Chapter 1: First Meeting
Summary:
Shen Yuan wakes up in a mysterious and scary place, and is rescued by a young man with a very pretty face and long curly hair and big muscles and-
Luo Binghe discovers his fancy new sword has a mysterious sword spirit that’s kinder than nearly every human he’s ever met and he kinda wants to kiss about it.
Chapter Text
Shen Yuan comes to in what looks to be some sort of ominous black void, the warm, wet air stinking of iron and petrichor.
“Oh god,” he says, voice strangely muffled, “I’m blind.”
He struggles to his knees, or tries to- he can’t seem to feel his limbs. He tries to wriggle his fingers, but although there is the sensation of something happening, he can’t actually seem to move.
“I’m blind and paralyzed! Fuck!” Shen Yuan wails. He must have fallen somehow and snapped his neck, or something else equally cliche. There’s no other possible explanation for his current predicament.
He spends what feels like a good few hours doing the trapped-in-your-head equivalent of throwing himself at the walls, hoping and waiting for something to change, but nothing does.
He’s probably in a coma. He didn’t want his family to ever have to visit him in the hospital again, and yet here he is.
Great job, Shen Yuan.
Maybe if he mopes hard enough his body will start crying and they’ll know he’s still in there somewhere. Or maybe he should try not to cry, in the hopes they just pull the plug. It’s not like he was doing anything interesting with his life, anyways. He probably spent more time reading shitty webnovels than he spent with his family after he finally moved out. They’d already done enough for him - buying him an apartment when he said he wanted to live on his own and hiring a nice auntie who came by once a week to clean and cook when he eventually snapped at them for hovering. He just didn’t want them seeing how bad he got on his worst days, but he hadn't exactly had a lot of good days.
Shen Yuan is so busy throwing himself a pity party that he doesn’t notice the strange squelching sound approaching until something grabs him around the waist.
Suddenly the world isn’t black and hot and wet, but red and burning. He hears someone scream, a guttural, desperate sound that makes something in him sing. An unexpected surge of power runs through him as the world bleeds red, as the lights around him spin and glow in whirling loops and twists. He should be dizzy, being tossed around like this, but there’s no room in him for any feeling other than exhilaration.
Shen Yuan has never felt so alive.
The world stops spinning a moment after the scream chokes off into a whimpering moan. He can see, now, and after greedily drinking in the strange sights he actually recognizes where he is.
No way. No fucking way.
The world is a riot of reds and blacks, lava pouring down high obsidian cliffs to pool in a scorching ocean below. Before him, carved into large chunks of melting, rancid flesh, is the demonic beast that swallowed Xin Mo in Proud Immortal Demon way, the very beast who’d been killed by Luo Binghe when he obtained his characteristic demonic sword.
Wait-
Shen Yuan tries to tilt his head up and is treated to the disorienting sensation of having his field of view change without his body moving.
A well proportioned young man with a matted mane of black hair is propping himself up on Shen Yuan’s - Head? Shoulder? Whatever. - while he tries to catch his breath. His clothes are torn and haphazardly patched, his left arm hangs limp by his side. Filth cakes his face, the blood that pours from a fresh wound on his forehead carving a path through the ash and dust that obscures his handsome, youthful visage. His eyes - said to be akin to two burning stars, brimming with both pride and arrogance - are currently bleary and unfocused, his long eyelashes almost fluttering shut on every wheezing breath.
“Are you ok?” Shen Yuan blurts out before he can think better of it.
Luo Binghe’s sunset red eyes sharpen abruptly, darting around the rocky outcropping. He pulls Shen Yuan with him back against the wall, scooting along it until he finds a large crack in the stone, and shoves them into the shallow crevice, tense as a drawn bowstring.
His hand is shaking slightly where it rests on Shen Yuan.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Luo Binghe finaly looks at him.
“You don't look ok. You look bad.” Shen Yuan continues, because he doesn't know when to shut up. “Er, I didn’t mean- you don’t look bad, you’re not ugly- I’m sure you’re quite handsome under all that grime! But you’re a mess!! And you really need to splint that broken arm!!”
Oh god, he just nagged the protagonist moments after being rescued by him from the stomach of a giant beast. Luo Binghe is definitely going to ditch him. Shen Yuan is going to have to fend for himself in the Endless Abyss without a golden thigh to cling to.
Ha... might as well jump in the lava now, to save Binghe the trouble.
“You can talk?” The protagonist croaks, voice rough from disuse.
“Obviously,” Shen Yuan snarks, though he feels bad afterwards. Luo Binghe looks so fragile, right now, of course he’d be surprised to find another person in the Endless Abyss. He hasn’t had any friendly company in a long, long while.
“I didn’t expect you to, is all,” Luo Binghe says, sounding a bit chagrined.
Shen Yuan’s heart aches at how unsure he sounds. Poor Binghe, lonely enough to try and find companionship with a random, suspicious stranger. Reading about him killing giant monsters and exploring the Endless Abyss was tons of cool, macho fun, but to see his protagonist so beat up is... it’s awful. He looks so young. He’s, what, seventeen by this point in the story? He’s basically a baby!! Someone give him a warm bath and a cup of hot cocoa!!!
“I’ve heard that some swordmasters speak through their swords, but I’ve never heard of a sword that speaks on its own.” Luo Binghe continues, nonchalant.
Shen Yuan almost replies, before his brain finally parses what Luo Binghe just said. He glances downwards, fighting through the disorientation again, and sees a long, lithe blade of shimmering black metal with its tip resting lightly on the rock below. He looks upwards only to see an ornately carved guard, handle clutched firmly in Luo Binghe’s right hand.
“Ah,” Shen Yuan says, “Aha.”
“Is something wrong?” Luo Binghe asks.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong, I- this-” Shen Yuan stumbles over his words, brain spinning as he tries to figure out what the fuck is going on. Transmigrating into Xin Mo?? What about his cool entrance!! If he'd have known the role he'd be playing, he would have said something a lot more impressive when Luo Binghe grabbed him!! And shouldn't he have a guide of some sort if he's transmigrated?? What's with this lack of technical support!? He wants to submit a complaint!!!
Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow. His hand clutches Shen Yuan the slightest bit tighter.
"I just wasn't expecting to be rescued by such a handsome young man!" He says quickly, very aware of how easily Luo Binghe could decide a strange talking sword is not worth keeping around. "It's been quite a while since I've seen a friendly-"
"This disciple can't help but wonder how such an incredible blade found its way into the belly of a beast." Luo Binghe muses aloud. "A sword such as your esteemed self must have valuable and awe inspiring power."
Open quest book! Shen Yuan thinks, trying not to panic. Inventory! Show stats! Something!!
“This esteemed sword has many mystical powers!” Shen Yuan bullshits, trying to avoid getting tossed back into the lake of lava he'd only just barely escaped. “I can grant you power, power that has no rival, and tear open portals between realms, and..." And if a system still hasn't shown up, he's probably not going to die if he shares spoilers, right? "And predict the future! To some extent, I mean. Prophesizing isn’t exactly a perfect science.”
He chuckles in an all-knowing-teacher-like manner, trying not to think about how much he’ll fuck up Binghe’s destined future by being his sword.
“Tear open portals between realms?” Luo Binghe asks, eyes glimmering. “How?”
“It's- it's quite complicated,” Shen Yuan fumbles, "and somewhat hard to explain." He theoretically should be able to, but he’s only been a sword for a few hours!! How is he supposed to know?? What he wouldn’t give for some sort of Demon Sword Instruction Manual right now.
【Ding! Welcome to the Demonic Sword’s Self-Serving System, user Shen Yuan. Thank you for bonding with us. It is our sincere wish that you fulfill your desire to turn Proud Immortal Demon Way into a story with ‘more cool monsters and intense fights’ and ‘less brainless women throwing themselves at the protagonist only to never be seen again.’】
Oh thank goodness.
【User has bound to the sword Xin Mo, an unparalleled existence in Proud Immortal Demon Way. To facilitate this transition to nearly limitless power, some functions have been temporarily locked.】
Oh no.
【In order to unlock new functionalities, Xin Mo must be fed enough S-points. S-points can be earned by the wielder, and can be collected through a variety of methods, such as killing powerful creatures, interacting with important plot points, f「beep」ing, and consuming powerful artifacts. User can overdraft S-points, but be careful. Going into debt will be very taxing on the wielder.】
Oh fuck no.
【At the moment, the following skills are unlocked. Please work hard to unlock all of Xin Mo’s abilities, so Luo Binghe can experience the depths of the world you wished for!】
Voice of Reason: User can speak directly to the wielder’s mind, though user's voice cannot be heard if not in physical contact. User can expend 10 S-points to project his voice across a large distance, but be warned - this can be heard by anyone nearby of a sufficiently high realm. Be careful what you gossip about!
Battle Frenzy (1+ S-points / min): When fighting an opponent that is above the wielder’s level, user can consume a proportional amount of S-points to temporarily upgrade Xin Mo's attack power to match! Jaiyou~
Teleportation (100 S-points): Wielder can choose a location they're familiar with and tear a rift through space to reach it. Careful not to get lost in the inbetween! Note: Cost will increase when teleporting between realms, or across barriers.
Current S-points: 10
Lifetime S-points: 10
Ah, system, how many points to teleport out of the Abyss? Shen Yuan thinks, hoping it can hear him.
【To teleport from the Endless Abyss to the demon realm would cost 100,000 S-points.】
Cheapskate system. Dammit.
“Surely your esteemed self could demonstrate, at least.” Luo Binghe says impatiently.
“Unfortunately it seems that being in that creature’s stomach for so long has drained most of my... incredible power,” Shen Yuan says, cringing at the chuunibyou-ass words coming out of his mouth. “In order to gain the abilities I once had, you need to, ah, feed me?”
“You don’t even have a mouth,” Luo Binghe mutters, twisting him around.
“That’s-” wait, he already has 10 S-points? Did he read that right? When did he get those?
Shen Yuan thinks back to the surge of power he felt course through him a few minutes ago during Binghe’s fight. He must have already been accidentally feeding Xin Mo - Shen Yuan - at that point.
“You just need to kill things with me,” Shen Yuan says, “I’ve already regained some energy from the creature you just slew, but you'll need to kill at least ten thousand more of such creatures to get us to the demon realm, minimum.”
Luo Binghe seems to accept that.
“Do you have a name?” He asks, peeking his head out to scan for enemies.
“Sh- Xin Mo.” Shen Yuan says, barely catching himself in time. Luo Binghe is probably still traumatized by being thrown into the Abyss by Shen Qingqiu. Better not introduce himself with a name that reminds the protagonist of that scum villain.
“Xin Mo,” Luo Binghe says, drawing out the vowels, “This disciple is called Luo Binghe. I’ll be in your care.”
So polite. He's even introducing himself to a strange talking sword. What a good boy.
“Likewise.” Shen Yuan says as cooly as he can. He’s going to help Luo Binghe fight monsters in the Endless Abyss, and he gets a front row seat!! Who cares if he died or whatever, this is a dream come true!!!
Luo Binghe feels the strange sword in his hand vibrate in what he assumes is anticipation. He checks for nearby enemies one last time before walking silently along the base of the cliff, heading towards the nearby path presumably carved through the obsidian by local demons some hundreds of years in the past. His broken arm jostles on every step, the pain still muffled and distant from leftover adrenaline. He’s gotten used to this endless fight towards a healthy body, his demonic healing factor competing against the near-constant damage he receives in this realm. It’s still not quite ignorable, unfortunately, but he can push through it. It’s not worse than what he’s had to deal with these past few months.
Xin Mo thrums when he begins walking along the path that zigzags up the cliffside, pulling subtly away from the edge as if afraid he’ll fall. Luo Binghe pretends not to notice, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. He’s been trying to find a way out of this particular chasm for weeks, now, and he wants to rest somewhere that doesn’t reek of sulfur.
Finding a sword inside the beast that swallowed him didn’t necessarily surprise him. The Endless Abyss is full of abandoned and lost treasures from eons past, after all, most as dangerous as they are useful. That this one can talk is something new entirely.
But still. He can’t trust it. He’s not a weak willed child anymore, desperate for any sliver of affection. Luo Binghe knows very clearly that any kindness comes at a price.
He’ll see what Xin Mo is willing to do for him, before judging whether it’s worth keeping.
“This path is so unnecessarily long,” Xin Mo whines, a slightly tinny quality to its voice.
“You’re not the one walking,” Luo Binghe snipes back between carefully measured breaths. It’s partially from exhaustion, partially as a test- is Xin Mo the type to respond to teasing well? Or does it have a temper? Will it use the jibe as an excuse to get in one of its own?
“Why don’t you just fly on- on me?” Xin Mo says. “I’m a sword, right? Hop on! Let’s skip this part.”
...What an odd sword. He would’ve thought that asking to ride it would be equivalent to stepping on its face. In essence, he would be. But it’s offering?
“Flying would only attract the giant beasts above,” Luo Binghe says, brows furrowing slightly as he scrutinizes Xin Mo.
“Not in this part of the Abyss, the only flying creatures that live around here are the Volcanic Rock Eagles. They’re not aggressive unless you get too close to their nests, and they have to lay their eggs in lava or they die- we’re already a good ways from the shore now.”
Xin Mo gently tugs him forward, blade twisting til it lies flat.
“Come on. There should be a clearing just within the border of the Eternally Shaded Grove up ahead where you can rest.”
Luo Binghe hesitates for a moment. It’d be all too easy for Xin Mo to simply dump him off a thousand feet in the air, especially since he hasn’t had a lot of sword-flying experience.
Shen Qingqiu made sure of that.
And to think that Luo Binghe had once thought he’d been pushing him to succeed. Pathetic.
“If you’re nervous,” Xin Mo says gently, “you can just ride low to the ground.”
Luo Binghe can’t help tensing, distrust tightening in his chest.
“Oh,” the sword continues, oblivious, “and thank you for saving me back there. It was quite unpleasant being stuck in that beast- all dark and cramped and slimy. I almost- if I had a stomach, I would’ve definitely hurled.”
Xin Mo’s guard wiggles back and forth a bit, like eyes that won’t quite meet his own.
Is it nervous?
“How did you end up in there?” Luo Binghe asks, trying to parse the sword’s version of body language. "Were you sealed?"
It seems to... stiffen slightly, at the question, the handle stilling in Luo Binghe’s firm grip.
“Ah, well, my previous wielder was eaten.” It says, awkward laughter echoing in Luo Binghe’s mind. “But don’t worry, my knowledge of this place is still up to date! I’ll lead you wherever you want to go!”
If it’s trying to make him let his guard down, it’s working. Sure, the sword needs him to grow back to its full strength, but Meng Mo needs him as well, and the annoying old man was very willing to threaten him to try and get what he wanted when they first met.
“Alright,” Luo Binghe says. He fills Xin Mo with a burst of demonic qi.
“Yes!” Xin Mo shouts, vibrating. “Let’s fly!"
Luo Binghe lets a small smile cross his face, chest stuffy with an odd mix of hope and exhaustion.
Well. He can probably hop off before the impact is truly lethal.
He steps up onto Xin Mo’s blade, cradling his broken arm and crouching for balance. He takes a moment to familiarize himself with the feeling of floating above the ground, bouncing in place to test how quickly the sword re-balances. Xin Mo stays obediently still, even tilting him back onto itself when he overshoots how far he can lean. He keeps at it until he feels confident in his balance and position, one foot leading while the other lies sideways across the guard.
Luo Binghe can feel Xin Mo jittering beneath his feet. Is it impatient?
He takes a bit longer, testing. The sword keeps jittering, but makes no comment nor move to buck him off.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he says nervously, listening, searching for any sign of agitation. “What if I fall off?”
“You won’t.” The sword says, voice sure and gentle in his mind. Luo Binghe gets the sudden impression that it’s smiling at him. “And even if you do, I promise I'll catch you.”
Luo Binghe finally takes off, hot wind blowing his hair back to cover his reddening ears.
Chapter 2: Frenzied Promises
Summary:
Shen Yuan uses Battle Frenzy! It's super effective! Xin Mo hurt it's wielder in it's confusion!
Luo Binghe has officially began trauma bonding to his sentient sword.
Notes:
Thank you for all the wonderful comments on the last chapter! I hope this one lives up to y'all's expectations.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“On your right!” Shen Yuan calls out, Xin Mo’s blade bouncing off the thick hide of a Three Clawed Bonecarver Mole. Binghe throws himself sideways, barely avoiding a set of claws half his size as they tear towards his flank, smashing the calcified wall behind him to dust.
Shen Yuan bites back a worried comment as Binghe slashes towards the creature’s exposed stomach, barely leaving a scratch on the pale skin visible beneath its dense, pitch black fur.
Stop freaking out, Shen Yuan. Focus. You’re a cool sword now. You can help.
System!? System!! He shouts mentally. How many points to use the power boost!?
【User’s current S-point total is 37. Does user wish to spend 15 S-points to use the skill Battle Frenzy?】
Uh oh. How strong are these creatures for it to cost fifteen points to meet their power level? They barely made that much from defeating a whole pack of Shattered-Heart Magma Wolves! Did he lead Binghe here too early?
Is he going to be ok?
Binghe barely deflects another attack headed straight for his chest, staggering under the weight of the blow as it glances off his shoulder.
Dammit, he doesn’t have time to worry right now!!
Do it! He thinks, bracing himself for... something.
【Battle Frenzy commencing. Time left: 1:00.】
Shen Yuan bites back a shocked scream as a surge of heat burns him from the inside out, the initial searing pain quickly fading as he feels himself begin to thrum with power. The phantom-limb body he’s been so attached to is no longer within reach, too present in his new form to even remember what it was like to have limbs that can’t part flesh from bone with the slightest pressure.
Xin Mo tenses in preparation as Luo Binghe swings him towards the creature to his side, slicing cleanly through a foot of skin and muscle before he’s yanked free to block a second creature’s swipe. He can feel the blood as it drips down his blade, the tacky warmth seeping into his metal surface like honey-sweet ichor.
His sightline flicks around rapidly, trying to keep track of the chaos within the tunnel. These fuzzy, carnivorous creatures may have looked cute when he first encountered them, but he’s grown more than tired of their pithy territorial instincts. The longer this fight goes on, the more he wants to reach out towards their glittering, furious eyes and just shove himself through the sockets, twisting and writhing as he churns their brains to a pulp.
Dust shudders down from the ash-white ceiling, the ground beneath Luo Binghe exploding in a hail of fossilized bone and dust as a third beast joins the fray. He tumbles through the air, blood spraying from his mouth as he hits the wall with a sickening crack.
“Binghe!!”
Shen Yuan’s mind empties of everything but the horribly bright stain soaking Binghe’s robes, worriedly checking over his body as well as he can without being able to feel for whether anything’s broken. Power still thrums through his body, but its once enticing pull has turned sour and shallow. He shoves down the part of him that screams for more carnage even as he twists in Binghe’s grip to block the teeth aimed at his throat, reddish-black aura pouring off Xin Mo in pulsing waves.
