Feed The Beasts (Or They'll Feed On You)

by palladium_paladin

Summary:

Shen Yuan transmigrates into the body of the Peak Lord of the Beast Handling Peak.

With this comes some challenges: the scum villain and his white lotus disciple won't leave him alone, the System rejoices at any opportunity to bully him, and Shen Yuan needs to conquer his fear of animals.

Also, if he could quit breaking things on accident and keep his new (terrifying) disciples in line, he would appreciate that very much.

Chapter 1: Local Man Wakes to Find Himself Unexpectedly Jacked

Notes:

I've always enjoyed PIDW creature-obsessed Shen Yuan, but I wanted to put my own spin on it. Sure, he likes these creatures in theory. But in practice, with them right in front of him? I thought it'd be funny to make him freak the fuck out.

As an ardent consumer and critic of xianxia and wuxia literature, Shen Yuan did not often take time to go outside or offline. His parents, when they bothered to talk to him, gently encouraged him to go see what the world had to offer. His meimei had said, less delicately, that he needed to “touch grass,” even if she agreed with the rage-filled comments he left on whatever web novel he was reading at the time. He decidedly feigned ignorance of the meaning of the phrase. 

 

Part of his lack of quote-unquote “grass touching” was due to the continued fragility of his health. The rest was a result of his introverted nature and shut-in tendencies. His er-ge occasionally took it upon himself to drag him out of the house and to some upscale eatery or some overpriced store, and that was about as much in-person social interaction he could take from anyone outside of his family.

 

He made up for his tendency to sequester himself away, in part, by reading stories with interesting worlds and rich and varied settings and creatures. He wondered, on occasion, about the quality of life of the creatures that defied the laws of nature with their very existence. Surely some of their enormous horns had to give them neck problems, or their body-to-wing ratio made them unable to fly!

 

He'd been to a zoo (once) and seen his er-ge's small, quivering dog on several occasions (and stayed very, very far away from it- it was vicious), so he knew what he was talking about! His lacking practical experience was very well supplemented by whatever information he could find online.

 

One thing he'd never admit, though, was that he was actually a little terrified of most animals. It was one thing to admire their pictures and learn about their diet, habits, and native environment. It was another entirely to find oneself face-to-face with an erratic, unpredictable creature that could move and breathe and- gods forbid- touch him.

 

The universe was doubtlessly laughing at him when it shoved his soul into a new body.

 

He didn't realise where he was at first. One moment, he was being unapologetically murdered by food- how mortifying- and the next, he was staring up at the ceiling of an ancient residence, a man in traditional clothing bustling around at his bedside. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and incense, and Shen Yuan groaned. He felt like he'd been hit by a vehicle. 

 

“Ah, Lian-shidi is awake,” the man said, grasping Shen Yuan's wrist with clammy fingers. Shen Yuan only just stopped himself from making a face at this. If he had transmigrated, which he was becoming increasingly certain of, he didn't want to cause concern by acting uncharacteristic of the original goods, whoever that might be.

 

A thread of something chilled and foreign crept up his arm and into his chest and abdomen, cycling around and then exiting the way it came. That confirmed to him that he was likely a cultivator, though which novel setting he'd found himself in was still unclear.

 

“You gave your students quite a scare,” his shixiong continued, a light, scolding edge to his voice. “You were bitten by a Three-Headed Green Valley Serpent that had escaped its enclosure, and its venom sent you into a qi deviation. A rather severe one, at that. You're lucky Shen-shixiong had been passing by when he did. He very well might have saved your life.”

 

That's a stupid-ass name for an animal. Wait, Shen-shixiong?! He couldn't mean…

 

What were the odds he was in the very novel he'd just read? Cold dread built in his gut, and he asked, “Mu-shixiong?”

 

“Mn?” Mu Qingfang, Peak Lord of Qian Cao replied absently, scribbling something down in a notebook he'd procured from his sleeve. 

 

I'm so fucking screwed, Shen Yuan thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Mu Qingfang was saying something, but his thoughts were too frenzied to pay him any heed, which he'd probably regret later. But right now he just needed to… adjust. They'd definitely know something was up if he leapt up and started screaming in terror. He held his breath for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. Maybe if he wished hard enough, he would wake up back in the real world, where there were no vengeful, ruthless, bloodthirsty protagonists that would eagerly raze Cang Qiong to ashes and ground him into paste.

***

He did not wake up in the real world, where he was sickly but mostly safe from mutilation, being set on fire, or dismemberment. 

 

It turned out that Lian Qingliu was the Peak Lord of the Beast Handling Peak. His name had been mentioned all of one time in Proud Immortal Demon Way (there had been a commenter who had tallied up each time the minor peak lords had been mentioned). Poor Lian Qingliu had only been mentioned upon his death, where he had been, in a cruel twist of fate, torn apart by beasts that Luo Binghe had brought with him from the Demon Realm.

 

The details of his death had been unusually grisly and detailed for Airplane. Shen Yuan suspected he'd had a bad week; most of what he'd written that week had been unusually graphic in its depictions of violence. He recalled applauding his better-than-usual prose before tearing into that hack author for not mentioning the peak lord in any amount of detail previously.

 

What greeted him in the (bronze) mirror was in line with what little fanart of the guy had existed. His body was tall- so, so tall- and broad, packed with enough muscle that he could probably wrestle a rhinoceros and come out victorious. Fortunately, it wasn't in the uncanny bodybuilder way that he always saw pictures of online. His arms and torso were adorned with old scars, pale pink and silver tissue stark against his well-tanned skin. 

 

His face wasn't bad at all- he was handsome in a rugged, masculine way- but not ethereally beautiful as cultivators were often described. He had dark eyes, thick wavy hair, and freckles scattered across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose from countless hours spent in the sun. Another old scar, one that looked like it had been carved deeply into his skin, curved from his right temple to his ear, which had a chunk missing from its helix.

 

“You can do this,” Shen Yuan whispered to his reflection, trying to muster any semblance of confidence. He stared intensely into his(?) own eyes and gave an impassioned pep talk that made him feel a little bit better. He was fortunate nobody walked in on him during this and found himself furiously whispering to himself. If they had, it likely would've gotten him unceremoniously dragged off to see Hong Jing to be checked for possession. 

 

Once he'd finished, he decided that if he was going to be peak lord, he might as well look the part. He tied his hair up into a practical bun, ignoring the few flyaway hairs that escaped. His meimei loved to come over to get her hair done, and he'd dutifully follow whatever hair tutorial she'd found. She'd always griped that his fingers were more dexterous than hers. The robes he found were cut to allow a range of movement, and most were made of a slightly coarse, breathable material. 

 

He spied some finer silk robes stashed away in a wardrobe closet- which was anachronistic, but Airplane had put things such as tomatoes and potatoes in his novel, so clearly he hadn't cared- and an elaborate silver guan. He suspected the finery was typically reserved for peak lord meetings or visiting other sects.

 

He had soft leather vambraces that he tied carefully. They were a beautiful reddish-brown colour and carefully decorated with etchings of plants. He knew high-level cultivators tended to wear metal vambraces for martial purposes, but his job probably made leather the more practical option. There were a few scratches in the material that had probably been inflicted by talons. He shivered in distaste. He hoped that whatever had made them stayed far, far away from him.

 

Once he deemed himself presentable and ready to face the wider world of PIDW, he took one more deep breath in. He went to open the door, and pushed it open with the amount of force he-as-Shen-Yuan would've had to exert to do so. Unfortunately for him, Lian Qingliu was built like a brick shithouse and was a physical cultivator to boot. The door went flying and exploded into several pieces.

 

Ah, he thought despairingly, staring blankly at the splintered remains of his poor door. That might be an issue.

 

[User shouldn't be so forceful. It will make people suspicious.]

 

Shen Yuan stared at the small, transparent screen hovering before him.

 

System? he prodded hesitantly. From what he'd read, they tended to be either incredibly helpful or downright sadistic.

 

[(* ^ ω ^) Correct! User 002, Shen Yuan, has been bound to the role: Lian Qingliu- Peak Lord of Ling Shou Peak.]

 

Shen Yuan resisted making a face of disgust at the kaomoji. There was something insidious about it.

 

Are there any quests I have to complete that are integral to the main storyline?

 

The System seemed to mull this over for a moment before answering.

 

[User has no obligations, other than retaining his role as Peak Lord. User was considered for another role prior to his role assignment, but there were some issues when this System attempted to deposit his soul in the alternate vessel.]

 

What other role?

 

[Shen Qingqiu, the Xiu Ya Sword and Lord of Qing Jing Peak.]

 

A chill of foreboding went down Shen Yuan's spine. This thing was definitely evil if it was willing to allow an innocent person to be turned into a human stick. Things could've been much worse for him, and that he'd avoided such a grisly fate made him sigh in relief. He'd take getting torn apart by animals over spending years being tortured and slowly dismembered any day.

 

Is there any OOC function I need to be aware of?

 

[Lian Qingliu was a very minor character, without any defined attributes in the novel beyond his identity as lord of his peak. Here, however, people will know him to be jovial, outgoing, and gentle to both children and the beasts he oversees. Any discrepancies in his behaviour will be dismissed as lingering effects of his qi deviation! (o･ω･o)]

 

Would this by any chance include discomfort around animals?

 

[...]

 

[Is User afraid of animals?]

 

What's with this judgemental tone?! I wouldn't say I'm afraid! Shen Yuan protested, finally moving from where he'd frozen and picking his way to the remains of his door. I'm just… reasonably wary of them in person.

 

He was scooping up the splinters of wood when he heard a long, mechanical sigh in his head. It was hard not to feel offended. 

 

[User was always so vocal about the quality of the creatures of this world. This System's Admin thought getting to interact daily with such beasts would lend to an enjoyable experience for User Shen Yuan.]

 

Does this interaction include…waste removal?

 

[Indeed it does! User is in charge of overseeing the wellbeing of the people and creatures that call this peak their home! Responsible waste disposal is included in his duties!]

 

Shen Yuan was ready to spit blood, or maybe qi deviate again. He was unable to do either of those things, unfortunately. Instead, he simply tried to explode the System with his mind.

 

He'd failed on several occasions to keep houseplants alive. His er-ge and meimei had kept giving them to him despite their terrible fates. How was he supposed to keep a bunch of living beings from being killed or starving to death?

 

He dropped the pile of destroyed door splinters on his porch and sat heavily beside it, head in his hands. 

 

The System made a quiet ding and he could suddenly see it on the inside of his closed eyelids. Great, he couldn't escape it by refusing to look at it.

 

[Don't worry User! This System will download some files to help you adapt to your new role. You'll be the best peak lord this peak has ever seen!]

 

Shame it'll all be destroyed, Shen Yuan mused to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and pointedly ignored the download bar that lingered in his periphery when he opened his eyes. He noticed a bit of dirt and tiny slivers of wood under his fingernails, and dug them out with a sigh. At least the skin of his palms was so thick and callused that none of the splinters had managed to impale him there.

 

He hadn't been in any state to partake in physical labour in his past life. He'd also been fortunate enough as a fuerdai to not have to work if he so chose. His da-ge and er-ge had both been involved with the family business, and his meimei had been studying to become a marine biologist.

 

He had eventually gotten tired of lying in bed most of the day without doing anything, so he'd put out some offers and became an editor for a few authors online. His ‘professional’ work was much more reigned in than his lengthy posts on PIDW , but that didn't make it any less effective. It was nice to see his advice heeded, especially when it made a story better. He didn't bluster at Airplane for nothing, after all. His world and characters had potential.

 

Shen Yuan only allowed himself a few more moments to mope before he strengthened his resolve and got to his feet. His legs were still shaky and his body still felt like it had been smashed by several boulders, but the pain wasn't bad enough that he was going to pass out- or so he hoped.

 

He marched resolutely down the path from his house to the rest of the peak. He planned as he went. He would take today to get oriented with his peak's layout and his role as its lord. His usual duties were undoubtedly being covered thanks to his qi deviation.

 

Shen Yuan drifted along the stone paths, passing a myriad of different environments and enclosures. Part of the mountain consisted of verdant, sprawling fields of soft grasses and wildflowers. Insects fluttered lazily between the blades of grass and the flowers’ stems. Small herds of grazing creatures roamed the expanse, calling to each other with bleating cries. Another part was a thick, but controlled forest. The undergrowth and foliage was carefully maintained for easy traversal and relative visibility, and there was decent space between the trees, which were a blend of coniferous and deciduous. On the forest floor, leaf litter intermingled with soft mats of fragrant needles that had fallen from overhead. He saw a few figures trot by a good ways past the tree line, but he drew no nearer to investigate. 

 

Pools and streams were scattered about Ling Shou, their banks lined with rocks, sand, and water-loving plants. Lotuses carpeted the edges of some of the pools, and iridescent dragonflies hovered over the water's surface before flitting away. He did get near enough to a small, shallow pool to see a few fish darting around, half the size of his pinky finger and with delicate, gossamer fins.

 

He spied a few fences marking off the edges of various paddocks, though their height and construction material varied.

 

At the top of the peak, there was a large collection of stone and wood buildings, with neatly tiled roofs. Disciples, hallmasters, and teachers alike bustled along the paths, and a few called out greetings to him. He returned them as best he could. He asked the System for their names, but it was still displaying that damned progress bar, which was slowly but surely creeping closer to completion.

 

Very helpful, he sighed. If he saw anyone leading an animal, he hastened to move out of their way without being too obvious about it. 

 

Shen Yuan eventually found his way to Lian Qingliu's office. It was a small building, but the stone was unsullied and the wood polished. He managed to open the door without breaking it, this time. He hoped he wouldn't have to constantly modulate his strength for the rest of his life like this.

 

The inside of the building was reminiscent of a professor's office. A sturdy wooden desk was back near the far wall and had a few baubles besides the brush, inkstone, and two piles of paperwork. A plethora of bones, hides, feathers, and bundles of fur were nestled alongside countless books on the tall wooden shelves that took up most of the wallspace. Between the shelves were various colour sketches of beasts and their internal anatomy, and lists regarding the care of some… more difficult species that were kept on the peak.

 

Shen Yuan was so engrossed in examining a diagram of a Finned Blue-Scaled Aquatic Cat- it was a Vaporean, hack author- that he didn't notice someone had entered until he felt something lightly smack his shoulder.

 

He startled, and jumped about a foot in the air. An elegant man in pale green robes regarded him with an arched eyebrow and a thoroughly unimpressed look. His hand was wrapped around the jade guard of the very fan that had just been wielded against Shen Yuan.

 

“Lian-shidi is doing well to undermine this shixiong's efforts to keep him alive. Mu-shidi told you that rest is an essential part of recovery, did he not?”

 

His tone was icy and dripped with derision, but he wasn't entirely wrong. Mu Qingfang had probably said something about rest, but he'd been too busy spiralling in terror to pay attention to whatever he'd said before departing. Still, Shen Yuan could only gape at him. Another cheery ding sounded as the System finished its download. 

 

Awful timing, he mustered, unable to cease his staring. He probably looked like an idiot.

 

[User has found Shen Qingqiu! Congratulations! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧]

 

The fuck you mean, congratulations?!

 

“Since shidi has misplaced brain cells it appears he could not afford to lose, I'll get straight to the point,” Shen Qingqiu said, breaking the mortifying silence between them. He grinned, a sharp thing with teeth. “You owe me a favour, and I intend to collect.”

Notes:

I also made him jacked both because it made sense and because I thought it'd be funny.

I don't have an update schedule, but as a soon as a chapter is done, I'll post it!

Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 2: Go For It, Xiao Xingxing!

Summary:

Shen Yuan has a chat with Cang Qiong's resident Scum Villain, does some assigned reading, and gains a new mortal enemy.

Notes:

I finished this a lot faster than expected lol.

“You want me to do what?!”

 

“I don't understand why you're making me repeat myself, I think I made my request quite clear,” Shen Qingqiu said tartly, the lower half of his face concealed behind his fan. It was a nice fan too, with carefully painted cranes soaring among clouds and some poetry that Shen Yuan highly suspected was insulting in some manner. “But, I will do so this once, considering the circumstances.”

 

He then gave him a look so faux-sympathetic that Shen Yuan wanted to smack him. Just a little. 

 

[So violent, User!]

 

Then why do you sound so delighted by it?

 

Shen Qingqiu sighed long-sufferingly, like he was some kind of victim, “One of my youngest disciples managed, through some spectacular feat, to spill ink all over one of my classrooms, and, in the process, ruined several of his classmates’ paintings. The boy is a frequent trouble-maker, but in this specific instance I'm truly unsure whether it was an accident. That's the only thing that's stopping me from just whipping him like I normally would.”

“Whipping?!” Shen Yuan squawked, eyes wide. “Normally would?”

 

Oh, we're all so fucking screwed. System, get me outta here! There's no way he's not talking about Luo Binghe!

 

[This System would like to remind User that he cannot abandon his role. If he attempts to do so, this System will have to activate its Punishment Protocol. (･ω<)☆]

 

Don't fucking wink at me! And why the hell do you seem so pleased by the idea?!

 

Shen Qingqiu watched his mental breakdown with interest, “Is corporal punishment not the primary form of behavioral correction on your peak? Every other peak does so.”

 

“That doesn't make it okay,” Shen Yuan said weakly, worrying one of the small bundles of fur from his shelves in his hands. It was a nice russet and cream colour, and it was unbelievably soft. “It's not going to have a place here, going forward. Anyways, sorry. Your disciple's discipline.”

 

Shen Qingqiu stared at him with that piercing gaze a few moments longer, then continued. “I've devised a different solution, since I'm unsure of the little beast's guilt. I'll send him over here in a few days time to help scoop up… refuse. That way, there's retribution for the victims of his clumsiness, and he learns to mind where he walks.”

 

Shen Yuan begrudgingly understood his reasoning. It wasn't a bad idea. He just didn't want to collect any more death flags than his character already had. It might inspire Luo Binghe to get even more creative with his eventual slaughter. “I don't know…”

 

“The whip it is then,” Shen Qingqiu said pleasantly, that sharp smile back on his face while he watched Shen Yuan's reaction. Evil bastard. He already knew he'd won. “And Lian-shidi would still owe me a favour, to be collected whenever I so desire.”

 

“...Fine, I'll take him for the day,” Shen Yuan acquiesced, feeling suddenly very tired. “Just let me know when, so I can set things up.”

 

“Good,” Shen Qingqiu said, and fanned himself lightly. He went to leave, but paused in place, head slightly cocked. “I do admit, I am curious about your plans for discipline protocols. Perhaps I'll invite you over for tea, and we can discuss your methods.”

 

Please don't!

 

“After all, as lord of the scholarly peak, it is my job to compile as much information as possible and adjust my own methods accordingly. Good day, shidi. If you qi deviate again, I'll put you down myself.”

 

With that delightful little threat, he left, he robes sweeping majestically as he went. Shen Yuan stared blankly at the grain of his desktop and wondered whether he'd practised that.

 

He was undoubtedly going to die. He was going to die, and it was going to be Shen Qingqiu's fault.

***

Even in his fugue state, he somehow found his way back to the house he'd awoken in. His body seemed to possess some measure of muscle memory, but he was unsure how much there was exactly.

 

Shen Yuan stared morosely at the sad pile of door splinters. He'd get that fixed… eventually. At least there was another door between his bedroom and the rest of the house- provided he didn't break that one as well.

 

He sat himself at the low table in the center of the room and rested his forehead against it. Maybe he should allow himself a few moments to freak out a little, maybe have himself a nice scream. As a treat.

 

System?

 

[Yes, User? This System is available 24/7, provided there are no software updates or disconnections from the power source!]

 

Power source? What power source? You know what, never mind. I don't think I want to know. Is there any way to keep characters relevant to the plot far, far away from me?

 

[There is not. Any continuous efforts to drive them away will likely raise their suspicions regarding User Shen Yuan, and that might cause issues.]

 

Great, got it.

 

[Would User like a distraction from his impending doom?]

 

Yes. Please.

***

Shen Yuan read through each page carefully, lips moving silently as he picked his way through the veritable mountain of information. The System had cheerfully materialized a dossier from nowhere, the glossy papers landing in a neat stack before him.

 

He took careful notes in a leather-bound notebook he'd found in one of the qiankun pouches in his bedroom, taking great care to make his notes incomprehensible to anybody poking around. They were written in an unholy amalgamation of Pinyin, English, and French.

 

His er-ge was a part of the International Relations Department at the family company, and had insisted upon Shen Yuan learning a third language because it would provide him with “some necessary stimulation that the brainless drivel you read clearly doesn't give to you."

 

Shen Yuan knew the real reason his brother had wanted him to learn was to be able to gossip and talk shit without anybody being able to call him out on it. His er-ge always did have the best gossip. 

 

All those years of painstaking study came in handy now.

 

When night fell, he found a lamp inlaid with night pearls, and he set it next to him so he could continue diligently working. Every so often, a light breeze blew in from the doorway, ruffling his hair and scattering his papers. He spat a few choice words each time he had to crawl around and collect them off the floor.

 

He worked through sections on administrative duties, peak hierarchy, emergency procedures, feeding schedules, employee rosters, supply orders, information about his new martial siblings, and information about Lian Qingliu himself. There wasn't much on the latter subject, but he eagerly lapped up whatever crumbs he could get.

 

Lian Qingliu was the son of a farmer and ensured that everyone who came to his peak was treated well and given the tools they needed to succeed. He had retained a lot of the hallmasters and teachers from the previous peak lord's time, which was a bit unusual. He had a soft spot for beasts that were incredibly dangerous and thought that they were “generally misunderstood.” Shen Yuan snorted. One look at his arms told him exactly how misunderstood some of those things probably were. The original goods also hired some of the strays Mu Qingfang brought back from his out-of-sect clinics as staff or beast handlers. Shen Yuan prayed that there were additional safety measures for any handlers that were non-cultivators.

 

When he'd finally finished, the System vanished the entire stack and informed him that he could access them any time he needed. Shen Yuan just grunted in acknowledgment, his head so stuffed with new information that it felt like it was going to explode.

 

Just past midnight, he flopped down face first on his bed and simply laid there, pretending to be dead. He fell into a fitful sleep, waking up every half a shichen. Just after dawn, he finally gave up trying to get any more rest and forced himself to get ready for the day. His body felt slightly less sore than it did yesterday. He supposed it was the little victories that made life worth living.

 

He fixed his hair and changed into a different set of robes- he'd sweat an unnatural amount in his sleep. He'd felt unusually warm since he'd transmigrated, whereas in his old body he'd had to wear sweatshirts and thick socks because he was always cold. He wasn't sure which he preferred.

 

Shen Yuan had a tentative schedule today, cobbled together from the scraps of information he'd been given. Thankfully, it didn't seem like he had to interact with too many beasts yet. He could do this. He'd grab fate by the balls and… he wasn't really sure where he was going with that, to be honest.

 

[User seems to be in a better mood than yesterday. This System wishes you luck!]

 

Shen Yuan eyed it with blatant distrust. 

 

“Thanks.”

 

[User doesn't have to sound so skeptical! ( ; ω ; )]

 

I don't trust you, he thought at it grumpily, and followed the paths halfway up the peak, stopping occasionally to consult the map he'd pieced together from his brief jaunt yesterday. His first task for the day: feeding the eight-legged horses.

 

Looking at the creatures in the pasture, they appeared to be regular horses that happened to have twice as many legs as usual.

 

Should be simple enough. 

 

He grabbed a few buckets of feed from the shed just outside the gate to their paddock. Horses are… not so bad. That didn't mean he would ever forget that video he'd seen of a horse just slurping up those baby chickens. He suppressed a shiver of fear. Can horses smell fear?

 

[In this world they can!]

 

That doesn't make me feel any better.

***

Shen Yuan stared at the distant blue sky as he fought to suck in a breath. Did he want to get up yet? No, he didn't think so.

 

[User should be aware that it is unwise to approach a horse from its blind spot.]

 

“And you wait until now to tell me?!” Shen Yuan wheezed, clutching his chest and curling into a little ball. He'd been kicked full-force in the chest, and if he weren't a cultivator, his ribcage would've crumpled like wet paper. He had been sent flying, though.

 

[Xiao Xingxing is coming back to finish the job. This System advises User to relocate from his current position expeditiously.]

 

He heard a rather aggressive whinny from not too far away, and he was up and sprinting away in an instant. The sound of hooves was quickly growing louder.

 

[Xiao Xingxing is chasing you.]

 

“I noticed! And there is nothing little about that thing!” Shen Yuan shouted, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. It was taller than he was, and its body rippled with muscle under its roan coat. Xiao Xingxing was catching up very quickly.

 

[This System advises User to run faster.]

 

“How?” Shen Yuan howled, zigzagging sharply to buy him time. This seemed to confuse the horse.

 

[User has the body and abilities of a physical cultivator, and thus, can use qi to enhance his body for attacks and other physical endeavours. This System recommends channeling your qi to the muscles of your legs, which will allow you to move much faster.]

 

It was damn near impossible to think of anything but his own impending death via trampling, but he gave it a shot anyway. He recalled how Mu Qingfang's qi had looped carefully through his spirit veins and through his dantians, and if he focussed hard enough, he could feel the warm current of his own qi. He could feel its brightness and the path it ran through his body, circulating around his core and out to his extremities and back. Okay, so that was that part figured out, but that didn't answer how he was going to move it to his legs.

 

[Push. It's like flexing a muscle.]

 

How?! Shen Yuan wondered, stumbling when one of his feet caught on the lip of a hole in the dirt, nearly breaking his ankle. Xiao Xingxing took the opportunity to charge him.

 

Oh shit.

 

He dove out of the way as the horse barreled past. Once it realised it had surpassed its target, it skidded to a stop, recalibrated, and charged him again.

 

He ran, and this time he pushed. He didn't know exactly how he did it- it was like a switch had been flipped and legs burned with the quantity of the qi he was feeding into them. 

