leaning down until his nose was centimetres from his own, his quiet voice loud even in the erupting chaos around them as the demons attacked the other Peak Lords. "Xiao Jiu," he murmured, saying the nickname like it was a weapon. And it might as well have been, because Shen Qingqiu winced, feeling like he'd been stabbed. Luo Binghe noticed this, and his eyes grew even more crazed as he chuckled in his former shizun's ear. "Xiao Jiu. What a cute name."
"Don't…call me that…"
"Or what, Shizun? What else can you do?"
He couldn't reply. He could only writhe in the other man's hold, kicking his legs out helplessly.
Luo Binghe pressed down on him even more, shoving a knee between Shen Qingqiu's legs. "That's what I thought. Just be good, and I won't do anything to hurt you. I'll look after you, Shizun—the way you used to look after me. Won't that be nice?"
He glared at him through teary eyes.
Luo Binghe paused, smiling again, but there was something almost affectionate in it. "How cute you look like this," he whispered. "So docile and obedient." His hand lit up with a flame, and he put it down by the tent, allowing it to catch on fire.
His eyes stretched wide and he began flailing again, trying to scramble away, but Luo Binghe simply pressed even harder around his neck until his consciousness began slipping away and he stiffened. When he'd almost blacked out completely, he suddenly felt himself being lifted from the ground, with his body being pressed against a warm and sturdy chest.
"Shhh," Luo Binghe seemed to be cooing, walking out of the tent. "I won't let you burn."
And so Shen Qingqiu, practically unconscious, could only watch as the tent was engulfed by flames.
Luo Binghe kept speaking in a low, almost soothing voice. "From now on, I own you. You are my war-prize, and I will…treasure you. The way you deserve.
"You belong to me now, Shizun."