【Battle Frenzy almost over. Time left: 0:30.】
Shut up!! Shen Yuan roars, mentally flipping off the system. The rage still simmering beneath his skin suddenly has a new, more deserving target. Upgraded to match my ass! Binghe’s still getting creamed!!
【Battle Frenzy is working as expected. No further powerup will be given. You can do it user Shen Yuan, wielder Luo Binghe! Fight! Fight! Fight! 22 seconds remain!】
Binghe shakes his head, gritting his teeth as he makes to stand. He’s definitely hurt, with the way he's favoring his left side, but it seems like he can still fight. Shen Yuan breathes a sigh of relief, chiding himself for being overly concerned. It’d take a lot more than that to get through his protagonist halo.
“It’s best to retreat,” Shen Yuan says as Binghe throws himself to the side, rolling under a swiping paw. “They’re mostly blind, and navigate by sensing vibrations with their whiskers. Fighting them in the open will give you a better chance to take them by surprise.”
Binghe switches to defense as he searches for an opening in the wall of seething fur and grasping claws. Shen Yuan’s non-existent breath feels like it’s caught in his throat. He tries to ignore his own building panic, doing what he can to correct Xin Mo’s path when Binghe stumbles, the fatigue of a drawn out fight catching up to him.
“There!” Shen Yuan shouts as Binghe ducks under another strike, throwing himself through the gap between the creatures. They sprint towards the tunnel’s entrance as quickly as they can, bounding around corners as the moles simply shove their way through the walls.
The Three Clawed Bonecarver Mole isn't exactly an easy creature to defeat (having evolved to live inside the hollowed out skeletons of long dead giants means they’re very good at crunching through bone) but Luo Binghe did defeat them in PIDW, so Shen Yuan won’t let himself lose hope yet! Binghe can definitely win!!
【Battle Frenzy has nearly ended. Would user like to extend the duration for another 15 S-points?】
Obviously!! Shen Yuan snaps, tensing as another surge of bright burning power cuts through him, thoughts wiped of anything other than the incredulous fury that these lesser creatures dare to fight back against their inevitable demise.
【Battle Frenzy extended. Time left: 1:00.】
Luo Binghe bursts out of the cave’s mouth, spinning around just in time to block the teeth aiming to crunch his skull, bisecting a fang the size of his forearm in retaliation. Xin Mo seethes with demonic aura, flowing smoothly along the paths he’s directed and tearing through everything he can reach. Luo Binghe adjusts his attack patterns accordingly, launching once again into a ferocious offense.
Xin Mo shivers as he spins and whirls, aura burning brighter and even hotter as he enthusiastically parts muscle from bone as easily as a wire cuts through soft clay. A vicious, predatory joy sings through his body, his wonderful body, all sharp edges and rending teeth and thirsty, hungry metal.
After a blissful, chaotic eternity the last enemy finally falls, its hulking form reduced to nothing more than a pile of twitching meat and scattered claws. Xin Mo pulls hard against his wielder's attempt to separate him from his quarry, bathing in the warmth of freshly pulped flesh.
【Ding! Time left: 0:00.】
【Battle Frenzy has ended.】
【Wielder has defeated (3) Three Clawed Bonecarver Mole. S-points earned: 60.】
Current S-points: 67
Lifetime S-points: 97
Shen Yuan doesn’t have a stomach anymore, he doesn’t, so he can’t throw up, but it really really feels like he’s going to.
...
Battle Frenzy really... lives up to its name, haha. Ha.
Binghe looks down at him, a thoughtful look in his eye.
“Power that has no rival,” he murmurs, glossing over the fact that Shen Yuan had gone completely nutso feral.
“Yeah, super powerful,” he replies flatly, wheezing through another bout of nausea. “We’re fighting something closer to your skill level next time.”
Shen Yuan shudders as Binghe flicks the gore off Xin Mo’s blade, trying to ignore the weird sensation of blood cooling on his skin- er, blade’s surface.
“Thanks.”
“You seemed happy enough to be bathing in viscera earlier,” Binghe comments.
“Don’t remind me,” Shen Yuan gags. What he wouldn’t give for a scalding hot bath right now. Eugh.
“And the aura?” Binghe asks curiously.
“Battle Frenzy,” he admits, too tired to care about hiding anything from the protagonist. He’ll figure it out eventually anyways. “Sorry about that, got a little carried away.”
Luo Binghe pointedly doesn’t comment further, a few different trains of thought ticking along as he begins taking stock of his body. He sets Xin Mo aside for the moment, laying it down flat on the dusty ground. It doesn’t seem to mind.
His broken ribs are already beginning to heal, the lacerations along his back from when he slammed against the cave wall more of a nuisance than a danger. His left leg is hard to walk on - seems he fractured his shin fairly badly - but it's not overly painful if he keeps his weight off it. His sword arm is out of commission, muscles torn beyond the point of usability, but it shouldn’t take more than a day or two til he can fight at near full strength again, and his left should work well enough for now. He faces away from Xin Mo, casually popping his shoulder back into place. Next time he'll try to reinforce the joint with qi to prevent such debilitating backlash.
He draws some demonic qi into a sort of miniature sword glare at his fingertips, crouching down to skin a section of mole creature that wasn’t completely eviscerated. He fashions himself a gory- but functional- sling for his damaged arm, tying it off with his teeth.
Luo Binghe forages through the dead creatures for anything else usable. He casually shoves his good hand between its ribs, feeling around for any sort of demonic core. Luo Binghe doesn’t like the feeling of offal between his fingers, but he’s long used to being filthy down here. What little squeamishness he had left was quickly squashed after the supplies he’d had on him ran out.
He’d nearly starved, then, the weakness from long-standing hunger meaning he couldn’t even hunt for food. Not here, where even the weakest prey animals could easily kill a grown human.
Thankfully he’d stumbled across a recently half-eaten beast before he’d keeled over, left behind by some larger predator. He’d been tempted to try and find something else - the sight of its ravaged corpse overwhelmed him even then - but the spite he felt at the thought of dying down here like Shen Qingqiu wanted pushed him to force the cold, raw meat down his throat.
Luo Binghe picks out a few smaller bones to be fashioned into needles and other long distance weapons, slices off some larger chunks of meat to pad his stomach, and gathers some of the longer, softer fur around its stomach to braid. He’s been meaning to make a rope of some sort to hold Xin Mo at his hip, for when he needs both hands to climb or swim.
As Luo Binghe patiently takes the corpses apart it becomes quite evident that these creatures were more than capable of killing him. Their efficient pack-hunting tactics combined with how abnormally fast they are- he should’ve gone down fairly quickly once they got a few solid hits in. They probably could’ve torn his limbs off with just their teeth.
Luo Binghe glances at Xin Mo out of the corner of his eye, watching it flip back and forth on the dusty ground.
He could just... ask?
“Why didn’t you use your aura earlier, or in other fights?” He asks, casually tracing a finger along Xin Mo’s hilt to hear its response.
Xin Mo teeters on its edge for a moment before flopping back onto the ground.
“...I didn’t want to use up the energy,” it admits.
Ah.
Right. Xin Mo is using him to replenish its lost power.
Luo Binghe stays silent, laying the sword across his lap as he gets back to work. Instead of fur, he might be able to use the mole’s intestine to make a cord of some sort; it would definitely be more flexible than rope. He measures the size of Xin Mo’s guard with his palms, swallowing thickly against the sour taste in his mouth.
Yes, that should definitely work. He rummages for material, his mind wandering to knots and weaving, to other handicrafts he’d patiently learned at his mother’s side, pressing on the memory like an old bruise.
“Sorry,” Xin Mo mumbles, voice tinged with genuine regret. “Now it’ll take even longer for you to get home.”
Luo Binghe freezes, arm-deep in mole guts.
Surely... surely Xin Mo is just saying this to get on his good side. It has to be lying, trying to convince him that it cares about him so it can make further use of him. It’s been trying to do so since he first found it.
But why is Xin Mo trying so hard? What could it possibly gain from treating him so gently? Is it lonely? Surely not, he tells himself, but the thought has already spun off into an entirely new set of worries.
Xin Mo is a sword, that’s for sure, but it’s surprisingly human too. What if Xin Mo is lonely? What if it’s only with Luo Binghe because he’s the only option the sword has for company? Will it even want to stay by his side when it escapes the Endless Abyss? Or would it seek out someone stronger, someone more clever, someone less...
Is that why it wants to help him to leave sooner? To find someone better to wield it?
He slowly unclenches his fist, shaking chunks of liver from his fingertips.
Luo Binghe... doesn’t want that to happen.
A stern, pale face flashes through his mind, sharp eyes glaring at him as he plummets, stomach lurching into his throat as the small patch of blue sky above him is sealed away by endless, pitch black stone.
No. He needs to keep Xin Mo around for a bit longer than that. He has things he needs to do.
“Binghe?”
Binghe hums questioningly, yanking at a particularly stubborn section of intestine. He looks... upset, a small pinch between his sword-like brows and a despondence in his eyes that isn't fully hidden from where Shen Yuan lies across his lap.
“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn't have kept something like that secret.” Shen Yuan pauses, unsure how to coax a miserable Binghe. He can’t exactly act like one of his coquettish wives, grasping onto his sleeve and batting his eyelashes - he doesn’t even have eyelashes right now! And besides, he’s a man. Sword. Man sword.
Looks like he only has his words to rely on.
“How about this?” Shen Yuan softens his voice like he did when he was younger, coaxing his little sister to stop crying over some small schooltime spat. “You can ask me any questions you want, and I’ll answer them as honestly as I can. I'm sure there's something you've been wanting to know about your past? Or future?”
Binghe purses his lips, glancing away.
“Or if there’s something else you want, anything that could make it up to you, I’ll do it! I swear!” Shen Yuan says quickly, trying desperately to appease the protagonist.
“Anything?” Binghe asks.
“Anything.” Shen Yuan says. Let this old man fix his mistakes! Just please don't ask for something impossible, Bing-ge!
“Promise me,” Binghe says, pupils two dark stars in the sunset red of his eyes. “Promise you won't ever leave my side.”
“I won't leave,” Shen Yuan agrees happily. "I promise."
That was easy! He's inhabiting Binghe’s sword now, anyways, so he wouldn’t be able to leave even if he wanted to! Crisis averted!
Shen Yuan startles as a loud ding reverberates through his mind.
【User has given the wielder slight hope for the future! S-points earned: 5.】
Current S-points: 72
Lifetime S-points: 102
【Congratulations, esteemed user Shen Yuan, for collecting a total of 100 S-points! You’ve unlocked a new ability! As a congratulatory gift, user will be given a free trial to be delivered immediately upon download of said ability. System will be temporarily unavailable during the update. Keep working hard!】
【Update downloading: 0.1% complete. Estimated time left: 2 days, 3 hours.】
Hey, wait! Since when does something like that give him S-points?! And what’s the new ability?? System?? System???
Notes:
Any guesses as to what the next ability unlock is? (¬‿¬)
Chapter 3: Physical Revelations
Summary:
Shen Yuan unlocks a new form! Luo Binghe unlocks a new reason to live!
Notes:
Y'all are the fucking sweetest with all your comments, seriously, best readers. As a treat, I've put a little something at the bottom of this chapter just for u 💕
(SO many of y'all guessed the new power lmaooo. It's obvious, I know, but I just really wanted to give Binghe a hug at /least/ once. My poor blorbo...)
Chapter Text
Binghe’s been traveling through the Viridian Gu Forest for a bit over a day now, swinging Xin Mo steadily back and forth to cut a path through the dense foliage. It was cool for the first hour or two - Binghe listened very patiently as Shen Yuan ranted about nearby landmarks and plants they came across - but there's only so much Airplane was actually able to write about this place. Every once in a while a creature will mistake Binghe for an easy meal, but none of them have been able to entertain him for more than a few minutes. Weaklings.
Who knew surviving the most dangerous realm in PIDW could get so... boring.
Shen Yuan begins humming a pop song to the steady metronome of Binghe's swings, trying to fill the silence.
Nope. Still bored.
System? Shen Yuan asks for what feels like the hundredth time. How much longer?
【Update downloading: 98.6% complete. Estimated time left: <1 hour.】
Shen Yuan pictures himself biting at a handkerchief impatiently. He wants to know!! He really wants to know!!! And would it kill the system to give a more accurate estimate??
Binghe cuts through a thick wall of vegetation, stepping into a circular clearing around 10 meters wide.
“We’ll take a break here,” Binghe says. He limps towards a larger tree close to the edge of the clearing, keeping a careful eye out for anything lurking deeper in the forest. The stubborn boy refused to wait til he was fully healed to keep traveling, despite the danger. It was all Shen Yuan could do to make him keep his sling on instead of just pushing through the pain.
Binghe leans back against the trunk, laying Shen Yuan across his lap - within easy reach if something big and scary comes to eat them - to grab a small waterskin and some monster... "jerky" out of the pouch at his hip, chewing slowly.
Shen Yuan continues humming absentmindedly while he helps keep watch. What sort of cool bug monster will Binghe get to fight next? There are quite a few that begin to inhabit the forest this far in, ginormous and scary looking and very very poisonous.
The Viridian Gu Forest is probably Shen Yuan’s... fifth favorite place in PIDW, where thick greenery fills and spills out from a giant crater nearly a kilometer deep and a solid three hundred across. It’s also infested with Gu (read: giant bugs) stuck in an endless cycle of killing and eating each other. Any poor creatures that find themselves tumbling down into the forest end up food for the Gu, or if they're really unlucky, the carnivorous plants that grow a ways further in.
Honestly, Shen Yuan was looking forward to this place. He is a bit nervous about Binghe coming here partially wounded, though. He might have to use up some of the protagonist’s precious S-points again if something too big comes around. There’s one creature in particular, the queen of the forest, that nearly killed Binghe in PIDW.
Thankfully, it lives much closer to the center. He’s probably only going to run into small fr-
【Ding! Update complete! Thank you for your patience, user Shen Yuan!】
【Processing S-point backlog...】
【S-points collected while offline: 32】
Current S-points: 104
Lifetime S-points: 134
【You have unlocked the following ability. Free trial begins now. Please enjoy a complimentary set of robes, to avoid indecency charges.】
Anthropomorphization (10 S-points / min): User can temporarily shift into a more humanoid form, with all unlocked abilities left intact! Note: Form will change slightly depending on user’s playstyle.
Wait, a humanoid form?! But Xin Mo never-
【Anthropomorphization commencing. Time left: 1:00.】
Shen Yuan yelps as something hooks behind his navel and pulls. His nerves begin to pop into existence in tiny pinpricks of buzzing, fizzy sensation, like his entire body fell asleep in the night and he’s only just now waking up. His skin feels like it’s being stretched like a balloon, the world itself shrinking as he’s inflated near to bursting. It’s too much, and somehow too little, his body stretching thinner and thinner as his sight begins to fade.
And then it ends. Shen Yuan gasps in huge lungfuls of air, vision spinning from where he’s still lying across Binghe’s lap.
Well, he thinks optimistically, at least it didn’t hurt.
Binghe is staring down at him, eyes comically wide. Shen Yuan instinctually reaches up to fix his messy hair.
He freezes midway, shocked. It looks like someone lovingly coated his hands and wrist with cinnabar, the skin peeking out from his sleeve fading in a soft gradient to a more natural hue. Shen Yuan flexes his hand, admiring the effect. He’s never had long nails before, either, though these are closer to claws. It’s kind of weird, if he’s being honest.
Oh who cares, he has hands again!!!
Shen Yuan rolls off of Luo Binghe's lap, stumbling upright to stand on awkward, unused limbs. He feels... strong. Stronger than he ever did back on Earth. Strong enough to- to climb a mountain! To run a mile!! To carry five bags of groceries at once!!!
He takes off running as fast as he can, relishing the feeling of the ground thudding beneath his bare feet, cool leaves and rich dirt squelching between his toes. His joints don’t hurt! His head doesn’t hurt!! His lungs don’t even wheeze!!! He makes it across the clearing in what is definitely record time, hooking an arm around a trunk and spinning around and around, exhilaration bubbling over into the most genuine, simple joy he’s felt in years.
“Xin Mo?” Binghe says, voice soft with wonder. Shen Yuan sprints back towards him, tackling him in a hug that slams his head into the trunk behind him.
“Sorry, sorry!” He strokes the back of Binghe's head apologetically. He didn't bruise him, did he? He's already so busted up...
Binghe is still staring at him.
Shen Yuan is suddenly very conscious of the fact he’s sitting in the protagonist’s lap like some sort of overly-forward young lady. He makes to stand, nervously trying to come up with some sort of excuse that doesn’t make him want to crawl in a hole and die.
Binghe’s good arm reaches tentatively around his back, lightly gripping the fabric. Shen Yuan can't help but notice a faint glistening in his big, doe-like eyes.
...
He sits back down.
How long has it been since Binghe was able to take solace in the arms of a soon-to-be-wife? He’s been utterly alone for months, with no other person to hold, to talk to- and don't humans need hugs to grow properly? Shen Yuan should at least help Binghe make up for the skinship he's been missing. What’s a hug or two between bros!
Reaffirmed, Shen Yuan settles across Binghe’s lap, pulling him close enough that he can hide his embarrassed expression in his shoulder.
【Anthropomorphization almost over. Time left: 0:30.】
This is... nice.
Shen Yuan didn’t realize how dulled his sensations were, as a sword. He can barely feel anything when he’s made of metal - pressure and temperature seem to come to him through a thick blanket, and he can’t think of a single time he could feel texture or taste or smell. He is thankful for it when he’s shoved into the guts of some beast or another, but still.
He didn’t realize how much he’d missed this until now.
Shen Yuan can feel the rough texture of bark pressing patterns into the back of his hands, the muscles in Binghe’s broad back flexing under his palms, the warmth of his body- tangible even through his nasty, blood-soaked clothes. He digs his fingers in, pressing his face to the side of Binghe’s throat and inhaling deeply, trying to memorize every sensation he can feel in the little time he has left. He doesn’t know when he’ll get to feel human again.
10 points per minute is really... too expensive.
Luo Binghe’s mind is filled with nothing but empty static and the smell of copper. He cautiously runs his hand down Xin Mo’s back, the jut of its - his, he can’t think of the sword spirit in his lap as an it, now - shoulder blades clearly defined through his thin silk robes. He can’t remember the last time he was hugged like this, like he’s just one piece of a two person puzzle. He can't recall being touched so gently without the expectation of something else in return.
Xin Mo snuggles closer, clutching him tightly. His soft, red lips press feather-light against the base of his neck, breath puffing warm against his skin as he sighs contentedly.
Luo Binghe feels something begin to take root inside him, tendrils of some unnamed want making a fast home of his ribcage. He gently cards a hand through Xin Mo’s loose, ink-black hair, captivated by the way it slips through his fingers like silk. A few strands shift oddly in the light, the same rich red as the huadian between his thin, high brows.
Xin Mo is dangerously pretty, and Luo Binghe means it in every possible sense of the word. The sword’s chin is sharp, his jaw as well, and he has a set of curling lips that part around cute, slightly pointed teeth when he smiles. It doesn't help that his narrow, vermilion eyes are outlined in a bewitching blood red.