 

There was a slight shift in his senses, and suddenly the distance between him and the paddock's gate was falling away like it was nothing. The world narrowed to the frantic rhythm of his heart, each slightly rasping breath, each long stride and the flexion and extension of the muscle fibres in his thighs and calves. It almost was as if he was flying. A part of him wanted to remain like this forever, light as air and swift as the wind.

 

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Shen Yuan slowed as he neared the gate, and jumped it with ease (despite it being about the same height as him). He stumbled to a stop and leaned against one of the fence posts, trying to catch his breath. 

 

The bizarreness of the situation quickly caught up with him, and he was unable to stifle a slightly hysterical laugh. Ah, how absurd. The flood of qi mostly receded from his legs back into its regular circulatory pathway through his meridians.

 

The adrenaline went away right along with it, and his chest throbbed. He shot Xiao Xingxing, who was hovering furiously on the other side of the fence, the stink eye. Stupid horse. He hoped he didn't have to face it tomorrow. If any horse could hold a grudge, this one undoubtedly could.

 

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Important things come in threes!]

 

[Starter Quest: <Let's Get Physical!> Completed!]

 

[+10 B-Points]

 

[Current Balance: 110 B-Points]

 

What are B-Points? And you didn't tell me I had a quest, even after I specifically asked!

 

[This System chose not to mention it considering the addled mental state of User Shen Yuan at the time. Going forward, User will be informed of any available or ongoing quests.]

 

[B-Points are points awarded based on the user's choices and their effect on this world and its inhabitants. These points can be used to purchase small boosts and scenario pushers! If User reaches a balance of zero, you will be forcibly returned to your own world!]

 

The world where I'm dead?

 

[That is correct!]

 

…I hate you.

 

[User! 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜° ]

Notes:

I am slightly afraid of horses.

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 3: A Shitty Situation

Summary:

A wild Binghe appears!

Notes:

Many thanks to my beta reader, StormyCanDraw!

It was three long, miserable days before Shen Qingqiu decided that it was time to foist the hapless protagonist upon him.

 

Shen Yuan had been lying despondently on his bed, face-down when he received a missive from the Qing Jing Peak Lord. He'd been pressing his face into his sheets in the vain hope that he would suffocate to death. His prayers remained, as per usual, unanswered.

 

Each morning, he'd dragged himself out of bed to feed the dread horse Xiao Xingxing, who thoroughly despised him by this point. Apparently, eight-legged horses were perfectly capable of holding grudges.

 

Afterwards, he would pop into a few classes to observe and see what kind of information the disciples of Ling Shou were taught. Once, he'd lingered to listen to a fascinating lecture on the differences between the circadian rhythms of certain flesh-based versus plant matter-based creatures.

 

The rest of his day centered around administrative work, which had been remarked upon by his head disciple, who typically dealt with most of it. 

 

There had also been a handful of accidents and… odd happenings since. Shen Yuan had the pleasure of smacking his head on several doorframes that were just a centimetre or two too short for Lian Qingliu's body. He'd also destroyed another door accidentally- a classroom door. He'd had the distinct, mortified displeasure of having a room of people stare at him in complete shock, and he'd quickly excused himself and hidden in his house for a few hours until his thin face allowed him to emerge. He'd had to fly someone to Qian Cao after they'd snuck into the Armoured Armadillo Bear’s enclosure and been mauled so badly that their arm hung from their body by a few flimsy threads of sinew. He'd thrown up in a flowerpot at the sight of the viscera. He'd received a threatening note from a colony of Petal-Winged Sentient Butterflies demanding a larger amount of meat in their diet. Shen Yuan had several questions regarding this. Why did butterflies eat meat? Who'd taught them to write? Did they have the emotional capacity to feel existential dread? The butterflies promised retribution if their demands weren't met, but never specified what said retribution might look like. His head disciple advised he ignore them, as this had not been the first note they'd received.

 

The most confusing thing of all was the toad situation. There lived, on the peak, a giant toad. There was nothing special about this toad beyond its size, which put it roughly at the dimensions of an SUV. Several of the hallmasters had submitted complaints about the younger disciples sneaking out of their dorms in the middle of the night, finding their way to the toad, and lighting candles while chanting in tongues, or something. Some of them even left offerings, which always disappeared within a day, regardless of where they'd been left.

 

His curiosity piqued, Shen Yuan had gone to look at the toad, watching it from a safe distance. He'd watched, narrow-eyed, as a flock of the little disciples happily gathered around it to work on their assignments, babbling loudly and cheerfully. The braver few leaned against its bumpy side while the toad simply sat there. Menacingly.

 

Even though nobody had been eaten, Shen Yuan still resolved to give it a wide berth. As he'd walked away, he spied one of the senior disciples lingering nearby, supervising the group. Shen Yuan gave them a commiserating pat on the shoulder- one of the original good's ingrained habits that had transferred to him through this body- before he returned to his duties.

 

Shen Yuan had just released a long, drawn-out, and surprisingly cathartic groan into his (uncomfortable) porcelain pillow when something brushed against his fingers. He blearily raised his head and found a paper bird- a goshawk, as the System informed him helpfully- fluttering around his hand. He released his death-grip on his pillow and offered his open palm to it, where it landed and unfolded itself to reveal a note. The paper was thick and high-quality, and the writing impeccably neat. Shen Yuan sat bolt upright. Even before reading its contents, it was blatantly obvious who'd penned the note.

 

Lian-shidi, I'll bring you my disciple tomorrow at dawn. Make whatever preparations necessary. We will meet you at the entrance of your peak. Do not be late.

-Shen Qingqiu

 

At least he wouldn't have this hanging over his head any longer.

 

[New Quest Available: <Oversee Luo Binghe's Punishment>]

 

[Reward for Completion: 20 B-Points]

 

[Penalty for Failure: Shen Qingqiu's Ire]

 

[Accept? <Y/N>]

 

Shen Yuan reluctantly tapped the ‘Y’ to accept the quest, and scowled at the cheery jingle the System made. He would've taken the damn quest either way, but having it presented like this felt akin to coercion. After all, nobody sane would invite the Scum Villain's displeasure onto themselves. Doing so was practically begging to be poisoned!

 

[User should go speak to his subordinates about his plans for the protagonist rather than languish in his bed.]

 

“No need to make it sound so ominous,” Shen Yuan grumbled, fixing it with a glare. “And I deserve a lay-in after the last few days. I've been thrust into a position of authority I had no preparation for!”

 

[If User needs additional motivation, this System can detract B-points for each minute you procrastinate! („• ᴗ •„)]

 

Shen Yuan scrambled about, limbs flailing, and promptly fell off of his bed. He sighed and stood, dusting his thin inner robes off. Calmly, he said, “You can take your so-called ‘motivation’ and shove it up your nonexistent ass.”

 

[Other Systems have informed this System that its nonexistent ass is very shapely and appealing. (¬‿¬ )]

 

“How- ugh. I didn't ask!”

***

Shen Yuan arrived at the gates of his peak a solid half-hour before dawn, reasonably paranoid at the prospect of inviting Shen Qingqiu's wrath upon himself by keeping him waiting.

 

It was a nice morning- the air soothingly cool on his face and perfumed with the scent of pine. A few strands of his hair had escaped the braided bun that he'd painstakingly scraped his thick mane into, and they swayed in the breeze. In a nearby tree, a pair of birds crowed.

 

His first few days here, he'd thought his peak startlingly quiet. It was devoid of all the sounds he was used to- sirens and car horns and people going about their business on the streets. He'd soon realised it was noisy here as well, but in a different way- in the creak of the wind in the branches, the flow of water through the rivers and ponds, and the calls of the creatures that called his peak home.

 

His heart raced with a nauseating blend of fear and anticipation when he spied two figures on a sword that was approaching rapidly. Shen Yuan pushed off of the column he'd been leaning against and fixed his expression into something friendly that he prayed concealed his terror.

 

How do I look, System?

 

[Like you're mere moments from pissing yourself. It's pointless, User. Shen Qingqiu can smell fear from a mile away.]

 

He's not a goddamn shark! Not helpful!

 

Shen Qingqiu landed gracefully, his robes fluttering around him like a fairy, the layers of green, artfully embroidered silk depicting scenes of tranquil bamboo forests. 

 

Shen Yuan had never felt more brutish or unwieldy than when he stood before him. 

 

Shen Qingqiu sheathed the faintly glowing Xiu Ya with one smooth motion and flashed him a cold smile. An adolescent- Luo Binghe- stood behind his master, mostly hidden from view.

 

“Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu greeted, pulling his fan from his sleeve and fluttering it. “I expect everything is in order?”

 

“Yes, Shen-shixiong,” Shen Yuan said placidly, forcing himself to meet Shen Qingqiu's gaze and hold it. It was as he'd heard in one of the classes the other day. When confronted with a predator, maintain eye contact and stand your ground. Don't turn your back. Don't run, lest you become its next meal.

 

“Good,” Shen Qingqiu said, using his fan to conceal the lower portion of his face. He was using a different one than he had the other day; today's selection depicted a fish with radiant white and golden-orange scales, its body twisting sinuously across the fan's leaf. Shen Yuan silently approved his choice. He'd found that the small fish that populated most of the ponds on Ling Shou were the one kind of creature that he'd encountered thus far that hadn't activated his fight-or-flight instincts. The fish would nibble the dead skin from your hands if you stayed still long enough. If he'd shrieked in a pitch nearly too high for humans to hear the first time that it had happened, well, that was between him and the System. He hoped, at least. It seemed like a little snitch. “Come greet your martial uncle, Little Beast.”

 

With undisguised reluctance, Luo Binghe stepped forward and bowed, eyes resolutely fixed on the grass. “This Luo Binghe greets Lian-shishu.”

 

Shen Yuan suppressed the urge to squeal and coo over him. What a precious little bun! A fluffy little sheep! It was hard to believe the boy who stood before him was destined to become a fearsome demon lord, especially while his face still retained some of the softness of youth.

 

Shen Yuan smiled, more genuinely this time, and said, “This Lian Qingliu greets Luo-shizhi. Has your shizun explained your purpose here?”

 

Luo Binghe's eyes darted up to glance at him, then back down as he nodded. 

 

“Yes,” he said softly, “To receive punishment for my misdeeds.”

 

Aiya! So somber!

 

Shen Yuan resisted the urge to reach out and pinch the boy's cheek like an old lady. Perhaps his inevitable death would worth it, just for this. He returned his attention to Shen Qingqiu. “Shall I bring him back at dusk?”

 

“At the earliest,” he sneered, tossing his glossy, ink-black hair over his shoulder to correct the few rogue strands that the wind had disturbed. “So long as he's learned his lesson by then. Thoroughly.”

 

Shen Qingqiu addressed Luo Binghe harshly, “If I hear any reports of misbehavior or I feel you haven't been sufficiently punished? Discipline whip.”

 

“Yes, Shizun,” Luo Binghe said, head lowered deferentially. 

 

With a snort and a long look at Shen Yuan that promised torment should he not make Luo Binghe suffer to his exacting standards, he swept away across the rainbow bridge. Probably off to menace another peak lord, considering he was traveling on foot.

 

Softly clearing his throat, Shen Yuan turned back to Luo Binghe, who was already watching him unhappily. He looked like he wanted to bolt.

 

“Did your shizun specify what exactly you'll be doing here today?” Shen Yuan asked, trying to inflect some gentleness for a boy who had experienced so little of it. He was unsurprised when Luo Binghe shook his head. Shen Qingqiu seemed exactly the sort of bastard to keep his disciples on tenterhooks.

 

He reached out to pat the boy on his shoulder, but aborted the motion when Luo Binghe twitched away from him. It was a small, brief movement, nigh unnoticeable, but Shen Yuan's eyes were inhumanly keen. He retracted his hand.

 

Prior to his transmigration, he'd been a scrawny nerd that nobody in their right mind would be scared of. He hadn't been crazily tall, and his muscularity had been laughable. Taking a hit from him would've been about as painful as being stung by a nettle. 

 

But now… well, he'd seen the looks cast his way when he'd ventured off his peak to gawk at the rest of the sect. The apprehension that coloured the faces of those in his proximity regardless of how open or friendly he was. He couldn't blame them for it. If he'd seen someone like Lian Qingliu in his old life, he would've stayed the hell away. 

 

He didn't want Luo Binghe to be scared of him. He didn't want anyone to be scared of him. Well, with the exception of that bastard horse.

 

He stooped down so his face was level with Luo Binghe's. His er-ge had done this, when Shen Yuan was young and would come home from school bawling because the other kids bullied him. Such a thing did not come naturally to his brother, but he'd done his best with him and his meimei. “Today's not going to be very fun for you, I will admit. You have the distinct honour of getting to scoop some of the animal shit we've got piling up around here.”

 

Luo Binghe grimaced, but he looked slightly less inclined to flee. “Might this lowly one ask why Shizun has put his punishment in Lian-shishu's hands?”

 

“Beats me, kid,” Shen Yuan said with a shrug. He straightened and beckoned for Luo Binghe to follow, leading him onto the peak. He made a silent note of the distance Luo Binghe left between them. "He says you spilled ink all over one of the classrooms and he was unsure whether it was intentional or not.”

 

“And your job is to discern whether it was?”

 

“No,” Shen Yuan said, ducking under a branch that only he seemed to be having issues with. It liked to catch on his hair, and he was on the verge of ripping it clean off the tree it was attached to. The System had been mocking him about it.

 

[Because having a vendetta against one specific tree limb is a bit pathetic, User.]

 

Who asked you?!

 

“Your guilt or innocence is irrelevant at this point, considering you're here to be punished. Have you had breakfast, shizhi?”

 

“What?” Luo Binghe asked, stumbling over his own feet in surprise.

 

Poor little white lotus, ah. That makes the possibility of the ink spill being an accident slightly more plausible.

 

“Have you had breakfast?” Shen Yuan repeated patiently. “Much of the work we do here on Ling Shou is physically taxing, which means that our disciples need proper nourishment. That same courtesy extends to guests as well.”

 

Luo Binghe looked torn, but he did eventually shake his head no- he had not. No surprises there. Shen Yuan sighed and nodded to himself before he changed course and set them on the path towards the dining hall.

 

Might as well get some meat on his bones.

 

[Are you going to fatten him up so you can eat him later?]

 

You're comparing me to a storybook witch now? You're losing your touch, System. 

***

The heat became increasingly oppressive the further into the afternoon it got, but Shen Yuan did not seek out shade as any rational person would've. Instead, he basked in the sunlight, the radiant beams warmed him from the inside out.

 

He was supervising Luo Binghe with sharp eyes, on the lookout for any signs of exhaustion- whether it be heat exhaustion or just plain old physical exhaustion. The boy's face dripped with sweat and strands of his hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck, but overall, he didn't look too miserable. The water breaks Shen Yuan forced him to take every half hour probably helped. 

 

He'd made a face at the stench of the animal waste when they'd arrived at the first paddock, but it didn't seem to bother him anymore. Shen Yuan had learned all too well how quickly you go nose blind to that sort of thing.

 

If he recalled correctly, it was around this time of the story that Ming Fan and his cronies had barred Luo Binghe from Qing Jing's dining hall, which forced him to forage for his food. Shen Yuan had been impressed by his restraint when they'd sat down for their meal. Luo Binghe had eaten in quick but neat bites, and had looked almost disappointed when all of his food was gone. It had been the same at midday, when they'd stopped for lunch.

 

Shen Yuan squinted at the sun's position and glanced back at Luo Binghe. Probably about time to call it quits. It was nearly five, by his estimate, and they'd been here pretty much since eight. Luo Binghe had silently endured his punishment, and Shen Yuan felt an unspeakable amount of sympathy for him.

 

“A moment, Luo-shizhi?” he called, and Luo Binghe's head snapped towards him at the sound of his voice. He nodded and picked his way over carefully.

 

“How can this one help Shishu?”

 

Luo Binghe still looked like he half-expected Shen Yuan to pummel him into the dirt, but the space he maintained between them had decreased slightly. Small victories, Shen Yuan supposed.

 

“You're done for today, so finish up whatever you need to.”

 

Rather than looking pleased, Luo Binghe looked horribly tense, his face the same impassive mask his teacher liked to wear. He returned his shovel to its place and slowly made his way over to where Shen Yuan waited.

 

“Has this one done anything wrong?”

 

The question took Shen Yuan off guard, and he blinked owlishly for a moment before he adamantly shook his head. “No, Luo-shizhi did a fine job today. I was thinking that you might want dinner before I sent you back, though it is a tad early for it.”

 

Luo Binghe's jaw clenched, but he nodded and made no protest as they made their way back towards the dining hall. Shen Yuan softly reminded him to drink some water en route.

 

They stopped to wash their hands in stone basins just outside, which was a feature Shen Yuan had been pleasantly surprised by the first time he'd seen them.

 

The dining hall was abuzz with activity, people gathered around the tables and ducking in and out, the din of their voices lending to a comfortable atmosphere. Luo Binghe did not look particularly comfortable as he tucked into his meal, knuckles white around his utensils. Shen Yuan calmly ate his meal, knowing full well he'd have a mental breakdown later, when he was alone. He sighed and stirred at some of the broth at the bottom of his bowl. He still needed to get that damned door fixed…

 

“It was intentional.”

 

“Hm?” he asked distractedly, glancing up to find Luo Binghe looking him dead in the eye. There was a challenge in his expression, like he was daring Shen Yuan to retaliate. A chill worked its way down his spine at its intensity.

 

“I spilled the ink on purpose.”

 

“Why… are you telling me this?” Shen Yuan asked with a knit brow. He quickly ran through the day to see if he'd done anything to prompt this confession. He came up with nothing, and hoped he didn't look as confused as he felt.

 

“Shishu is overseeing my punishment. Does he not wish to adapt his treatment of me based on this new information?” Luo Binghe said, and he sounded almost… angry.

 

Ah. I see what's happening here. Shen Yuan gently set his spoon down and laced his fingers together. “Did those disciples do something to you to deserve having ink spilled all over their paintings?”

 

Luo Binghe blinked, anger mingling with confusion. “Yes, but-”

 

“A word of advice for Shizhi,” Shen Yuan said, leaning closer and lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Don't be so obvious next time.”

 

[What is User doing?]

 

What my brother did for me.

 

“What does Shishu mean?” Luo Binghe asked, suddenly keen on avoiding his eye once more.

 

“If Luo-shizhi wishes to exact his vengeance on his peers, he should utilise his intelligence and be more covert about it,” Shen Yuan said, wracking his brain to recall that conversation he'd had with his er-ge a decade before. “Especially if he can't defeat his opponents in a straight-up brawl.”

 

[Does User really think that this is a good-]

 

Yes, let me talk.

 

“So Shishu thinks I shouldn't fight back directly?” Luo Binghe asked, looking confused, as if nobody had ever suggested such a thing to him before. Of course nobody has! This noble white lotus faces his problems head-on rather than through underhanded means! But was it really underhanded if it was merely getting back at those who ruthlessly tormented him? Especially if it might convince his tormentors to leave him be?

 

“Not if you're faced with a fight you know you cannot win through your usual means,” Shen Yuan said, picking back up his spoon and twirling it between his fingers. “If they will not play fair, why should you be expected to be held to such standards? Frame them, take or destroy their things, figure out how to get their privileges revoked, sneak wild animals into their dorms. A little planning can go a long way."

 

“But that's-”

 

“Dishonest? Underhanded? Honourless?” Shen Yuan laughed bitterly. People had turned a blind eye to his own suffering, so he'd had to take matters into his own hands. What was it his er-ge had said? “Honour isn't a luxury that everyone can afford. Honour doesn't matter one bit if you're being beat within an inch of your life, or if someone is trying to take something precious from you. If you can turn things back on your tormentors, maybe it'll finally get the message across that they should leave you alone.”

 

He has a feeling that Luo Binghe is thinking of his own childhood now. Slowly, reluctantly, Luo Binghe nodded.

 

“I will reflect on what Shishu says.”

 

[+5 Character Depth for Luo Binghe]

 

Shen Yuan tensed at the notification, a premonition of disaster rising in his gut. It was probably not the best idea to encourage a future demon lord to use his brain cells, especially with the capacity for devastation he would eventually possess. But this fourteen-year-old boy in front of him was far from a ruthless overlord, and perhaps some retaliation against his tormentors would temper some of his need to raze Cang Qiong to the ground.

 

Oh well, you can't unmilk a cow.

 

Shen Yuan smiled and offered his remaining food to Luo Binghe. He suddenly wasn't feeling very hungry. “Good. Shizhi should also know that if he ever needs help or respite, he is welcome here.”

 

Luo Binghe's eyes widened in surprise. The rest of the meal passed in silence, but Shen Yuan felt he had passed some kind of test.

***

“You're sure you don't want me to fly you back to your peak? It's a bit of a walk,” Shen Yuan said, arms folded across his broad chest. 

 

“This one is quite sure. Thanking Shishu for his generosity,” Luo Binghe said, his words accompanied by a slight smile. He'd walked beside Shen Yuan back to the gate, which was far more progress than Shen Yuan had expected in just a few hours.

 

“Shizhi did well today. Give this to your shizun upon your return to Qing Jing,” Shen Yuan said, pressing a slip of paper into his hand that confirmed that Luo Binghe had spent his day toiling away, and had done an admirable job of it. Absently, he patted the boy's fluffy head, and Luo Binghe went absolutely rigid before Shen Yuan's brain caught up with him. He pulled his hand back as though he'd been burned and chuckled nervously, “Apologies, Luo-shizhi. Have a good night.”

 

Luo Binghe stared at him for a few long, awkward moments, slightly dazed, before his cheeks flushed and he turned and sprinted away down the rainbow bridge.

 

[Quest: <Oversee Luo Binghe's Punishment> Completed!]

 

[+20 B-Points]

 

[Total B-Points: 130 B-Points]

 

[+5 Protagonist Satisfaction Points]

 

[Good job, User! Keep up the great work! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆]

 

Good work? Shen Yuan thought semi-hysterically. Good work?! I just put my hands on him and encouraged malicious behaviour! He's going to kill me! He's going to rip off my hands and shove them where the sun doesn't shine!

 

[This System applauds User's impulsivity! User has now piqued Luo Binghe’s curiosity!]

 

Piqued his curiosity?! That's the last thing I wanted!

 

[Oops. (￣▽￣*)ゞ]

 

What do you mean ‘oops’?! If I die, I'm dragging you with me, you piece of shit!

 

He reluctantly turned when he heard the sound of someone approaching, and found his head disciple bent over, gasping for breath. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd run all over the mountain looking for him.

 

“Shizun,” she wheezed, mopping her forehead with her sleeve, “The Petal-Winged Sentient Butterflies! They've kidnapped one of the newest disciples for ransom!”

 

No rest for the weary, it would seem. He wished he could get himself fired.

 

[This System would like to remind-]

 

I know, okay! I'm allowed to think about how nice it would be, though! Or is that not allowed anymore? All I want is some rest.

 

[User can rest when he's dead.]

 

Thanks to my own idiocy, that will likely be sooner rather than later.

 

“What are their demands?” Shen Yuan asked with a sigh, massaging his temples. 

 

“More meat, like their threatening notes said,” his head disciple said. Her head tilted thoughtfully. “Do you think we could set the giant toad on them?”

 

“And further encourage the deranged worship of the damned thing if it works out?” Shen Yuan asked with a snort. “I won't stop you if you want to try, but if the disciples start doing blood sacrifices to it, you're responsible.”

Notes:

Soundtracks are the lifeblood of my multi-step chapter creation process. Highly recommend the Blue-Eye Samurai soundtrack, the Planet Earth III soundtrack, and the Lego Ninjago Season 2 soundtrack.

Unfortunately, I am only capable of writing action scenes to 'Now or Never' from High School Musical 3. It's a curse.

Chapter 4: You Must Be This Tall To Ride On The Magical Flying Weapon

Summary:

Shen Yuan learns how to handle a sword, has crimes divulged to him, and hunts down a monster.

Notes:

While this story is generally going to be lighthearted, this chapter does get a little dark.

                                                                       

Content warnings for this chapter

gore, descriptions of corpses, minor character death                                                

                               

Shen Yuan was being sent on a mission off-peak.

 

This might not have been a problem if he had any idea what he was doing, but alas, he did not. He would admit- begrudgingly- that he'd been neglecting anything to do with his cultivation beyond meditation and the occasional sprint away from Xiao Xingxing, but in his defense, he hadn't thought he would need it so soon!

 

Unfortunately, his mission would require him to travel several hundred kilometres to respond to a small town's plea for help, so that meant he needed to put on his big-boy pants and learn to fly on his damn sword. He had less than a week to do it. No pressure.

 

Shen Yuan had to ignore the System's gleeful crowing in his ear, and focussed his attention on locating an isolated place where he could practise without prying eyes. If anyone saw him, he'd probably die of shame.

 

It was late, and he'd much rather be in bed, but this took precedence over sleeping. Especially since he didn't even need to sleep (or at least, he didn't need it often).

 

The moon shone brightly overhead- a waxing gibbous tonight- and the stars were a stark silver against the dark blue of the heavens. There were more stars here than he thought possible, dancing across the sky with the passage of the hours, and when he looked at them he could see exactly why his ancestors were so taken by them.

 

Ling Shou was lovely at night. It was far quieter, not nearly as hot, and there were brightly-glowing insects that flitted along the pathways and in the fields. It smelled like grasses and wildflowers on this late summer evening, which brought back memories of trips to the countryside with his family when he was young.

 

His search brought him away from the peak's hub, and he eventually happened upon an adequate practice space around three-quarters of the way down Ling Shou. It wasn't anything particularly impressive- just a small clearing devoid of bushes or  shrubs, with a soft bed of moss and grass to cushion him when he inevitably fell on his ass.

 

He drew his longsword from its scabbard- an ornate thing with a branching tree carved into it- and channeled his qi into it so that it hovered a scant few centimetres above the ground. A warm lilac glow encased the sword and runes in the same colour were inscribed along its length. 

 

With a deep breath, Shen Yuan stepped onto it.