Luo Binghe imagines taking this sharp, pretty Xin Mo to a place locked away from the rest of the world, sewing him the finest of clothes, putting his hair up in golden crowns and jade hairpins, cooking him tablefuls of lavish meals not so much to feed him but so Luo Binghe can watch his lips close delicately around each bite, dark eyes curving in pleasure.
That thought spins quickly into a dozen others, fleeting imaginings of red lips and bare skin and sharp teeth biting marks down the side of his throat-
The clear sound of splintering wood shatters the brief moment of calm.
The two of them jump to their feet simultaneously, Binghe falling into a battle stance as Shen Yuan squints to try and make out the dark shape barrelling towards them. It’s big, dozens of meters long, with small segmented limbs protruding from its body at regular intervals. Something glints at its front, liquid glistening in what little light makes it through the thick canopy.
“Oh shit, Moon-Devouring Centipede!” Shen Yuan scrambles to explain, wrapping Binghe’s arm around his waist as he desperately tries to morph back to sword form. “It’s mandibles are coated in acid, limbs are sharp, come on change back-”
【Time left: 0:09】
“Dammit!” Shen Yuan swears, “nine seconds, Binghe, that’s all I need- it’s eyes are covered in a thick transparent membrane-”
The centipede crashes through the treeline, furious eyes focusing on its prey. Its mouth opens wide enough to fit a car, sizzling liquid dripping from its maw as it charges straight for them.
“-so you can’t attack there, aim for its mouth-”
Binghe picks him up around the waist, dodging the attack. Shen Yuan flails, looping his arms around his neck so Binghe’s good arm can curl under his thighs instead. Damn, the protagonist’s strength is nothing to scoff at!
“-there’s a soft spot inside where you can spear straight to its brain-”
【Time left: 0:05】
Binghe clutches him tight, ducking behind a tree. The centipede’s mouth closes around the thick trunk, wood splintering, but it holds. The centipede rears back, screeching.
“-but don’t let the acid get on you, it dissolves organic matter-”
Shen Yuan yelps as he’s tossed into the air, Binghe ducking under a vicious swipe of its stinger-tipped tail. He leaps up to catch him a moment later, bounding off a nearby tree to dodge a second attack. They’re practically flying over the centipede as it slithers below, but Shen Yuan doesn’t feel nervous. He doesn’t think he could fall, being pressed so firmly to Binghe’s chest.
【Time left: 0:02】
“Just shove me in its mouth!!” Shen Yuan finishes, watching as the countdown tics towards zero.
【Time left: 0:01】
They fall towards its staring head, twisting at the last second to avoid the stinger stabbing towards Binghe’s unguarded back. Shen Yuan barely notices, too focused on just how slow time seems to be moving, panic setting in as the centipede manages to gather its bearings well enough to prepare to swallow them whole.
【Ding! Time left: 0:00】
【Anthropomorphization has ended.】
Shen Yuan’s head spins as the world grows around him, the sensation of Binghe’s arm pressing against his thighs dulling to nothing against his now-sheathed form. He’s whipped around before he can fully process what’s going on, vision suddenly filled with giant teeth and a dripping, cavernous mouth.
He stifles a scream as his blade sinks into soft flesh. Binghe lands on Xin Mo’s guard and kicks, shoving the blade through one final layer of chitin. The beast shudders once before collapsing in a coiled heap.
【Wielder has defeated (1) Moon-Devouring Centipede. S-points earned: 5.】
Current S-points: 109
Lifetime S-points: 149
“Whew!” Shen Yuan says after he’s pulled from the corpse, laughing tightly. “That was a close one! I almost got bit in half!! Imagine being the first sword to die of blood loss. So cringe. Ha, I’ve heard of immortal weapons, but never a mortal one, haha! Ha!!”
Binghe doesn’t laugh.
...Shen Yuan thought that was pretty funny. He takes a moment to calm down while Binghe slowly wipes his blade clean of acidic bug goo, a vague warmth all that manages to get through his metal body. He’s sure glad he didn’t have flesh for that.
Oh, dammit. He knew there was something he forgot.
“Binghe, what do I look like?” Shen Yuan asks. “I didn’t get to see my face at all. Am I handsome?”
Binghe doesn’t answer immediately, bending down to grab Shen Yuan’s decorative new sheath, the black and red pattern an obvious mimicry of his also-new fancy robes. Do sheaths count as sword clothes, then? Huh.
“Very handsome.” Binghe confirms, voice thick.
Shen Yuan hums happily, swaying side to side. Still can’t compare to Binghe, he thinks, smug.
Luo Binghe sticks the sheath through his sash before walking onwards, absentmindedly hacking through the thick vegetation.
He was right. He was right. Xin Mo is too human, and judging by the sword spirit's reaction to his own body, he hasn’t had enough power to act like one for a long time.
He might be the only person alive who’s gotten to hold Xin Mo like that. The thought spins in his mind like a brightly colored top, round and round, dizzying him with its intensity.
Luo Binghe doesn’t know what to do. It all feels too perfect. He feels paranoid, trying to figure out what secret machinations are brewing in the demon sword’s mind. As the days go by it seems more and more likely that Xin Mo is just... genuinely like this. That he’s just somehow this lucky.
Luo Binghe doesn’t trust in luck. Good fortune leaves just as quickly as it arrives, prying your defenses open before the world gleefully tears you apart. He’s been shoring up his sandcastle heart with anger, with apathy, letting the tide wash away what it would and telling himself he didn’t care, shouldn’t care, sure in the fact he’d never be able to find something worth living for beyond revenge and simple, fleeting pleasures. He was so sure he was right.
Luo Binghe’s chest hurts.
It’s hard to wield Xin Mo now. He keeps thinking of how quickly and simply the sword - his sword - placed Luo Binghe’s arm around his waist, of how Xin Mo likes to nudge his handle into his hand when he wants to be picked up. Luo Binghe runs his thumb absentmindedly along the hilt in his hand, tracing the patterns engraved in the metal. He wonders if Xin Mo can feel it, can feel him. He squeezes the grip tightly, imagining soft black silk instead.
For a moment, just a moment, he feels grateful Shen Qingqiu threw him away.
Chapter 4: Desperate Gambles
Summary:
Luo Binghe makes a decision. Shen Yuan makes a decision.
Both of these decisions will have dire consequences.
Notes:
I'm so sorry it took so long to post this QAQ i was so incredibly stuck on this chapter for SO long. Thankfully after like. Four tries? I finally got something I actually like. Enjoy 4.8K of ANGST and GORE and Binghe's masochistic tendencies.
Also, once again. To every single person who has left a comment: I kiss you, I love you, I will name one of my babies in your honor, you deserve the entire world, nay- /every/ world. I read every single comment over and over and cry every time at y'all's excitement. Than you so much for loving this fic because I would /not/ be putting so much effort in if I didn't know there were people who want to read this besides me QuQ
Rating's gone up to Mature for violence, just in case. Binghe is having a TIME of things rn, and will likely only get more and more beat up in future chapters. In other words- time for the HURT in HURT/COMFORT!! >:D Do pay attention to the Blood and Gore and Mild Guro tags for this chapter in particular. Nothing big happens and I don't think this chapter is /too/ intense, but please read at your own discretion!
(See end notes for particular warnings and sentences to start and stop at!)
(The ending does still have comfort, though. <3)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Um, Binghe?” Shen Yuan says softly, glancing around. Do the trees look more sinister, or is he just nervous? Is it the slowly growing darkness? The fading sounds of probably-not-birds and other chittering creatures? The fact that they’ve walked past not one, but three separate sets of footprints the size of a mattress??
“What?”
“I think you’re heading towards the center of the forest,” Shen Yuan says, a tinge of worry leaking into his voice. “The monsters are going to get a lot stronger. Stronger than you can handle.”
The apparently death-seeking protagonist hums, not deterred in the slightest. If anything he actually speeds up, striding through the underbrush as he continues down the gently sloped terrain, boots slipping occasionally on the wet leaves that coat the muddy ground.
If Shen Yuan had hands right now he'd be exasperatedly massaging his temples. As it is, he's just exasperated. Why did he decide to take the protagonist to the Viridian Gu Forest this early on?
Sure, there are dozens, if not hundreds of super cool and scary creatures, and the bugs that live near the edge of the crater are pretty good experience points, and it’s temperate climate might have given Binghe a well deserved break from the scorching heat of the more lava-ey places he’s been wandering, but he should’ve known that the protagonist’s grow-stronger-at-any-cost attitude would bite him in the ass!!
It’s not like he’s worried about Binghe moving too fast, he’ll be fine no matter what happens, it’s just - it feels like he’s having a much harder time, is all! Unlike in PIDW, Luo Binghe didn’t really get a "powerup" when he obtained Xin Mo. Sure, his demonic seal finally fully broke, but the blade that “weaves through a battlefield so seamlessly it seemed an extension of the protagonist’s very will” is now just an unbreakable sword with some- some guy in it. Some guy who's never so much as taken a martial art, let alone wielded a sword. He can’t teach Binghe anything!!
So his lack of progress makes some sort of horrible sense, as now he has to go through Shen Yuan to use any of the powers that were originally just supposed to be his. Of course the climb to the pinnacle of the cultivation world won't be as smooth. It’s not like he can just give Xin Mo back, though - he’s stuck in the damn sword!! The stupid system never mentioned that him becoming the golden finger could become such a bottleneck for Binghe, the blue screened bastard.
Well. Seems that Binghe is his responsibility now.
...What is he doing moping around like this, he doesn’t have the time!! Shen Yuan’s highest priority should be getting Binghe out of the Endless Abyss asap! He’ll be much safer in the demon realm. Once they're not fighting for their life every day, Shen Yuan can just... speed up the reclaiming of his inheritance and, uh, point out which of the demon lords remain truly loyal.
Maybe he can pass off demon realm knowledge as “prophecy” too?
He should see if his human form can grow a long, white beard, really look the part of a prophesying mystic. He could buy a mask to hide his amused, knowing smirks behind. Oooh, wait, or maybe a fan? Or a wide brimmed hat with a veil?
Shen Yuan yelps as Binghe suddenly walks off the edge of a short cliff, skidding expertly down the damp rock into the thicket below.
Oh no.
He glances back at the cliff’s face, catching sight of the most generic ‘ancient mural’ he’s ever seen, something that only Airplane would have the face to publish. Normally he’d be mentally tearing that hack author a new one for writing something so incredibly lazy, but the only thing he can feel is a slowly mounting dread.
They’ve made it. The center.
“Binghe, turn around.”
The protagonist shushes him, vaulting easily over a fallen branch nearly twice his height as he sneaks into what's essentially a death trap due to him being way underleveled.
This stubborn-
“Luo Binghe,” Shen Yuan continues sternly, voice dropping lower despite the fact that nothing other than Binghe - who’s IGNORING HIM - can hear him. “This is the wrong way.”
Despite his increasingly vicious scolding, Binghe continues heading deeper into the heart of the Viridian Gu Forest, ducking smoothly beneath the arched, shuddering leaves of a nearby fern as the thud of unsteady footsteps grows loud enough that he can feel it in his blade.
A beast the size of a fucking BUILDING, not dissimilar to a praying mantis, stumbles across the shallow river just over a dozen meters away. One of its backmost legs has been crushed (presumably by something that's still somewhere nearby and also the size of a BUILDING), its gait slow and laborious as it drags the useless limb along the muddy ground.
“That’s a Steel-Scythed Beholding Mantis, and it’s really strong.” Shen Yuan warns, voice dropping almost to a whisper. Thank goodness it’s injured. This thing could eat Binghe whole and not even choke, he’d probably die if he went up against one in its prime.
Well. No, he probably wouldn’t. Protagonist halo and all.
Binghe grips him tightly, stalking forward with handsome determination and absolutely no regard for his life.
Dammit. Fine.
“If you move quickly the joint at its neck should be easy to cut clean through, it's more focused on offense than defense.” Shen Yuan begins, voice sounding as if spoken through gritted teeth. “It’ll keep fighting headless for a while after that, but not more than a few minutes. It doesn’t have any blind spots either - even normal matises can spin their heads around 180 degrees, and this guy can spin the whole way round. Speaking of turning around-”
Binghe leaps before he finishes speaking, the echo of his explosive launch muffled by the overgrowth on either edge of the river. He arcs high, barely clearing the creature’s head as Xin Mo screams downwards, spinning straight for the mantis’ throat.
It doesn’t even flinch, batting him away with a single bladed arm.
Xin Mo sticks blade-first in the ground, Binghe bouncing along the river like a skipping stone until he slams against the far side of the muddy bank.
Shen Yuan doesn’t even have time to think before the mantis is looming over Binghe, skittering limbs stabbing into the ground inches from his prone form. The protagonist barely manages to grab either side of its serrated mouth before it bites clean through his torso. Blood drips from his eviscerated hands into the water below, his barely-healed arm shaking with the strain of prying its mandibles apart, eyes wide and furious as he bravely stares down something easily a hundred times his size.
So cool, he thinks, before the mantis abruptly shoves its head down. Binghe sinks nearly a foot into the soft mud beneath him, head held below the water as his legs scramble for purchase.
Shen Yuan watches, completely helpless, as Binghe’s strength begins to falter.
He can’t afford to panic, shouldn’t panic, really, Binghe’s the protagonist! He should be fine, he will be fine, this is just a scene to increase the dramatic tension of the fight! He definitely can’t die from something so boring, haha- soon the mantis will get crushed by a falling tree branch, or- or scared off by a even larger creature passing by, or a scantily clad demoness will just so happen to burst forth from the forest to participate in a tag-team takedown!
He should be fine, Shen Yuan tells himself, trying to shake loose from the mud sucking at his blade. What can he even do to help? He can barely drag himself across the ground on his own, let alone float or fly, and Binghe hasn’t learned how to wield him with qi alone yet, and Battle Frenzy is completely useless if he can barely move and- and how is Xin Mo so fucking broken??? It can’t do anything without Binghe!!
Oh god. Shen Yuan sucks so bad at being the protagonist’s golden finger that he’s going to get him killed.
There has to be something he can do- didn’t the Anthro-whatever say something about his other abilities still being accessible?! Could he-
The mantis rears back, a horrible screech echoing from its open, mangled maw. Binghe lurches upright, coughing up a lungful of water and clutching one of its mandibles in his bloodied hand, torn off at the root.
Shen Yuan feels something loosen in his nonexistent chest.
Of course Binghe’s fine, why wouldn’t he be! He scolds himself for worrying over nothing, still trying to wriggle his blade free of the sticky, sucking mud. An impromptu weapon like that can’t compare to Xin Mo, he still has to get to the protagonist’s side!!
He continues wriggling as he watches Binghe stagger to a stand, wielding the mandible like a sickle. Bright red intermingles with pale, translucent green in a slow trickle to the water below. The mantis recovers quickly, its compound eyes turning back towards its prey standing defiantly in the river, remaining mandible painted with the same heart-wrenching smears of color.
Binghe rolls as its leg stabs into the riverbed beside him, the clear water turning a murky, dirty brown in the chaos. He’s still trying to catch his breath as he parries with his makeshift weapon, dripping curls wrapping around his face and throat like seaweed trying to drown a helpless swimmer.
Shen Yuan finally manages to unstick himself, flopping flat against the riverbank so he can begin scooching towards the fight. He barely pays attention to his progress, blindly moving forward as he watches Binghe barely manage to hold his own, dodging and deflecting every slice just enough to avoid a fatal blow.
He’s only a few meters away when the mantis grows tired of toying with its prey, twin scythes attacking lightning-quick from either side. A pincer attack. Binghe leaps up, attempting to dodge them.
He blocks the first scythe, earning a graze across the chest as he twists to block-
The second scythe cuts cleanly through Binghe’s torso, popping his abdomen like an overripe fruit.
Binghe is tossed to the edge of the water, knocked sideways by the force of the blow. A trail of bright red viscera smears across the riverbank like oil from a skidding car, mud and gore staining a set of once white and green robes a ruddy brown.
The undefeatable protagonist finally skids to a stop. The hand that still clutches his makeshift sickle falls limp.
【Anthropomorphization comm-】
【Battle Frenzy commencing. Time left: 1:00.】
Xin Mo screams.
Luo Binghe fights to stay conscious, racing to heal himself before a finishing blow that doesn’t come. He doesn’t think too deeply about it, doesn’t think much at all, a cocktail of blood loss and exhaustion blurring all but the simplest of thoughts.
Survive.
He needs to survive.
The wound is deep. Blood pours freely from a gash in his side that stretches from just under his arm to his navel, ribs sliced cleanly where the mantis attempted to gut him.
Succeeded in gutting him.
His qi circulates sluggishly through his meridians, doing what it can to staunch the bleeding. The blood parasites he has left in his nearly empty veins work frantically to pull him back together, intestines slithering back into place and muscle beginning to reknit. The sensation of reforming his body is disorienting, but not unfamiliar, and frustratingly slow.
Luo Binghe’s blood parasites split part of their attention to his broken and damaged bones, reinforcing what they can and chewing through his fat reserves to replenish what he’s lost. His low blood pressure has him lightheaded with lack of oxygen, heart pounding and lungs working in short, shallow gasps that barely alleviate the dizzying nausea threatening to pull him into a deceitfully peaceful sleep.
He tries to force his breathing to stabilize, but he can’t overcome his body’s unhelpful efforts to keep him alive. He’s used to pain, relishes in it even, seeing it as proof that he’s pushing himself beyond his limits, growing faster than his flesh feels is possible, but feeling this weak...
It sickens him.
He’s pathetic, to have been beaten so easily. He didn’t even put up a good fight. The mantis still hasn’t attacked yet, despite his helpless state. Does it not think he’s worth killing? Does it not see him as a threat at all? Is he that worthless? That inconsequential? Will it not even deign to give him what little attention it would take to snuff what’s left of him out?
Luo Binghe’s mind swims in a haze of self hatred and pain. His hand tightens on the mandible lying across his palm, sharp points digging into his fingers even as his body works to heal the thin cuts left behind.
The pinpricks of bright pain are quickly subsumed by the burning bruise in his side, a numbing agony that threatens to pull him under. His vision darkens.
No. It’s not his vision that’s darkening.
What little light makes it past the canopy above seems to disappear, the crisp greens of the forest turning black in a brightening blood-red glow. A slow wind picks up, noticeably odd in the normally still forest air.
Luo Binghe’s arms twitch, unable to move just yet. He turns his head instead, muscles shaking with the effort to tip it onto its side. The mantis’ head has spun around on its neck as if snapped, thousands upon thousands of fractured eyes watching the threat that has appeared nearby.
A man stands in the river.
No, not a man. A demon.
Glittering red hair floats as if lifted by a gentle current, robes fluttering in slow waves around mud-stained feet. Pitch black ichor bleeds from his huadian - so dark not an ounce of light reflects from its surface, as if it were staining the very fabric of the world - pouring in rivulets across his brow, his eyelashes, his waterline, seeping across the whites of his unblinking eyes.
And oh, his eyes.
Two gemstones of the finest, clearest ruby glare at the mantis, alight with a pure, innocent rage. Not the rage of one fighting for his life, for food, for revenge.