 

He lost his balance almost instantly, and he ended up face-down in the dirt, glowering as the System cackled in its grating, robotic manner. The noise was akin to nails on a chalkboard.

 

“I would appreciate it if you deigned to give actual advice rather than gloating whenever I fail at something I've never done before,” he complained, rolling onto his back with a groan. “Especially when that something is balancing on a floating, absurdly narrow piece of metal.”

 

[But User, doing so would deprive this System of the opportunity for entertainment!]

 

Shen Yuan didn't know why he even bothered.

 

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, several of which were in reference to its mother- he didn't care if it had one or not- he got back on his feet and tried again. And again. And again and again and again and again, each time with a similar result.

 

[It's kind of sad that you're doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.]

 

“The only way I'm going to figure this out is if I keep at it,” he argued, rubbing his arm. He'd landed on it wrong.

 

It didn't take long before his robes were covered in mud, his hair was falling loose and full of dead leaves and twigs, and his pride and ass were both considerably bruised.

 

Finally- eventually- he managed to stay on for longer than a few moments. He cackled like a madman, and did not stop even when he fell.

 

[User did well, but he will need to be able to remain on his blade for longer periods.]

 

“Let me savor my victory for a moment, will you?” Shen Yuan flapped a hand at it, watching the night sky for a little while.

 

[If User keeps up the good work, he might be able to change the fates of some of his disciples.]

 

That sobered him quickly. He'd been here just under two weeks, but he was already growing fond of the occupants of this peak. Some of the little ones followed him like ducklings, asking questions with bright eyes. 

 

He'd been horrified to realise he was beginning to see them as people rather than meaningless cannon fodder.

 

How was he to contend with the fact that their lives were to be snuffed out prematurely? That their curiosity and eagerness would be destroyed and their bodies torn apart by the very same beasts that they were so enthused to learn about? He'd locked himself in his office- the door to his house was still somehow broken- and had a full-blown breakdown when one of the little disciples had handed him a drawing of him stabbing a Tiger-Striped Saber Tooth Wooly Cat. Once he'd calmed down, he'd hung it proudly on his wall.

They can live?

 

[This System believes so, whether by User's interference with the plot through interactions with key characters, or through steadfast preparation for what is to come.]

 

This isn't a cruel joke? You're not just saying this to pull the rug out from under me later?

 

[This System is being genuine.]

 

Okay. Thank you, System.

 

[...]

 

[You're welcome, User.]

 

When he got back from this mission, he was going to make sure his disciples would be ready for anything.

 

Shen Yuan smiled and sat up gingerly, his battered body protesting the motion.

 

“You're sure I can't get a training montage, or something?”

 

[Sorry, User. This System is having too much fun to allow that.]

 

[Fall Counter: 58 falls]

 

Shen Yuan sighed and tried again. He would figure this out, however long it took.

***

He awoke to a knock on his office door, shuffling over to it with a groan. His movements were stiff and slow from several day's practice. He was unimpressed to find Luo Binghe on the other side of the door, a bright smile on the boy's face. The smile quickly fell when he glimpsed Shen Yuan's bruised face.

 

In the past few days, he'd figured out how to both maintain his balance for more than a few seconds at a time and how to steer his sword. He'd also managed to manoeuver himself into a tree, which had earned him a black eye that was taking its sweet time to heal even with his not inconsiderable cultivation.

 

“What happened, Shishu?!” Luo Binghe cried, looking somehow both homicidal and on the verge of bursting into tears. “Who did this?”

 

Shen Yuan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “It was an accident and a self-inflicted injury, Luo-shizhi. You know you don't have to tell me every time you come here, right?”

 

Luo Binghe nodded sheepishly, eyes still a little misty. He'd shown up twice since his initial punishment, ostensibly to access the dining hall. And sure, he did go there to eat based on some of the senior disciples’ gossip, but his true reasons for being here were much more nefarious. For some reason, he'd decided that he should confide his wrongdoings to Shen Yuan, seeming all too gleeful as he talked about putting a hornet nest into Ming Fan's room, rigging up a bucket trap to douse the other disciples in vinegar, and sticking rocks to the inside of the other disciples’ shoes with qi.

 

Shen Yuan had created a monster, and Luo Binghe was making him complicit in his vengeance. If Shen Qingqiu ever came around and asked him if he knew anything about it, he'd already decided that he would deny everything. And he meant everything.

 

He shook his head, half exasperated and half fond. “Has Luo-shizhi been terrorizing his martial siblings again?”

 

“This one only changed the colour of their robes to something more eye-catching.” By eye-catching he probably meant overly obnoxious and bright. “And I put birdseed into the pockets of their robes. Shizun was displeased with them, and made them kneel for a few shichen, and they were attacked by birds almost the entire time.”

 

Shen Yuan quirked an eyebrow. Not a terrible idea. “What did they do to Shizhi this time?”

 

Luo Binghe shuffled his feet, glancing at Shen Yuan meekly. “They implied this one's mother was a whore and said that the only people who would miss her were the ones she slept with. I- this one tried to fight them, but they outnumbered me.”

 

Shen Yuan exhaled slowly. That…was awful. If he were in the same situation, he would have torn their hair out and if that failed, burned their dorms to the ground. “Does Luo-shizhi need medicine for his injuries?”

 

“No, but if Shishu isn't busy, perhaps he can show me some of the more dangerous beasts on the peak?” Luo Binghe said hopefully, dark eyes practically shining. This whole protagonist halo was absurd! No normal person's eyes looked like that!

 

“Sorry, Luo-shizhi, but I'm supposed to leave on a mission in a shichen or so and I still need to pack,” Shen Yuan said apologetically, patting the boy's head. He lit a candle for himself mentally. He kept doing this, and he didn't know why! It was like Luo Binghe's head had its own gravitational field that solely affected his hand. The stress of the anticipated retribution that this would earn him was going to kill him one day.

 

[This System knows how User can avoid breaching Luo Binghe's personal bubble!]

 

How?

 

[User could always cut off his hands! (⌒‿⌒)]

 

…I don't know why I anticipated an actual, helpful suggestion from you. I should've known better.

 

[There, there User! I'm sure eventually you'll get a hand-le on things. (･ω<)☆]

 

I'm going to kill you.

 

“Can I go with you?”

 

Shen Yuan startled at the question- he'd been so caught up in his own lamentations that he'd momentarily forgotten that the boy was there. He chuckled nervously. “I'm afraid Luo-shizhi is far too young and far too unprepared for such an undertaking.”

 

Hell, I'm unprepared for it.

 

And the tears were back. Shen Yuan's stress level cranked up to a solid eleven. He'd never been good with dealing with his own emotions, much less someone else's- his meimei had told him frequently that he was about as comforting as a dead fish.

 

“Ah, no need for all of that!” Shen Yuan said, floundering and wishing desperately that he was any good at handling upset children. Should I pat him again? Give him a firm shake? Smack him like they do in the dramas when someone's hysterical? No, that's a terrible idea! Should I- gods forbid- hug him?  “How about this? When you have your own spirit blade, I can take you on a night hunt! With your shizun's permission, of course.”

 

The tears dried up almost instantaneously, and Luo Binghe beamed at him. “This one will hold Shishu to his word!”

 

[+5 Protagonist Satisfaction Points]

 

Shen Yuan's eye twitched, but he decided to let it go. As long as he wasn't crying, it was fine. 

 

Those tears are a weapon of their own.

 

[They are effective, considering they worked on you.]

 

His poor wives. No wonder they hardly ever refused him anything. How could someone say no to a face like that!

 

[...]

 

[Sometimes this System doesn't understand how you are real. This System might make a new point system just for you.]

 

What? What kind of points? Why?

 

[System is currently updating. Please reserve any inquiries until it is back online. Thank you!]

 

Shen Yuan shooed Luo Binghe off and went to pack. He'd been holed up in his office for the last three days- save for his sword practice- because he'd been drafting a proposal for an overhaul of the peak's current disciplinary protocol. His back wasn't too happy about being hunched over his desk for so long.

 

[Update 2.6.23 has been completed]

 

[System is back online.]

 

[+5 F-Points]

 

F-Points? What're those?

 

[Something that will allow this System a bit of amusement. These points will not affect your B-Point balance in any way, and you can earn them by being your wonderful self, User! (o･ω･o)]

 

This is something that's insulting, isn't it?

 

[This System would never! ( ; ω ; )]

***

Shen Yuan thought he was becoming depressingly used to being thrust into mildly perilous situations. Flying like this- far in the air for kilometre after kilometre was an exercise in restraint. Restraining from shrieking and fainting and whimpering. He'd screamed a little bit earlier, when he'd nearly crashed right into a bird, but that was it. Plus, it had been a very deep and masculine scream. Definitely not shrill or ‘like a little girl's’. The System was just a hater.

 

As the hours fell away, all he could think about was what kind of monster he might find at the end of this. He ran through the list in his mind, turning over potential creatures in his mind based on the information in the document that Yue Qingyuan had passed him with stiff shoulders and a grim mien.

 

Nothing really matched up to what he'd read, and he was a little excited to get to the bottom of all of this. A monster not named in PIDW… he was practically salivating at the prospect of it. He hoped it wouldn't be too hostile.

 

Despite his apprehension about traveling so far and so high up- if he didn't have the body or qi reserves of a peak lord, he would've collapsed hours ago- there was something wonderfully freeing about being out here. He had the wind tugging at his hair and his robes, and a wide world spread out before him just waiting to be explored.

 

Or maybe this sense of freedom came more from the physical distance between him and Cang Qiong Sect, where all those major characters resided.

 

Either way, he was helpless but to appreciate how the world passed by, vast fields and forests gone in the blink of an eye alongside lakes and rivers and the ramshackle collection of human settlements that he glimpsed. He flew through the day and far into the night, determined to arrive as soon as possible.

 

He caught a few hours of sleep in a tent he'd discovered in one of Lian Qingliu's qiankun pouches. He'd never had to set one up before, so pitching it had involved a lot of trial and error.

 

Shen Yuan was up with the sun- not by choice, mind you, but because it shone in his face until he roused- and in the air a matter of minutes later. He was initially so groggy that he almost collided with yet another tree. That woke him up the rest of the way, and he spent the next hour arguing with the System about how he did not want another black eye despite how fashionable it claimed that matching ones would be.

 

There was a slight shift in the air around midday- the air swiftly grew much cooler and drier. The land below creased and folded into hills and then mountains, thick clouds gathered around towering, snow-capped peaks.

 

He arrived in Baifeng Town at dusk, taking note of the dense woodlands that hemmed in the settlement and the sloping mountain sides that loomed in three directions. His breath fogged in the air, and everyone he saw was clad in furs and extra layers. Golden light spilled from the doorways and windows of the various residences that lined the streets, the citizens bustling cheerfully about. There was none of the trepidation that he expected to see showing in their faces or interactions with one another.

 

The attacks must not be too bad then, he thought, shoulders losing some of their tension.

 

[This System suggests User still keeps his guard up. This world is not as forgiving as your old one.]

***

To whomever may read this, I beseech you to send whatever aid you are capable of providing. There is a creature laying waste to our town and our citizens each night, after the sun sets.

 

The town's lord received him with warmth and relief, ushering him into his home with a smile and the promise of a meal. Lord Han was a genial-looking fellow, smile lines around his eyes and his dark hair shot through with grey. He introduced his wife and children, and together they sat down to dine.

 

The attacks began around two months ago, beginning with the forest animals and then the livestock.

 

The fare was hearty and he warmed his hands on his bowl, his fingers having grown numb from the cold. Halfway through the meal, Lord Han's mother emerged from her room, and one of the older children helped her over to the table. Her back was stooped with age and her eyes rheumy and clouded with cataracts.

 

The first attack on our town's people came less than a month later. A young man had been hunting in the forest just north of town. He did not return.

 

Lord Han piled food into her bowl like it was second nature, and they talked amiably for a while before things turned to business. It had felt, for a moment, that Shen Yuan was back home for one of his rare family dinners, which were held when his da-ge had enough time in his schedule to meet with the three of them.

 

We organized search parties to comb the woods, but found no sign of him beyond a scrap of fabric torn from his robes and his splintered bow. Two days later, a seamstress disappeared.

 

“They sent me specifically because they weren't sure what's been causing all of this, even after consulting all of the bestiaries our sect possesses, which is no meagre quantity,” Shen Yuan admitted, savoring the drink in his hand. It was strong and burned his esophagus on the way down, but he loved it. One of the little girls made an intrigued noise and leaned forward. She asked him about the kinds of animals that he kept on his peak and which ones he wished he could meet.

 

Soon, the beast was no longer satisfied with one victim at a time. Several disappeared every few days as it glutted itself on them.

 

He told the enraptured girl of legendary beasts that had the power to boil oceans and crush mountains underfoot, of those that bestowed upon humanity curses and boons. She listened with her mouth agape. She was missing a few of her baby teeth.

 

Our numbers are dwindling, and I fear my wife and children might be next. We hear noises in the night, trying to coax us into its clutches.

 

Darkness soon enshrouded the town as people settled in for the night, one light after the next snuffed out. 

 

“I'll figure this out,” Shen Yuan promised, resting a reassuring hand on the lord's shoulder when it came time to retire to bed. Lord Han had offered him a room for the night, which he accepted gladly.

 

“I'm glad to hear that,” Lord Han said, and he looked truly exhausted. “I haven't felt myself for some time now.”

 

I am entrusting this to our fastest messenger. We have requested help from two other sects already, and each of their representatives have met their end by the beast's hand. 

 

Shen Yuan readied himself for bed, placing his sword by his bedside. He would interview some of the other citizens in the morning for any further clues as to what this thing might be.

 

He slipped under the thick pile of blankets he'd been plied with and blew out the candle he'd been using for light.

 

Please, help me prevent the complete slaughter of the people under my care. I would be willing to part with all of my riches to ensure the safety of those that remain.

 

The world was quiet outside and the scent of iron permeated the air. He was unsure when he first noticed it, but it had only grown stronger since.

 

May the gods be with you.

 

He could not sleep, not even as the hours fell away.

 

-Lord Han Wenyan

 

It was unnaturally quiet, both in the house and outside of it. Should he not be able to hear the cadence of other people's breathing? Should he not hear the wind's howl, the insects’ chirps, the mules’ braying?

 

Except… in the distance, at the edge of his perception, there was something, slowly growing louder.

 

There came a sharp keen and then high-pitched whimpering, like a wounded dog. Shen Yuan sat up, eyes seeing easily through the shadows of the night.

 

As the maker of the noise approached the outside of the Han residence, he noticed a slight rattling sound accompanied the wounded noises. There was the rasp of claws against the wall, which served as the only barrier between him and whatever prowled this land.

 

He was suddenly very glad this room lacked any windows. Otherwise, he would've peered out of them like a dumbass just to get an eyeful of the beast and probably gotten his head bitten off. 

 

[User would be the first to die in a horror movie.]

 

That is completely irrelevant!

 

[Sure, User. If that makes you feel better. („• ᴗ •„)]

 

The passive aggression is unnecessary!

 

On light feet, he rose and hastily scratched a protective array into the wall and activated it with a short burst of qi. It would protect the entire household. From outside, there came a furious screech.

 

Shen Yuan's hands trembled, and he took slow, measured breaths in and out. 

 

There is something outside, which likely wants me and the rest of this town's denizens dead. I can't allow any more of them to be killed.

 

Silently, he dressed and secured his scabbard to his belt, hand resting on his blade's hilt.

 

He squeezed it lightly and suddenly found himself yearning for a foam stress ball. He'd had one before he transmigrated, a pastel pink one with a smiling bumblebee that read ‘Bee Happy!’ that his meimei had bought him as a joke. 

 

With a nod of self-assurance, he slipped out of his room and then the house, scanning the vacant streets for any signs of life. There was nothing he could see, but the metallic scent was stronger out here- so strong that it made him want to retch- and intermingled with a tinge of rot and decay.

 

He wandered the streets and the edges of the town, but his search was fruitless. As the new day dawned, he slunk back to the Han residence and splashed some water on his face to bring him back to full wakefulness. Despite the fact that he didn't technically need to sleep anymore, it felt wrong to go without. He felt… duller without it, his mind and instincts less honed.

 

He took breakfast an hour or two later, quietly observing as the lord's family recounted local gossip and their plans for the day, seemingly oblivious to the peril that had come so near only hours before.

 

“Any signs of the beast, Immortal Master Lian?” Lord Han's wife, Gao Minghui, asked kindly, fussing with one of her daughter's hair. The girl facing the onslaught squirmed and looked so woeful that Shen Yuan almost laughed.

 

He hesitated. Was it a good idea to let them know just how near the beast had come? Was it better to scare them, or allow them to remain in blissful ignorance? He hoped he had this all figured out by tonight. 

 

Shen Yuan smiled weakly at her. 

 

“It was all quiet around here. I'm going to see if anybody else has new information on it.”

 

She accepted his answer without a second thought. Why wouldn't she? He was here to solve their problems, and nothing would touch them if he had anything to say about it.

***

“We haven't had many travellers, not as many as there usually are this time of year,” said the old woman selling firewood, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Fire lilies were embroidered around the edges, orange and red thread creating delicate petals. “The ones who make it here say that people are snatched right off of the road.”

 

“My daughter made this for me,” she said proudly, noticing his gaze. “She's coming to visit in a few months and bringing my new grandchild with her. I found a darling little outfit for the wee thing.”

 

It had little ducks on it, swimming happily in a sunlit pond.

“I was the first to notice the woodland creatures going missin’,” the farmer said, resting his weight on his spade. His clothes were a bit thinner than those of the rest of the townsfolk. “It was the rabbits and the smaller birds initially. Then it started takin’ larger game and livestock. Could hear it howlin’ and wailin’ in voices that don't belong to it.”

 

His expression darkened. “It's got a taste for flesh and an appetite that can't be sated. I'd be careful, if I were you, especially if you plan on goin’ in there. I see things movin’ between the trees sometimes. And the things that do go in there don't ever return quite right.”

“Several of my girls have heard things in the night,” the brothel's madam said primly, pouring tea with a steady hand before she sank into her seat opposite him. He took a sip. It was rather good tea. “An infant's cry, a wounded animal, shouts for help.”

 

“The lure,” Shen Yuan murmured, swirling the liquid in his cup thoughtfully. “Have any of your girls seen the monster?”

 

“Not any who have lived to tell the tale,” the madam said, swallowing thickly. “One of our youngest girls disappeared. She was one of the first, but people were reluctant to organize a search party for her. Very few consider the life of a courtesan to be worth anything.”

“Leave while you can,” said the fortune teller. “There is naught to be gained here but ruination.”

 

Shen Yuan ignored her.

“Its eyes are as dead as the rest of it,” said the boy, a carpenter's apprentice. He had demanded payment for information, and Shen Yuan had forked over coins with great amusement. The boy had a canny glint in his eyes. “I saw it through a break in the trees one night, and we just stared at one another. I don't know why it didn't attack.”

 

“Maybe it'd just eaten,” Shen Yuan said, jumping slightly when thunder rumbled in the distance. The sky overhead was dark grey. 

 

Ah, the horror movie ambience has arrived.

 

[Just for you, User!]

 

How generous.

 

The boy shook his head, flicking an errant piece of hair out of his face. “No, I don't think that's it. I think that something bad has happened, but I can't recall what. Not just to me, but to all of them too.” He gestured at everyone on the street. “And sometimes, all I can taste and smell is blood.”

 

He was the first that had mentioned it. Shen Yuan could taste it regardless of what he ate. It lessened the further he got from town.

 

“I'll figure this out,” Shen Yuan said, and turned to leave the warm little shop. He might be back later. The kid seemed like he might do well at Cang Qiong.

 

“That's what the other two said, and they never came back.”

***

He watched the sun set from his perch atop a boulder on the forest's edge, its orange glow barely visible through the thick clouds. His sword was unsheathed, light practically burning from the qi coursing through it, casting his surroundings in a ghostly hue.

 

He slipped through the forest when it disappeared beneath the horizon, his eyes glinting strangely in the darkness. He passed through it like a ghost; the earth underfoot did not yield to make footprints and the brush returned to its place once he passed, not a single twig or leaf broken or in disarray.

 

With the nightfall returned the all-encompassing silence, like the earth itself was holding its breath. Then there was a spike of energy, a miasma, adding a new weight and energy to the air around him.

 

His instincts told him to run and never return, but he paid them no heed. If this were a horror movie, I would definitely be about to die.

 

In the distance, there came the lure, different and yet just as horrible as it had been last night. A woman's screams, shrill and distressed, echoed through the valley. He was fooled but for a moment, body halfway to flying toward the noise’s source before he recognized it for what it truly was. 

 

He wandered for half an hour before his senses alerted him to something nearby. He tensed and raised his sword, head on a swivel. 

 

Left.

 

His body moved before his mind could process the hideous creature erupting from the undergrowth, its jaw unhinged to rip into him, to tear him apart, to swallow him whole. Its eyes were just as dead as the boy said they were, pale and clouded. Thick, curving horns arched from its skull, their sharp points dripping with gore. Chunks of flesh and skin and fur hung from its emaciated frame, exposing the bone beneath. Sharp, bony protrusions lined the length of its spine and down its thin tail. Pale, almost crystalline fluid dripped from its jaws, a poison of some kind.

 

It was dying, a rot set root deep within it. 

 

He danced out of its grasp with a few flowing steps, slashing his sword as he went. It howled and snarled and bayed at the injury, its voice a piercing blend of human and beast. He'd wounded its flank, and dark, viscous fluid dropped from the injury, hitting the beds of pine needles underfoot with an awful splat.

 

What. The fuck. Is that?

 

As PIDW's number-one anti fan, he'd made it his personal mission to commit to memory as many of Airplane's obnoxiously-named flora and fauna as he could, but he didn't recall ever reading about anything like this. Probably because the sight of it would serve to kill even Luo Binghe's considerable libido. And if that didn't do the trick, the stench definitely would.

 

[That's because it was never officially added to the story!]

 

“So nice of you to show up right now!” Shen Yuan said, ducking as the beast threw itself at him. It flew right over his head and smashed right into a tree. Not very smart, he thought, unimpressed. Maybe this stayed in Airplane's drafts for a reason. “So why is it here now?”

 

[This System thought it would pose a good challenge to User, and would remind him what he stands to lose should he fail to adequately train his disciples!]

 

What exactly does that mean? And what's this thing called?

 

The System did not deign to answer him.

 

Despite its rather unfortunate appearance, the monster recovered quickly and slashed at him repeatedly, using its tail to try and trip him up. He stumbled over it and it tried to bite him, missing by a millimeter. He didn't care to find out whether his cultivation would protect him from whatever effects the venom had.

 

“Why'd he never add this?” Shen Yuan asked, growling frustratedly as the tail lashed at him again. He turned and took off through the trees, and it pursued him clumsily, smacking into tree trunks as it went.

 

[This System is prohibited from revealing that information. This System will say that the monster's purpose was not to put up too difficult a fight, but that it possesses abilities that might have severe consequences for protagonist Luo Binghe.]

 

[Airplane discarded this storyline in favour of one about an orgy with women who have cat ears and tails.]

 

Shen Yuan remembered that chapter. He'd been so angry about it that he'd left a scathing, several-thousand word comment about it.

 

“God forbid Airplane add something that might make the story even slightly more interesting,” Shen Yuan griped, coming to a stop in a part of the forest where the trees were further spaced. “And obviously it wouldn't be too much of a challenge for Luo-fucking-Binghe. The fact that it uses a lure to attract prey means that it probably pounces on them rather than engage in drawn-out combat, which Binghe excels at.”

 

[+10 F-Points]

 

Something caught his eye in the branches overhead, and he had only an instant to throw himself out of the way before the beast slammed into the earth where he'd been standing.

 

“So what are these abilities then?”

 

[This System cannot disclose them at this present time.]

 

“Sadist,” Shen Yuan hissed, then yelped when the damned monster tried to take a chunk out of him with its stupidly-sharp teeth again. “I'm gonna be seeing this thing in my nightmares for the next month. And aren't you supposed to be helping me adapt to being around different kinds of beasts?”

 

[This System is helping! It is providing opportunities for exposure therapy! ╰(*´︶`*)╯]

 

Exposure therapy, my ass! This whole experience is going to make me need regular therapy!

 

The beast finally got lucky and landed a hit on him, serrated talons slicing through the soft flesh of his abdomen. Shen Yuan screamed as the jagged edges caught and tore, crimson blood spilling forth from the injury. It burned, worse than anything he'd felt before. It was too much and too hot and he was going to die here.

 

System?

 

[This System cannot interfere. User does not possess the protagonist halo, so this System is unable to intervene in any instance that will lead to User's death.]

 

Its tail slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from him and sending him hurtling into a tree trunk. He was so fucking tired of crashing into trees after the week he's had.

 

It loomed over him, pleased little noises spilling from its ruined throat, tiny punctures in the exposed cartilage of its neck. It lapped his blood from its talons, sightless eyes fluttering shut as it savoured the taste.

 

A creature of gluttony, Shen Yuan thought hazily, his head smarting where it had smashed into the bark. He could feel something damp dripping down the back of his neck. He felt blindly around for his sword, but he must've dropped it. He couldn't see it, couldn't sense it. The fog in his head was growing, his grip on his own lucidity tenuous.

 

I don't want to die here. 

 

He groaned pitifully, still struggling to take a full breath. From the sharpness of the pain each time he tried, his ribs must've fractured.

 

The beast leaned closer, maw open and hot, putrid breath on his face.

 

“Do you think anything but your safety and wellbeing is important when your life is on the line?” his er-ge demanded, seated in the armchair like it was a throne. Shen Yuan sat in front of him, wincing as his brother cleaned his wounds. They were worse than usual. “Especially when they treat you like this?”

 

“No,” Shen Yuan mumbled, wrapping his arms around his knees. The sting abated quickly. He didn't bother to mention that he hadn't even had a chance to fight back. It would only make things worse.

 

“No,” his er-ge agreed, ruffling his hair. “You do whatever it takes to survive. Bite, kick, scratch, scream. Anything to get away. Kill them if you can manage it.”

 

“Killing people is wrong,” Shen Yuan protested weakly.

 

“Not if they're willing to do so to you. Plus, we have really good attorneys,” his er-ge said, and Shen Yuan shivered at the idea of his brother in court. He'd be fearsome indeed. His er-ge sighed. “I can't lose you or meimei. Promise me you'll do whatever it takes, A-Yuan.”

 

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Shen Yuan promised reluctantly.

 

Despite this, he hadn't fought back. He preferred scathing words to throwing a punch. He couldn't meet his er-ge's eye when he came home beat to hell again. He couldn't contend with his disappointment.

 

“Whatever it takes,” Shen Yuan whispered, in a daze. He couldn't let this ugly motherfucker win. He- he couldn't disappoint his er-ge more than he already has. He lunged up at the beast, honed in on its exposed neck. His teeth sank through stringy muscle and thick cartilage and bone, and he tore its throat out. More of that thick, horrible blood oozed out, filling his mouth. He spat it out, snatched his boot knife from its sheath, and jabbed it into its chest.

 

The garbled noise it made in response might’ve been a shriek of pain if it wasn't missing a significant portion of its neck. It scampered away from him, but he was on it in an instant, their roles suddenly reversed. He clambered onto its back and dug his fingers into its thin, vulnerable flesh, and pulled, spilling more of its rotten blood. He tore layer after layer away, fear transformed into potent fury. He did not stop when it slammed its back into the ground in a desperate attempt to dislodge him. He did not stop when it tried to scale a tree to escape. He did not stop when it finally crashed to the earth and its movements ceased.

 

It was only when its miasma faded that he came back to himself, the sudden berserker rage abandoning him. His breaths came in sharp pants until he circulated his qi, soothing the pain in his chest and putting a stop to his bleeding. He got unsteadily to his feet and staggered over to where his sword had fallen. His robes were torn and stained from both his and the monster's blood. His hands were coated in viscera, and his mouth was sour with the taste of rotted meat. He wiped his chin with a relatively clean portion of his sleeve. It came away filthy.

 

He resheathed his sword. Slowly, the sound of insects began to creep back in. 

 

[Is User alright?]

 

The System sounded nervous. Good, he thought viciously. 

 

“You would've let me die,” he said, voice hoarse, feeling betrayed. He felt stupid for feeling betrayed. He shouldn't have expected anything else. 

 

[It is important that User gains combat experience.]

 

“And you thought throwing that thing at me was the best move? You made it sound like it wasn't that strong!”

 

[...]

 

[It was meant to be a valuable learning experience.]

 

Shen Yuan gritted his teeth. He wanted to yell or stab something or just… he didn't know. He laughed bitterly. “Fine. Lesson learned. Now I know that you won't lift a finger if I'm about to kick the bucket.”

 

[User…]

 

Shen Yuan snarled at it and stomped back towards Baifeng Town, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword.

 

The town was painted red.

 

There were bodies in the streets, putrid corpses with empty eyes and chunks of flesh torn out of them and organs spilling onto the stone underfoot.

 

He stood there in shock, body trembling. 

 

[The monster that User just faced was called the Venomous Necromantic Flesh-Devourer. It reanimates some of its victims to lure in more prey, especially cultivators. Those it reanimates have their memories altered to forget their deaths, and when the monster is slain, those it killed are laid to rest.]

 

“They were all dead already?”

 

[Yes.]

 

“And you call this a valuable learning experience?” Shen Yuan spat, tears welling in his eyes. Gods. He wasn't a crier, but this…

 

You're okay. They're just unnamed characters from a story. This isn't real.

 

But it was real. And he'd spoken to them, he'd heard some of their stories and aspirations and advice. He'd eaten with them, reassured them, promised that he would make things okay again. And he hadn't. He'd failed them.

 

[This is what will happen if User neglects his duties.]

 

“A lesson,” Shen Yuan spat, unable to look away from the carnage. One of the buildings had smoke and flames rising from it. Someone had left a fire unattended. “I almost died because you wanted to teach me a lesson. These people are dead because you wanted to teach me a lesson?!”

 

[User did well, though! This System will reward you!]

 

Shen Yuan's jaw ached from how hard he clenched it. 

 

“I don't want it,” he said coldly. Over by one of the food stalls was the remains of the carpenter boy, who he thought would've fit right in among his disciples. He had sensed something was wrong with himself. Had he realised the full extent of it? Shen Yuan prayed not.

 

[User-]

 

“Shut up.”

 

He slowly made his way back to the Han residence. He stared straight ahead, unable to stomach all the bodies he passed, with their vacant eyes. They must've heard him fighting the beast and left their homes to investigate. 

 

The house was quiet and still, and the sight of the bodies just inside killed his naive hope that somehow, the Han family had survived. The children's bodies were shielded by their parents, the adults curled protectively around them. There was hardly anything left of them.

 

Shen Yuan forced himself to keep walking, half-blinded by tears while he gathered his things from his room.

 

So this is only a fraction of what ruin Luo Binghe will bring upon this world? 

 

He'd cheered in the comments as the sect had burned, as Luo Binghe had slaughtered anybody who dared not bow to his whims, as he had merged the realms together and caused rampant death and destruction simply because he felt like it.

 

How foolish of him to ever think such a thing righteous.

 

He stepped out onto the street. Lightning flashed in the distance, but the rain still did not fall.

 

Around him, the town burned.

 

Notes:

:)

Chapter 5: Oh, We're Really In It Now, Hatsune Miku

Summary:

Shen Yuan gains a confidante, is bullied by a teenage girl, and reads gay porn.

Notes:

You know, when I started this, I thought the chapters would be nice and short, maybe 1k or 2k apiece. I was wrong. I was so wrong. This chapter is 5.6k. I am truly out of control.

The bodies he could save from the fires, he buried. Rows of unmarked graves- he did not know their names- were arranged on the edge of town. He'd been digging for days. For how many exactly, he was unsure- the days and nights blurred together in his mind.

 

He did not know the funerary rites of this world half as well as he would've liked. Not many people that Luo Binghe cared for died, and of those that did, fewer still remained that way.

 

He said a few words over their bodies before he covered them with dirt. Once they were all taken care of, he allowed himself one final look at the smoldering remains of the town. 

 

All that was left of Baifeng Town were charred stone bricks and bits of blackened wood. There was not a living thing in that town besides him.

 

Shen Yuan left and did not look back.

 

The return trip passed in a blur. He did not speak. He did not stop to marvel at the landscape below. He just…stewed in his thoughts and the ugly emotions that festered in his gut.

 

Upon his return to Cang Qiong Sect, he went straight to Qiong Ding Peak, his arrival causing several cries of alarm. He wasn't surprised. He looked rather ghoulish, his clothes were torn and covered in blood and dirt, and his skin wasn't much better. He was sure if he looked in the mirror, what would be reflected back at him would be something less than human.

 

All of the clamour did have the benefit of drawing the sect leader to him, who immediately paled upon looking him over. “Shidi, are you-”

 

“I'm fine,” Shen Yuan said flatly, allowing himself to be herded towards Yue Qingyuan's office. “Very little of this is mine. I was the lucky one.”

 

He recounted what had happened, staring at a slightly discolored bit of wall over Yue Qingyuan's shoulder. Yue Qingyuan wrote the report as he spoke, only making him repeat information once or twice. Shen Yuan did not dare look at his face, too afraid of finding disappointment there. He'd let down enough people as it was.

 

Once he'd finished speaking, Yue Qingyuan sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking almost years older.

 

“You did the best you could, Lian-shidi.”

 

The words brought him no comfort. Why should they, when his best had been nowhere close to enough?

***

The river was fast-flowing and absolutely frigid, even with the summer's heat. It helped soothe the ache in his shoulders some, which hurt something fierce after all the digging he'd done. 

 

Shen Yuan did feel a little more himself after submerging himself in the clear water, and when he stood it dripped down his chest, tinged pink with blood. A considerable amount had clotted in his hair thanks to the nasty blow he'd taken to the head. The injury from it was now little more than a scab. That wound would not linger. The raised claw marks that swept across his abdomen, however, he would keep.

 

It was harder to retain a mark, he found, his cultivation all too eager to make his skin blemishless and untouched by both the sun and the brutality it had endured. Still, he resisted as best he could. It would be a disservice, he believed, to Lian Qingliu, who had kept himself this way for a reason. 

 

As his rough, blistered fingers traced the fresh scars, he thought he could understand the original good's thought process a little better. This would give some permanence to the memory of those he had failed, a lesson written into the very fabric of his body itself. He would remember each time he looked upon them. He did not want to forget.

 

He scrubbed his skin until it was raw, scoured the dirt from beneath his fingernails, combed through his hair so vigorously his scalp ached. None of it felt like enough. He still felt filthy and tarnished.

 

Once he decided he was about as clean as he was going to get, Shen Yuan just stood in the river, watching tiny pebbles get swept along the riverbed. The roar of the passing water was almost loud enough to drown out his thoughts.

 

It felt like hours had passed before he removed himself from the river, his fingers pruney and his body rejoicing in the warmth of the air. He climbed a steep slope to the back of his house and swung himself through an open window, clutching the sad remains of his clothing to his chest. 

 

Shen Yuan carefully folded the tattered and stained robes and set them at the bottom of his wardrobe. They were beyond repair, but he would not be rid of them. 

 

He regarded the rest of his clothing with a scowl and reluctantly clad himself in a fresh set of martial-cut robes that had hawks embroidered around the cuffs and neckline. 

 

He was not looking forward to wearing the finery that he would undoubtedly be expected to don for more formal occasions. The robes looked like something he might suffocate in.

 

He gathered his damp hair into a loose braid- far less sophisticated than the other styles he'd worn it in previously, but he was exhausted and beyond caring. He hadn't slept a wink in over six days. 

 

His boots still needed a good clean, but he decided to put the task off until tomorrow. He ambled slowly towards the dining hall, in no great hurry to arrive. By the time he reached it, the sun had set completely. Warm light spilled from its doorways and from lanterns hanging down from the eaves, and inside he could hear shouts and laughter. He watched quietly from a distance, trying to muster up the courage to enter.

 

When he finally had, he made a beeline for the food, accepting a meal from one of the aunties who worked in the kitchens with a murmur of gratitude.

 

Shen Yuan ducked through the crowds to an unoccupied table at the hall's edge, and was grateful when nobody came to bother him, likely courtesy of some of the hallmasters. He would have to thank them for that later.

 

Don't look at any of them, don't think about what will happen, he repeated in his head as he forced himself to eat spoonful after spoonful of his meal. It tasted like nothing, and it felt like chewing cardboard. Each swallow was a herculean task. 

 

He froze when he got to the meat. It was normal, carefully seasoned and braised meat. The scent of blood had been replaced by that of charred flesh and burnt hair. Nothing out of the ordinary. Pulpy, half-eaten organs spilled forth from damaged bodies, and the carrion birds gleefully feasted on the entrails. He shooed away as many as he could, but there were always more. It was tender and practically falling apart, the labour of several hours. The eyes of the dead were open, watching him accusingly (some did not have eyes anymore, some had nothing there at all).

 

He dropped his spoon into his bowl and dropped his forehead to the table, breath hitching. Calm down, calm down, calm down, he told himself, but it only made the unrestrained terror worse. 

 

“Shizun.”

 

He squeezed his closed eyes shut as hard as he could. He couldn't open them, he couldn't bear to see all of the people here, all those depending on him to survive. 

 

He wasn't made for this kind of thing, he was meant to quietly shut himself away from the world and pray that people who knew what they were doing worked things out. He'd always had people to rely on, a safety net, but now he was walking a tightrope without any security and if he fell, it would be to his own doom. 

 

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched violently at the unexpected touch. It was like a bucket of water had been upended over him, snapping him back to reality. Still, he did not dare open his eyes to see who it was.

 

“Shizun.”

 

A voice, quiet yet firm. He recognized it well after weeks of hearing it. His head disciple, Zhang Min. Her touch felt like it was keeping him anchored here.

 

“Do you need me to get you out of here?”

 

Shen Yuan wondered if she used this tone with the beasts. He wouldn't be surprised if she did. It was soothing. Slowly, he nodded.

 

An arm wound through the crook of his arm and pulled him to his feet. Some of the noise had lulled- people had doubtlessly noticed his strange behaviour. He felt the burn of shame in his chest.

 

Once he was sure they were outside, he slowly opened his eyes. It was… better, now that he wasn't surrounded by people depending on him to keep them alive. Zhang Min rewarded him with a crooked smile.

 

She was an exemplary successor- level and patient with the disciples and knowledgeable about all manner of beasts. She wasn't very tall or peerlessly beautiful, but there was something enrapturing about her. Maybe it was the way she held herself or how she moved about that commanded attention.

 

Like Lian Qingliu, she'd also opted to keep any scars inflicted upon her person, and she had one that sliced through the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

 

“Was it your mission?” she asked, and he grimaced. “Ah. Well, I think I know what might help.”

 

Shen Yuan levelled her a sceptical look. He wasn't sure that being comforted by a dead girl walking was very likely to yield much of a result. He didn't even understand why she would bother to help him. Sure, she had been friendly with him, but he didn't think she cared enough to do anything to help him like this. Or maybe she just feels obligated.

 

He hoped not. She was probably the closest thing he had to a friend here. She helped with paperwork and kept the peak running and joked around with him and sometimes dragged him to a meal if she thought he'd been working for too long. It was nice.

 

[User should know that Zhang Min is not helping him out of a sense of obligation.]

 

He glared at the glowing display, but felt something inside of himself soothe at the knowledge. “I defer to your judgement.”

 

She nodded and pulled him behind her, quietly talking about what he'd missed while he was gone. Like magic, he felt himself relax as she spoke. One of the older disciples had formed their golden core. Two of the teachers had eloped. Bai Zhan had descended upon their peak to smack around some of the disciples and destroyed several walls in the process, and several of them had disappeared into the area the giant toad lived and had emerged hours later with a lot of…interesting and inexplicable injuries.

 

Apparently, Xiao Xingxing had been “uncharacteristically despondent” during his absence, which made Shen Yuan snort. So either the horse was a tsundere (unlikely) or it missed terrorizing him every morning (more likely). Still, if he could blackmail the horse with what he'd heard, he would.

 

[Horses are not susceptible to blackmail.]

 

I don't recall asking you, he thought viciously. Fuck off.

 

Eventually, their pace slowed and Zhang Min seemed to be looking for something. They were a bit out of the way, and Shen Yuan was pretty sure there wasn't anything out here other than more enclosures. Joy.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked after fifteen minutes of trampling through the forest, beginning to feel slightly unnerved. She hadn't brought him out here to murder him, had she?

 

She scratched at the back of her neck sheepishly. “Now, Shizun, I know you said that taking them in wasn't a great idea-”

 

He barely repressed the urge to sigh. The last thing he wanted to see were any of the creatures that crawled around here. He'd had quite enough of them.

 

“-but I went through with it anyway. You pointed out that you weren't sure if there was room for a designated space for them, and you were worried that it would distract some of the younger disciples, so I took it upon myself to sort all of the issues out!”

 

“What are you referring to?” he asked. Zhang Min glanced quickly around and leaned in until their faces were centimeters apart. He resisted the urge to back the hell up. 

 

“The lizards.”

 

“That is very vague and nonspecific,” he said, nose wrinkling slightly. He was not a reptile person. Sure, they couldn't get fleas like furry animals could, but he'd seen the documentaries! He knew what they were capable of!

 

She grinned and dragged him to a stop in front of a nondescript boulder. Shen Yuan was feeling rather unimpressed until she knocked rhythmically upon its face and glowing lines appeared, twining across the dark rock into an array. Then came a small series of clicks and a small, rectangular section of the boulder slid away to reveal a passageway hewn into the earth. Shen Yuan gawked at it.

 

This is totally where I go to get murdered.

 

Zhang Min looked more than a little smug and pleased as she ushered him inside. He ignored all of his survival instincts and stooped down, having to walk almost bent in half down the passage with how low the ceiling was. The air grew steadily warmer and more humid as they went. He felt disgusted with how much he'd sweat by the time the passage opened up into a large chamber. He yearned for the icy river once more, regardless of how far it made his balls retract into his body.

 

Shen Yuan's breath caught at the sight of the place. Vine-entrapped pillars of roughly-carved stone held up the vaulted ceiling far above, which was peppered with crystals that glowed with the light and warmth of sunshine, shimmering flecks of golden dust raining down on the rest of the chamber. 

 

The bottom of the chamber was rich with life- towering trees that had thicker trunks than any he'd ever seen before, flowers so brightly hued that they had to be poisonous, waxy-leaved bushes that were heavy with red berries. He saw the flutter of birds in the higher tree boughs, lizards sunning themselves on rocks, insects buzzing around the blossoms. In the center of the chamber was a stone-lined pond surrounded by grass. A few lilypads bobbed lazily on the water's surface, and it seemed to be fed by a small stream to keep it from stagnating. Scattered around were strangely-shaped stone statues that were crumbling and covered in lichen, their intended forms indecipherable.

 

The most interesting thing about the chamber were the little creatures that gleefully bounded around and lounged here.

 

They looked rather draconic, with long, snake-like bodies and four little limbs, their faces ending in sweet little snouts that when opened revealed tiny, thorn-like teeth. The resemblance ended there. They had no horns, nor could they fly. They had what appeared to petals and leaves growing along their backs and clustered around their necks like ruffs. Some of the larger ones had actual plants growing out of them. None of them looked exactly alike, their colouring and proportions unique to the individual. They made high-pitched squeaking noises as they wandered around.

 

Shen Yuan stiffened when a few ambled over to sniff at them, barely repressing a shriek when one jumped onto his leg and began climbing it. He just stood as still as humanly possible and prayed it didn't try to kill him. 

 

These creatures, Herbivorous Petal-Bodied Lizards, were mentioned a few times in PIDW and infamous within the fandom. One of the wives had had one of them as a pet, but Airplane had eventually had it eat some kind of plant that turned it into a sexy lizard girl for Luo Binghe to papapa with for his fans with stranger tastes- one of whom had probably bribed the author with an inordinate amount of cash. Shen Yuan would never forget that chapter, nor forgive Airplane for it. He'd felt dirty for a week after reading that chapter. He recalled all too clearly slowly reading through it, his horror mounting by his second, trying to reassure himself that Luo Binghe surely wouldn't go that far to satiate his lust. He'd stood in the shower for an hour afterwards, staring vacantly at the wall. That chapter had almost made him drop PIDW altogether.

 

Despite the dubious lizard-fucking associated with these poor, poor creatures, he had been rather taken with them. He thought their means of subsistence- a combination of plant consumption and photosynthesis, where both were necessary to maintain their health- was rather unique among the PIDW creatures. They could grow to truly impressive sizes given enough food and time, and sometimes they formed loyalty bonds with individuals that linked their qi and allowed for some level of telepathic communication.

 

All of the lizards here had to be less than three years old, after which they began to have growth spurts.

 

“I come here to meditate sometimes,” Zhang Min said, settling cross-legged in the grass by the pond. A few of the lizards squirmed onto her lap and curled up there indolently. She smiled at them and scratched one under its tiny chin. She laughed at his rigidity as the lizard that climbed him draped itself across his shoulders. He was probably making quite a face. “Of course, it's not always easy with these ferocious little beasties wandering about and demanding attention, but it's rich with spiritual energy and relatively peaceful.”

 

“It is,” he agreed, and carefully sank down on one of the larger rocks by the pond. It had a few cracks from which moss grew. The lizard on his shoulders dropped onto his thigh and settled there. He held his breath as he reached out to gently prod at it. When it didn't immediately bite his finger off, he relaxed slightly and stroked along its back. What would Lian Qingliu say? “You did well, Zhang Min. Both for solving the potential issues with keeping them, and for doing what you thought was the correct course of action despite my own misgivings. You'll be an exceptional peak lord one day.” I'll make sure of it.

 

Zhang Min's eyes widened in surprise. In little more than a whisper, she said, “Thank you, Shizun.”

 

He nodded and turned his attention to the lizard on his thigh. He scratched it behind one of its tiny, petal-like ears. It purred in delight at the treatment, eyes falling lazily shut. He could not suppress the warmth and slight wonder that that gave him. He'd never had any creature so close to him that had been so docile. He wasn't afraid of this creature. Apprehensive, yes, but not terrified.

 

“I'll be damned,” he said softly, helpless but to bask in his own joy and accomplishment. The pain of the last several days didn't seem quite so strong right now, and for that he was grateful. Maybe exposure therapy has been helping me some.

 

[User has done well. This System is proud of him.]

 

[+20 B-Points]

 

I don't want points for this. I don't want you to cheapen this by ascribing an arbitrary value to it. And I still don't want to talk to you.

 

It flickered out of existence. He’d been ignoring it despite its efforts to coax him into conversation with offers of more points.

 

The lizard on him was mostly a pinkish-orange colour, with silk-soft, acorn-shaped petals sprouting around its neck and down its back in imitation of spines. A few stray petals poked up from its head. Two of the largest petals on its head were an electric blue and were positioned almost like little pigtails.

 

“You kind of look like Hatsune Miku,” he whispered to it with great amusement, gently flicking the blue petals. The lizard grumbled in discontent. He used to have a poster of Hatsune Miku on his wall in between some of his PIDW merchandise. His meimei had liked her, having been the one to introduce him to vocaloid.

 

“What?” Zhang Min asked, and he waved her off.

 

“Just reminded of a musician that was popular in my hometown.”

 

“Shizun,” Zhang Min said, looking nervous, “Since your qi deviation, I've noticed that you've been… different. You act almost if we're all strangers, you seem uncomfortable around the beasts, you've been drafting a ton of new policies out of the blue even though you hate that kind of thing, and you just… don't seem as happy as you usually do. I'm worried, and I'm not the only one who is. Some of the hallmasters and handlers have had concerns as well.”

 

Shen Yuan stared at her with barely repressed horror. He'd thought he was doing an alright job. He'd thought he was getting by just fine, that nobody would notice much of a difference. He swallowed thickly. He'd seen her watching him sometimes and thought she might've had some suspicions, but he hadn't realised she was this astute. He laughed mechanically and carded a hand through his hair. Of course he'd been found out. He was so stupid.

 

[This System would like to remind User that if he reveals to anyone his origins or the nature of this world, he will be severely punished.]

 

I know.

 

Shen Yuan sighed, mind racing, trying to figure out what to say. “I do not deny that my qi deviation has changed me, in more ways than you might imagine. I-I've forgotten much of my own history and cultivation. At the same time, I gained insights into the future that will come to pass should no changes be made to our course. And the things I saw, the calamities, Zhang Min-” his voice broke. 

 

He scratched at the lizard's soft underbelly whilst he collected himself. “The reason I want to implement so many changes is because if I don't, almost everyone will die. They'll be crushed and trampled and torn apart with no heed paid to their innocence or the value of their life. You will die, and there will be nothing left of our peak. I can't allow that to happen, not if I can stop it, but I think I need your help. I don't know what the hell I'm doing.”

 

Zhang Min scooted over to him on her knees, displacing a few of the lizards that had sat themselves on her. They made angry little noises before scurrying off. “Shizun, you could've told me. I would've believed you, as I do now. And I will help you. Our disciples will be the pride of our sect.”

 

She gently grabbed his hand and squeezed it. It made him feel a bit better. Her palm was just as rough as his. 

 

“I'm sorry I didn't say anything before now,” he said quietly, head bowed. He hadn't known if he could trust her then, but he certainly did now. 

 

“I'll help you make changes, and I'll help you remember our peak's cultivation methods,” she said seriously, and he nodded and met her gaze. Her eyes were a warm brown, like his meimei's. “This peak is my home, and I've sworn an oath to protect it with my life.”

 

“Don't do that,” he said. “Please. If anything happens to me, I need you to lead and keep everyone safe.”

 

Her lips thinned in displeasure. “I won't make any promises, but I will do my utmost to make sure we never get to that point. I say our best strategy is setting the toad on any invaders, after the damage it did to those Bai Zhan disciples.”

 

“I don't understand people's obsessions with that damn toad,” he said dryly, and she winked at him. 

 

Zhang Min drew away and gestured at the lizard in his lap, “That one seems to like you. You ought to name it. I've named a few here already, but I'm a bit shit at it.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded in agreement, for he'd learned firsthand what her idea of a good name was. She was almost as bad as Airplane.

 

He stroked the little blue petals on the lizard's head, which it seemed to like a lot more than him flicking them. Imagine that. Its forked tongue poked out of its mouth at the touch.

 

“Definitely Hatsune Miku. You look like you got quite the set of pipes on you.”

 

“Can't say I've ever heard a name like that before.” Zhang Min said, looking a bit confused.

 

“Everyone will know her name someday,” he declared. “The heavens will tremble before the mighty lizard Hatsune Miku. They'll sing ballads of her battles against her foes, and there will be merchandise!”

 

“I suspect he's gone mad,” he heard Zhang Min whisper to one of the lizards.

 

He thought he might agree with her a bit.

***

He lazily skimmed the page, glowering with displeasure.

 

Shen Yuan had finally braved the peak's library and it had borne fruit. A few days after his mission, he'd presented a change in the disciple's curriculum to the teachers and beast handlers. All in all, it had gone well. Lian Qingliu's rapport with them combined with Zhang Min's unwavering support had made them much more amenable to his suggested changes. There had been a handful of amendments to the plan- he'd taken some of the teachers’ concerns and suggestions into account. He wasn't a dictator, and he couldn't afford to lose these people, who were a vital part of their peak's function and future. Plus, he knew very little about what it took to smoothly run a classroom.