No. It is the simple, focused rage of a predator that has found something to hunt. His is the rage of a creature that has never met its equal, who thinks nothing of slaughter, who tears the throats of any that dare think themselves worthy of a death greater than one by his magnanimous hand. A rage untainted by hatred, untainted by fear, infallible and completely impartial. Death itself made manifest.
Luo Binghe feels his flimsy heartbeat flutter.
Dark aura drips from Xin Mo’s clawed fingertips like molten iron, clouds of mist hissing from the cracking ground as it lands. More still pours from his eyes, his mouth, his hair, boiling the water from the riverbed and cooking the clay left behind. The mantis turns its back to Luo Binghe, dragging its bad leg behind it as it raises its bladed forelimbs to defend.
Xin Mo just bares his teeth, eyes disappearing into the mist to dye it a wrathful, hungry red.
The mantis doesn’t have time to react as a fist coated in aura suddenly strikes towards its head, slipping easily past its remaining mandible to pour scorching demonic qi into its open mouth. Its agonized screech turns quickly to a gurgle as its throat begins to melt, scythes swiping futilely at Xin Mo’s already retreating form.
It's an oddly pathetic game of cat and mouse. His sword’s battle sense is impeccable, tuned so finely that the mantis’ every opening is met with a brutal and immediate punishment. Its damaged leg, on the other hand, is left completely untouched - allowed to help weigh it down as Xin Mo efficiently dismembers every other limb it has, one by one.
Eventually, the mantis collapses, broken scythes waving weakly as it attempts to prevent Xin Mo’s approach from within the mist. He simply flickers behind its back, bounding up its thorax til he reaches the base of its head, where a gap has been exposed between plates of melted chitin.
His claws slice easily through the thin flesh. The mantis’ useless mouth can’t even scream as its severed head falls, smashing into the now dry riverbed.
Xin Mo doesn’t relent. He shoves his hands into the newly exposed cavity as the body writhes, disappearing nearly up to his shoulders. Luo Binghe hears a wet squish, and finally, all is still.
The sword's hair falls serenely across his back, most of the red strands turning back to a familiar black.
He stiffens abruptly, yanking his arms from the stump and stumbling backwards as the mantis begins to tip over. Luo Binghe sees Xin Mo’s mouth open in a yelp as he barely avoids getting crushed by the mantis’ collapsing form, clutching his chest dramatically when he manages to land without mishap, robes askew. His face turns panicked a moment later, spinning in place as he frantically searches for something.
His eyes lock onto Luo Binghe, face crumpling.
Xin Mo sprints over to him, hands hovering over him as if afraid to touch him. He’s obviously freaking out, mouth opening and closing on unspoken words without a single sound escaping. The sword collapses to his knees, gently brushing the hair from Luo Binghe’s face, and suddenly his choked voice rings clear.
“-o worried, you almost died- I warned you, but you didn’t listen, I can’t believe- I almost- you almost- you’re not supposed to die-”
Luo Binghe musters up a weak smile. Xin Mo’s mouth snaps shut, an angry flush blossoming on his pretty, ichor streaked face, the false tear tracks evaporating away into nothing as Luo Binghe continues to stare.
“If you ever do that again-”
Luo Binghe coughs, watching in delight as the anger once again turns to concern.
Xin Mo clutches his wrist, leaning in worriedly.
"Where are you hurt? I thought I saw you get cut in half-"
"Exaggerating," Luo Binghe grumbles, coughing again. It should hurt more than it does, he's probably still in shock.
Xin Mo carefully pulls his arm away from his side, wincing at the way his filthy disciple's robes cling to his torn and bloodied skin. He peels back the fabric almost squeamishly , despite everything else he's just done, squinting as he forces himself to look at the mostly-open wound.
Luo Binghe watches him, choked with some emotion he can't put a name to.
Xin Mo eventually musters up the courage to press a single fingertip along the jagged gash, pulling cautiously at the skin. The edges of the wound part slightly, flesh between squirming like the inside of a fig as the blood parasites try to hold it shut. Xin Mo's eyes widen, fascinated by the display. Luo Binghe suddenly wants him to pull harder, pull him all the way open, dip his sharp fingers into his body and press into him like he's something worth taking apart.
"Does it hurt?" Xin Mo asks, pointed teeth pressing the red from his lower lip.
He almost hides it. He almost pulls away, shielding his injuries from sight until Xin Mo inevitably turns back to his sword form, until he can take care of himself in peace.
But.
"It hurts," Luo Binghe whispers, testing. Always testing. Always waiting, tense, for Xin Mo to change. To sneer, to dismiss him, to ignore him.
"I'm sorry," Xin Mo says, gore-stained hand pressing delicately over his wound. "I should've jumped in sooner."
"No," Binghe says, pride pricked yet again. "I could've won. I-"
"If you win at the expense of your death-" Xin Mo begins, face dark.
Luo Binghe coughs again. Xin Mo immediately wilts.
How can someone so terrifying be fooled so easily?
"I’ll chew you out later, right now I have to get you somewhere safe before I run out of-” Xin Mo’s eyes dart somewhere in the distance, brows furrowing at whatever he sees. “Damn this stingy- augh!! Alright, that’s it, we’re climbing a tree.”
Despite his urgent tone, Xin Mo’s touch is nothing but delicate as he pulls Luo Binghe into his arms. His sword carefully tucks his face into the crook of his neck, hand cradling the back of his head. Luo Binghe isn’t a small man by any means - though he’s yet to fully finish growing - but he can’t help but feel like a child again, being held like this.
Xin Mo is so warm.
His sword nearly falls over backwards when he stands, overcompensating for Luo Binghe’s weight. He seems surprised at his own strength, doing a few quick squats before resolutely walking towards the cliff they’d just descended. He crushes the mandible beneath his foot as he walks past, grinding his heel down til it snaps.
...Is his sword jealous? Luo Binghe tucks his smile into the side of Xin Mo’s throat, letting his eyes close as he’s carried somewhere safe.
As safe as the Endless Abyss gets, anyways.
Unfortunately it doesn’t take very long. Xin Mo finds a sturdy tree just beyond the edge of the forest’s center, leaping from branch to branch til they’re dozens of meters above the ground. He carefully props Luo Binghe against the trunk before abruptly shifting back to his true form, jittering over to sit comfortingly in his palm. Luo Binghe doesn't bother hiding his disappointment as the comforting warmth fades, shivering from bloodloss and soaked-through robes.
“How long do you think it’ll take you to heal?” Xin Mo’s voice calls softly in his mind.
Luo Binghe takes stock of his damaged body. With the food he has stashed in his pouch- thankfully waterproof- he should be able to recover at least some of the calories burned. Feeding the blood parasites and his natural healing factor will do most of the work.
“Three days,” he murmurs, trying to get comfortable without aggravating his wounds. Three days should be enough time to heal most of the worst injuries, get him to a point where he can push through the rest.
Xin Mo stays silent.
Luo Binghe wishes he could still see his face. He’s so much easier to read. Is he disappointed at how long it's going to take?
“No more than three,” he says resolutely, holding back a cough. He sets his parasites to focus on draining the liquid from his lungs next, annoyed.
“Don’t push yourself,” Xin Mo scolds.
Luo Binghe grumbles, settling back against the trunk.
He needs to get stronger.
There are too many variables, too many possible ways Xin Mo could be taken from him at his current level of strength. He’s grown significantly since he found the sword, much more quickly than when he was focused solely on surviving, but he’d still lose handedly to any of the Cang Qiong Mountain peak lords, and he doesn’t need to have fought a demon to know how he’d fare against their powerhouses. His current growth rate seems to be fairly steady, at least - familiarity with his demonic powers only growing as Xin Mo pushes him into an endless stream of battles - but it’ll still take months, years til he’s sure he’d be able to put up a good fight against anyone of note. Until he has a chance at convincing Xin Mo to choose him, instead of any of the thousands of other, stronger beings that lurk just beyond the edges of the Endless Abyss.
They’re moving too fast.
At first Luo Binghe was simply excited to have a sword that grew alongside him; a companion in his quest to grow powerful enough to hurt those who wronged him. He finally saw a path forward, a way to torture Shen Qingqiu so viciously, so thoroughly, that there would be nothing left of him but his stupid, useless pride. He’d destroy everything his vile shizun found space to care for in his tiny, shriveled heart, and then he’d crush the withered organ where it lay in his chest.
But Xin Mo isn’t just a sword.
Xin Mo has wants. He’s curious, and ambitious, and he hungers endlessly for violence. Quite literally - the sword’s powers seem to be fueled by some sort of internal reserve of demonic energy, much like a cultivator, but rather than recovering what he’s lost through absorbing ambient qi, he consumes it. Xin Mo takes in the qi from slain demonic beasts as his own; a carnivore in the truest sense of the word, gorging himself on the bounty of the Abyss.
But even with his insatiable appetite and lust for carnage, Xin Mo still claims to want to accompany Luo Binghe to the Demon Realm, leaving this place that suits him near perfectly. The realm that can feed him forever, full to the brim with ‘cool’ monsters and death and no one who can compete with Luo Binghe, no one he can choose besides Luo Binghe, so why would he want to leave if not to find someone better?
Unless... unless he truly believes Luo Binghe will conquer the Three Realms? That he'll stand high above everyone and everything, the true pinnacle of the world, a man without rival who none beneath the heavens would dare challenge?
Luo Binghe doesn't exactly mind such high expectations being placed upon him. If anything, it's flattering to think that Xin Mo has faith Luo Binghe can become someone so... perfect.
It's another matter entirely to live up to those expectations.
Xin Mo is willing to protect him as he is now, a fledgling 'demon lord' with years of growing left, but what if-
What will happen when he fails? Does Xin Mo truly believe that Luo Binghe will actually win every fantastical, earth-shattering fight he claims to have forseen? He's made it very clear by this point what role Luo Binghe is meant to play in his imagined future. If he can't - if he's too weak, or not clever enough, or even if he simply chooses another path - how long will Xin Mo remain by Luo Binghe's side? Exactly how conditional is this disarmingly gentle affection of his?
“You should sleep,” a quiet voice startles him out of his thoughts. “You need to recover.”
Now that he’s looking for it, Luo Binghe can feel the tell-tale weight of true, inescapable exhaustion. He’ll likely sleep for at least a few hours, if not a full day.
“I’ll keep watch,” Xin Mo says, whispering. “Don’t worry."
Xin Mo hums gently against his palm, tickling his skin. His calm demeanor contrasts starkly with how quickly he rushed to find a place to rest.
Something clicks.
“Could you... turn human for a moment?” Luo Binghe asks, prodding.
Xin Mo seems to wilt, somehow, weight settling more firmly against him.
“I could, but it’s- I can’t. I won’t. This place isn’t safe. If you’re attacked by something even more dangerous than that mantis-”
“I’ll run away,” Luo Binghe lies. He can barely move.
“No,” Xin Mo says sternly. “I’m not going to waste the energy you’ve worked so hard to gather. It’s for emergencies only.”
He tapped into his emergency reserves? It must have cost him dearly, then, to save Luo Binghe. Exactly how far did he set himself back to kill that creature?
Emergencies only...
He feels something stir in his chest.
...So he'd do it again?
Luo Binghe knows he’s worth training. That compared to most he’s more tenacious, more stubborn, more capable. But if Xin Mo only wants him for his supposed future strength, what happens if he fails to grow strong enough? If the sword's prophecies don't come to pass? Would Xin Mo willingly protect a useless wielder?
How weak can Luo Binghe be, before he's no longer worth keeping?
Luo Binghe’s muddled mind begins stitching together a few half-formed, disparate thoughts.
One. He wants Xin Mo. As a weapon, as a companion, as his sword. He doesn't have to understand exactly why he wants Xin Mo to recognize the growing desire within himself.
Two. Xin Mo wishes more than anything to be wielded by the most powerful person in the world - a role he supposedly believes Luo Binghe will one day fill. A role he himself wants to fill, though the fantasy of protecting those closest to him still doesn’t feel within reach.
Three. To get stronger, he needs to fight, and fighting feeds Xin Mo. Eventually the sword will have enough energy to leave the Endless Abyss - to leave him - and there’s nothing he can do about it.
He needs to hinder Xin Mo somehow, delay the day they escape until he’ll be able to know he can keep his sword by his side. Until he knows he's the best option. Until he can make himself the best option.
A treacherous plan begins to take shape.
He needs to thoroughly test his healing factor, if this is going to work. The last thing he wants to do is make a stupid, lethal mistake.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be out of here in no time!” Xin Mo says, obviously trying to cheer him up. “Hey, what’s the first thing you want to do in the demon realm? Eat some good food? Actually, that might be hard. Demon food is... er, how about, uh, sleeping in a comfy bed! Or maybe trying to pick up some-”
“Reconnaissance,” Luo Binghe responds, eyelids fluttering. It's an easy answer, one that doesn't require him to imagine a life where Xin Mo stays by his side after the Endless Abyss. He does anyways. It's too easy, too sweet a thought to truly turn away.
“Fine. After reconnaissance, what do you want to do?” His sword pesters.
Luo Binghe can feel himself falling asleep, a dream tugging insistently at his fading consciousness.
It’s... probably safe to sleep. He doesn’t have a concussion, he just lost a lot of blood. Damaged a few organs. Broke a few...
“...Can you eat?” Luo Binghe mumbles.
“Hm? Oh, uh. I’m not sure? I haven’t... tried.” Xin Mo’s voice trails off at the end, dropping to a whisper.
Luo Binghe feels a giddy joy thrill down his spine.
“Don’t,” he grits out, vision blurred through the curtain of his eyelashes. “Don’t eat anything here. Nothing tastes good. Your first meal should be special.”
“Yeah, Wilted Peony Lion-Skink meat doesn’t exactly look appetizing.”
“'S disgusting,” Luo Binghe mumbles seriously. “Don’t try it.”
“Alright, alright!” Xin Mo chuckles. “I’ll wait. Maybe we can go to a restaurant together, or something. I haven’t had wontons in- ever. I’ve never had them. But I’ve heard they’re good.”
Wontons. Got it.
He pushes through the bright-ache-pain to settle Xin Mo against his side, tucking him inside his arm and leaning his cheek against his sword’s hilt. He sighs contentedly, the muted throbbing in his side practically lulling him to sleep.
“What else?” Luo Binghe asks, finally allowing his eyes to drift shut.
“Well, noodles, obviously. And hotpot, though that’s already an entire meal on its own. Dumplings, of course, in a bunch of different flavors! Oh, I haven’t even thought about sweets yet. We have to get ice cream-”
Notes:
From "He blocks the first scythe" to "It sickens him", Binghe gets sliced open, manually heals, and hates himself for being weak.
From "Xin Mo carefully pulls" to "He almost hides it", Shen Yuan inspects his wound and Binghe gets Binghe-style horny about it.
From "Its agonized screech" to "all is still", the mantis gets ripped apart.If there's anything else that y'all would like to be warned for, just comment! ^_^ I'm happy to make my writing more accessible, especially since there are probably gonna be a few other pretty gory chapters, possibly worse than this one.
Chapter 5: Unspoken Vows
Summary:
Shen Yuan is finding it hard to control his fraying temper when the narrative keeps trying to kill Binghe.
Luo Binghe’s masochism is a double edged sword. A tendency towards self destruction is only valuable if you’re expendable.
Notes:
EDIT : I FORGOT TO ADD THIS EVERYONE LOOK AT SETSU'S FANART OF XIN MO!SHEN YUAN!!!!!!!!!!
[HE'S BEAUTIFUL]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Absolutely not.”
Xin Mo remains sternly embedded in the ground despite Binghe’s continued yanking, thin tendrils of demonic energy piercing into the surrounding stone like a particularly miffed sea urchin. Shen Yuan would like to feel proud of how much he’s improved at wielding Xin Mo’s aura - he’d even managed to protect Binghe from a sneak attacking snail-beast without using Battle Frenzy! - but right now he just feels like he’s bullying an unruly puppy, tugging at the rope in its mouth with no intention of letting go.
“I’m only going to look,” the protagonist says with a gentle, patient smile.
Shen Yuan feels his own patience stretch even thinner. Binghe is clearly out of his mind after spending nearly three full days thawing from a Scarlet Painted Roach Gorgon’s petrification attack. If he had a head he’d be massaging his temples right now.
“I said no.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes widen, hurt, his lower lip jutting out in a slight pout. He’s adorable. How can a messy haired, bloodstained, dust-covered man be so cute? Shen Yuan wants to pinch his cheeks. Only Luo Binghe could be so gross and look so good doing it. Such a pleading face will definitely work on any of his future wives.
...Luo Binghe’s hand is still pulling steadily at his handle.
“That’s not going to work,” he sighs. He’d almost let himself hope that Binghe was going to listen to him this time.
This constant stress can’t be good for an old man like him. He’s been feeling more and more on edge lately, what with all the running around and fighting and Binghe nearly dying every other day. He wants a damn break.
He deserves it, too! He’d been stuck alongside Binghe, trapped in his stoney grip and unable to so much as wriggle while he waited for the remaining gorgons to venture out and eat them. Binghe, that is. He’s practically immortal, what with being a sword and all. He’d done all he could to distract Binghe from the claustrophobic terror he was no doubt feeling, blabbering on about different treasures in the Abyss and inadvertently spoiling a good half of the remaining content while Binghe couldn’t so much as whimper.
And after all that, Binghe is still trying to jump right back into battle.
God, transmigrating is doing a number on his nerves.
“Please, Mo yeye?”
Shen Yuan’s demonic aura flares uncontrollably, the ground cracking beneath the strain.
“Who’s your yeye!” Shen Yuan snaps, practically spitting blood. Who’d dare make the protagonist call them granddaddy!! No more death flags, please and thank you Binghe!! This sword wants to live!!!
Binghe wilts as the strained silence lingers, staring forlornly at the divot the tip of his boot is digging into the dry dirt. He perks back up after a moment, though, hopeful gaze shining through the curtain of his long, dark lashes.
“Mo-ge?” Luo Binghe tries again.
...Alright, Shen Yuan has to admit that hearing the all-powerful protagonist call him big brother so intimately sparks a guilty thrill. Who doesn’t dream of having someone so handsome, capable, and cool look up to them! Who doesn’t fantasize of being someone the infallible, all powerful protagonist respects!!
Whew, calm down, Shen Yuan. Don’t get a big head about this. If Binghe wasn’t stuck in this lonely place he definitely wouldn't be given such preferential treatment. In fact, he’s practically taking advantage of the protagonist’s still-innocent pre-conquering mentality! Future Luo Binghe, Demon Lord of the Three Realms, would never deign to lower himself by referring to someone beneath him so intimately.
Binghe’s grip tightens as Shen Yuan tries to find a way to gently rebuff him for the sake of his future self’s pride. Flakes of thin gray rock - remnants of his stint as a living statue - fall from his clothes to dust the ground as he slumps. Some of it must have fallen onto his face; the corners of his eyes are turning red.
...
Ah whatever - what’s the big deal about being called Mo-ge while it’s still just the two of them! He is older. Luo Binghe will just change his mind later, no big deal.