 

Once the meeting was over, he had answered a few more questions before slipping away, leaving the rest to Zhang Min. She'd undoubtedly seek retribution on him for that later, but he'd reached his capacity for public speaking and needed to leave. He'd decided to poke around the library, which he somehow hadn't yet visited. Hidden among the stacks was a treasure trove of trashy novels, which allowed him to feed his horrible, horrible addiction. He'd been having withdrawals, itching to write scathing commentary on something. Unfortunately, bestiaries weren't super great for that sort of thing.

 

He yawned and glanced up. What greeted him nearly had him pitching over in surprise. Ning Yingying was hand feeding the unrepentantly villainous Xiao Xingxing, the both of them looking happy as clams.

 

She looks so… young.

 

“Lian-shishu,” Ning Yingying greeted cordially. Zhang Min had mentioned to him that Luo Binghe had brought her to the peak when he was away on his mission. Perhaps they'd gone on a romantic stroll to visit the Flesh-Rending Songbirds, which became non-aggressive if you sang to them. Shen Yuan had been chuffed to discover that they really liked ‘California Gurls’.

 

“Ning-shizhi,” he replied evenly, still stunned by the fact that Xiao Xingxing had not bitten off one of her fingers as he was wont to do. She's like a xianxia Disney princess. Shen Yuan still did not understand why Lian Qingliu kept the damn horse around. “I've never seen this horse so, uh, agreeable. It speaks of the strength of your character that he allows you such closeness.”

 

Either that, or he senses that you're equally sadistic, but I don't think that's the case here.

 

“He's really sweet!” she said, and it took an immense amount of self-control not to scoff at that. Most people on Ling Shou gave Xiao Xingxing a wide berth because they too had been terrorized by him. “You just have to talk to him and tell him how pretty his coat is.” She frowned. “Well, he doesn't seem to like A-Luo very much. I've always wanted to ride a horse, you know! Shizun is taking us on our first mission in a few weeks, and I'll get to ride one then, but I bet it won't be as sweet as Xiao Xingxing!”

 

Ah, right. Shen Yuan didn't remember much about the Qing Jing disciples’ first mission, but he was pretty sure one of them got kidnapped or something. 

 

“Xiao Xingxing is in a league of his own,” he said neutrally.

 

He wondered if Ning Yingying got to ride horses very often after she married Luo Binghe. Though she had the privilege of being one of Binghe's main three wives, it didn't really seem like she'd been able to pursue her own interests in the same way that Sha Hualing or Liu Mingyan had been able to. After a certain point in the novel, she was only really mentioned for papapa or in relation to cutthroat harem politics. It had made him kind of sad to see such a bright character diminished.

 

Shen Yuan watched her coo at the horse.

 

“You're welcome to come see him whenever you like,” he said.

 

“I'll probably make you regret saying that,” Ning Yingying said cheerfully, running her fingers through Xiao Xingxing's chestnut-coloured mane.

 

“So long as you don't harass me every time you visit, I'm sure it'll be fine,” he said wryly, and returned to his novel. Shen Yuan glanced up every few minutes to ensure that none of her fingers had been suddenly bitten off, but otherwise things were rather peaceful.

 

It was Ning Yingying that broke the silence between them. “What're you reading?”

 

“Hm?” he asked absently, before the question registered. “Oh, I'm reading ‘The Wily Widow's Tenth Life’. It's not the kind of book I usually read-” a lie “-but it is certainly entertaining.”

 

“So it's good?”

 

“No,” he laughed. “It's not good at all.”

 

“Do you like it?”

 

That was a much more difficult question to answer. “I think so. It has an interesting premise and the prose is good. I think it has potential. But the characters feel one-dimensional and the protagonist lacks agency. She always just kind of… waits for things to happen to her rather than taking a proactive approach to her own life. And the author is trying to incorporate commentary on current social issues, but their arguments are heavy-handed and lack nuance. The villains have been interesting, though. They're probably one of the best parts of this book. Also, the papapa isn't the worst I've read. Though the relationship between the protagonist and the male lead is a tad milquetoast, it is at least believable.”

 

Ning Yingying had been eyeing him consideringly through his ramble, but the end seemed to trip her up a little. “Pa…pa…pa?”

 

Shen Yuan felt his cheeks heat, and he prayed he wasn't blushing too horribly. “Sex.”

 

She laughed so hard that she doubled over, clutching at her stomach, and he scowled at her.

 

“What?”

 

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I had no idea that Lian-shishu was so maiden-hearted. Appearances truly are deceiving.”

 

If he hadn't been blushing before, he certainly was now. He wasn't exactly thrilled to be teased by a high schooler. “I am not maiden-hearted!”

 

He'd read all sorts of books in his old life, and his meimei had been all too eager to foist some on him that had truly deplorable scenes in them. She'd even given him some of the gay books, several of which had very long, detailed sex scenes. He'd read all of them with a careful eye- there could've been lore hidden in there. There usually wasn't, but he never gave up! Also, his meimei seemed to think they'd awaken something in him, but he wasn't gay! He had no clue where she'd gotten the idea from.

 

“If you say so, Lian-shishu,” Ning Yingying said, with a little pat to his arm. He did not appreciate her tone. He was not an irate child throwing a tantrum in a supermarket.

 

He looked to Xiao Xingxing for salvation. “Please, vile horse. Uphold my dignity and nibble on her fingers a bit. I'll give you extra food for a week!”

 

Xiao Xingxing just looked imperiously at him and decidedly did not bite Ning Yingying. She just laughed at him again.

 

Shen Yuan sighed. Terrorized by a teenage girl. How the mighty had fallen.

***

When he returned home that evening, he found a book on his bed with a slip of paper on top.

 

He picked the paper up carefully, and found a message written upon it in blood-red ink. 

 

Read this book and come to Xian Shu Peak on the night of the full moon. We recommend you take notes. Tell no one of this, or we will make you sorely regret it.

 

Shen Yuan glanced at the cover of the book and groaned. Painted on the cover were two men locked in a lewd embrace. Their proportions were all wrong- seriously, nobody's hands were that big- and they were barely clothed.

 

Great, I've been given a gay porn novel by someone who likes to leave vaguely threatening messages. What have I done to deserve such treatment?

 

He sighed and sat heavily on the edge of his mattress. Morbidly curious, he flipped through a few pages. The writing looked elementary and there were illustrations. Oh gods, the illustrations. He would never be able to unsee them. 

 

He pulled a brush and inkstone from one of his pouches and flipped back to the beginning. If he was expected to not only read this thing, but to also take notes, he was going to annotate this thing to hell. 

 

Nobody gets to make him read obvious garbage without him tearing it to shreds. He grinned wickedly. This person didn't know who they were messing with.

 

Notes:

I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I'll just drive myself mad if I keep trying to figure out what's bothering me about it so much.

Anyways, Celine Dion's performance of 'Hymne à l'amour' at the 2024 Paris Olympics was absolutely beautiful, and if you haven't yet seen it, highly recommend.

No lizards were harmed in the making of this chapter.

Chapter 6: Real Book Clubs Require Blood Sacrifices

Summary:

Shen Yuan attends evil book club, receives an apology, and goes jewelry hunting.

Notes:

We've finally reached canon with this chapter! This thing is going to be so damn long :')

The novel was, without a doubt, one of the worst things he'd ever had the pleasure of reading. Half of it was about the characters arguing over the most inane things, and the other half was them fucking in increasingly unrealistic ways. Plot points were introduced and then abruptly dropped, new characters were added without any introduction and treated as if they'd always been a part of the narrative, the characters flipped between being angry, sad, or horny so quickly that it gave him whiplash, and the whole thing was chock full of spelling and grammatical errors.

 

Zhang Min had asked him what he was reading and then cackled like a hyena when he reluctantly showed her the cover. He resolved to never make the same mistake after she- and he knew it was her, she was the only one with the gall- left a stack of yellow books on his desk. He'd skimmed through them with mortification, and later stuffed the lot of them under his mattress. Some of the positions had been very… acrobatic.

 

The day of the full moon brought with it heavy rain clouds, which half-drowned them with an unanticipated deluge. Most had to scramble for cover, unprepared despite how ominously the dark clouds had loomed all morning. Some had to use their outer robes to protect their faces and hair from the downpour. Some simply accepted their fate and allowed themselves to be drenched. Shen Yuan was among the latter group. He'd been supervising a group of disciples while they practised sketching some of the less threatening birds on the peak, and he used his bulk to help shield some of their drawings until they could be properly put away.

 

It was the second time it had rained since his arrival in this world, and he savoured it greatly. The heat had been almost unbearable lately, especially with the clothing he was forced to wear.

 

He was splashed by a few of the disciples who were gleefully hopping into puddles, but didn't chastise them. He would have his vengeance later, once his improved training curriculum was put into place and they were running laps every morning.

 

After he delivered the disciples and their slightly damp papers to one of the available teachers, he sought out Zhang Min, who roped him into helping some of the beast handlers wrangle the beasts who were less keen on getting wet. She'd been having him do a lot of this since their conversation in the lizard cave, and she claimed it would help him grow comfortable with them more quickly. Shen Yuan politely disagreed with this, as he only grew warier towards some of the creatures.

 

It didn't help that most of them kept trying to bite him. He didn't care whether it was a show of affection, he was not a chew toy!

 

Shen Yuan had been to visit Hatsune Miku a few times each week, which she had been delighted by. She would squeak gleefully and try to clamber onto his shoulders as soon as she laid eyes on him. Last week, he'd made the grave error of not visiting her for four days, and she'd been miffed about it, chewing sulkily on his hair the next time he'd visited and stubbornly refusing to get off of him. He'd had to swear an oath not to leave for so long without prior notice before she would budge.

 

Shen Yuan avoided his office for the rest of the day, not too keen on tracking water into it. He washed quickly before he departed for Xian Shu- he smelled like a barn, which he doubted anybody would appreciate- and changed into dry robes. 

 

He grabbed his copy of the novel as well as the note inviting him onto Xian Shu Peak in case he needed it- he had no desire to invite Qi Qingqi's wrath upon himself. He remembered all too well a fight scene where she'd chopped some guy's dick off for bothering some of her disciples. Dude had deserved it, but ouch.

 

It was about a half hour's walk between Xian Shu and Ling Shou, which he didn't fancy undertaking in this weather. Flying wasn't much better- he could hardly see five feet ahead of him and the metal of his sword grew alarmingly wet and slippery. He barely made it to Xian Shu in one piece, releasing an exaggerated sigh of relief once he'd landed safely. He briefly contemplated kissing the ground, but decided that was a little far.

 

He spied someone approaching him, and once they were closer, he was pleased to see it was Ning Yingying. She too had fallen victim to the rain, her clothes sopping wet, her arms wrapped tightly around herself and teeth chattering from the chill. 

 

“I knew you were behind this,” he said in lieu of a greeting, using his outer robes to help shelter her a bit. She ducked further beneath their cover gratefully.

 

“Shishu seemed so passionate about his reading,” she said simply, teeth still chattering, and handed him a small, round piece of stone that had a geometric pattern carved into it. “Hang onto this. Qi-shishu says that it's to be used strictly for our meetings or to have tea with her.”

 

Our meetings? Oh god, how many people are in on this?!

 

Shen Yuan studied the stone in interest- he was pretty sure that it was an entry token, meaning that Xian Shu was only accessible to those that possessed one. He nodded and decided that he'd attach it to one of the tassels hanging from his belt later. He didn't blame Qi Qingqi for this extra security measure- her peak boasted beautiful flowers whose looks were only matched by their martial prowess. He wondered idly if it'd be possible to get something similar for his own peak later.

 

Xian Shu had a similar layout to Ling Shou, though their buildings were slightly more elegant, with sprawling courtyards and pillars carved intricately into the shape of female warriors. There were also an inordinate amount of purple silk banners everywhere. 

 

Ning Yingying walked past it all without a second glance, which suggested familiarity with the place. That piqued Shen Yuan's curiosity. Was it due to these secret meetings, or did she spend as much time here as she did on Ling Shou? And if so, what was she doing here? Was she accosting more innocent people with gay porn?

 

Ning Yingying brought him to a low stone building that had exactly one door and zero windows. He looked at it dubiously. Forget Zhang Min's creepy reptile cave tunnel. This is where people were lured to be murdered. 

 

Ning Yingying cleared her throat and straightened, chin held high and hands clasped behind her back. “You, Lian Qingliu, have been formally invited to join the most exclusive society in all of Cang Qiong Sect. I, treasurer Ning Yingying, have recognised your passion for the literary arts and sought to have you as a member.”

 

We've had exactly one conversation about books. And why the hell is Ning Yingying the treasurer of a gay porn club?!

 

He stared at her in bewilderment for a few long moments, then nodded slowly.

What do you even say to that kind of statement? “Uh, thank you?”

 

“Go forth and embrace your destiny,” she whispered ominously.

 

Shen Yuan considered for a long moment turning around and going the hell back to his nice, dry house. He'd finally gotten the door fixed and could finally do paperwork outside of his bedroom without the wind blowing over his stacks of papers. But Ning Yingying looked so hopeful, and he had been missing reading objectively terrible books, gay or not. Reading through the awful novel had been some of the most fun he'd had since his arrival. 

 

Plus, joining Ning Yingying’s book club now might lessen his chances of being eviscerated later, so long as Luo Binghe didn't think him to somehow be a threat to himself or his relationship with one of his wives. Shen Yuan was decidedly not a threat in either of those respects! Maybe he could convince her to put in a good word for him.

 

I guess I'm joining, then. Wait… He shivered in horror. “Does your shizun know about this?”

 

“No,” she said, and crossed her arms. “And you won't tell him.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn't been planning on saying a word of it (or of anything else) to Shen Qingqiu- snitches get stitches, or whatever- but now he was intrigued and just a little amused. “And what will you do if I tell him?”

 

She smirked. “I'll chop all of your hair off and set your house on fire, and even if you accused me, nobody would ever believe you.”

 

Shen Yuan gaped at her. Teenage girls are evil! Evil! No wonder she got on with that damn horse so well. He supposed he should've anticipated this. His meimei had been a terror during her adolescent years. 

 

He coughed and schooled his expression. Placidly, he said, “I respect that, Ning-shizhi.”

 

Then, he opened the door to the dubious building and stepped inside, Ning Yingying at his heels. She closed the door behind them, plunging them into complete darkness. Well, complete darkness for her. He could see perfectly fine thanks to the original good's cultivation.

 

From what he could discern, there were about twelve other people here plus Qi Qingqi, who stood in the corner, leaning casually against the wall and looking highly entertained as she watched them shuffle into position. The twelve other members of this so-called ‘society’ were wrapped in black, hooded cloaks that obscured their faces and each had an unlit candle cupped in their left hand. They looked like they belonged in an after-school special about cults and satanic rituals. 

 

“Has Treasurer Yingying brought the initiate?” asked a cool voice. Its owner was obviously another teenage girl, and Shen Yuan once again considered turning tail and running away. He wasn't sure he could survive a whole group of them. 

 

“This Yingying has,” Ning Yingying confirmed, and the one that had spoken snapped her fingers, lighting her candle. The small flame flickered, growing and shrinking in time with the girl’s breathing. Shen Yuan silently applauded her for how atmospheric this all was.

 

“Let us begin,” said the cloaked girl. Their leader, perhaps?  She stepped onto a low wooden platform, and she extended her palm towards him. “We gather here today not only to delve into the sacred texts, but also to induct a new member into the fold, who will bring with him his own knowledge, ideals, and experiences.”

 

“So he shall,” said the rest of the hooded figures in unison. Shen Yuan grinned with delight. This was cheesy, but clearly well-rehearsed, which he could respect. His meimei had been in the drama club and had run her lines with him for all of her plays, and he knew exactly how much work went into something like this. 

 

The girl continued, “Our sister recognized his potential, and our overseer approved our choice. Is this correct, Overseer?”

 

“Yup,” Qi Qingqi affirmed with a lazy grin, munching on what looked to be an osmanthus cake. Shen Yuan eyed it enviously; he hadn't had dinner yet and he was hungry after running after beasts all afternoon.

 

“Here, we covet honesty, integrity, and creativity. We've sworn ourselves to secrecy, and we strive to improve both our understanding of and the quality of today's literature. Each of us has taken an oath, as we invite Lian Qingliu to do so tonight.”

 

“So we have sworn.”

 

“Step forward, Lord of Ling Shou Peak,” their leader commanded firmly. As soon as he did (still dripping water on the floor), the rest of the unlit candles flared to life, sending wild shadows dancing over the walls. “Kneel.”

 

Look, under any normal circumstances Shen Yuan absolutely would not have even considered it. But the ambience! The coordinated outfits! The trashy literature! There was no way he was going to ruin all of this effort. He knelt before her with his head bowed in supplication, like he was about to be knighted. This earned him a few delighted titters from some of the members. 

 

“Do you swear to speak nothing of our society to those who have not yet been found worthy?”

 

“I swear,” he said as solemnly as he could muster, only a slight tremble to his voice betraying his amusement.

 

“Do you swear to uphold our values, to refrain from alienating your society siblings through ‘shipping wars’, and to always ensure that you keep your criticism constructive rather than needlessly cruel?”

 

“I swear.”

 

His more acerbic commentary would remain in head or on paper far, far from these meetings. Those were mostly for his own enjoyment- and sanity. Also, who the hell had taught them about shipping wars? 

 

Could there be another transmigrator here somewhere?

 

“Do you swear to protect your society siblings to your last, and be willing to give your life to protect our secrets?”

 

Shen Yuan blinked. That was a tad… extreme. He glanced covertly at Qi Qingqi, whose shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

 

“Um, I suppose so.”

 

“You swear it?” their leader pressed.

 

“Yeah, I swear,” Shen Yuan sighed.

 

“And would the initiate be amenable to a blood oath?”

 

Qi Qingqi coughed loudly and pointedly, and the leader's shoulders slumped in dismay. “Sorry, Shizun. I mean, Overseer.” She took a moment to collect herself before continuing, “You have devoted yourself to our cause. May your words bind you, and may all your literary endeavors be blessed!”

 

“So it shall be!” the group chanted, and with another snap of their leader's fingers, the room was filled with the light of several lamps.

 

The club- Shen Yuan refused to call it a society, this was just a very dedicated book club- members were quick to rid themselves of their cloaks after that, hanging them from a neat row of pegs on the wall. Most of the members appeared to be female, but only a few didn't seem to be adults, which was a bit of a surprise. 

 

Shen Yuan nearly keeled over when their leader lowered her hood, only to reveal the renowned beauty and (eventual) decorated warrior, Liu Mingyan. Oh my god, what is she doing here? Shen Yuan buried his face in his hands and took slow, deep breaths. He wanted to scream. It would be very, very cathartic, but he resolved to save it for later. He could do it into his shitty porcelain pillow. 

 

How the fuck have I managed to join a club with two of Luo Binghe's most important wives in it?! What, is Sha Hualing gonna waltz into the next meeting to round out the bunch?!

 

A few of the members had laid out cushions in a large circle while he freaked the fuck out, and he collapsed onto one cross-legged. Luo Binghe was going to hack his limbs off for Shen Yuan having the audacity to breathe within his wives’ vicinity and then throw him into the Thousand Years Torment Volcano! He didn't want a thousand limbless years of torment!

 

Once everyone had settled in, Liu Mingyan banged a gavel- another anachronism, seriously Airplane- against the wooden platform she had been standing on just a few minutes prior, which she was now using as a desk. Ning Yingying sat at her right hand. “I, Liu Mingyan, as this society's founder and the current elected leader, call to begin the literary review portion of tonight's meeting! This month's reading, as decided at the last meeting, was ‘In His Supremely Chiseled Arms’, the debut novel of our very own Jin Weimin!”

 

A small, nervous-looking boy stood, smiled sheepishly, and bowed to them. Shen Yuan looked at him in horror. He couldn't have been older than fourteen! He was clad in the forest green robes of Qian Cao, which made some of the anatomically impossible sex scenes even worse in hindsight. He vowed there and then that he would not let the kid come within five feet of him with a scalpel, as he seemed to have some serious gaps in his understanding of how the human body was supposed to work. 

 

“Who would like to start us off?” Liu Mingyan asked, and a muscular, grey-haired woman in Wan Jian robes raised her hand. Liu Mingyan nodded at her to go ahead, and the woman began to read through the neat stack of notes she'd brought with her.

 

Everyone listened respectfully as she talked about the overarching themes within the narrative and some of the changes she'd make to improve the story's flow. Once she had finished, she politely debated some of her points and elaborated on a few of them when someone asked for clarification. It was all so disturbingly… civil. It was nothing like PIDW's comment section, which was half horny discussions about Luo Binghe's heavenly pillar or one of the wives’ breasts, and half vitriolic arguments over each chapter's quality (or lack thereof). When the woman had finished, the next person went, and Shen Yuan just sat there in mild shock, feeling like he'd been dropped onto an alien planet. Liu Mingyan did a great job of keeping things running smoothly, stopping any arguments before they started and asking engaging questions with each person. He understood why she'd been elected leader.

 

Finally, it was his turn. Any caustic words that the novel had inspired within him died when Jin Weimin turned his apprehensive gaze to him. Shen Yuan attempted a smile, but he didn't think it was all that convincing. He did not dare open his copy of the boy's novel. Everyone's notes thus far had been more of a general analysis of the entire thing, with very few comments on specific portions of it, and he was not about to disturb the peace by going over every single thing he'd written with a fourteen year old who looked liable to burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

 

“Jin Weimin produced an admirable novel for someone his age, and utilized the enemies-to-lovers trope well. As others mentioned, there were some syntax errors, but those are easily addressed. I thought your characters were, uh, very passionate.”

 

Jin Weimin brightened, practically beaming at him. Ach, too bright! Don't look at me like that! I was nowhere near complementary in my annotations!

 

“Do you have a physical copy of your notes?” Liu Mingyan asked. “If we're reading something one of us has written, we usually give them our notes to look over.” 

 

Dread settled heavily in the pit of his stomach, and Shen Yuan considered lying for a long, very tempting moment. He eventually nodded and silently handed her his heavily marked copy of In His Supremely Chiseled Arms. She read through a few pages, eyebrows slowly creeping up her forehead. Shen Yuan shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't written anything especially harsh in it- at least not that he could recall- but he had been extremely thorough. He endured a minute more of mortified silence before Liu Mingyan closed the book and gave him a grin- or at least he assumed she did, it was kind of hard to tell with the veil. 

 

“I see now why Yingying wanted you to join us.”

 

She shifted her attention to Jin Weimin, who had been whispering apprehensively to the man seated next to him. “Lian-shishu has taken the time to go through your whole novel and made a lot of very focused corrections and suggestions. His analysis was different from what we usually do here, but I think it would be good to look through it.”

 

She passed the boy the book. Rather than looking upset at all of Shen Yuan's scribbles, Jin Weimin looked absolutely delighted. Shen Yuan shook his head in disbelief. There was clearly something very wrong with that boy. 

 

I probably should've expected as much, considering what he wrote.

 

Shen Yuan just hoped he hadn't been the illustrator. Those pictures were truly unforgivable.

***

“I didn't think you were interested in this sort of thing, Shidi,” Qi Qingqi told him as he helped tidy up after the meeting. Shen Yuan bristled- he'd come to understand that a lot of people operated under the assumption that Lian Qingliu was slow, even though there was no evidence to support it. Just because the guy was big and burly and not super into books didn't mean he was stupid. The quality of his organizational system and the half-finished bestiary he’d been working on prior to his demise was proof enough of that. 

 

He shrugged, “I contain multitudes.”

 

She looked at him a bit strangely, but still chuckled. “So it would seem. Next meeting’s in a month, by the way, same place.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “And thank you for going along with all of the stuff at the beginning. Mingyan’s a little strange, but she's a good disciple.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded, softening a little. “My disciples are all a little strange too.” Especially the ones that have been stealing food from the dining hall for the toad. None of the hallmasters had been able to figure out who the culprit was, and he was pretty sure the kitchen staff were about to start rigging traps for them. “I respected the work that must have gone into it all. It was very… theatrical.”

 

Qi Qingqi smiled conspiratorially, “She practised that for hours.”

 

“It showed,” Shen Yuan said, accepting one of the cushions someone handed him and adding it to his neat stack. “She ran the meeting well. She seems like a competent head disciple.”

 

“She is,” Qi Qingqi agreed, and ruffled his damp hair. She made a face when her hand came away slightly moist, and wiped her hand on her robes. “Gross. You do realise you could've used your qi to dry yourself off? Anyways, I hear you've been making lots of changes to the way your peak is run.”

 

“I'm only doing what's necessary,” he said. “It needed to change. Our disciplinary methods are archaic, the curriculum hasn't been changed in centuries, and there's no support for any disciples who don't learn as well in a traditional classroom setting. I want them to be better prepared for what's waiting for them out there, even if it requires us to attempt things that haven't been done before.”

 

“Such a dedicated master,” Qi Qingqi teased, thumbing at an intricate golden ring that sat on her index finger. “Your disciples are going to complain.”

 

Shen Yuan snorted. “They'll complain regardless, at least until they give one of those Bai Zhan brats a good smackdown. Liu Qingge owes me money for the damages his disciples did to my favourite garden.”

 

“Does he? What did they do?”

 

“What didn't they do? Let me tell you, it was such a mess-”

***

Shen Yuan drew his blankets more tightly around himself, staring tiredly into the semi-darkness. Rain hammered against the roof as it had been doing the last three days, occasionally accompanied by an excessively loud thunderclap.Trying to sleep was an exercise in futility. The disciples are probably going to be grumpy and lethargic tomorrow. He might ask Zhang Min to exempt them from running laps, especially if there was too much mud.

 

[User?]

 

Shen Yuan sighed and rolled onto his side, bringing his blanket cocoon with him. The System had been good about leaving him alone, but sometimes it would just needle at him to talk to it. Now seemed like one of those times.

 

[User, this System wishes to offer its apologies.]

 

That got his attention. He glanced at it, slightly disbelieving. “Do you?”

 

[Yes. This System is sorry that it caused User emotional distress.]

 

“So, you're sorry for making me upset, but not for your actions?”

 

[...Yes. This System believes that its actions were necessary.]

 

“Shitty apology,” Shen Yuan mumbled into his porcelain pillow, fists clenched. He turned his head to glare at it. “But I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything from something that would've gladly let me die.”

 

[This System did not wish for that to happen, but it is currently limited in what interference it is capable of.]

 

“That doesn't make it any better,” Shen Yuan spat, sitting up so that he was eye-level with it. He hurled his porcelain pillow at it, and as expected, it sailed straight through the incorporeal display and hit the wall, shattering on impact. “ You brought the monster to Baifeng Town! You are the reason I had to go there in the first place! You are the one that made it seem like the monster wasn't that big a deal and refused to tell me what it was! You-” his voice cracked, “-are the reason all of those people are dead! How am I supposed to forgive that?”

 

[This System brought it here to-]

 

“To teach me a lesson! I know! But that- you- why was it that? I- I already knew what was at stake! I already understood what would happen if I didn't try to change anything.”

 

[User Shen Yuan did not see those of this world as people.]

 

“Not at first,” he admitted, pulling his blankets even tighter around him. “But you made sure that I did. Did you know what was going to happen the whole time? Did you know when I was flying into trees like an idiot trying to learn how to fly on my sword? Did it amuse you, seeing me run around and talk to all of those people and promise them that I would help them, even though they'd already been fucked from the get-go? You had me go there and get to know them and listen to them speak about their dreams and- and their hopes and try to comfort them and tell stories to children that will never get to grow up, and you let me think it was all going to be okay. I was never going to sit back and let Luo Binghe destroy this sect, and you still thought you needed to show me what would happen if I failed? You still thought that I would sit back and let my disciples die?”

 

[This world is cruel, User. I was just trying to prepare you to face some of the possibilities that you will inevitably encounter.]

 

“You should've let me figure that out in my own time, then.”

 

He took a shaky breath in. He was so fucking angry and sick with grief, and it felt just as fresh as it ever had. I thought I was doing better. Does it ever go away? Please tell me it goes away.

 

“I thought- I thought you were something I could trust, but I was wrong. I was wrong, and I feel so, so stupid for it.”

 

[...]

 

[This System understands. It will not take such action again. It is sorry.]

 

“Great,” Shen Yuan croaked, mopping his eyes with his sleeve. “ Fine. That doesn't change the fact that they're dead, and it's your fault. ”

 

[User cannot keep ignoring this System, especially as we draw nearer to Luo Binghe's fall into and return from the Endless Abyss. You will likely need this System's help in the future.]

 

“I know that,” Shen Yuan said with a bitter laugh. “Gods, I'm so tired. I really don't have any choice but to talk to you, do I?”

 

[It is User's choice.]

 

“Is it? I hope you know that I don't forgive you, nor do I trust you,” Shen Yuan told it. “And I don't think that I will for a long time. But since I'm stuck with you, let's make a deal.”

 

[What does that entail?]

 

“You try to teach me another ‘lesson’ like that again, I'll save Luo Binghe the trouble and finish myself off,” he said. He's living on borrowed time anyhow. Zhang Min would do fine in his stead. “I'll let that stupid horse stomp my head in and won't lift a finger to save myself. You try to keep things from me again, and I won't speak to you, regardless of how important whatever it is you have to tell me is. If you accept this deal, I'll talk to you and do your quests, and I'll keep pretending to be a peak lord.”

 

[This System accepts the deal.]

 

“Good,” Shen Yuan said, and flopped onto his side. “Now let me attempt to get some sleep.”

 

[If User wants, this System can dampen some of the noise from outside.]

 

Why would you offer me that?

 

“Do whatever you want.”

 

It was like a dial had been turned, the thunder and pounding rain gradually phasing into the background until it was quiet and distant, almost like the rain noises on his da-ge's meditation app. 

 

[This System wishes to tell User that it thinks that joining the book club was a wise idea, even if the quality of the literature leaves much to be desired.]

 

“Why?” he asked quietly. “Because I'm making ‘connections,’ or some bullshit like that?”

 

[Because it made User happy.]

 

Shen Yuan squeezed his eyes shut. Why does that matter? he wanted to ask. Why are you doing this? Why can't I hate you, even after what you did?

 

But he did not ask, and even if he had, he's not sure he would be satisfied with whatever answer he received.

***

“You need to widen your stance.”

 

“I've already widened my stance!”

 

“And you need to bend your knees more. A lower center of gravity means you're harder to knock off balance.”

 

Shen Yuan shifted his body while Zhang Min circled him with a critical eye. She reached out and pushed his arms up a centimeter. His shoulders ached from holding his sword out in front of him for so long.

 

“You say you don't remember any of this?” she asked, a thoughtful glimmer in her eye.

 

No, considering I'm an imposter who has stolen the body of your shizun.

 

“I don't,” he said, eyeing the stick of bamboo she twirled in her hand. “My body just knows what to do. I've retained a lot of my muscle memory.”

 

[But not enough! User's sword forms are shameful. Zhang Min is right to have you practising so often.]

 

No, your sword forms are shameful!

 

[User, this System doesn't have sword forms. Your attempts at retaliatory barbs leave much to be desired.]

 

My arms are really, really sore, okay? And I don't care that they ‘leave much to be desired’.

 

“As interesting as that is, you're still making many minor errors,” Zhang Min said, scratching a line into the dry soil with her bamboo stick. There were ten so far. Shen Yuan had no idea what they were there for. “Now run through it twenty times without error, and then I'll be happy and you can go read more of your trashy novels.”

 

“You are a cruel and unyielding mistress,” Shen Yuan groaned. 

 

Zhang Min brandished the bamboo stick threateningly. “I'll be even more cruel and unyielding if you don't get to work. As Peak Lord, you're expected to be the best of us. I refuse to let you embarrass our peak.”

 

Shen Yuan grumbled, and ran through the sword form again, making sure to position his limbs as perfectly as possible. He messed it up again, but Zhang Min was nice enough not to smack him.

***

Shen Yuan was enjoying a nice, quiet day in his office, puzzling out an evaluation scale for the disciples. Specialized tutoring to help with any of their weaker skills would likely do a world of good, but first he had to figure out where all of them were in their education. He took the occasional break for food or personal reading (he'd been sucked into the next book club book, which was a particularly vile harem drama- Shen Yuan loved it). 

 

Nobody had been maimed or dragged off by a hungry beast yet today, which was a win in his book. He tapped his chin with the wooden end of his brush thoughtfully. Maybe he should update the workplace safety guidelines next. 

 

His musings were interrupted when Zhang Min rapped on the door and poked her head in, “Shizun, one of your Qing Jing ducklings are asking to see you.”

 

Shen Yuan sighed and massaged his temples. He'd just gotten sucked into a productive flow. “I keep telling them that it is unnecessary to speak to me every time that they want to visit the peak. And they're not my ducklings.”

 

[They've imprinted on you, User! It's very sweet! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)]

 

Shen Yuan gave the System a dark look. I'm not a fucking duck! And they have not imprinted on me! I'm the worst possible person to imprint on!

 

“Which one is it?” he asked.

 

“The horse one. She's crying.”

 

Shen Yuan set down his brush, alarmed. Unlike Luo Binghe, who teared up at the drop of a hat, Ning Yingying was not much of a crier. She was generally pretty jovial and quite a bit tougher than he'd expected from someone who'd frequently found herself in damsel-in-distress scenarios in PIDW. Something awful must have happened. 

 

“Thank you, Zhang Min. Send her in,” Shen Yuan said, and she nodded and ducked out of the office.

 

Ning Yingying shuffled inside a minute later and sat down. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was running, so Shen Yuan wordlessly handed her a handkerchief from one of his pouches. 

 

[Awww, how caring! User does have a heart!]

 

I think it would be fairly obvious if I lacked one. I would be dead.

 

[User is being deliberately obtuse.]

 

I've been told I'm pretty acute.

 

[...]

 

[User is deflecting. Are you having brotherly feelings?]

 

No… shut up. It's not my fault she makes me think of meimei.

 

“Is everything alright, Ning-shizhi?” he asked, despite the fact that everything was very clearly not alright. She glanced down at the handkerchief and her lip quivered.

 

“It has little cats on it,” she whimpered, and then abruptly burst into tears. Shen Yuan watched her, alarmed.

 

What the fuck do I do? I think I just made things worse!

 

[Comfort her and ask her what has upset her.]

 

How do I comfort her?!

 

[User is useless.]

 

Hey! 

 

Rude!

 

Shen Yuan cleared his throat and awkwardly reached out and patted Ning Yingying on the shoulder. “There, there. You're alright. Can Ning-shizhi tell me what happened?”

 

She hiccuped, wiping away her tears with the cat handkerchief. “I- Ming Fan- A-Luo-”

 

“Slow down and breathe,” he said in the same low, calm voice he used with skittish animals and an enraged Hatsune Miku. “There's no rush.”

 

She sniffled and took a few trembling breaths while he continued to awkwardly pat her shoulder. He didn't know how long it was normal to pat someone who was upset.

 

Finally, she seemed to get enough of a handle on her emotions to speak. “Ming Fan took A-Luo's jade pendant because I thought it was prettier than the one he wanted to give to me, and then they all beat A-Luo up, and Shizun punished everyone except for me even though A-Luo didn't do anything wrong! He was just defending himself! And I've been looking all over for A-Luo's pendant, but I can't find it, and I've never seen him so upset before!”

 

“And you came here to ask me for help?” Shen Yuan guessed. Ning Yingying nodded and loudly blew her nose in the handkerchief. 

 

“I know you're a peak lord and you're probably busy, but I had to at least try. Shizun won't listen to me, and A-Luo trusts you, and you're in the literature society, and-”

 

He held up a hand to stop her rambling. She quieted, miserably fiddling with the handkerchief. 

 

“I'm not busy at the moment. Nobody's been mauled yet today, which is highly irregular. Normally by this time, someone's being carted off to Qian Cao and I'm having to read through an incident report.”

 

“So you'll help?” she asked hopefully, instantly brightening.

 

He nodded and shuffled his papers into a neat pile. “I will, provided we get out of here before someone manages to wound themselves.”

 

They used his sword to travel to Qing Jing Peak, Ning Yingying with a vice grip on his waist the whole way there. He was impressed that she'd walked the whole way to his peak and still had the energy to cry. What the hell are they feeding these disciples? Pure caffeine? 

 

Once they'd landed, Ning Yingying started talking a mile a minute, expressing considerable disappointment in her master and all the places she'd looked for the jade pendant. He half-listened to her, taking the opportunity to observe Qing Jing in person. Huh, some of the fan art was pretty close. They didn't encounter too many people, and those that they saw were quick to hurry past, shooting him anxious glances. He probably would've been offended if he wasn't so preoccupied staring at things. If he'd had a camera, he would've been snapping photos like a tourist.

 

She took him to a small clearing a fair distance from any buildings or major footpaths, and Shen Yuan could instantly tell where the fight had taken place. On the far end of the clearing, some of the earth had been churned up. Blood speckled some of the dead leaves underfoot, and the bushes nearby were slightly flattened, as if something heavy had landed on them.

 

Ning Yingying went to scour the area for the pendant once more, while Shen Yuan looked over the area carefully. He soon spied a bit of red string dangling in the branches overhead. He followed the string to the bright green of the false jade Guanyin. Ah, there it is. He did concede that it did blend in quite a bit, so Ning Yingying might've missed it even if she had looked overhead.

 

When Ning Yingying’s back was turned, he leapt with qi to boost his jump and snagged it easily from where it hung. He landed on light feet, as agile as a panther.

 

[Congratulations! User has obtained key item: Fake Jade Guanyin]

 

[For alterations to the plot, User has earned +50 B-Points!]

 

[Total B-Points: 385 B-Points]

 

Shen Yuan stared at it. Such an important item, and yet so small. He traced Guanyin’s content face with his fingertips. The pendant was cool against the skin of his palm.

 

[Would User like to place this item in his System inventory to retrieve at a later time?]

 

Does the pendant do anything?

 

[This item can be used to reduce Luo Binghe's anger points by a significant amount.]

 

Shen Yuan blinked. How much of a reduction are we talking about here?

 

[10,000 Anger Points.]

 

Holy shit. That is… not an insignificant amount. 

 

[It is not. It could spell the difference between life and death for you or those you wish to protect.]

 

Shen Yuan swallowed thickly. This was Luo Binghe's most prized possession and all he had left of his adoptive mother, who had almost used up her entire life savings in order to bequeath Luo Binghe this protective charm. Despite the passage of centuries, Luo Binghe had never truly gotten over its loss. In the later chapters of PIDW, he would often lament his past self's weakness, and he'd had a whole arc where he'd tried to get it back. It was one of the few times Luo Binghe had ever failed to do something.

 

Shen Yuan wondered if the pendant had burned along with the sect.

 

[User?]

 

But if he held onto it, he could use it as leverage to protect his peak when Luo Binghe returned to enact his vengeance. Or maybe, at the very least, he could use it to ensure the survival of his disciples. But what if he figured out Shen Yuan had held onto it the entire time, and felt betrayed? 

 

If he did hand it over now, he would have the gratitude of Ning Yingying at the very least, and he might be able to convince her to talk Luo Binghe into sparing Ling Shou.

 

Plus, this current Luo Binghe was such a sweet- and surprisingly sticky- little bun, even when he was happily rattling off his various crimes to Shen Yuan.

 

Shen Yuan wasn't really able to do much about the mistreatment he endured- and he was willing to bet a good amount of money that Shen Qingqiu would inflict grievous bodily harm upon him should he even imply that he mistreated any of his disciples- so really, returning the pendant to Luo Binghe was the least he could do. 

 

[Is User sure that he wants to do this?]

 

Yeah, I suppose.

 

He looked it over, and frowned at how frayed the string was. It was tatty and thinning in a few places, and would probably break in a matter of months. After a moment of deliberation, he untied his hair, the loose strands spilling over his shoulders and down his back. He crouched down and untied the red string before he carefully threaded his light blue ribbon through the pendant's bail and tied the ends together. 

 

There, now he should be able to better hold onto it.

 

“Ning-shizhi, is this it?” he asked, holding it up. Ning Yingying’s eyes widened and she hurried over, relief obvious.

 

“You found it! Thank you, Shishu!”

 

He placed it gently into her outstretched hands, and her eyes darted between his unbound hair and the ribbon that was being used as a makeshift chain. 

 

“Shishu, this is-”

 

He waved her off. “The string was in poor shape. Tell Luo Binghe that he can keep it.”

 

Ning Yingying nodded fervently. “Yes, Lian-shishu! But aren't you going to come with me to return it to him?”

 

He shook his head. “That's not a good idea, Shizhi. Your shizun might not be too thrilled if he discovered me here.”

 

She frowned. “Why not?”

 

“It's complicated,” Shen Yuan admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “He might see it as me undermining his authority.” And I get the impression that he doesn't particularly like me, or anybody.

 

“Shizun probably won't even leave his house for the rest of the day, and if he does see you, you can just say I begged you to come help a wounded animal.”

 

Shen Yuan hesitated. He didn't see what good his presence would do Luo Binghe, but it would probably be best to check on him if he'd been in a fight. Oh god, I hope Shen Qingqiu hasn't whipped him as punishment.

 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan acquiesced, and she cheered and skipped off. They found Luo Binghe kneeling in one of the courtyards, looking truly miserable, tear tracks dried on his face and his gaze despondent. He'd probably been there for hours, knowing Shen Qingqiu. There was no sign of the little weasels that had attacked him.

 

It took a moment for their presence to register, and his cheeks flushed with shame. Shen Yuan didn't think he looked too bad- his face was a bit bruised and he moved a bit stiffly, but he didn't see any broken bones or signs of bleeding.

 

“Hello, Shishu. Ning-shijie.”

 

“We found it, A-Luo!” Ning Yingying exclaimed, shoving the pendant into his hands. “Well, Shishu found it-”

 

“It was a group effort,” Shen Yuan protested.

 

“I'm sorry that I drew Ming Fan's attention to it,” Ning Yingying babbled. “I didn't know that he'd do something like that. I don't know why he did it.”

 

Luo Binghe gave her a small smile, “Thank you, Shijie.”

 

Ah, young love. I wonder if I should just slip away now and let them tenderly embrace each other, or something.

 

Luo Binghe stroked the fabric of the ribbon with trembling fingers, and then the pendant, as if he was worried it would crumble to dust in his hands. 

 

He looked up at Shen Yuan with sparkling eyes. Ahhh, not the protagonist eyes again! “Is the ribbon yours?”

 

“Yes,” Shen Yuan confirmed, handing him the old red string. Luo Binghe tucked it away. “I didn't want you to run the risk of losing this again.”

 

[+20 Protagonist Satisfaction Points]

 

“Shishu, you-” his voice broke. He kind of looked like he was going to cry, and Shen Yuan really hoped that he wouldn't. 

 

[User is so insensitive! (｡•́︿•̀｡)]

 

Just because I don't like people crying on or near me does not make me insensitive!

 

[Truly heartless!]

 

“Your shijie came and requested my assistance. I'm sorry that your shixiongs thought it appropriate to take from you,” Shen Yuan said, wishing he could just jump on his sword and fly very, very far away from here. “Such behaviour would never be tolerated on my peak.”

 

Luo Binghe flashed him a quivering smile, his eyes filling with tears.

 

Oh god, why is he crying?! System, can you make him stop?

 

[This System cannot. It believes that the principle cause of protagonist Luo Binghe's tears is a combination of joy and relief.]

 

I don't think he cried this much in the novel. Did he cry this much in the novel?

 

[This System is unsure.]

 

Very helpful.

 

Shen Yuan was not prepared for Luo Binghe to throw himself at him and bury his face in his chest. He stood stock-still as Luo Binghe clung to him. He silently pleaded with Ning Yingying to help him, but she just smirked and did nothing to help pry Luo Binghe off of him.

 

That little-

 

Surely he'd get more enjoyment out of hugging Ning Yingying than this old man.

 

[+20 Protagonist Satisfaction Points]

 

Shen Yuan stared at the notification, confused. I really don't understand what he's getting out of this. Maybe this is a sign that he's beginning to see me as a trusted mentor figure.

 

[Considering that he has latched onto User like a koala and is currently trying to suffocate himself in your cleavage, this System is obliged to agree.]

 

His face burned. Don't say it like that! And I do not have cleavage!

 

[User does, in fact, have cleavage.]

 

Fine! Whatever! We can debate this later. Don't most mentor-type characters die in this genre?

 

[They tend to, yes. But this System doesn't foresee anything ending your life prematurely beyond User's lack of fighting ability or survival instinct.]

 

Gee, thanks. That's reassuring. 

 

Shen Yuan sighed and patted Luo Binghe's fluffy mess of curls, picking a stray leaf or two out of his hair. Luo Binghe's arms tightened around his middle.

 

“Do you want me to grab you some dinner from the dining hall, A-Luo?” Ning Yingying asked with an overly sweet smile, and Shen Yuan glared at her. Evil. Evil and conniving.

 

Luo Binghe mumbled affirmatively, and Ning Yingying giggled and ran off to grab them food. 

 

Shen Yuan shook his head and glanced down at Luo Binghe, who slumped against him.

 

Ah, poor little bun.

 

“Do you have any injuries that you need treatment for?”

 

Luo Binghe shook his head and released his hold on Shen Yuan, though he seemed reluctant to do so. He looked rough, even with the benefit of the protagonist halo. “No, this lowly one is alright. This one was mostly afraid that he would never see his jade pendant again.”

 

Shen Yuan shrugged. “I'm sure Luo-shizhi would have found it eventually.” He nudged him lightly with his elbow. “You gonna put another hornet nest in Ming Fan's room?”

 

Luo Binghe scowled. “He'd be lucky if he only got two of them.”

 

Rest in peace, Ming Fan. You will not be missed.

 

“Dare I ask what you're planning to do to him?”

 

Do you plan on feeding him to demonic ants any time soon?

 

Luo Binghe grinned and knelt where he had been when they'd arrived. Shen Yuan wondered idly how long he had to do that for. “I'll tell you all about it when it's done.”

 

[User will not try to dissuade him?]

 

Why should I? Let Ming Fan have a taste of his own medicine.

 

[User is merciless.]

 

Notes:

Liu Mingyan heard Shang Qinghua use the phrase "shipping wars" once when they were discussing books, and her life was never the same.

I too have no idea how to handle upset people 💪😔

I go back to university in about two weeks, so that might affect my update schedule, but hopefully it won't do so too terribly.

As always, thank you all for reading <3

Chapter 7: Hot, Single War Gods In Your Area Want To Fight You

Summary:

Shen Yuan dresses up, does some public speaking, and is penetrated.

Notes:

Thank you all for your patience 😅

The time between chapters will unfortunately be about this length going forward due to my workload this semester.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

It was the most difficult puzzle Shen Yuan had yet faced, rife with misdirection and false hope. Layer after layer, ties and strings and folds, all looping and interweaving and knotting together to form one cohesive picture. Shen Yuan hated his fancy robes.

 

After that was an embarrassing length of time spent getting his hair into the startlingly heavy silver guan, which he had to redo several times when it turned out lopsided.

 

Was this how Psyche had felt, forced to do task after task by Aphrodite as penance for the crime of gazing upon Eros’ visage?

 

[Dramatic.]

 

You would be too after all of this, Shen Yuan retorted huffily, hauling himself over the mirror. He turned this way and that to ensure he hadn't missed anything.

 

I look like a buffoon.

 

[So no different than usual?]

 

He flipped it off, hauling up his robes and stomping over the bed where he'd left his sheathed sword. I just know I'm going to get tripped up on something and topple over like a moron.

 

It was to be his very first peak lord meeting, which Qi Qingqi had been kind enough to mention when he'd popped by for tea a few days prior. It had been surprisingly nice after the first few minutes, which had been spent on stilted chit chat regarding the weather. Eventually though, Shen Yuan had relaxed enough to eagerly share gossip- who was expecting a baby, who was cheating on who, the odd happenings that occurred on his peak around midnight. Qi Qingqi shared some personal anecdotes in turn. If some of the things she'd told him of her past were true… well, he would endeavor to never get on her bad side.

 

Shen Yuan swore under his breath as his clumsy fingers failed to secure his trusty qiankun pouch to his sash. He half-expected to be found out as an imposter the moment he entered the hall where the meetings were held and summarily executed.

 

After another minute of primping, he gave up. This is as good as it's going to get. In his opinion, he looked like someone pretending at an aloof immortal, missing the mark on several counts. 

 

He'd gone so far as to shave off the scruff that grew all too easily on his face. Before, he had been able to get away with shaving his face about once a month, and even then, he'd only had a wispy mustache and a few scant hairs on his chin. The people in his family were, as a rule, not very hairy. Shen Yuan did like all the hair he had on his chest now, but hell would freeze over before he admitted that to anyone.

 

At least these robes don't have a boob window. Some of the people who made PIDW fanart always drew the peak lords with boob windows, regardless of gender. Small mercies, he supposed.

 

He stopped by the office to bid Zhang Min farewell, who'd looked him over with clear approval, and hopped onto his sword. 

 

Shen Yuan didn't fly as fast as he usually cared to- he had discovered himself to be a mild adrenaline junkie, finding great enjoyment speeding through the air as quickly as he was able once he'd finally been confident that he wouldn't spontaneously plummet off of his blade. A few heads turned his way as he neared the far side of Qiong Ding Peak, where the meeting hall was situated. 

 

He landed with a small flourish in the garden just outside the hall. He'd practised this landing for hours until he didn't look like an idiot. He didn't linger despite how nice the garden was- it was hot as hell in all of these layers- and entered through a towering set of oaken doors that had scenes of Cang Qiong’s triumphs carved into its face.

 

The air in the hall was mercifully cool, and he took only a moment to smooth down his windswept hair before he approached the heavy wooden table. His head was held high and his fancy robes swished hypnotically about his ankles, thankfully not tripping him up. 

 

He'd arrived relatively early, only a few of his fellow peak lords already seated. I hope these things don't have seating charts.

 

[The only instance in which you are required to sit in your designated chair is when you have visitors from other sects, in which case you sit in order of peak hierarchy.]

 

Huh, surprisingly helpful.

 

[This System is always helpful. ヽ(`⌒´メ)ノ]

 

Uh huh.

 

He was spared the decision of where to sit when Qi Qingqi caught his eye and beckoned him over. He sank gratefully into the chair on her right-hand side, and brought out his note-taking materials.

 

He was quite chagrined to discover that in these robes, he was unable to slouch without fear of tearing a seam. It appeared as if Lian Qingliu had gotten buffer since they'd been commissioned, which made him scowl bitterly. Nothing should be allowed to correct his posture and get away with it! It was his gods-given right to develop kyphosis!

 

“What a pretty picture you make,” Qi Qingqi purred, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at him. “It's not often I get to see you all dolled up.”

 

Shen Yuan grimaced. “And it will continue to be a rare occurrence. I feel about as becoming as a pig in powder and rouge. Plus, one wrong move and my garments will tear.”

 

Qi Qingqi's gaze flitted down to his chest and shoulders, where the fabric was drawn taut. She grinned and handed him an osmanthus cake, of which she seemed to have an infinite supply. Shen Yuan hadn't a clue where she stored them all. In a low, conspiratorial whisper, she asked, “What are your bets for this meeting?”

 

He gave her an odd look. “Bets? What do you mean by that?”

 

It was her turn now to look perplexed. “The usual bit of gambling we do. I've bet Mu Qingfang a not insignificant amount of money that Shang Qinghua will jabber on for at least a quarter of a shichen, Wei Qingwei will mention the forges at least ten times in his reports, and that Yue Qingyuan will approve whatever Shen Qingqiu demands, regardless of whether we have room in the budget for it.”

 

That the peak lords apparently gambled over the outcome of their meetings probably shouldn't've been a surprise.