“If you wish,” Shen Yuan mumbles. “So insistent.”
Luo Binghe takes his response for the acceptance it is, a smile lighting up his face with the warmth of a thousand suns.
“Thank you, Mo-ge!” Binghe calls, blindingly bright, and yanks Xin Mo halfway from the stone before Shen Yuan remembers he’s supposed to be holding on. A muscle on Luo Binghe’s jaw tenses when he halts, but the smile doesn’t drop.
“That’s not what I meant and you know-”
“I said it’ll only be a moment-”
“Stop being so stubborn!” Shen Yuan snaps, frustration boiling over in a sudden, sweeping tide. Binghe stumbles back a step, releasing his handle. “You can’t do this on your own and I’m not helping!”
Binghe doesn’t respond.
Ah, right. He can’t hear Shen Yuan if they’re not touching. That’s... probably a good thing. Implying the protagonist is weak to his face definitely won’t win him any points.
Binghe’s brow furrows as he looks thoughtfully into the gaping maw of the nearby burrow.
“You’re not going in there without me,” Shen Yuan says disbelievingly. “Are you insane?? You want to fight a giant nest of snakes unarmed?”
The protagonist straightens his ponytail. Takes one step forward. Another.
“Don’t you dare. Binghe. Binghe stop.”
He takes another few steps, face set in grim determination.
Shen Yuan gives in, withdrawing his aura. Xin Mo clatters loudly to the ground.
“Binghe is the most stubborn man I’ve ever met,” Shen Yuan grumbles as Binghe saunters back to pick him up. “Let’s go.”
The burrow is gently sloped and as smooth as glass - characteristic of the Seventh Hidden Mountain Moth Vipers that carve their homes into the pumice of this long-dormant volcano. Said vipers use their acidic venom to melt narrow tunnels into the rock until they find a rising bubble of lava, at which point they carve out a much larger, more roomy burrow. The snakes themselves camouflage well when they’re not moving, and spend most of their time hiding and absorbing the warmth that radiates from the walls of their home. Sometimes other, larger creatures take these burrows for their own once they’ve been abandoned or wiped out, but this one thankfully still seems occupied.
He explains as much to Binghe as they sneak in, arming him with knowledge in addition to his - well, his body. His sword body. What he purposefully doesn’t mention is that this was one of the earlier encounters Binghe should’ve had, that he’s been purposefully directing him to easier and easier battles without his knowledge after the disaster in the Viridian Gu Forest.
Fat lot of good that does.
Binghe seems to be a magnet for disaster - he trips on nothing when the surrounding rock starts to glow a dim red, accidentally smashing an entire clutch of eggs as he stumbles forwards. The walls themselves come alive as hundreds of diamond-headed snakes open their spark-bright eyes and flare their scales, the skin beneath shimmering in neon orange eyespots that match the glow of molten rock.
It looks really cool for all of a second, before Binghe is completely buried by the swarm. It takes ten full minutes before the endless tide of hissing snakes finally slows to a trickle, air thick with the putrid, cloying mist that rises from puddles of sizzling blood.
Binghe collapses to the ground, the severed head of the last of the Seventh Hidden Mountain Moth Vipers clamped tight around his thigh. He struggles with shaking hands to pry the thing’s jaw open, fangs pulled with a wet schlik from wounds a hand’s breadth deep in his flesh. The dying thing twitches, attempting to reattach. Xin Mo cleaves its skull in half.
“Get up,” Xin Mo growls, tone caught between furious and worried. His bloodlust is fading quickly, power waning with the last of their enemies’ lives. “Get up. Others are coming.”
“I can’t,” Binghe gasps. Sweat drips down his pale face. He tries to bend his leg, hisses in pain, knocks his head back against the wall. “Mo-ge, I- I can’t move.”
Fine. Fine.
【Anthropomorphization commencing. Time left: 1:00.】
Shen Yuan is quite familiar by now with how best to carry a limp Binghe: an arm locked under his knees, the other wrapped firmly around his shoulders, his head carefully cradled in the crook of his neck. He measures time by the staccato breath puffing against the bare skin of his throat, ignoring the ticking clock floating nearby. He’ll keep this up as long as he has to. He has to.
He bounds away quickly, hiding occasionally to avoid the demonic beasts drawn to the sounds of a battle and requisite dinner. Thankfully qigong comes fairly naturally to a body built for combat. It takes only a few minutes of running before he finds a place sufficiently defensible: a circular, sandy plain covered sparsely in dull red succulents, sightlines clear and unobstructed for nearly a mile around.
He crouches down to lay Binghe on a clear patch of ground, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his face. His eyes are closed, long lashes a stark black against the tan of his cheeks, breathing tight and even as he focuses on circulating his qi. His right leg is- it’s pretty fucked up, all misshapen and half dissolved by the viper's acidic venom, but skin is already beginning to creep back over the lumpy black flesh.
It’s becoming distressingly obvious that Binghe has absolutely no clue what his body’s limits are. He keeps throwing himself into the sorts of danger he would be more than capable of taking on in another life, and coming out- coming out like this.
He needs to be stricter. As a teacher (of monster lore), as a brother-in-arms (really, as the arms in question), as a friend, he needs to put his foot down. He can’t let this child go back into battle until something has changed.
Shen Yuan presses the flat of his hand to Binghe's chest, feeling for the gentle thud of his heartbeat. It's there. Of course it's there, he's the protagonist, he won't die from something like this.
The words ring more and more hollow every time he thinks them. He shouldn’t be getting hurt this badly.
Sometimes he manages to leave a fight with no more than a couple of broken ribs and a slashed thigh, limping away with his arm slung around Xin Mo's shoulders. Other times, though, Shen Yuan’s already red-dipped hands can barely keep grip on him, his skin is so slick with blood. His carefully hoarded S-points have been slowly diminishing, lost to last minute desperation, to stupid mistakes, to the tedium of endless battle. The costs are far outweighing the rewards. This isn’t sustainable.
His chest aches as he reaches for Binghe’s hand, squeezing it in reassurance - for Binghe’s or his own, he doesn't know. It’s funny how much easier it is to feel feelings in this stupid body. Too bad all the feelings are awful.
He’s just glad Binghe’s healing factor is improving so quickly. The protagonist is truly strong, to have survived being melted by acid, losing a limb, breaking nearly every bone in his body, being ripped in half-
Shen Yuan clenches his teeth, their sharp tips no longer much of a novelty.
The nervous excitement he used to feel when they found their next fight has long died and reanimated as a sickening dread. What else could he feel, knowing he'll have to witness Binghe painstakingly stitch himself back together afterwards.
The short, bulbous plants growing nearby shiver as the edge of the expanding puddle of blood reaches their roots, stupidly drinking their fill before bursting into hundreds of wriggling worms that squirm back towards Binghe’s waiting body to replace lost flesh.
It’s impressive, what he’s learned he can do with his blood parasites. It does make sense, though, what with the number of times he’s-
Luo Binghe groans quietly as tendons snap back into place, as muscle reknits and skin crawls back over the healed flesh. He clutches Shen Yuan’s fingers hard enough to break. It barely registers as pain. Xin Mo is nothing if not durable.
Shen Yuan compulsively checks the timer. Ten seconds left. He buys another minute, ignoring the now two digit integer flickering in the corner of his eye.
This has been happening too often. It’s like something is interfering with Binghe’s progress. A stallion protagonist isn’t supposed to lose.
Not that he’s ever truly losing. Still, there’ve been few fights that haven’t ended with him on death’s doorstep. Shen Yuan has had to jump in at the end of every battle since- since the mantis. Since he had his first close call, when Xin Mo first failed to protect him. There’s something afoot.
What’s that saying? Once is a happenstance, twice is a coincidence, but three times?
That’s plot.
Binghe is being dragged into plot after plot without breaks, without the OP strength he’s supposed to have, and he’s getting hurt. It feels like they’re walking the breadth of the Endless Abyss on a swaying tightrope, and Shen Yuan’s not any good at balancing.
The last of the blood parasites disappear beneath fresh, pink skin. Luo Binghe breathes a clear sigh of relief. Shen Yuan finds himself following suit.
“You’re being careless,” he scolds, squeezing once to get Binghe’s attention. The corner of the protagonist’s mouth twitches. “You can’t keep doing this. Taking risks.”
“This disciple will be sure to be more careful next time,” Binghe says, his thumb pressing lightly into the dips between Xin Mo's knuckles. His eyes open, their corners curving upwards in a soft smile, though the rest of his expression still pretends at solemnity. “Forgive me.”
He isn’t taking this seriously at all.
He’s nearly died in Shen Yuan’s arms dozens of times, and he still hasn't learned one iota of self restraint. Careless is too delicate a word for the shit he’s been pulling, when he’s been practically begging for death!!
Shen Yuan bares his teeth, glaring. The rage that simmers so close to his skin bares its teeth alongside him.
“I don’t,” he spits. “I don’t forgive you.”
Luo Binghe falters, panic flashing across his face. Of course the all powerful protagonist doesn’t want to be told to slow down, to take his time, to be patient and wait even a moment longer for his revenge and eventual conquest, but Shen Yuan can’t! Take! It!!
“I- I can still fight,” Binghe says, sitting up. He sways slightly, though Shen Yuan’s grip steadies him. “I'm not useless, I can-"
“Useless?" Shen Yuan hisses, fingers twitching with the urge to squeeze until something snaps. "Useless!? Whatever use I have for a dead man, I have even less for one who seeks his own death!” He tosses Binghe’s hand away before he does something he can't take back, agitation stiffening his fingers as he rifles through their pack of supplies. Enough food for a week, water to last a few days - longer if he uses his parasites to consume the succulents - and a dozen or so bandages made from his old Qing Jing peak uniform. They can stay here for a while. He shoves the bag back into Binghe’s chest, nearly knocking him over.
“I'll fight harder," Binghe says frantically, grabbing his wrist. His wide eyes catch the sunset burning through the infinite clouds above, reflecting a stunning deep red. “I’ll- I'll win. This is nothing, I can heal from it within a day, within an hour. You can't-”
“Shut up.” Shen Yuan snaps, the last of his patience swept away in a blistering tsunami of rage. Binghe winces at his raised voice, but Xin Mo can’t feel bad, his veins are burning with fury, every other feeling charred to ash in its wake.
“Did you not hear me?” He says, yanking his wielder closer. He leans in until he sees the boy's pupils dilate, hears his breath hitch in fear, willing him to listen, to yield, to obey. “You’re not. Fighting.”
Binghe’s expression shutters closed, a mask of placid indifference in its place.
Xin Mo’s unyielding rage stutters, its remnants dimming to a faint burn in his chest. Shen Yuan smothers an unwelcome surge of guilt. It’s a matter of seconds before the timer runs out on his human form, wrist turning to a cold metal hilt in Binghe’s white-knuckled hand.
It’s easier, being a sword. The regret doesn’t sting quite as much.
Shen Yuan's not going to turn human for a while, if he can help it. He can’t afford to let his feelings get in the way. He needs to fix this. Binghe can be upset at him. Binghe should be upset at him for stealing what’s rightfully his, for ruining his ascension, for causing him to go through so much unnecessary pain. It doesn’t matter.
His survival is more important.
"You can't-”
You can't throw me away.
“Shut up.” Xin Mo flares with demonic qi. Luo Binghe winces, nerves still raw from the fight. “Did you not hear me?”
His sword glares at him from within a halo of red-streaked hair, the strands buoyed on the boiling aura seeping from his tense, hunched form.
Ah, he thinks, mouth thick with the bitter taste of vindication. There is a limit.
Xin Mo twists in his grip, fingers locking around his wrist to yank him closer.
Luo Binghe's heart is thudding so loudly he can barely think. His sword is angry and terrifying and beautiful and he’s looming over Luo Binghe like he means to eat him, like he’s barely restraining himself from drinking the demonic qi straight from his veins. He nearly bares his throat in welcome.
“You’re not. Fighting.”
Adrenaline washes everything else from his mind.
No.
No.
Xin Mo knows. He knows.
The fight in the snake nest was so sloppy, of course he knows. Even a fool would have figured it out after Binghe let that last viper sneak up on him. He’d just wanted to test his- he thought he’d be able to outheal most acids by now, but it was stupid. Worse than being weak, he's proven himself untrustworthy. A liability. Luo Binghe’s breath won’t leave his lungs.
Xin Mo stares him down, fingers a burning shackle around his wrist, before abruptly twisting back into a more familiar shape. The threat of his presence is gone so abruptly, Luo Binghe can't help but sit there in shock, a terror more piercing than any he’s felt in battle stabbing in tune with his heartbeat.
Is he not even worth-
No, that's not it. Xin Mo just needs him alive.
Can he fix this? Is there anything he can say, any excuse he can make to smooth over his betrayal?
No. No, explaining himself would only make it worse. What’s he supposed to say? That he valued his own selfish desires over Xin Mo’s happiness? That he’s been sabotaging Xin Mo’s path to glory in some- some vain attempt to keep the sword all to himself?
He bites his tongue hard, not letting up until he tastes the familiar copper tang of blood.
Focus. Now’s not the time for spiraling.
Damage control, first. He needs to say something to appease Xin Mo’s fury.
“M- Xin Mo,” he says solemnly, laying the sword across his thighs and lowering his head. He’d like to be able to bow properly, but placing him on the dusty ground would be disrespectful, and he needs to be touching him to hear his sword’s response, besides. “This disciple apologizes for his unbecoming behavior.”
Xin Mo grunts dismissively. Luo Binghe bites back a torrent of apologies, hollow promises and desperate words that border on begging. He needs to prove himself worthy, not inspire pity. Showing weakness would surely only anger the sword further.
“This disciple will listen obediently from now on.”
The sword doesn’t respond immediately, though his blade hums quietly as he thinks. Luo Binghe waits, motionless. His stifles a shiver as feeling comes back to his thigh, the bright sting of acid fading as his parasites work to break it down.
“Do you promise?” Xin Mo asks.
“I do,” Luo Binghe responds, and he means it. He won’t break his promise without good reason. “I swear it.”
“Then we’re taking a break.”
What?
“What?” He says stupidly, lurching upright. After all the- the prophecies of his and Xin Mo’s future glory, how excitedly he waxes on about conquering the three realms and fighting in great world-shaking battles, he just wants to stop?
Why isn’t he sending Luo Binghe on a hunt immediately? It’d be a quick way to test his supposedly newfound resolve and sate his hunger. It’s what he would do, so why-
“You said you’d listen,” Xin Mo says warningly. Luo Binghe nods vigorously, the perfect example of an attentive student. If he’s being given a second chance, he’s not going to refuse it. He’s missing something, though, if the chasm opening in his gut is anything to go by.
Xin Mo shouldn’t be forgiving him this easily.
“As I was saying,” Xin Mo continues, voice slipping into the lecturing tone he uses when explaining the strengths, weaknesses, and hunting habits of local flora and fauna. “Binghe is too reliant on my help. You need to get stronger on your own merit, and learn how to wield this sword more efficiently. I can’t..." A pause, long enough that Luo Binghe almost feels the need to speak. "...I can't keep rescuing you.”
He's right. Xin Mo can’t afford to waste time and energy cleaning up after Luo Binghe’s feigned mistakes and faux weakness, carrying him away from fights half-dead.
“Yes,” he says when the silence stretches a bit too long. “This disciple will get stronger.”
“You will,” Xin Mo says with confidence. Luo Binghe’s heart soars. “I’m sure of it. Binghe is capable of... a great many things.”
Luo Binghe barely holds back the grateful tears that threaten to spill from his eyes. Xin Mo still wants to train him, to keep him. He’s not being thrown away, he’s even being praised. It’s a more gracious fate than he’d dared hope for.
“This disciple’s accomplishments are all because of Mo-ge,” he murmurs, selfish in his honesty.
Xin Mo stiffens, the blood-red gemstone in his hilt dimming slightly. Luo Binghe has gotten a lot better at parsing what passes for Xin Mo’s body language, but he must need some more practice; he’d almost swear the sword looks guilty.
“Binghe...” Xin Mo projects a sharp inhale of breath, a long sigh. It’s endearing, how human he tries to be. “Any weapon, no matter how overpowered, is just a useless piece of metal if one doesn’t have the skill to wield it.”
Luo Binghe’s mind latches onto the clear bitterness in Xin Mo’s voice.
Useless piece of metal...?
His mind whirrs over their conversation, taking notes of how quick he was to anger, his tone, the sentences he altered midway. A thought clicks neatly into place.
How did his sword get in that lava-dwelling creature’s stomach in the first place? He'd said something, back when they first met. The copious blood loss and exhaustion he'd been pushing through at the time blur his memory, but he's pretty sure...
He's pretty sure Xin Mo said they died. That they were eaten by the creature he'd found Xin Mo inside.
So. They lost? To that beast? That doesn’t make any sense. Luo Binghe didn’t find it easy to kill, but he did kill it, and with one working arm, at that. With Xin Mo’s power, it should have been an easy fight.
Unless.
Did Xin Mo’s previous wielder grow complacent? Did they promise him prestige and glory, stagnating as they forwent their own growth in favor of relying on Xin Mo’s power? Did they, carelessly drunk on a strength not their own, attempt to fight something beyond their abilities, begging Xin Mo to save them as their worthless life found its end in the creature’s stomach?
An aimless rage burns through Luo Binghe like fire through dry brush.
They stranded Xin Mo alone, without a wielder, without food, without- without light. How much time did he spend there, in the bowels of a demonic beast, before Luo Binghe found him? Decades? Centuries?
No wonder he got upset. Every wound Luo Binghe sustains is a reminder of how easily he could lose his freedom. Xin Mo can’t hunt on his own, he can barely move without assistance. Sure he can turn ‘human,’ but for long enough to replenish the qi it’d cost? No. Not unless his every moment was spent hunting, and even then he’d barely break even. If Luo Binghe dies, he’d be... he’d be helpless.
Until someone else finds him. The very thought burns. He'd have no choice but to accept a new wielder, however incompetent and selfish they-
Luo Binghe's mind stalls, blindsided by his own hypocrisy. Stale air catches on the lump in his throat. Self hatred finds an outlet in his blood parasites, ripping small, hidden tears in his newly made flesh.
He deserves it. He deserves worse. After all Xin Mo has done for him - passing on his immense knowledge without the slightest hint of reservation, the constant words of encouragement and praise, the odd stories he ramblingly narrates to Luo Binghe as he falls asleep, the gentleness with which he's carried Luo Binghe's broken body over and over and over again, stroking his hair and bandaging the worst of his wounds as he stubbornly burns through his otherwise carefully hoarded power - he's still putting himself first. He doesn't want to live in a world where Xin Mo chooses someone else, but he wouldn't be able to live in one where Xin Mo hates him.
If Xin Mo doesn't want him... Luo Binghe will just have to make himself into someone he will.
“You’re going to practice sword forms until you’ve fully mastered wielding me,” Xin Mo says suddenly, forcing his voice back to it’s normal brightness. “I don’t know many, unfortunately, but I’m sure Binghe can fill in the gaps.”
“Yes,” Luo Binghe says. “This disciple won’t let you down.”
“You’re not leaving this spot until you can wield this sword with demonic qi alone.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll eat rations and stay put, meditating to recover your qi in between drills.”
“Yes.”
“I will decide when you’re ready to fight again. No going off on your own, no combat without my explicit permission.”
“...Yes.”
Xin Mo sighs almost fondly, the sound tinny and slightly echoed. Luo Binghe pictures his humanoid form pinching the bridge of his nose, red-lined eyes crinkling in an exasperated half-smile.
“Don’t let it get you down, Binghe. You’re a brilliant student, when you’re not running headfirst into danger. It won’t take you long.”
“Many thanks for shi- for Mo-ge’s guidance.” Luo Binghe says, the familiar title nearly slipping past his lips. It doesn’t sting as badly as he’d expected.
They begin with meditation - Xin Mo insists he fully recover before they do anything that would put stress on his body, and Luo Binghe doesn’t object. He’d like to get a sense for what his body is like at full strength after the past few months of training.
His awareness turns inwards as he circulates his qi, feeling out any potential weaknesses and fixing them with a quick redirection of his blood parasites. He can’t afford to fight the way he has been. Self destruction, recklessness- they’re the paths of the weak, of someone unworthy of wielding a sword like Xin Mo.
Trickery won’t work. He simply has to get stronger.
He breathes deeply, tracing the thrum of qi through his spiritual veins, reinforcing what he can and carefully shaving away at what isn’t useful, stitching himself back together just that little bit stronger. He picks apart the tiny scars from his time cultivating on Qing Jing peak, the false manual’s lingering effects fading slightly as he begins to remake himself anew.
It hurts, of course, but not nearly as badly as what else he’s been through. Besides, Luo Binghe’s life isn’t his own anymore.
Another breath. He won’t be able to finish this process anytime soon, but he’ll need every advantage he can get. He feels carefully along tendons, ligaments, the bits of his body holding the rest of himself together, taking note of what needs to be optimized, what he can improve.
Xin Mo was right. He has been overly reliant on the sword, not even considering how his self-destructive fighting would be seen by those in the Demon Realm. What sort of powerful swordsman ‘barely survives’ a fight? He’s been painting a target on his back this entire time, making it clear to any watching that he can’t protect that which is his. What will happen if he faces a creature that’s clever? Whose strength and skill both lie leagues above his own?
Luo Binghe needs to start winning. Overwhelmingly, brutally, undeniably winning. Like the bright colors of the Lava-Wading Sunset Frog, warning of poison and danger and a ‘lightshow to rival new year’s fireworks’, he needs to scare away those who’d dare consider him prey. Use devastating force whenever possible, avoid what hits he can, tank the ones he can’t and make a show of how he keeps fighting- unflinching, unfaltering, untouchable. A monster with no equal. An unkillable machine.
A Heavenly Demon.
Notes:
trigger warnings : There's minor descriptions of gross wounds after "His right leg is- it’s pretty fucked up" but no battle-worthy gore, and self harm scattered throughout Binghe's POV. lmk if you'd like anything else tw'd, stay safe, and have fun!
I’ve gone back and tweaked the values for teleportation - 10x for interdimensional travel isn’t enough of a penalty to cause LBH to spend five years training in the Abyss, so I’ve ramped it up to 100,000 for leaving to the demon realm, and removed the option for the human realm entirely, since the realms border each other and in Scum Villain it’s said he had to exit to the demon realm. This allows me to do some time skips w/o worrying about exact S-point values, too.
Also happy 4/20 ayyyyy sorry this took so long!! I had to rewrite this chapter like 5 times before I realized what I wanted to do with it. No promises when the next one is coming out but hopefully it'll be within a month this time. I have *gasp* an outline for the next couple chapters. :O
Chapter 6: Hidden Regrets
Summary:
Luo Binghe wants to prove he's capable of wielding such an incredible sword, no matter what it costs.
Shen Yuan is having a great time helping Binghe get stronger, but he's gotta admit that parts of it can be a teeny /tiny/ bit boring.
【The System agrees.】
Notes:
(If I could have the writing gods grant me one wish, it would be to let me not have to rewrite entire chapters multiple times before I settle on the final version. ._.)
Thank you, dear readers, for continuing to comment and read while I toiled away in the background! Whenever I feel like I'm running out of steam, I go back and re-read the comments I've gotten on this fic, and find the motivation to continue trying to find a way to make these guys do what I want. I'm really grateful other people are enjoying this silly little story! Hope you enjoy the new chapter and the continuation of my freak4freak BingYuan agenda. There's a bit of blood, but nothing graphic, just some angst and setup for future angst -w-
(EDIT: I figured out how to do rudimentary css!! Now the system gets fancy colored text boxes :D Please let me know if the contrast isn't high enough, or if the colors don't load correctly, or if you have a suggestion for how to tweak it!)
Chapter Text
The first hint of sunlight begins to creep over the horizon, muted reds staining the low-hanging clouds like old blood stuck in the cracks of a well-worn glove. Luo Binghe lies flat on his back in the warm sand, dark curls framing his handsome face, Xin Mo tucked tight against his side. It’s a gorgeous picture - practically a renaissance painting - the protagonist’s sleeping form caught in a rare moment of peaceful slumber.
...
Shen Yuan has never been so bored in his life.
Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the moment, or that he’ll ever get tired of seeing Luo Binghe’s objectively gorgeous face softened by sleep, but he doesn’t have anything to do! He’s on guard duty, sure, but it’s not like there’s anything to actually guard against out here. All it takes is a quick warning burst of demonic qi and the dozens of curious, glinting eyes disappear back into the dense shrubs bordering their little sanctuary.
He’s been entertaining himself the past few nights with silly self-made memorization games to keep his PIDW lore knowledge fresh, but his mind can’t help but wander. No matter what things he talks to himself about, no matter what plans he makes or songs he sings off-key, the truth is that he’s truly, excruciatingly bored.
Which! Is! Fine!
It’s fine to be bored! He's really really glad Binghe has been able to get a good night's sleep for once, and he’d rather be bored for a thousand years than cause Binghe’s untimely death!!
Honestly, he's just complaining. He’s intimately familiar with waiting, distracting himself while he waits for his body to regain enough strength to be able to do the things he wants to, to spend time with family or travel or just sit outside in the sun. It’s only... he doesn't have any web novels to binge, or videogames to zone out playing, or people to argue with online- he doesn’t even dream, now. He’d always had the option to escape before, to go somewhere else in his mind where he doesn't have to think about how trapped he feels. If he was still human, he’d have long gone bonkers crazy.
One of the perks of being a sword, he supposes. Woohoo.
Hey! System! Your loyal user wants to lodge a complaint! If he’s going to be stuck awake and alone for hours every night he should at least be given something to do!! Don't you have candy crush or sudoku or something?
...
Not even a pop up. Asshole.
Shen Yuan gives up on trying to get sympathy from an emotionless machine, deciding to continue categorizing the creatures in PIDW by pokemon type. So far the ones they’ve encountered in the Abyss have mostly skewed towards fire (there’s a shit-ton of lava here, go figure), then poison, then psychic.
He gets stuck on whether or not the Blissful Toadstool Foraging Newt counts as poison or psychic, seeing as its saliva causes hallucinations of one’s happiest memories while it digests you. If the saliva itself can’t kill, can it be counted as a poison? He wants to say no, but some irl hallucinogenic mushrooms are considered poisonous.
Hmm. If someone ate enough of the newt’s saliva, could it kill them? Would that make it a poison? No, that’s not a solid argument. Anything can kill you if you have enough of it.
It doesn’t help that the Blissful Toadstool Foraging Newt is technically in a symbiotic relationship with the mushrooms that grow on its back. Or that Airplane never specified whether the hallucinogen came from the mushrooms themselves, or whether they were synthesized in the newt’s body. There are just too many variables.
Shen Yuan sighs. What he’d give to have a specimen to study, to get some real answers. He’s never been one for dissection, but Xin Mo’s bloodthirst has been rubbing off on him. He could probably dig around in its guts without puking!
Probably.
Binghe stirs around an hour later, interrupting Shen Yuan’s increasingly deranged internal monologue with a quiet groan as he stretches, chestplate riding up to expose a sliver of his toned stomach.
...Shen Yuan should help Binghe find a new set of robes to wear. Though the Thousand Devils Steel Chitin Armor helps protect Binghe's internal organs, his arms are completely bare, which - by xianxia standards at least - is frankly indecent. He can practically see the edge of Luo Binghe's chest! The all powerful protagonist can't go around flashing side-boob willy nilly to his opponents!! It'd give him an advantage against women (men too, if they were struck jealous by his beauty), but those are the techniques of a succubus, not the great and all-powerful big-dicked protagonist!!!
It’s honestly a miracle his original (heavily mended) pair of pants have survived this long, what with all the acid-based attacks he's tanked head-on. Just imagine if he lost the last of his clothes mid-battle like some tormented young maiden! The very thought sends shivers down his spine blade.
“Mo-ge seems to be thinking deeply about something,” Binghe says as he pulls an arm across his chest. “May this disciple hear Mo-ge’s thoughts?”
“Um,” Shen Yuan flounders. “It’s not anything important.”
“Anything that Mo-ge finds interesting cannot be unimportant,” Binghe says earnestly. “This disciple wants nothing more than to learn from his sword’s wisdom.”
Shit. There’s no way the ever-curious and eternally-stubborn Binghe will let him drop this now.
But Shen Yuan can’t exactly tell him what he was actually thinking about. ‘Hey Binghe, do you ever think about your pants being torn off mid battle-’ he’d rather die than insinuate he’s thinking indecent thoughts about the protagonist’s body!!
“It’s...” He trails off, finding his verbal footing. “It’s a philosophical argument of sorts.”
Discussing cringey nerd questions is definitely less awkward than giving Binghe the wrong idea, right?
“For example,” he continues before his quickly fading courage disappears entirely, “a Blissful Toadstool Foraging Newt gains power because of a symbiotic relationship with the mushrooms on its body. Can the power be said to be its own?”
Luo Binghe takes his time to think about Shen Yuan’s ridiculous question, diligently stretching all the while.
“No,” he says eventually, grabbing his ankles as he leans forward, head bowed. “The newt owes his power to the mushrooms. How would he dare claim it to be his own?”
“But the newt isn’t taking power from the mushroom,” Shen Yuan counters. “The mushroom can’t even use its power properly on its own. It’s symbiosis. They’re both made stronger by their relationship. The mushroom has the ability, but not the means to wield it. The newt has the means, but not the ability.”
“Then the newt should thank the mushrooms every day for allowing him to be their host,” Luo Binghe says confidently.
“That’s not-” Shen Yuan sighs. What an odd child. “Nevermind.”
“Mo-ge mentioned trying a more difficult form today?” Luo Binghe asks, gracefully changing the topic.
“Not before you eat,” Shen Yuan scolds. Inedia isn’t something Binghe is capable of yet. “Did you really forget again? You need to take better care of yourself.”
Binghe smiles, the world itself seeming to slow just to watch his cheeks dimple.
“This disciple did forget,” he says, tapping a finger cheekily on the large gemstone set in Xin Mo’s pommel. “Thanking Mo-ge for his concern.”
Shen Yuan watches quietly as Binghe scarfs down a few pieces of demonic beast jerky, chugging the last of his water. He’ll have to figure out a different way to hydrate, now, probably by absorbing the nearby flora. Shen Yuan wonders how efficient such a thing is - if it's faster to absorb water directly into the blood compared to waiting for the digestive tract to finish.
“Ready, Mo-ge!” Binghe says, reinvigorated. He shoves his dwindling supplies back into his pack, curls bouncing as he jumps to a stand, Xin Mo in hand, ready and eager to learn.
What a good student! What a precious disciple!
Shen Yuan can’t help but feel a sort of selfish pride. Whether or not his instruction is worth listening to, Binghe’s cleverness and tenacity more than make up for his lack of experience. It feels good to be contributing to the protagonist’s growth, even if his presence is just a placebo for true, thoughtful insight.
“Alright, Binghe,” he says. “Demonstrate what you remember, and we’ll figure the rest out from there. It’s alright if the form isn’t perfect straight away, just focus on going through the rough movements.”
“This disciple is eager for Mo-ge’s insightful critique.”
“...Just get on with it.” Shen Yuan truly can’t stand this child’s over-the-top flattery. If he had a face he’d be flushed with embarrassment.
Luo Binghe steps forward, stance low, and raises Xin Mo in a smooth arc. He moves as if to deflect a downward strike, before seamlessly transitioning into a series of quick slashes. The air whistles with each of his strikes, fine-grained sand puffing up from the ground in little clouds. He shifts into a lunging stab, one meant to pierce the heart, before twisting his body to add extra weight behind a wide, sweeping attack. It's an oddly simple form, one that Luo Binghe had recalled seeing his older martial siblings practice back on Qing Jing peak, but it’s a good place to start for someone who lacks experience in the fundamentals.
Shen Yuan zones out a bit as he’s slashed and stabbed and jabbed and swung, taking note of the movements that lack finesse, paying particularly close attention to the angle of his blade, the extraneous movements.
Luo Binghe finishes fairly quickly, returning to the first stance.
“Good,” Shen Yuan praises honestly. That was practically perfect already. “Focus on the angle of your blade this time. Binghe should learn to minimize the amount of force needed to slice through his opponents to preserve strength in drawn out battles.”
“Yes, Mo-ge,” Luo Binghe says, already stepping forward into the first move. His expression is adorably focused - brow pinched, lips pursed - as he moves efficiently through the form once again, each swing and slash purposeful and even more powerful than before.
Shen Yuan may not know anything about sword fighting, but his sister did win a few fencing tournaments when she was in high school; he’s seen how a body is supposed to move when wielding a sword. It’s not quite the same, of course - Xin Mo is closer to a broadsword than a rapier - but the principles are the same.
“More slowly this time,” Shen Yuan says as Binghe returns again to the first stance. “Feel the shifting of your center of mass. You should feel balanced at all times, if you’re controlling your body correctly.”
Luo Binghe nods, wiping at his glistening face, and begins again.
Shen Yuan is really glad Binghe has such an OP memory. If he had to come up with the forms as well as teach them, there’s no way he’d be able to help Binghe learn anything of worth. He’s always been better at tutoring than teaching.
“Watch your foot,” Shen Yuan says, yanking at Luo Binghe’s hand. He stumbles, unbalanced mid-stride. “See? You weren’t stable. Keep your back foot closer to the ground as you move. You’ll be able to recover more easily if someone manages to catch you off guard.”
“Yes, Mo-ge,” Luo Binghe says, frustrated.
Shen Yuan fights back the deluge of praise that threatens to burst forth at Binghe's unnecessary modesty. He has to be more sparing with his compliments. If Luo Binghe decides he’s ready for combat, Shen Yuan won’t be able to do much to stop him.
Luo Binghe finishes again, this time without any meaningful hiccups. Three tries, and he’s practically mastered a form he’s only seen a few times years ago. What is that - nearly a hundred forms in the past five days? Shen Yuan is glad he's been stuck in his sword form for this. If he had a face, he wouldn’t be able to hide how broadly he’s grinning. Truly, the protagonist is an unparalleled existence. This is just ridiculous.
Shen Yuan’s delight sours at the sound of an awfully familiar ding!
【User has unlocked Normal Mode. Update will proceed shortly.】
Uh. What?
Wait, what do you mean, Normal Mode!? This trash system never mentioned any sort of difficulty settings!! What mode was he on this whole time, then, huh??
【Easy Mode will automatically be disabled.】
【Assistive restrictions are being lifted. Please wait ...】
Wait wait wait!! Slow the fuck down!! At least explain what’s going on!!!
【User hasn’t fed in the past 100 hours, failing to add ‘more cool monsters and intense fights’ to the plot. The difficulty will be raised accordingly, to encourage user’s productivity!】
He doesn’t need a higher difficulty, ok?? If he needs to feed, he needs to feed!! Give him one- no, two days and he can find something tiny and weak for Luo Binghe to-
“Mo-ge?”
“What?” Shen Yuan snaps, panicked as he watches the floating blue progress bar continue to fill.
“This disciple apologizes for failing to grasp the intricacies of this form,” Luo Binghe says, bowing his head. “Please punish this disciple.”
That gets his attention. Luo Binghe’s averted eyes, his terrifyingly subservient tone-
Why does he feel like he’s beginning to walk down the same treacherous path as that scum villain Shen Qingqiu?
“Don’t speak so lowly of yourself,” Shen Yuan says quickly, trying to maintain his role as an aloof and mysterious instructor while screaming a series of ‘fuck’s in his head. “Binghe is an excellent student.”
The progress bar continues to fill inexorably.
“Just- run through it again.” He says, watching the glowing blue bar nearing its end. “Focus on the end of each movement and try to snap your blade into position.”
“This disciple will wield his blade well.” Binghe says seriously.
【Assistive restrictions successfully lifted.】
【Normal Mode Enabled.】
【Processing S-point backlog...】
【User has not fed in 24 hours. 1 S-point will be deducted.】
Oh shit.
Luo Binghe feels Xin Mo get heavier in his hands, the demonic qi that sits placidly within his blade writhing like a nest of startled snakes. His next step is too long; his stab overextends his arm. He waits for Xin Mo’s usual critique, but nothing comes. Xin Mo is strangely silent.
Luo Binghe’s next slash is near perfect as he quickly learns how to compensate for the increased weight. His attacks have more power behind them now, his body straining to keep up with his previous pace.
This is probably a test of some sort. He doesn’t know what Xin Mo is doing, let alone why, but it’s not his place to ask. He redoubles his efforts, pushing himself even faster, the tip of his blade screaming as he swings Xin Mo through the air, the shockwave of his final attack rippling through the nearby plantlife.
“How was-” Luo Binghe gasps. “How was that?”
Xin Mo crackles, hanging limp from his hand. Is-
Is something wrong? Did he-
“Good.” Xin Mo says curtly. “Binghe can move on.”
He's upset.
Luo Binghe’s breathing slows as his mind rapidly cycles through a thousand different possible responses, weighing each against the potential fallout of questioning Xin Mo's teachings.
He wouldn't have hesitated before, but now...
“This disciple feels that there might be more to this form,” he says cautiously. “Perhaps we should go over it once again?”
Xin Mo is silent for a long, tense moment.
“Excellent insight as always,” he says eventually, voice tight. “What are Binghe’s thoughts?”
Luo Binghe perks up at the acknowledgement, his nervous mood somewhat dispelled.
【User has not fed in 98 hours. 1 S-point will be deducted.】
Shen Yuan winces as more of his qi is sucked away into the growing void in his core.
“This disciple suspects the final move to have a secondary purpose,” Binghe says as he begins to explain something Shen Yuan wouldn’t have been able to grasp given months to research.
【User has not fed in 99 hours. 1 S-point will be deducted.】
It’s like his soul is being sucked out through a straw. Eugh.
“It's clearly meant to be a killing blow,” Binghe steps forward, demonstrating the move. “But the footwork is off. It’s as if the sword is meant to keep moving after the strike.”