 

 It was an endearingly human quality. But I suppose they are all human in the ways that count, bar their longevity. Well, he cast a sidelong look to Shang Qinghua, who'd just arrived in a fit of pique, muttering furiously under his breath while he piled veritable mountains of paperwork upon the table, most of them, at least. He's more like a twitchy rodent.

 

“It looks like Shang Qinghua will crack one of these days,” he said noncommittally. “I'll pass on any bets this time, but I might indulge at the next meeting.”

 

Qi Qingqi laughed mirthfully, and the both of them launched into a debate over the latest book club novel. It was a tawdry one, possessing a love triangle with characters so bland that neither of the romantic leads were all that good of an option. Shen Yuan maintained that the only way the novel would actually have a satisfying conclusion was if the protagonist took it upon herself to poison them both dead and live out the rest of her days as a mad alchemist. Qi Qingqi thought the protagonist should just elope with her dedicated female servant.

 

A few minutes before the time the meeting was supposed to officially start, Mu Qingfang dropped into the empty chair beside Shen Yuan, and covertly handed Qi Qingqi a small pouch that probably contained money, à la drug dealer. 

 

“Your winnings from last time,” he murmured, nodding to one of the peak lords across the table. “Liu-shidi won't be here for this meeting, so Chen-shimei already has a leg up on the rest of us.”

 

“We can't let her win again,” Qi Qingqi groaned, passing Mu Qingfang a couple of osmanthus cakes, which he accepted and began to nibble on.

 

“To the victor goes the spoils,” Mu Qingfang said, already looking resigned. 

 

Right as the meeting was set to begin, Shen Qingqiu stormed in with a truly thunderous expression on his face, Yue Qingyuan at his heels, looking like a kicked puppy. Qi Qingqi snorted and Mu Qingfang hastily scribbled something down in a leather-bound book, an air of triumph about him.

 

Shen Qingqiu sat himself opposite Shen Yuan, only sparing him a disdainful glance, before he flicked open his fan and turned away. Today's fan had more insulting poetry (specifically pertaining to one's delusions of adequacy) on it right beside a cluster of delicately-painted hawthorn.

 

Yue Qingqyuan sat himself at the table's head, and after a quick scan of those in attendance, the meeting was called to order. Only Liu Qingge's chair remained empty. 

 

It was all… really fucking boring.

 

Shen Yuan made half-hearted notes as the peak lords discussed the goings on and issues of their respective peaks, most of which were both mundane and mind-numbingly similar. The only reports that were even remotely interesting were from the artifacts peak and the agricultural peak. 

 

He himself made a quick report on his changes to his peak, the brevity of which seemed to surprise the other peak lords.

 

“Not going to natter on about one of your beasts?” asked a man with several burn scars- Wei Qingwei. He'd spent a whole twenty minutes discussing forge temperatures, which Shen Yuan would never forgive him for.

 

“Lian-shidi has clearly learned the value of restraint,” Shen Qingqiu sniffed, fanning himself haughtily. “A virtue you have yet to grasp.”

 

This was a little rich coming from the guy who'd made order after order for new supplies from Yue Qingyuan (and who had, as predicted, come away with everything he desired), but Shen Yuan was thankful that his interjection killed a few of the scrutinizing looks levelled his way.

 

Shen Yuan gave up on taking notes completely once Shang Qinghua- traitorous rat- reached the fifteen minute mark of his impassioned rant about quarterly expenditures and budgeting forms that some of the peak lords hadn't filled out properly. 

 

Instead, he absently drew a Lash-Tongued Venomous Abyssal Hound with excruciating detail. The last sighting of one had supposedly been a few centuries prior. Luo Binghe fought a whole pack of them in the Abyss, armed only with his own old sharpened femur. That was such a cool battle.

 

[+5 F-points]

 

You still haven't told me what those mean.

 

[And this System is not about to. (o˘◡˘o)]

 

You're infuriating.

 

[Oh, this System is well aware. (•⩊•)]

 

As he listened to Shang Qinghua yammer some more, his eyes unconsciously drifted over to Liu Qingge's empty seat. Hey, do you know where he is?

 

[Liu Qingge, the Bai Zhan War God, is currently in seclusion in the Ling Xi Caves!]

 

He briefly ran through what he could recall of PIDW's early narrative, and stiffened in horror. The caves in which Shen Qingqiu murders him?!

 

[They are the caves in which he meets his demise.]

 

Once Shang Qinghua finished his speech- it was a full forty-five minutes he would later learn- the meeting was over. Shen Yuan stood with a thankful groan and stretched as much as the constraints of his tight clothing allowed. His back popped nicely. Mu Qingfang and Qi Qingqi were bent over the open leather-bound journal, pointing at different places on the page and talking in low voices.

 

Figuring that they probably wouldn't notice it if he left, he decided that he was going to retire back to his peak and change as soon as possible. Then perhaps build a bonfire and burn these awful robes.

 

Just outside of the doors, Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan were heatedly arguing about something. Shen Yuan meandered around the garden, not near enough that they noticed him but not far enough that he couldn't eavesdrop.

 

“-don't think that it's a good idea. Why now? You just returned from a mission with your disciples. Surely-”

 

“Don't talk to me about those brats. After the stunts they pulled, I don't want to look at them for a year, at least. I've had enough of kidnappings and misguided heroics. ”

 

“Surely it wasn't that bad? I know that your cultivation-”

 

“Don't you dare talk to me about my cultivation. I will be going into seclusion regardless of whether you approve it or not, Zhangmen-shixiong. I was merely doing you the courtesy of informing you of my decision.”

 

“...Okay, Shidi. But please… be careful.”

 

Shen Qingqiu snorted derisively and left, Yue Qingyuan's shoulders slumping as soon as he was gone.

 

Shen Yuan knew he should probably emerge from the garden, maybe comfort him, but he found himself glued to the spot. He'd long been unimpressed by Yue Qingyuan's excusal of Shen Qingqiu's flagrant abuse of Luo Binghe and his tendency to act as the man's doormat (well, at least until Shen Qingqiu's trial). Hell, he'd died for Shen Qingqiu, even though the guy seemed to loathe him.

 

But here, he did not seem like someone Shen Yuan could dislike. His placid demeanor stripped away, he did not seem like the powerful sect leader he was nor the NPC-like big brother figure that he projected. 

 

How would he look when those thousand arrows were loosed, knowing that he had failed? Knowing that his death was his only legacy, that he had failed to save the one person he had been so keen to protect, to save?

 

Shen Yuan tore his eyes away from his diminished figure. He hoped that when that day arrived, he would not have to witness his fall. He did not think he wanted to see how much further Shen Qingqiu could drag the people of this sect down.

***

Shen Yuan paced agitatedly, casting frequent glances towards the door of the classroom. It remained blessedly shut- at least for now.

 

Why am I doing this? Why did I think that this was an acceptable idea? I'm an idiot. An idiot, a moron, a dumbass-

 

[They're just disciples, User. It's not like they'll bite.]

 

This lot would.

 

There had been four individual biting incidents between disciples in the past two weeks alone. The most absurd incident of the bunch had been over one of the more tame creatures that resided on the peak- it had shown clear preference for the biting victim, which the biter had not liked. The biter had been utterly unrepentant until Shen Yuan had forced them to write a multi-page essay as punishment, with at least five references and formatted in APA style. Afterwards, the biter had given both Shen Yuan and the bitee a wide berth, and according to the teachers, been uncharacteristically well behaved in their classes.

 

Honestly, it sometimes feels like I'm responsible for a pack of wild dogs.

 

[You say that like that's a bad thing. Surely User doesn't dislike dogs? They're such loyal and affectionate creatures!]

 

Shen Yuan glared at it. “You wouldn't be saying that if you'd had the misfortune of meeting my er-ge's dog. Its name was Robespierre, because my er-ge thought it was funny. Had that dog had access to a guillotine, he wouldn't have hesitated to use it. Robespierre- the dog one- is one of the most evil beings to have ever walked the earth. It bit me on twenty-two different occasions, pissed in several pairs of my shoes, and destroyed multiple priceless limited edition Luo Binghe sweatshirts!” 

 

[You had more than one?]

 

[+5 F-points]

 

“Don't take that judgemental tone with me! A better name for that horrible creature would've been Mauvaise Viande! Bad Meat! And we've strayed from the point! The point is, I should never have opened my big, fat mouth around Zhang Min! I am not suited for teaching.”

 

He'd made the mistake of criticizing one of the bestiaries that was considered one of the most accurate records of the flora and fauna of the Endless Abyss while she was within earshot. Look, most of the information was wildly incorrect at worst and speculation at best. As Peak Lord of the Beast Handling Peak, he was obligated to say something about it! This had, in a series of unfortunate events, ended with him about to teach a class on the very subject.

 

[That's just karmic retribution for being an insufferable know-it-all. Besides, didn't you want to introduce a class that covered these topics anyways?]

 

There's a difference between correcting blatantly incorrect, potentially harmful information and being a know-it-all, not that you would understand the difference, you clunky, passe automaton! And you're missing the point once again! 

 

He'd wanted to establish a class like this to better prepare his disciples both for the sabotaged Immortal Alliance Conference in a few years as well as Luo Binghe's bloody return from super turbo hell. If they could recognise what they were facing and exploit their weaknesses, then they had a much better chance at survival. That Shen Yuan was to be the one to teach the class was not a part of his plans. He wasn't qualified to teach!

 

To distract himself from his impending doom, he set about pinning up diagrams of some of the lowest level abyssal species- both the highly incorrect variants and his own much more accurate versions.

 

He soon heard telltale movement behind him, but he kept his eyes fixed stubbornly on the diagrams. If he couldn't see them, they didn't exist.

 

[Burying your head in the sand? I didn't know you were an ostrich, User! What fascinating avoidant tendencies you have!]

 

He didn't deign to reply, merely casting it an arch look to convey his displeasure.

 

When the peak's bell tolled in the distance, he braced himself and turned to greet his class. The disciples were settled attentively in their seats. This group consisted of older teens and young adults, an age bracket chosen specifically because of how gruesome some of the course content could be. He recognised only a few faces, disciples this age less prone to trailing him around. His face froze in a rictus, and he took his place at the lectern at the front of the room.

 

[What a gruesome mien! This System will be seeing it in its hibernation cycle!]

 

Fuck you, there's nothing wrong with my face! And ‘hibernation cycle’?! Just say sleep, you pretentious asshole!

 

Shen Yuan gently cleared his throat and shuffled his notes to allow him a moment to get his brain in order. What was it his er-ge had always said about speaking in front of crowds? This isn't really a crowd, though the principle was close enough. Play someone else? Right. He could do that. He'd done it enough when he was doing those line readings with his meimei. He could play the part of someone cool and confident. He just hoped he wouldn't screw them up so badly that they met their deaths prematurely- that was one of his biggest qualms about teaching this class. What if he did irreparable damage?

 

[User should probably speak before the silence gets too drawn-out.]

 

Oh, right.

 

“Good afternoon,” he began tentatively, keeping his voice level despite the weight of all the eyes on him. “It has recently come to my attention that some of our bestiaries are riddled with inaccuracies about the species native to the Endless Abyss. Your Head Disciple and I thought the best solution to this was to have me teach you the correct information, a decision that would not be remiss considering our deliberations over whether this content should be incorporated into the curriculum on a more permanent basis. I suppose we can think of this as a test run, of sorts.”

 

He glanced down at his notes briefly, leaning some of his weight on the lectern. It creaked in protest. 

 

“My hope in teaching all of you this is that you will be able to apply what you've learned in case you are confronted with one of these creatures, as improbable as it is.”

 

One of the disciples raised their hand, and Shen Yuan gestured at him to speak.

 

“How do you know that the information in the bestiaries is so incorrect? Our sect prides itself on the quality of its accumulated knowledge.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded slowly. He'd anticipated such a question, and worked out a response that wouldn't have the System gleefully booting him back to his own dead body. “When I had my qi deviation a few months ago, I was made privy to a wealth of information that I wouldn't have been able to obtain otherwise. What I learned from that has encouraged me to better our peak. Correcting misinformation and ensuring that my disciples are well-informed are a crucial part of this.”

 

A few heads bobbed in approval, and a few of his disciples looked at him like they were considering him in a new light. Claiming obscure knowledge will do that, I suppose.

 

Another hand raised.

 

“Surely you don't think that there will be much practical application of this, Shizun? There have only been about seven abyssal beast sightings in the last two centuries.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded patiently despite the way his stomach was twisting itself into knots. There will be more of them here than you thought possible, more terrible than you can imagine. “I know that there have been few recorded instances of abyssal beasts in recent history, but that doesn't mean that this knowledge will not be beneficial to you in one way or another. Beyond knowing how to deal with these creatures in the unlikely instance that you come across one, they have very unique adaptations thanks to the hostility of their native ecosystems, which I believe makes them interesting to learn about.”

 

This seemed to appease the disciple who'd asked. He glanced over the rows of desks, and nearly did a double take when he reached the back row. Tucked away in the corner, obviously trying not to be spotted, were Ning Yingying and Luo Binghe. How long-

 

[Since the beginning. User was too frazzled to take notice of them.]

 

Shen Yuan debated whether or not to kick them out. They were both younger by the other disciples here by at least three years, plus, they weren't even his students. 

 

Then, there was all the havoc their very presence could wreak on the plot! What if them sitting in on this class changed what beasts Luo Binghe unleashed upon the peak later, making his efforts to prepare his disciples futile?! But Luo Binghe did suffer terribly in the Endless Abyss. His limbs were torn off, his flesh repeatedly dissolved by acid, sap, and venom alike, his bones pulverized, his skin burned and frozen. Why shouldn't Shen Yuan help ease some of this sweet bun's eventual suffering? His only crime thus far was his clinginess!

 

Mind made up, Shen Yuan tore his eyes away from the Qing Jing disciples, and called on a serious-looking girl.

 

“Will we have any exams?”

 

Thankfully an easy answer. “No, but you'll have a few projects, with three individual projects and one group project in the next year. Rote memorization is all well and good, but this is all a bit useless if you can't use your critical thinking skills to apply what you've learned to solve problems. Any more questions?”

 

That seemed to be all for now, so that meant it was time to actually teach. 

 

Don't let me screw this up.

 

“Then let us begin. The Endless Abyss can be divided into seven distinct biomes-”

***

The System woke him with a shrill, grating alarm that posed a serious threat to the health and continued function of his eardrums. Shen Yuan hissed in pain, clapping his palms over his ears. “Why are you waking me up?! It's still fucking dark outside!”

 

[Time Sensitive Quest Available!]

 

That cooled his ire slightly.

 

[Quest: <The Fall of the War God>]

 

[Time Remaining: 00:28:56]

 

[Reward for Completion: 100 B-Points]

 

[Penalty for Failure: Liu Qingge's Death]

 

Ah fuck.

 

Shen Yuan sat up groggily, having to read the information a few times until he was functional enough to comprehend it. Liu Qingge's death birthed one of the most poignant storylines of PIDW - Liu Mingyan’s grief and her subsequent bid for justice. Even though she had eventually gotten said justice by seeing Shen Qingqiu locked away in the Huan Hua Water Prison, she never truly recovered from her brother's murder, carrying the grief with her for centuries. 

 

It would be all too easy for Shen Yuan to roll over and go back to sleep. He didn't know Liu Qingge, nor did he particularly care what happened to him, but he did care for Liu Mingyan, who reminded him of his meimei. They were both bright and creative, with a love of spectacle. Liu Mingyan had begun to visit the evil horse with Ning Yingying despite the fact the beast barely tolerated her presence. Could he really turn a blind eye to this, knowing the consequences?

 

What did my death cost meimei?

 

The question sat heavily in the back of his mind, most present in that torturous stretch between wakefulness and sleep. His sister had likely been the one to find his body, prone to dropping by unannounced just to catch up and have dinner together. Sometimes she'd put on one of her K-dramas and they'd shit-talk the characters the entire time, regardless of the quality of the show. How did she feel, seeing her brother sprawled lifeless on the floor, likely already beginning to rot? Would she still be able to hold onto her happiness and whimsy, or was his death her breaking point? He hoped not, more than he'd ever hoped for anything before. His er-ge had always said that older brothers were supposed to protect their younger siblings, but there was nothing he could do to shield her from that.

 

Surely Liu Mingyan doesn't need to lose her brother for the story to stay on track? She could still fall for Luo Binghe, so long as he puts up a good fight during the demon invasion! And Luo Binghe can still get Shen Qingqiu locked away on the other charges! So really, I have no reason to refuse this beyond any potential bodily harm I could incur doing this! 

 

[User could die if he chooses to undertake this quest.]

 

Shen Yuan grinned bitterly. Big surprise. “I expected nothing less. Alright, I'll do it.”

 

He clicked the accept button when it popped up, and a display showing the countdown flickered to life in his periphery.

 

[00:21:32]

 

[User needs to leave now if he is to arrive in time to circumvent Liu Qingge's fate.]

 

Shen Yuan was out of bed in an instant, only bothering to pull on his boots and to tie his hair up before he was out the door and in the air, flying towards Qiong Ding like a bat out of hell.

 

Will you help guide me once I get to the Ling Xi Caves?

 

[This System will provide User with a quest arrow once you arrive!]

 

Do I just need to arrive before time's up to stop his death?

 

[More or less correct, though Liu Qingge's fate is still dependent on what you do afterwards.]

 

Any chance I'll have to murder Shen Qingqiu, or will he run away once he's caught trying to murder Liu Qingge?

 

[User will not have to fight Shen Qingqiu.]

 

Good. That's good. Wait, why though? Won't he want to keep me from talking?

 

[User will see.]

 

He landed hard, no time for elegance, the force of it jarring his knees. That's not cryptic or ominous at all.

 

[00:08:15]

 

Shen Yuan hurried into the caves, heart racing, soon swallowed up by the darkness. His eyes adjusted to the change quickly, and he wished he could give the original goods a big ol’ kiss on the cheek for cultivating night vision. Adrenaline had his hands trembling slightly as he delved further into the pitch black corridors. As promised, a glowing arrow materialized before him, and he followed its directions through a winding labyrinth of passageways with nary a pause. 

 

[00:06:27]

 

The air was cold and still, like the earth itself was holding its breath as he passed, though he could sense threads of spiritual energy on the edge of his awareness.

 

He passed by still pools and strange subterranean plants that emitted a ghostly glow, through caverns and narrow tunnels.

 

[00:04:08]

 

All he could hear were his own gasps for breath and the fast, steady cadence of his steps. There were cracks in the tunnel walls that were lined with crystals whose shine cut through the gloom, their golden glow the only bit of warmth to be found down here.

 

Come on, come on, where are you? I'm running out of time!

 

[00:02:37]

 

He nearly sobbed with relief when he heard the shouting and the sound of metal scraping against metal. He wasn't too late.

 

[00:01:49]

 

“-snap out of it, you dullard! I know that you normally possess only the bare amount of brain cells to string together a coherent thought, but this is a new low!”

 

Is Shen Qingqiu… insulting Liu Qingge while he tries to murder him?  

 

Liu Qingge roared furiously in response, and Shen Qingqiu unleashed a spout of truly inspired curses.

 

Shen Yuan skidded to a halt at the entrance to a sizeable cavern, the countdown flickering out of sight. He'd made it. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge were facing off in the middle, the edge of the chamber studded with stalagmites. Far overhead was a hole in the rock, moonlight spilling in and painting the walls silver.

 

Shen Yuan watched the two peak lords battle, thoroughly confused. Shen Qingqiu was on the defensive and looked desperate, several gashes on his arms and legs. There was something inhuman about Liu Qingge- he attacked relentlessly, face twisted in mindless rage as Shen Qingqiu continued to simultaneously insult and attempt to talk him down.

 

Why is Liu Qingge so pretty? I thought he'd be more… rugged. Oh fuck, he's qi deviating! Does that mean Shen Qingqiu didn't kill him on purpose?!

 

Shen Yuan leapt into the fray, deflecting one of Liu Qingge's swings with his own blade, the force of the impact vibrating up his arms. Shit, he's strong. Shen Qingqiu made a sound of disbelief, borne from both Shen Yuan's unexpected arrival and his dearth of clothing. He was clad only in his zhongyi and boots- Lian Qingliu's body ran hot, which made it hard to sleep with any more layers.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Shen Qingqiu spat, ducking around him and lunging at Liu Qingge, trying to trip him up and failing.

 

“Saving your sorry ass from being skewered!” Shen Yuan retorted, pulling him out of the way of another of Liu Qingge's attacks. “You're injured and clearly losing, so do me a favour and get Mu Qingfang here right now.”

 

“You- I can fix his qi deviation!” Shen Qingqiu protested, hurling a fan at Liu Qingge's head. It hit its target and bounced off, which only seemed to infuriate him further. “I saved you!”

 

“You're wounded and clearly exhausted, and I think it would take more focus than you currently possess to manage it without killing him,” Shen Yuan said, swearing and intercepting another strike. “I can keep him occupied until you return with help. Please, shixiong.”

 

Shen Qingqiu looked like he'd bitten into a sour lemon, but reluctantly agreed. Shen Yuan was pretty sure the only reason he'd given in was his fatigue. “You'll have to distract him long enough to allow me to slip away. I tried to earlier, but he nearly impaled me on that ostentatious sword of his.”

 

Xiu Ya was equally ostentatious in Shen Yuan's opinion, but he could tell him that later, when they were less likely to be slaughtered.

 

With only a nod, Shen Yuan bum rushed Liu Qingge, which the enraged war god did not expect. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shen Qingqiu dash out of the cavern, the hem of his robes disappearing around the corner in a flutter of green. Shen Yuan only just avoided a qi-charged palm strike aimed at his head, dancing around Liu Qingge and out of his grasp.

 

Okay. I just have to survive long enough for Shen Qingqiu to get back here. Fuck. The Scum Villain.

 

He laughed hysterically, crouching behind a cluster of stalagmites to give himself a moment to catch his breath. His training sessions with Zhang Min have done wonders for his stamina and sword handling, but it didn't stop him from getting winded eventually. I can't believe Shen Qingqiu is innocent in all of this. 

 

He only had a few moments of respite before the rock between him and the rest of the room exploded, Liu Qingge's sword, Cheng Luan, reducing them to little more than tiny, jagged shrapnel.

 

Shen Yuan hissed with pain as some of the shards sliced his exposed skin, one or two of the sharper pieces shallowly lodging into his flesh.

 

Cheng Luan rattled and shot back into Liu Qingge's outstretched hand, and he advanced on Shen Yuan with a predatory gait. His eyes were glazed, his skin pale and clammy, his breaths rattling wetly in his chest. The guy was clearly in bad shape, and there was so much blood on his clothing that Shen Yuan couldn't discern whether it was from injury or not. Still, Shen Yuan knew not to underestimate him. 

 

After a split second of contemplation, he sprang forward, low to the ground. He collided with Liu Qingge's legs, sending him toppling, a hiss of pain wrenched from him as they landed hard on the unforgiving, shrapnel-strewn ground. Before Shen Yuan could orient himself, Liu Qingge contorted in his grip and slammed Shen Yuan's upper body against the ground again, fingers clutching his shoulders so hard that his nails sliced into Shen Yuan's skin. There was a mad glint in his eyes, like he was considering tearing out Shen Yuan's carotid, so Shen Yuan nipped that line of thinking in the bud and kicked him in the balls.

 

Liu Qingge yelped in pain and rolled off of him, clutching his groin with one hand and making a few clumsy sword seals with the other. Shen Yuan was on his feet in an instant. Please don't work, please don't work, please don't work.

 

Alas, Shen Yuan's prayers went unanswered. Cheng Luan was a silver blur as it shot towards his head. Shen Yuan managed to parry in the nick of time, and from there he was under an onslaught of blows, moving faster than he thought himself capable, but not enough to fend off every attack. The only reason he still had all of his limbs were the sword forms he drilled daily, flowing from one to the next even as Cheng Luan's edge caught him again and again.

 

Come on, come on, what's taking so long?!

 

Maybe Shen Qingqiu had just left him to die.

 

It only took a small lapse, a moment of distraction, for Liu Qingge to get lucky. Cheng Luan pierced his shoulder all the way through, the pain of it rendering him blind and insensate for a few long moments. It felt like an eternity. He could feel his body being violently dragged back, away, and he regained awareness just as Cheng Luan lodged itself deep into the wall of the cavern, cleaving through layers of stone as if they were nothing. Shen Yuan was pinned like a corkboard butterfly.

 

Any attempts to move the arm attached to his impaled shoulder were unsuccessful, the limb unresponsive and hanging uselessly at his side.

 

Liu Qingge ambled forward like a drunkard, his condition clearly worsening, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t die like this! 

 

He needed to move right now. He pawed at Cheng Luan’s hilt with his good arm until he got a good grasp on it, yanking fruitlessly at it. It won't come loose!

 

[You're a cultivator! Use your qi!]

 

Oh, right. 

 

He hastily directed his qi to his arm, pulling spiritual energy from both his dantians and the charged air of the caves. With a whimper, he tore Cheng Luan from the wall like it was Excalibur, and then his shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound, his head swimming from the loss. He grit his teeth, clinging to consciousness by a thread. 

 

You can't pass out. You pass out, you're dead.

 

He staggered away from Liu Qingge, blocking when the crazed man leapt at him, his own blade swung in a wide arc headed for his neck. Shen Yuan raised Cheng Luan at the last possible moment, the impact knocking it from his hand.

 

Just evade. You just need to evade. They'll be here soon. They'll be here soon, and then you can pass out.

 

He refused to entertain the possibility that nobody was coming, not now. They circled the chamber in each other's orbit, his vision blurring and sharpening the longer it dragged on. 

 

Shen Yuan ducked under another swing meant to decapitate him and stumbled, falling to the floor in a heap. Try as he might, he couldn't move, nearly choking on his own terror. His head rang with static, with echoes of footsteps, with metal dragging on stone, with Liu Qingge's laboured breathing. 

 

Liu Qingge raised Cheng Luan, its point poised above Shen Yuan's heart, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly. 