Huh. Now that he’s pointed out the oddness of it, Shen Yuan can definitely see-
【User has not fed in 100 hours. 10 S-points will be deducted.】
Another spike, much bigger than the last. Xin Mo bites back a hiss as the majority of his remaining qi dissolves into a burning, crackling static, like heat given texture. The emptiness gnawing at his metal body grows nearly intolerable.
“This disciple believes the final stab is meant to form a sword glare,” Luo Binghe continues. Xin Mo wrenches himself back into the conversation. “One meant to chase an opponent attempting to gain distance for their own long range attack.”
【S-point backlog has been processed.】
Current S-points: 2
Lifetime S-points: 6243
Xin Mo ignores the rest of the flashing notifications for now, trying to gather himself into some semblance of a competent sword-slash-teacher.
“Binghe is very clever,” he says, blade heavy with exhaustion. “We’ll call this one mastered when Binghe can hit something with the final sword glare from twenty meters away.”
“This disciple will do his best, Mo-ge!” Luo Binghe grins, eager and brimming with limitless potential.
Xin Mo feels the jittery, panicked part of him settle just a bit. Even if the system is trying it’s best to screw him over, he still has a trustworthy golden thigh to cling to.
“Of course you will,” he encourages. Binghe settles back into the first stance once again, breathing deeply as he begins to gather his qi. “I’m sure you’ll get it qui-"
Xin Mo nearly jerks out of Binghe’s hands at the first touch of demonic qi, memories of hot water on snow-frozen hands reflected in the sudden scalding burn in his blade.
“Mo-ge?” Binghe calls. The cold-hot fades as the steady influx of qi stutters to a panicked halt. Binghe’s hands flit across his pommel, his blade, his hilt, inspecting him for any sort of damage. Ridiculous. As if demonic qi could damage a blade like Xin Mo. “What-”
“It’s fine.” Xin Mo says curtly, cutting off Binghe’s unnecessary concern. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Keep going.”
Luo Binghe’s brow furrows uneasily, though he does, reluctantly, obey.
Thankfully it’s a lot easier to deal with the overwhelming sensation when Xin Mo is prepared for it. Receiving Binghe’s qi normally kinda... tickles a bit? When they fly (on the few occasions it’s been possible to without being sniped out of the sky) it feels odd, sure, but it also feels good- like cool silk being trailed across bare skin. That same soothing chill burns him now, scorching his blade the way strong liquor burns one's throat. Still, Xin Mo's body can't help but greedily gulp down everything Binghe pours into him, the whirlpool of energy draining rapidly into his core.
He can deal with this, though, now that he knows what to expect. It kind of reminds him of being fed through an IV drip - your stomach can’t help but want to be filled, even when you’re already getting all the nutrients a human needs pumped straight into your veins. Bodies are stupid like that.
When Xin Mo doesn’t react to his first tentative outpouring of qi, Binghe begins the form again, expression overly serious. There’s not a single extraneous movement, this time, each slash and stab perfectly executed.
Honestly, Xin Mo shouldn’t have let himself even consider that the genius protagonist would struggle to do something like this. It only takes Binghe two tries before a razor sharp sword glare flashes from his blade, crashing into the sandy plains over fifty meters away, a blooming cloud of dust and pulped succulents rising high into the sky. His qi withdraws as soon as he finishes, eager to move on. Xin Mo shudders as the gnawing emptiness returns, turning his attention from the thrum of energy flowing strong and thick through Binghe's spiritual veins. It'd only be a temporary balm, it won't actually fix this; he'd just be weakening the protagonist.
“Was that right?” Binghe asks, shifting on the balls of his feet. He’s overflowing with restless energy, clearly waiting for praise.
“You did well,” Xin Mo admits, guilt rising when Binghe’s face lights up in a brilliant smile. Shit, tone the compliments down a bit, Xin Mo! He’s going to end up blinded at this rate! “But we’re not nearly done. Take a break to recover, we’re doing hand seals next.”
Luo Binghe nods, a smug edge to his focused expression.
The protagonist settles into the lotus position and closes his eyes. It’s only a matter of seconds before his breathing evens out, the furrow between his brows finally smoothed away.
This child really is a miracle. It’s only been a few days of practice, and already he’s grown in leaps and bounds. If Xin Mo wasn’t so aware of exactly how much further he has to go, he’d be ecstatic at the progress he’s made.
He turns his attention back to the blaring blue screens, content to let Binghe rest for the moment. One in particular has begun flashing garishly, as if desperate to be read first.
【User’s difficulty has been set to Normal Mode. If user doesn’t feed regularly, the following debuffs will be inflicted.】
Hungry (-1 S-points / hour): Xin Mo needs to feed. Failure to feed for over 24 hours will inflict this debuff.
Starving (-10 S-points / hour): Xin Mo’s hunger will begin to effect user’s mental state. Failure to feed for over 100 hours will inflict this debuff.
Ravenous (-100 S-points / hour): Xin Mo is all-devouring. User will feed. User will feed. User will feed. Failure to feed for over 1000 hours will inflict this debuff.
That’s all... a bit horrifying. That last description is so damn creepy.
Wait. Shit. Shit shit shit it’s already been like ten minutes!!! And he only has 2 points left!!!!
He knows - it’s been a while, so he doesn’t remember exactly how - but he knows it’s Binghe who’ll suffer if he slips below zero.
The system helpfully chimes in with a bright ping, but the screen that pops up is completely hidden behind a massive wall of “-1” notifications.
Xin Mo closes them all with a quick mental nudge.
【Reminder: User can overdraft S-points, but be careful. Going into debt will be very taxing on the wielder.】
That’s it? It’ll be “very taxing”?
So Binghe will suffer a little bit, and Xin Mo will be fine?
...
Xin Mo feels like shit for considering letting this happen, but if he wants to prevent the next S-point deduction, he’ll have to push Binghe into a battle he’s not prepared for. Between getting Binghe killed and some unknown system-based consequence... maybe it’s for the best that he lets the countdown continue?
What if it isn’t even that bad?
He’ll just wait for a bit. See what happens, and then make a more informed decision.
Xin Mo feels more and more nervous as time continues to pass, imagined horrors crawling just outside the boundaries of his thoughts as he watches Binghe meditate, memorizing the already fading scars crossing his bare arms, his perfect posture, the soft curve of his cheek, waiting for something to change for the worse. Will it be painful? Is he going to be hurt, somehow? Maybe he should-
【User has not fed in 101 hours. 10 S-points will be deducted.】
Xin Mo buzzes impatiently as something thuds against the flimsy edges of his metal body.
Hungry.
He’s hungry. He doesn’t have another word for it, for this hollow agony. His hilt, his guard, his blade - all parts of him ache with it, pulsing in time with the curling pit in his core.
A giant flashing text box covers his entire field of vision, a horrible, piercing alarm drowning out Luo Binghe’s concerned voice.
【ALERT : S-POINT TOTAL HAS FALLEN BELOW ZERO.】
【Locating alternate power source...】
【Alternate power source found. Wielder’s sanity value will be used to pay the remaining balance.】
Current Sanity Value: 83% (-8%)
Oh no. No no no, oh this is bad- he’d almost- no, he hadn’t forgotten exactly, but it hadn’t seemed relevant anymore-
Xin Mo was something Luo Binghe had to tame. Until he managed to suppress its power through a harem of wives and the bloodshed of thousands, it tormented his heart and tore at the edges of his fraying mind. It was the single most important cause of his eventual blackening, second only to the cruelty of his hateful shizun.
“-ight? Mo-ge? Mo-”
And now he’s the cause of Binghe’s descent into madness. The cause of his pain. The reason he eventually loses the last remnants of the pure-hearted child he’d once been, the thing that tears him down and builds him back up into the badass Demon Lord he’s destined to become.
He... he doesn't know if he can do that.
Something in his core twitches. Pulses. Writhes. A paradoxically calm rage washes over his mind, tendrils of burning qi taking root throughout his metal body.
A hiss escapes Xin Mo as an answering wave of demonic qi envelops him, attempting to subdue him even as he lashes out at everything within reach. He changes targets, following the trail back to its source, intent on consuming the invader from the inside ou-
Xin Mo's aura is slammed back into his body, unable to contend in his weakened state against a sudden tsunami of demonic qi. He pushes back even as he devours everything within reach, trying to find a weakness, a crack in the invader’s defenses, anything he can use to tear apart the conceited creature that foolishly dared to try subduing him- try stopping him- how dare they do anything but offer up their bones to whet his blade?!
But despite his rage, despite his endless hunger, he still settles. He fights it, screeching and clawing and rending, but the invader is too quick, too clever; predicting where he’ll attack next and gently coaxing him into a corner until he’s smothered in a calm, steady ocean of foreign qi.
Xin Mo comes to clutched in Luo Binghe’s white-knuckled grip, blood painting his lips and chin a morbid red.
That’s not-
What?
"Binghe?" He says, mind skipping across the sea of his thoughts like a flat stone.
“Mo-ge!” Luo Binghe smiles, teeth stained red. He wipes at his face, blood smearing garishly across his cheek. He looks like a beast caught feasting on a fresh kill. Xin Mo would’ve found the image disturbing, at one point in his life, but now he can’t help but be entranced by the way the light glistens on Binghe’s wet lips.
“Mo-ge was qi deviating,” Luo Binghe continues after a moment. “But this disciple handled it.”
He did?
Was that what that was?
“Well done,” Xin Mo croaks. He can’t think of what else to say. Thank you, maybe? He’s never experienced something like that before. It felt like he was being swallowed whole. He can still feel the something that wants to consume him lying dormant within him, a writhing pit of rage and bloodlust. He even feels an urge to lick the blood from Binghe’s face.
Luo Binghe flops back on the sandy ground, hugging Xin Mo to his chest. They lie there for a moment, reeling in the aftermath.
“Is-” Xin Mo hesitates, feeling awkward. “Is Binghe alright?”
“Of course,” Binghe says quickly. “This disciple is strong. That was nothing.”
Ah, Binghe. Saying that with your own blood smeared across your chin isn’t very convincing.
Xin Mo glances over Binghe’s body while he has the chance, trying to measure the amount of damage he did. Thankfully, it doesn’t look too bad; he’s seemingly unscathed, except for whatever internal injuries he received fighting Xin Mo's frantic attempts to-
To kill the boy who was only trying to help him.
Xin Mo smothers the useless guilt that rises as he looks over the protagonist’s sorry state.
“Does Mo-ge-”
“Binghe.” Xin Mo interrupts without a thought to follow. Luo Binghe goes silent. He watches Xin Mo with wide eyes, mouth pressed into a thin line.
He can’t let this happen again.
They have less than an hour until it happens again.
“Pack up,” Xin Mo says, resigned. They need to move quickly if they're to find prey in time. “We’re going hunting.”
Chapter 7: Drawing Blood
Summary:
Minor homicidal rages are normal among teenage half-demons and evil swords, Xin Mo reassures himself.
Luo Binghe acquires his first of many scars.
Notes:
This chapter has a LOT of gore. They hunt a bunch of creatures, and Binghe gets a little mass-murdery with 'em. If you want to skip the worst of it, check the end notes!
Hope y'all enjoy the beginning of these two's honeymoon phase!
(Also - thank you as always for your comments!!! I really enjoy reading all of your ideas and insights and screaming at the blorbos being dense. This fic has been a ton of fun to write in large part because of y'all's response, so - thank you! ❤️)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“The creatures stalking us around the borders of that succulent-filled clearing were Heart’s Blood Jackals,” Xin Mo lectures as Luo Binghe weaves through the dense shrubland. “They subsist primarily off of-?”
“Black Bell Caterpillar Bulls. Named for their black hides, ten legs, and ringing, bell-like call.” Luo Binghe recites clearly, scrubbing roughly at the last flecks of drying blood freckling his face.
“Correct.” Good. He doesn’t need to waste time explaining the potential danger, then. “Since the Heart’s Blood Jackals never attempted to attack while Binghe was training, they must have already had a source of food. There should be a herd nearby. Their tracks are difficult to follow because of their sinuous gait, but Binghe should be able to do it.”
Luo Binghe skids to a stop, rushing over to a pitch-black bush stripped roughly of its bark and leaves. He crouches, pushing the thorny branches away from its exposed, splintered roots, uncovering a few large divots left in the sandy ground.
“This disciple suspects these marks may have been left by a Black Bell Caterpillar Bull as it foraged.”
“Good,” Xin Mo praises, trying not to let his impatience show. “Which direction does Binghe think it went?”
Binghe obediently inspects the tracks. Xin Mo’s peripheral vision catches on a dozen sharp glints hiding within the dense shrubs surrounding them. Predators, no doubt, perhaps the very same Heart’s Blood Jackals he’d seen earlier, waiting eagerly for Luo Binghe to drop his guard. Xin Mo glares at them, a thin, shaky tendril of demonic qi lashing out in their direction.
The glints disappear, apparently intimidated enough to abandon their not-so-easy prey.
Xin Mo withdraws, buzzing with impatience. Cowards. If they were truly hungry, they’d accept the risk for a chance at food. It’d have been easy to take them down. Creatures that hunt in packs are usually not that strong individually, and killing half would spook the rest to run. Luo Binghe-
Luo Binghe would have been in danger. They’re hunting one of the closest things the Abyss has to prey animals for a reason.
He needs to get himself under control.
Luo Binghe rises, breathing deeply as he expands his senses to search their surroundings. He sprints off a moment later, ducking broken branches as the stripped bushes grow from tiny to towering, and climbs one of the gnarled plants to where black leaves still sparsely grow.
“When we encounter the herd, find one isolated from the rest,” Xin Mo instructs, “kill it quickly and retreat immediately.”
“We’re not collecting the meat?” Luo Binghe asks quietly, leaping lightly to a new tree.
“Black Bell Caterpillar Bulls are opportunistic cannibals.” Xin Mo feels a growing sense of urgency as they travel, keenly aware of how little time they have left. What will happen if they fail. “Better to eat a companion yourself than to let the creatures stalking your herd get a free meal. Binghe would need to slaughter enough to distract the rest before taking his share.”
Luo Binghe hums in understanding, flitting quietly across the treetops. He stops suddenly, crouching, one hand on the trunk for balance, his other still resting loosely on Xin Mo’s pommel.
“Why did Binghe stop?” Xin Mo snaps. He doesn’t want to piss off the almighty protagonist but they’re running out of TIME.
Luo Binghe doesn’t speak, motioning towards a clearing some ways distant.
“Ah.” For a moment Xin Mo feels a bit bad about being snippy, but as he scans across the crowded clearing - over long, wriggling bodies and scuttling legs - the guilt is quickly replaced by an eagerness completely foreign to him.
Finally. Prey.
He drinks in the sight hungrily. The largest group - a couple hundred, over half of the herd - is pushing further into the forest, knocking a wide pathway through the trees with their forked horns, leaves and chunks of fibrous bark eaten as quickly as they fall. There are a few dozen juveniles towards the center, their grazing mothers close by. A number of smaller, tighter-knit groups stand around the edge - some knocking horns, some curled up in slumber, some digging up roots. One of the adults is separated from even the groups on the outskirts, straining to prop itself upright to reach higher, still-leaved branches, its angular head stretching out on a thick, muscled neck covered in matted black fur.
It’s not being groomed by its herd. An outcast.
“Quickly now,” Xin Mo whispers, encouraging. “See the mangy one?”
Luo Binghe nods. He flickers across the treetops, pushing off of the widest branches to minimize noise, until he lands feather-light in the tree the creature is methodically stripping with its broad, flat teeth. Luo Binghe draws Xin Mo silently from his sheath, sharp fingernails digging deep furrows in the wood as he waits.
It reaches higher. They drop.
It doesn’t even have time to flinch.
Luo Binghe uses his downward momentum to slice vertically through the length of the creature’s cartilaginous throat, catching a low branch and whipping around the trunk before the rest of the herd turns to look towards the panicked, gurgling screams of their dying companion.
Xin Mo waits with bated breath.
The Black Bell Caterpillar Bull collapses, curling into a protective ball as blood sluggishly leaks from the hidden center of the thing’s spiraled, writhing body. Its ten legs kick weakly even as it tries to wrap itself up more tightly - to staunch the bleeding and seal its soft parts behind thick fur and poisonous heel spurs - but the cut is simply too deep.
Even in its death throes the creature is instinctively trying to fight off a predator.
【Wielder has defeated (1) Black Bell Caterpillar Bull. S-points earned: 2.】
Current S-points: 2
Lifetime S-points: 4392
【Hunger meter reset.】
【Starving debuff removed.】
It’s like an epidural. Instantly, and without any warning, the all-consuming agony, the thing growing in his core, that was threatening to devour him whole, it just-
Poof.
Disappeared.
The difference is heady, the lack of sensation a sensation in itself. He feels... good. Energized, almost excited.
They back further away from the carnage, dissolving into the shadows. Dark blood drips from the tip of his blade, the trail following the two of them doggedly as they slip back into the dense, black canopy.
He’s almost tempted to have Binghe hunt a few more, shore up their S-point reserves, but forcing him to risk his life isn’t something Xin Mo wants to do. This is sustainable. One quick kill every day (or couple of days, if he's saved enough) to satisfy the greedy-ass system and the stupid body he’s in, and Binghe will be able to cultivate and heal in peace.
“Well done,” Xin Mo praises honestly.
“Thank you, Mo-ge!” Luo Binghe whispers, a smug grin shining through his previously serious expression. “This disciple has learned well under his sword’s teachings.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Xin Mo quickly says before any further undeserved praise. If it wasn’t for this hindrance of a sword Binghe would easily be slaughtering these things left and right. “Let’s head back.”
Luo Binghe freezes, gripping Xin Mo tight. He’d thought- he thought he had earned a second chance, an opportunity to prove himself. Was he wrong?
Did he already fail?
“Mo-ge doesn’t want another?” He says, hiding his nervousness behind a generous smile. “It would be easy, this disciple-”
“It’s fine.” Xin Mo sighs. “We have plenty more training to do before our next hunt.”
Luo Binghe has never heard his sword sound so resigned.
He allows himself to feel some small measure of relief at the mention of a ‘next hunt’, but it’s a bitter, shallow feeling. It’s... fine, though. He’ll just bide his time until the next opportunity to showcase his growth. Honestly, it’d be better for him to wait. He’s not exactly in top shape, at the moment, with the diffuse internal damage he’s still working to heal.
Yes. It’ll be fine to wait.
Unless.
Unless Xin Mo tells him to stop after only one kill then, too.
Was this... was it really a test? Or did Xin Mo simply have no other choice? He’d been so enthusiastic about hunting before, even when he played at obstinacy, but now he’s treating it like a chore rather than an opportunity to feel flesh part beneath his blade, to get a closer look at the creatures he clearly finds so fascinating.
A few nearby bulls finally notice their companion's body, skittering over to inspect the bloody scene. One nudges a leg. Another snuffles along the ground. The third stabs a horn deep into the dead thing's stomach, wrenching backwards with a wet pop. The three bray happily, their voices so much like windchimes, as they call the rest to the feast.
A herdmate only a moment ago, now nothing more than fresh meat.
Luo Binghe can’t imagine what he was lacking in. He killed their prey quickly, took not a single hit, and obeyed Xin Mo’s every instruction. What more could his sword possibly want from him that he hasn’t already proven he’s capable of and willing to give?
“And when would our next hunt be, Mo-ge?” He asks, trying not to panic as he picks at the edges of Xin Mo’s hidden thoughts.
“Tomorrow morning.” Xin Mo thinks for a moment. “Or midday, if necessary.”
Midday, if necessary.
If necessary. Only if necessary. His next chance, delayed as long as Xin Mo can stand to. He's only going to be allowed to hunt, to feed, to take care of Xin Mo if he has no other choice-
Luo Binghe swallows heavily, tongue thick in his throat. This wasn’t a test. This was a risk, tantamount to an admission that Xin Mo had already long decided that Luo Binghe isn’t capable of wielding him.
Whatever use I have for a dead man, I have even less for one who seeks his own death.
He’d failed as soon as he’d shown weakness. As soon as he’d shown Xin Mo how tentative his own freedom was, how unreliable Luo Binghe was, how little he cared for his own body - a body meant to be an extension of Xin Mo.
Still, didn't he deserve another chance? Did his otherwise faultless devotion truly not outweigh one mistake?
How dare he.
A surge of anger burns through him, hotter and brighter than even the ever-burning desire to rend Shen Qingqiu’s limbs from his body.
How dare Xin Mo find him unworthy. How dare he decide Luo Binghe isn’t worth keeping after a- a temporary hesitation. Hasn’t he earned the chance to prove himself? After everything they've been through - after Xin Mo promised to stay by his side - he's just going to be thrown away? Is he truly that worthless, that- that weak in his sword's eyes? He hasn’t even- he never even had the chance to show Xin Mo his true abilities, the growing strength he'd chosen to hold back in the fights he'd selfishly, stupidly thrown.
It’s not fair.
It's not fair.
He won’t accept this. Can’t accept this. He is good enough, he’s strong and clever and durable enough to survive Xin Mo’s occasional backlash, he even coaxed his sword through a qi deviation without letting on how thoroughly it shredded his spiritual veins. He didn’t scream once.
Obedience clearly isn’t going to work. If he doesn’t change something, he’s not going to be allowed to do anything but ferry his sword along to his-
To his next wielder.
The very thought burns.
What can he do, though?
He attempts to circulate his demonic qi, clenching his jaw when it aggravates the small, hidden tears in his veins. It’s like his insides are being caressed by thousands of small glass shards.
He can’t fight well like this. He can still wield his sword, sure, but without qi he might as well be heading into battle naked.
He can’t just leave, though. He needs to- there has to be some way he can slaughter the entire herd without being trampled into a pile of bloody meat.
...Bloody meat.
Hm. Perhaps he can still fight.
The parasites within him sing as he calls for them, abandoning their attempts to heal as they surge to the surface of his skin.
Luo Binghe doesn’t leave. He just waits, teeth bared, head cocked to the side as he stares down at Xin Mo. There’s a stubborn fire growing in his eyes. One that Xin Mo recognizes. One that raises his hackles like nothing else.
“This disciple recalls,” Luo Binghe murmurs conversationally, flicking most of the viscera from Xin Mo’s blade, “that Mo-ge once said live combat is the most effective form of training.”
Damn the protagonist's near-perfect memory. If Xin Mo did say that, it was before he realized how delicate Binghe was! Those rules don’t apply anymore!!
“Binghe isn’t ready for such intense training,” he says in vain. “We've barely gotten through a hundred forms.” He tries to tug his wielder away from the clearing, but Luo Binghe doesn’t budge. His arm doesn’t even strain as he fights against Xin Mo’s desperate pull to wipe his sword clean on his thigh.
Aaaaah Binghe you don’t have a backup pair!! He was clean enough so why ruin your pants!!!
“This disciple believes himself ready,” Luo Binghe whispers, beginning to move back towards the clearing. “Mo-ge’s instruction was invaluable, this disciple is much stronger than he was before.”
Now Xin Mo knows Luo Binghe is bullshitting. ‘Invaluable’? He barely did anything!
“This was an exception, we’re going back,” Xin Mo half-begs, half-commands, trying to figure out how to wrangle an unruly half-demon apparently hellbent on killing himself. “Binghe promised to listen!”
Luo Binghe stops abruptly, glaring down at him. His thick hair casts his face in shadow, the red of his irises seeming to glow from behind the framing curtain of his curls.
And then he blinks, the tension dissolving like morning mist in sunlight.
“It only makes sense that Mo-ge doubts Binghe’s ability,” Luo Binghe says seriously. Xin Mo feels an ominous shiver run through his blade. “This disciple hasn’t truly proven himself yet.”
“Binghe doesn’t need to prove himself!” Xin Mo says quickly. “He just needs to focus on studying!”
“This disciple has studied." Luo Binghe slips down through dense branches towards the restless crowd of demonic beasts. “And this disciple will prove himself.”
Xin Mo doesn’t have enough S-points to rescue Binghe. He’s not strong enough in sword form to force the protagonist away from a fight he’s seeking. He can’t even use Battle Frenzy to help even the playing field; a quick mental nudge to the system judges the entire herd as one enemy for some horrible reason, requiring nearly a hundred S-points to match power-wise.
He can’t do anything but watch.
The fearless protagonist stalks towards the clearing, muffling his presence enough to only attract the attention of the closest few demonic beasts. One in particular seems interested enough to investigate, shoving through the dense, yet-to-be-stripped branches towards Luo Binghe, its horns lowered in warning.
Luo Binghe watches it approach dispassionately, holding Xin Mo out in front of him in challenge. The creature continues forwards, snorting and pawing at the ground as it snakes between the trees.
“Binghe,” Xin Mo hisses. “Please.”
Luo Binghe lays Xin Mo’s blade across his left hand, pausing for only a moment before resolutely slicing through his own flesh. Bright red blood coats the edge of his blade, saturating the twisting, vein-like engravings in the metal.
Luo Binghe crouches. The beast charges.
He launches himself forward, keeping low, and slides beneath the creature’s long, undulating body, dragging Xin Mo through the soft flesh above his head to unleash a waterfall of organs and viscera. His boots slip in the blood-wet sand, but he manages to dodge the worst of the splash, flipping up into a nearby tree.
Xin Mo doesn’t dare speak, doesn’t dare distract Luo Binghe, terrified of what could happen if his involvement causes the protagonist to make a mistake. All he can do is watch as Binghe repeats the process over and over, picking off the isolated, tempting the weak away from the rest, carving his left palm with Xin Mo until the crisscrossing lines have bloomed into a jagged-petaled flower.
The cheerful ding! of inflowing S-points is quickly drowned out by warning calls as the bodies are - one by one - discovered. He’s tempted to transform and drag Binghe away as the lung-shaking sound begins vibrating the leaves, but the sudden appearance of a second threat could spook the whole herd into action. Is it better to wait? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do.
After nearly three dozen have fallen, Luo Binghe finally retreats, flitting into the depths of the forest as the rest of the herd below begins to descend on their fallen comrades.
Hundreds of Black Bell Caterpillar Bulls gather around the carnage, sniffing eagerly at the spreading piles of steaming meat, nipping at still-twitching legs. A few begin digging into their companion’s exposed abdominal cavities, rooting around for what he can only assume are the best bits, teeth grinding chunks of rib into small, digestible slivers. One of them - the biggest by far - turns to inspect where Luo Binghe was hiding only a moment ago, shoving aside thick branches with its forked horns, burning eyes flickering through the empty darkness as Luo Binghe escapes across the canopy overhead.
“That was reckless,” Xin Mo scolds once they’re far and high enough to feel somewhat safe. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?”
“This disciple was proving himself,” Luo Binghe murmurs petulantly. He doesn’t even have the grace to look chastised. If anything, he looks proud.
Xin Mo is gearing up for a real teacher-style ass-chewing when he catches an odd movement in the clearing nearby.
Luo Binghe feels his parasites enter a new body, a living body, quickly directing them to drill through the creature's soft palette. He sees a distant bull's jaw lock open, gore-stained teeth on full display as it rears back and yowls - an ear-splitting cross between a clanging bell and an unnervingly human scream. Its survival instincts kick in shortly after, lashing out with its many hooves as it tries in vain to escape whatever is causing it so much agonizing pain.
A nearby juvenile is struck, its small body flying limp through the air and landing in the middle of the gathering crowd. Another - the mother - joins in the screaming, charging forward. Its horns cut long gashes in its enemy’s flank, but the attack only gives the panicked creature a target. It counters with the fury of a cornered rat, teeth and horns and spurs and hooves fighting for their pound of flesh.
The leader shoves its way towards the crazed member of its herd, goring it roughly through the eye and out the back of its skull, but another fight has already broken out. The leader shakes the corpse free, turning to deal with the burgeoning conflict. The unaffected creatures close in on their newly felled companion, already beginning to feast.
It spreads. A third fight, this one by the felled body of the first infected. Luo Binghe’s mind is a single point, every thought turned to the movement of the parasites that rip and tear through soft tissue to get to optic nerves, to crawl along the delicate white strands towards brains, spines, hearts - whatever he can damage quickly and brutally enough to make more join in the chaos without outright killing them.
One becomes two, two becomes four, the blood parasites reproducing at a rate Luo Binghe would not be able to sustain in his own body without consuming it entirely. Within minutes the entire herd is caught up in the slaughter - the juveniles, the old, the infirm - all equally crazed by pain and the smell of fresh, succulent meat.
After nearly half an hour, Luo Binghe finally slumps against the trunk, giddy and lightheaded with the thrill of a perfect victory.
The clearing is a bloodbath. Not in a metaphorical way, either; the sand is so soaked in blood that large puddles have formed in the divots by the tree’s roots, staining the lowest bark an even darker black. Splintered bones and scraps of fur litter the ground, a carpet of meat and bile already being slowly consumed by the carnivorous plant life and the small and definitely poisonous rodent-like creatures driven from their flooded burrows.
Luo Binghe grins toothily down at the scene, the bloody pools reflected in his wide, red eyes.
“...Well.” Xin Mo says, unsure what else to say. “That worked surprisingly well.”
Luo Binghe turns that wide grin on him. His eyes soften, crinkling around the edges as his smile turns a bit less... well. Murdery.
“Mo-ge approves?” He says eagerly. “Mo-ge believes this disciple can hunt for him now?”
After that horrifying display?
...
“Within reason,” Xin Mo says cautiously. He feels like he should scold Binghe for being reckless, but nothing actually happened. He’d feel like he was nagging if he spoke up now after it’s all already done. Sure, if the leader had found him hiding up in the trees things could’ve turned a bit nasty, but it didn’t. The beast died like the rest of its herd. Binghe didn’t even get hurt except for the self-inflicted wounds on his hand.
Well. Actually, he does still want to scold Binghe for that little stunt.
“Binghe shouldn’t use his blood so recklessly,” Xin Mo says sternly. “What if you faint mid-battle?”
Luo Binghe leaps unsteadily from his perch down into the muck below.
“Mo-ge’s concerns are understandable," he says as blood and filth begin to soak through his boots. He wades further, towards the deepest part, the dull red stain reaching nearly up to his calves. "But this disciple has a solution."
He pulls out his waterskin, dunking it under the surface.
Oh, gross. He’d better not be planning on drinking that!!
Something moves at the edge of Xin Mo’s vision.
Xin Mo turns to look, but there’s nothing there except for the slowly cooling lake of blood, the surface gently rippling in the breeze.
No. Wait.
It’s not rippling. It’s writhing.
Thousands- millions of blood parasites surge forward, tumbling and slithering over each other like tiny eels racing beneath shallow waters. Luo Binghe scoops up as many as he can into his waterskin, tightening the cap on the bulging sack and tying it back at his waist. The rest climb eagerly up his legs, his arms, smothering him in a patchy carpet of wriggling red as they find their way to the wound on his hand to drill their way back inside. Luo Binghe’s pale cheeks become rosy, his lips flush, red capillaries encroach on the white of his cornea before the parasites finally seem to accept that no more will fit inside him.
The last of them slip back into the blood puddle, disappearing into the murky red muck.
“They can’t live outside a body for long,” Luo Binghe explains, patting his waterskin. “But this disciple can make use of these for at least a week, so long as they stay wet and fed.”
Xin Mo’s stomach has truly become adamantium-plated over these past few months. The only thing he can think of after seeing a horror movie scene like that is-
“So cool!” He blurts, unable to control himself. Luo Binghe startles, but puffs up, clearly proud. “How did you- of course, just like the succulents- growing them in enemies, replicating them outside your body- it's genius! I’ve never even thought to do something like that. I know Luo Binghe - future Luo Binghe, not you - could use his blood parasites to poison his enemies, but that was-" he pauses, overwhelmed by this new development. If he can do this- "brainwashing, tracking, healing, poisoning, pleasuring people to death, disease- no, not disease, infection? No, parasitism fits best, of course. How exactly do your blood parasites work?”
“Pleasure them... to death?” Luo Binghe murmurs, a lopsided look on his face. Xin Mo pays him no attention, too excited at the possibilities opening up before them.
“Binghe is truly a capable and intelligent young man, to come up with such a clever way to use his blood,” Xin Mo continues, already enamored with the half-baked plan forming in his mind. “We need to experiment immediately. How long can they survive without sustenance? How much direction is required to move them? Could they be made autonomous? Surely they have some sort of intelligence, there’s no way Binghe is directing each individually. Is it some sort of instinct? A hive mind, perhaps? Can they be specialized? Are their sizes fixed? Could they be used to carry-”
This is good, Xin Mo thinks as he mumbles excitedly to himself, unaware of the decidedly M-rated direction the protagonist’s distracted thoughts have turned, this is really good. It’s not as cool as a sword that can cut through space, but if Binghe can make good use of his blood, he won’t even need Xin Mo anymore! He won’t have to rely on something that’s constantly tearing him apart from the inside! He won’t have to hurt himself trying to stabilize Xin Mo’s rioting qi!
Where Xin Mo saw no way forward, suddenly a path has appeared. Luo Binghe just needs a re-spec.
Instead of focusing on maximizing his melee abilities, he can focus on summoning and status effects. The original Luo Binghe didn't bother branching out his blood parasite abilities since he had a sword that could do basically whatever he wanted, which means his Binghe has an entire world of unexplored possibilities before him. Adversity truly is the greatest teacher! Sure, there are a few enemies Binghe will have trouble with regardless, but for most of them - if he can just be clever about it - he’d be able to win any battle before it begins. And with Xin Mo’s knowledge...
He needs to start training Luo Binghe for his future conquests. If he knows who to trust and who to dope with blood from the outset, he’ll conquer the Demon Realm just fine, demonic sword or no demonic sword. Heck, maybe Xin Mo can help find him a replacement weapon while they’re down here! A lot of the hidden treasures in the Abyss take the form of weapons or armor, maybe Binghe could use something that works well with a blood-parasite-focused build. Claws, maybe? A crossbow? Brass knuckles? Surely he shouldn’t fight barehanded.
...Though it would be really cool, watching Binghe punch his fully armed and armored enemies to death. What a twist on the original Luo Binghe’s dark charm! How dominating! How intimidating! A pugilist Binghe would still probably lose to a swordfighter Binghe, but who even comes close to swordfighter Binghe’s strength, anyways!!
“Does Binghe want to try fighting bare-handed?” Xin Mo says offhandedly. “We could focus on drilling hand seals so this sword could infect enemies from a distance, see if a sort of tag-teaming approach would work better.”
Xin Mo looks up at the protagonist expectantly, at his starting-to-be-chiseled jaw, his flushed cheeks, his wide, glistening eyes watching him with a nervous, hopeful excitement.
Ah, he thinks. His Binghe truly is growing up.
It’s an oddly bittersweet feeling, to see the black lotus he’s helped raise beginning to fit the mold of the man he’s meant to become. Xin Mo knows it’s his system-enforced duty, knows it’s the thing he was literally brought here to do, to assist in fashioning Binghe into a finely honed weapon, but he also knows that even without his help Binghe would- will- inevitably blossom into the black hearted anti-hero he was always meant to be.
Isn’t it all a bit... awful, though?
He knows it’s selfish, but he almost wishes he and Binghe could stay here, in the Abyss. He knows that’s not what Binghe wants, knows that the one thing that carried him through this trial in PIDW was his insatiable desire for revenge, that he won’t be able to begin being happy until he’s brought down the man who hurt him most, but-
No. No, he won’t be the one to deny Binghe his happiness. He wants nothing more than for the protagonist to live a long and joyful life, and that part of the story only begins after he tortures Shen Qingqiu to death.
“This disciple would like nothing more,” Luo Binghe says firmly, voice loud in the silence of the dead clearing, “than to fight alongside Mo-ge.”
A perfectly-timed wind blows across the dense shrubland, gently ruffling the few still-dry strands of Luo Binghe's dark hair. He's wielding Xin Mo with an intensity that could only be (inadequately) described as heroic, the young man's serious expression touched with a dashing mix of courage and pride.
“Well then," Xin Mo pauses, trying not to get too lost in how cool that little declaration looked. "We’ll definitely need to practice. Perhaps from a distance, at first. Training your unarmed combat abilities without a solid understanding of how to maneuver this sword with hand seals will only spell disaster.”
“Yes, Mo-ge!”
“Since you’ve already cleared out the area, let's start here.” Plus there’s still an entire pond of blood mites that Binghe can wield, if worst comes to worst. Though they won’t be left alone for long with this much fresh carcass lying around. “The trees make as good a stationary target as any. We’ll find something that moves later.”
Luo Binghe grins, pulling his hair back with a hand marked with a starburst of already-scarring cuts. His demon mark glows in the dimming light - a perfect match with the red slowly creeping up the dingy white fabric of his pants, the last surviving piece of his old disciple's uniform.
“Yes!”
Notes:
1. "Luo Binghe uses his downward momentum..." -> "...but the cut is simply too deep."
Luo Binghe kills the first Bull efficiently and without detection.2. "A few nearby bulls..." -> "...to the feast."
Luo Binghe witnesses the cannibalistic behavior of the Bulls.3. "Luo Binghe lays Xin Mo’s blade across his left hand..." -> "...as Luo Binghe escapes across the canopy overhead."
Luo Binghe cuts his palm to coat Xin Mo in his blood parasites, and then kills a Bull. He kills a few dozen Bulls in this manner, poisoning their bodies with his blood.4. "Luo Binghe feels his parasites..." -> "...creatures driven from their flooded burrows."
Luo Binghe controls the blood parasites that have been eaten so far, causing a few Bulls to attack their companions. Chaos ensues. Every Bull dies in a mad frenzy. "After nearly half an hour, Luo Binghe finally slumps against the trunk, giddy and lightheaded with the thrill of a perfect victory."5. "Blood soaks through his boots..." -> "...disappearing into the murky red muck." Luo Binghe demonstrates that he can recall his blood parasites to recover from anemia. He also stores some in his waterskin. "Oh, gross[, Xin mo thinks]. He’d better not be planning on drinking that!!"
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