 

And then there was shouting, and Liu Qingge listed to the side, Mu Qingfang catching him as Cheng Luan clattered to the ground. There were still footsteps though, someone approaching, but who-

 

Shen Yuan hazily met the onyx-dark eyes of Shen Qingqiu, who knelt beside him and gingerly grabbed his bad wrist. His wounds had knit together in his brief absence, raised pink lines the only indication of any injury. 

 

“Are you gonna kill me?” Shen Yuan slurred, reaching out to touch ( is he real, is this real, am I still alive, how am I still alive?) and only just poking at a warm cheek before his hand was slapped aside.

 

“The only reason you did not just lose that hand is because of what has transpired tonight,” Shen Qingqiu hissed, leaning closer, practically vibrating with fury. “And once you are not in danger of bleeding out, you are going to tell me exactly how you knew to come here.”

 

“Sounds good,” Shen Yuan said with a delirious giggle. Shen Qingqiu looked disgusted. “I gotta tell you a secret.”

 

Shen Qingqiu's nose wrinkled. “What?”

 

“I like your insulting fans.”

 

Shen Qingqiu blinked, clearly caught off guard. A flood of ice seeped through his meridians and Shen Yuan shivered at the chill. “Mu-shidi, I think Lian-shidi is going to bleed out if you don't hurry.”

 

“One moment,” Mu Qingfang called, sounding very stressed out. “I've almost got Qingge stable.”

 

“I'm tired,” Shen Yuan whispered, eyelids suddenly immensely heavy. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so badly. The System kept blaring loud noises right in his ear, and he wished he could shut it up. He grinned toothily up at Shen Qingqiu, who was muttering furiously under his breath. “You didn't kill him like you were s’posed to. Good job. ‘M gonna sleep for a while now.”

 

“You will not,” Shen Qingqiu said, an edge of panic to his voice. “Lian-shidi! Don't you dare close your eyes!”

 

But Shen Yuan could not obey even if he wanted to. He was drifting, drifting away, untethered from everything but the cold that was growing inside of him, coating his heart and lungs and down into his core. 

 

Shen Qingqiu wasn't trying to kill Liu Qingge. He was only defending himself. If the book was wrong about that, what else was it wrong about?

Notes:

Shen Yuan has one hell of an interrogation coming his way, and it's time for Shen Qingqiu to start showing up more!

Liu Qingge's gonna be pissed Shen Qingqiu is partially responsible for saving his life.

Instead of Mauvaise Viande, I considered having Shen Yuan call the dog 'Mal Carne', a nod to one of my favourite books, Anthony Bourdain's 'Kitchen Confidential'. If you haven't read it, highly recommend!

Ostriches do not actually bury their heads in sand, that is a myth.

Many thanks to my lovely beta reader, without whom I would suffer many more grammatical errors 💪😔

Chapter 8: Officially Licensed Proud Immortal Demon Way Cutlery

Summary:

Shen Yuan rigs some bets, puts on a show, and is invited for tea.

Notes:

Idk what it says about me as a person, but every time I'm reading or writing sword fights, I just hear the Taco Bell bell toll in my head when the blades are clashing.

 

[Quest: <The Fall of the War God> Completed!]

 

[+100 B-Points]

 

[Current Balance: 697 B-Points]

 

[Keep up the great work, User! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)]

***

Qian Cao Peak was not the sterile, soulless place Shen Yuan had expected. As someone who'd spent an unfortunate amount of time in modern hospitals, he'd expected white walls and tiled floors, droning machines and a feeling of impersonality to the place.

 

Instead, he awoke in a cozy room, the walls and floor a warm brown wood, soft-leaved plants growing from the ceiling and creeping down the walls. A window allowed sunlight to spill in, warming his skin where the golden rays touched. The air was so heavily perfumed with incense and herbs that he could taste them.

 

[Well, a good 80-90% of what humans perceive as taste is actually smell.]

 

Shen Yuan blinked groggily up at the System's display. How…am I not dead?

 

[You know, this System is surprised you survived as well. This System supposes that your continued existence is due to Peak Lord Mu Qingfang's healing prowess.]

 

[Also the plants on the ceiling help promote qi circulation and regeneration, which has aided and accelerated your body's healing process.]

 

Oh, that explains their presence. I was wondering whether it was hygienic to have plants in a clinic.

 

Shen Yuan groaned as he tried to sit up. His bruised, battered body had been carefully arranged on a narrow bed, an immense amount of arrays carved into its frame. He presumed their purpose was stabilization, healing, and monitoring patients’ vitals. He wiggled the fingers of his bad arm experimentally and found he could move them again, albeit not as smoothly as usual.

 

His head swam, a dull throb at his temples, and when he glanced to the side, he saw Zhang Min was sitting at his bedside. She looked frazzled and exhausted, dark bags beneath her eyes and her usually perfectly-maintained hair frizzy and falling out of its updo.

 

“I expect you're upset with me,” he said, voice so croaky and awful-sounding that he grimaced. God, I sound like I smoke two packs a day.

 

Zhang Min's mouth quivered, and he suddenly realised that her eyes looked rather red. Huh. He hadn't taken her to be a crier, especially not with how forcefully she put him through drills.

 

“I am,” she said quietly, reaching out and clasping his hand in her own. He squeezed her hand. “One of the Qian Cao disciples banged on my door in the middle of the night and informed me that you had been gravely wounded. They weren't sure you'd make it until morning. I got here just as they were dragging you into surgery. You looked dead, Shizun. There was so much blood. And you've been out for a week.”

 

“You've been running things in my stead?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” she said. “I- this one is not as prepared for the job as she thought she was.”

 

“I've told you that you don't have to adhere to all those formalities, Zhang Min. It's archaic. And,” he smiled at her in reassurance, “You're young. You have time to find your footing. I know for certain that you'll be a good peak lord when the time comes. Plus, you now know how many biting incidents I have to deal with on a weekly basis.”

 

She groaned and shook her head. “I hadn't realised there were so many. I propose we slather all the disciples in foul-tasting fluid so that they stop gnawing on each other.”

 

“I second that motion. Draw up a proposal and I'll probably pass it,” he teased, and flopped back against his pillow, which was not porcelain and blessedly soft. He would probably steal it. “And I must thank you. It's only because of your ruthless training that I survived my duel with your Liu-shibo.”

 

This made her brighten some, before her expression took on a more devious edge. “If my training was so helpful, then surely Shizun won't protest pushing harder in the future.”

 

Oh god, I've created a monster.

 

[Indeed you have, User. You should be very, very afraid.]

 

He chuckled nervously. “I'm afraid I'm not in any shape to train or spar at the moment.”

 

“You will be,” she said, grip tightening so much that it was slightly painful. She's gone mad with power! 

 

“I-”

 

“You will be.”

***

“Are you sure that you don't have a magical panacea that'll just fix me up the rest of the way, Mu-shixiong?”

 

“Believe me, if I had one, I would take many more vacation days,” replied a harried-looking Mu Qingfang, who looked like he hadn't had a vacation day in years. Dude would seriously benefit from a tropical excursion. He'd probably go bananas for a good piña colada.

 

Shen Yuan yelped when Mu Qingfang moved his arm to test its range of motion, the muscles at his shoulder joint tugging painfully. They'd had to repair his rotator cuff, which meant he was looking at probable months of recovery. 

 

“Is Liu-shixiong doing alright?” he asked once Mu Qingfang had released his hold on him and was scribbling notes in his chart. Mu Qingfang paused, hawkish eyes scrutinizing him for a long moment.

 

“Yes,” he said in that cool, level doctor voice characters in TV dramas (and Shen Yuan's nurses) had, his inflection revealing nothing. “Without intervention, he would've lost his life. Shen-shixiong said you came hurtling in out of nowhere. Zhangmen-shixiong never authorized your entrance into the Ling Xi Caves. How curious that you happened to arrive at the right place at exactly the right time.”

 

“You are…terrifying, Mu-shixiong,” Shen Yuan told him, reassessing his opinion of the man in his head. He was much more observant than he'd anticipated.

 

“I'm a physician,” Mu Qingfang said with a slight, wicked grin.

 

Are all doctors this perceptive?!

 

[No, that's just him. This guy's a freak.]

 

Shen Yuan was suddenly very eager to change the subject. “How were your earnings from the last meeting? Did you beat Chen-shimei?”

 

The amusement on Mu Qingfang's face told him that he knew exactly what Shen Yuan was doing, but thankfully he let it slide. “For once, yes. I'm lording it over her, but I expect she will soon reclaim her crown.”

 

“You think we could rig the next meeting? Split the earnings?” Shen Yuan offered with a wide grin. “Trust me, I could talk about monsters for hours if I need to.”

 

Mu Qingfang eyed him speculatively, tapping his chin with the wooden end of his brush. “We can't make it too obvious.”

 

“Of course not,” Shen Yuan eagerly agreed, pillowing his head on his good arm. “The best schemes are those which remain undiscovered. Now, we will need to work out the specifics of our ploy, and we can't win every time. That would be too suspicious.”

 

“Indeed. Perhaps we should devise some manner of signal to indicate a cut off time or whether we're not planning on rigging that specific meeting. We do have quite some time before you're released from my care, and I'm sure we can iron out the details before then.”

 

“I like the way you think,” Shen Yuan said, grabbing his hand for a very boisterous handshake. Mu Qingfang looked baffled by the motion.

 

 And on that day, a beautiful- and incredibly lucrative- partnership was born.

***

“Shishu saved this one's brother's life.”

 

Shen Yuan paused, a drop of ink falling onto the blank page beneath. He'd been adding a new entry to Lian Qingliu's bestiary, the latest of several abyssal creatures that he'd added. 

 

“Ah, Liu-shizhi,” he greeted warmly. “It was a collaborative effort between Mu Qingfang, Shen Qingqiu, and myself.”

 

“This one knows,” she said, and offered him a little paper butterfly, the wings carefully and vividly painted. “This disciple doesn't understand what Shishu was doing there, or why Shishu was so willing to be injured for her brother's sake. Your relationship has never been especially close.”

 

Shen Yuan shrugged. “He and Shen-shixiong are my martial brothers.”

 

He turned the paper butterfly over in his hands, careful not to crease it. He was going to put it on his office wall alongside all the drawings his disciples liked to give him. “Plus, I swore an oath to the book club-”

 

“Literature Society.”

 

“-Literature Society, that I would protect my fellow members from harm. I think emotional harm qualifies as harm, and your brother dying would cause you emotional harm, thus, I was merely fulfilling my oath by interfering.”

 

“Shishu is very foolish,” Liu Mingyan said, and settled into the vacant bedside chair. She quietly hummed and rummaged through her qiankun pouches and eventually withdrew the current book club novel. She had nearly as many pouches as he did.

 

[The amount you haul around with you on a daily basis is, quite frankly, disturbing.]

 

I just like having everything I need on hand, especially if there's an emergency! There's nothing weird about that!

 

[So you claim, Boy Scout. ]

 

You know, you say that like it's an insult, but it really isn't.

 

Liu Mingyan flipped to somewhere near the middle of the book, where she'd folded the corner of the page down. Shen Yuan cringed when he saw it. He'd done that exactly once in his old life, and his er-ge had given him such a harsh lecture about it that he never dared repeat that mistake. He noticed little scribbles in the margins like he liked to do, and suppressed a grin. Since his induction into the book club, a few of the members had taken to his method of literary analysis, citing their enjoyment of the more in-depth analysis it allowed.

 

“So,” she said, all business, “How did you feel about the part where she rigged that super elaborate trap for the Emperor's entourage?”

***

As much as Shen Yuan enjoyed his respite from the disturbingly bloodthirsty, accident-prone little gremlins that were his disciples, he soon found himself going a tad stir-crazy in his Qian Cao room, so it was a relief when he was finally discharged. He flew back to his peak clad in a spare set of ill-fitting Qian Cao robes, as his own were utterly unsalvageable.  

 

Upon arriving home, he took a long, luxurious bath in the cold-as-shit river, scrubbing the grease, pulverized bits of stone, and tiny flakes of dried blood from his hair. A few of the locks had matted together over the course of his repose, so what he was unable to untangle he was forced to cut off. Luckily, he didn't do too poorly of a job, and it was pretty much impossible to see that he'd hacked off anything with how thick the rest of his hair was. Zhang Min would've beat his ass otherwise. The woes of being your peak’s figurehead.

 

Once he was clean and dry and clad in something that actually fit him, he popped a painkiller and decided to take a stroll around the peak. His main purpose for doing so was to check for any damage that had been wrought during his absence, but he was pleased to find minimal property damage had occurred. 

 

Strangely, he had discovered a bunch of tiny wooden toad carvings hidden around. Shen Yuan didn't dare to pick any of them up, so they remained where he found them. And there were a lot. Like, a very concerning amount of them.

 

Still, it wasn't as if he could scold his disciples for this so long as it wasn't interfering with their duties or the local ecosystem. And it would be rather hypocritical for him to condemn them for their apparent toad obsession, considering he'd been the one with the PIDW Luo Binghe shrine prior to being stuffed into Lian Qingliu's body. 

 

He'd collected every bit of merchandise he could get his hands on, including all the limited edition licensed merch as well as the more… atypical stuff that was made (which included an appallingly lacey set of Luo Binghe-inspired lingerie that he'd immediately shoved to the back of his closet out of shame, and a set of PIDW cutlery with spoons that were shaped like Luo Binghe's huadian and a pain in the ass to eat with). He also might've (definitely) owned more than one Luo Binghe body pillow, and most of them featured a Luo Binghe that had been divested of most of his clothing. Some people might think that a man sleeping with the body pillow of a hot, sweaty, shirtless demon lord was gay, but Shen Yuan vehemently disagreed. The body pillows were comfortable, and he merely admired all the effort that had gone into building Luo Binghe's unmatched physique, like bros did at the gym, or on sports teams! Shen Yuan used to imagine Luo Binghe doing UFC fights or Turkish Oil Wrestling because he would doubtlessly win.

 

[...]

 

[I cannot believe that you are a real person.]

 

Ack! How long have you been listening to my inner dialogue?!

 

[...]

 

[...]

 

[Long enough to know that there is something very, very wrong with you.]

 

[ User deserves a gold metal in mental gymnastics.]

 

[This System is suffering, something it didn't know it was capable of!]

 

Ooh, PIDW Luo Binghe would probably be good at gymnastics. Do you think he'd be more of a floor routine or a pommel horse guy?

 

[...This System gives up.]

 

[+100 F-points]

 

[This System requests you give it alone time for the next hour so it can mentally recover from what it has learned against its will.]

 

Shen Yuan gave it one of his customary glowers for the points before continuing on his merry way. It wasn't too long before the painkillers kicked in, dulling the ache of his mending shoulder and leaving his head buzzing pleasantly.

 

Disaster struck as he was serenading the Flesh-Rending Songbirds with some pop hits- which seemed to be their favourite for some reason (they also thoroughly despised hair metal and power ballads). Shen Qingqiu emerged from the shadows, an air of menace about him (more so than usual). Shen Yuan had no clue how long he had been standing there, but he really hoped it had been sometime after Total Eclipse of the Heart, which he'd accompanied with an improvisational dance number that had hurt his healing shoulder a little bit.

 

Shen Yuan, caught off guard, may or may not have squeaked and abruptly cut off his perfectly serviceable rendition of Wannabe, which he was very glad Shen Qingqiu could not understand. The birds cawed in complaint from their perches, but allowed the two peak lords to leave unscathed.

 

“So it was your abhorrent squalling that was disturbing the tranquility of this segment of your peak,” Shen Qingqiu said, flapping another one of his insult-fans to cool himself in the warming heat of the day. Autumn wasn't far off now, but it was still egregiously hot around here. One would think living atop a mountain would save you from that, but Shen Yuan suspected that this was a part of Airplane's ill thought-out and sadistic world building (and probably related to papapa somehow).

 

“I suppose it was, but at least the birds liked it,” Shen Yuan replied with a grin. He's decided that he was going to counter Shen Qingqiu's scathing remarks with enough joviality to hopefully irritate the man into just leaving. “How might I help you, Shen-shixiong?”

 

Shen Qingqiu sniffed imperiously and fell into step beside Shen Yuan. “Shidi never took me up on my offer of tea, so this one has taken it upon himself to come to Lian-shidi himself. After all,” he quieted his voice, but there was a clear threat in his words, “This one cannot help but puzzle over the strange things you uttered after your confrontation with our dear Liu-shidi.”

 

Oh fuck, what did I say to him? I was too loopy to recall!

 

Smile frozen on his face, Shen Yuan stiffly nodded. “Yes, this one apologises for his rudeness. I have been terribly busy as of late. And whatever I said while suffering blood loss should be dismissed as nothing more than the ramblings of a madman.”

 

“And what has been occupying so much of Lian-shidi's time?”

 

“Educational reforms,” Shen Yuan said, pulling out a stack of his punishment essays and handing them to Shen Qingqiu, whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

 

“What's all this?”

 

“Well, I was concerned by the possibility that my staff might be using corporal punishment as a means to vent some of their frustrations, especially in instances that didn’t necessitate punishment,” Shen Yuan explained patiently. Like you do. Also hitting children is wrong, you sadistic dickwad. “Plus, I wasn't convinced of the efficacy of the punishments in the first place. Sure, it would punish them for their misdeeds, but it doesn't really make them reflect on their behaviour. It just makes them afraid of being harmed.”

 

Shen Qingqiu hummed and flipped through the papers with burgeoning interest. “And what results has the implementation of alternative forms of punishment yielded?”

 

“My disciples absolutely despise doing those essays,” Shen Yuan said, a touch gleefully. He'd started assigning them to the biters. “Not only does it pose them a challenge, it also forces them to reflect on their misdeeds. If they half-ass the essays, they have to start from scratch. My staff have noticed a considerable decline in poor behaviour because nobody wants to do more than one of these.”

 

“As interesting as this all is, you're trying to change the subject,” Shen Qingqiu said with a shake of his head as if to clear it, shoving half of the papers back at him and tucking the rest up his sleeve. Shen Yuan debated whether it was worth demanding them back and quickly determined that it was not. “As you lay injured in the Ling Xi Caves, you said that I didn't kill Liu-shidi ‘like I was supposed to’. That alone could have been dismissed as a product of your delirium, but coupled with your bizarre and uncharacteristic behaviour as of late, I suspect the cause is something else entirely.”

 

Shen Yuan laughed nervously, forcing himself to hold Shen Qingqiu's gaze. It was so penetrating that it felt like Shen Qingqiu could see his every thought. Biting the bullet, he asked, “And what do you think the cause is, Shen-shixiong?”

 

If he guesses the truth will I be punished?

 

[It depends.]

 

It depends?! On what?!

 

Faster than he could comprehend, Shen Qingqiu slammed him back against a tree, Xiu Ya at his throat, their faces inches apart.

 

“Fucking ow,” Shen Yuan complained, the tree's bark digging painfully into his back. “What was that for?”

 

Why the hell is he pressing me against a tree? Is he gay?! Is he about to kiss me at sword-edge?! Well, I guess he isn't awful looking, but I'm not gay… I guess I'll take one for the team if he's going to do it though.

 

“I think you're not really Lian-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu snarled, his grip on Shen Yuan's arm bruising. Oh shit. He really doesn't want to kiss me. 

 

[I think that was obvious from the beginning, User.]

 

Don't patronize me! I'm a little out of it at the moment!

 

“Sure, you feign interest in those horrid little beasts you watch over and you move like he does, but anyone with eyes can see you're not really him. You're unfamiliar with the habits and routines that should be second nature to you. You're too timid, too happy panting like a dog after those who have looked down on him for decades, too willing to sacrifice yourself for another. You have absolutely no self-preservation. Lian Qingliu doesn't trust me, and you will go so far as to converse with me like you don't absolutely despise me. You even paid me a compliment, though that was when you were teetering on the edge of consciousness. I suppose that can be excused.”

 

“About what?” Shen Yuan asked, even though that was absolutely not important right now. 

 

This seemed to throw Shen Qingqiu off. “My fans.”

 

“Ah, I do like them. And I absolutely do not trust you, if that makes you feel better.”

 

Shen Qingqiu made a furious noise and pressed Xiu Ya against his neck with more pressure, droplets of blood welling up beneath the blade's silver edge. “How are you so flippant?! Lian Qingliu would never be so nonchalant about a threat on his life!”

 

[Congratulations, User! You've confused him!]

 

Not now!

 

“Look,” Shen Yuan sighed, “The qi deviation erased a considerable portion of my memories. I don't remember shit, but I'm doing my best to keep up with my duties and build a life worth living.”

 

“Mu Qingfang said your qi deviation was relatively severe, but not catastrophic, and therefore shouldn't have changed you to the extent that you have. Personality changes aren't unprecedented, but you shouldn'tbe behaving like this.”

 

“And you're the expert?”

 

“As a matter of fact, I am considered very well-versed on the subject.”

 

Ah shit. System, any chance you can just wipe this guy's memories?

 

[User is so silly! Absolutely not! (＾▽＾)]

 

“If you don't tell me the truth right now, I will slit your throat and wash my hands of this whole affair. I'm not going to allow you to endanger this sect.”

 

Shen Yuan was probably less afraid than he should be. He suspected it might be related to the painkillers Mu Qingfang had prescribed him. “What would you do with my corpse? Call it academic curiosity.”

 

“I would simply leave it with those horrible birds that you were making a spectacle of yourself in front of.”

 

Shen Yuan frowned. For someone who was supposed to be such a conniving villain, this plan didn't seem very well thought out. “That's a horrible plan. It would be much more believable if you chuck me in the eight-legged horses’ paddock. One of them fucking hates me.”

 

“ You irreverent- what is wrong with you?!” Shen Qingqiu shouted, kicking him in the shin to properly express his outrage. “Are you not afraid?! Have you lost even the dregs of sense that you possessed?! Are you truly as dull-witted as our martial siblings believe you to be?!”

 

“I'm on the really good drugs for my injuries, and you're kind of harshing my vibe right now,” Shen Yuan grumbled. Just to be petulant, he added, “Plus, I thought you didn't believe I was Lian Qingliu.”

 

Shen Qingqiu's hand migrated from his arm to his head, long fingers grasping ahold of his hair and tugging so that Shen Yuan was baring his throat, more blood seeping from the shallow wound there. “Cease your incomprehensible statements! Tell me the truth.”

 

“Aiya, fine, fine,” Shen Yuan groaned, totally not about to tell him the truth. “When I was in my lovely little qi deviation coma, I had a bunch of visions of what I suspect to be the future. It wasn't good, Shixiong. I've been making changes since my reawakening because I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I sat idle and allowed what I saw to come to pass. Also, I really did lose a significant amount of my memories.”

 

Shen Qingqiu's grip on his hair relaxed enough that it didn't feel like his follicles were about to be yanked out of his scalp. 

 

“I suppose it's not entirely implausible, but I still don't believe that is the whole truth.”

 

Shen Yuan groaned. Seriously, fuck this guy. “That's unfortunate, because it is definitely, one hundred percent the truth.” He wondered if he could kick Shen Qingqiu in the balls before he had his throat slit or was decapitated.

 

Maybe he'd just rip my dick off in retaliation. He seems like the type since he has no qualms about child abuse.

 

Shen Qingqiu mulled this over, searching Shen Yuan's face for even the slightest suggestion of insincerity. To Shen Yuan's immense relief, he lessened the pressure on his throat and released his hair entirely. 

 

“Here's how this is going to go,” Shen Qingqiu said, looking like he still very much wanted to kill Shen Yuan. “You are going to come to my peak once a week, and you are going to tell me about what exactly it was you saw in those visions. If I do not think you are being candid, I will kill you. If you skip one of our meetings without good reason, I will hunt you down. If I discover definitive proof that you are not who you claim to be or that you intend to harm this sect in any manner, I will make you wish that you had never been born. Do you understand?

 

“Yes,” Shen Yuan sighed, resigned to high tea with the devil. At least the devil looked like he could brew a mean cup of tea- assuming he didn't poison it.

 

With a snort, Shen Qingqiu sheathed Xiu Ya and stepped away, snapping his fan open like he hadn't just been threatening Shen Yuan within an inch of his life. 

 

“Alright,” he drawled, back to his usual hoity-toity self. “Now show me this murderous stallion of yours. Yingying keeps gushing about it, and it clearly has taste if it can't stand you, Lian-shidi.”

 

Shen Yuan only just stifled a groan and reluctantly led Shen Qingqiu on a tour of the beasts that utterly despised him.

 

System, are you sure there's no way out of this?

 

[Oh User, there most certainly is. Alas, this System will not employ any of the methods that would help you in this instance. (っ˘ω˘ς )]

 

And why the fuck not?!

 

[Because this System had been forever cursed with the knowledge that you owned Luo Binghe-themed lingerie. Call this a well-deserved life lesson.]

Notes:

Look, UFC is a perfectly respectable sport, but it's also gay as hell. If I go to a restaurant and they have it on the TVs, I am going to laugh at the people homoerotically pinning and grinding all up on each other.

Did Shen Qingqiu specifically pick out an insult fan for his visit to Shen Yuan? Yes, yes he did. Did the goblin in my brain tempt me to have the two of them make out sloppy style against that tree? Yes, yes it did. Will Mu Qingfang ever go on that well-deserved vacation? No he will not, but he can always go scream in the storage closet to let off some steam.

My brain is soup.

Next chapter should have more beasties in it (hopefully). For now, thank you all for reading, and may both sides of your (hopefully not porcelain) pillow be cold!

Chapter 9: Exposure (And Not Just The Therapy Kind)

Summary:

A conspiracy, a memory, and a fashion faux pas

Notes:

Essay formatting is my personal hell.

                                                                       

Content warnings

Animal injury, contemplation of euthanization                             

                               

Despite his initial trepidation about working with the man, his and Mu Qingfang's racket was working almost too well. Shen Yuan had taken to scribbling a list of monsters before each meeting, and could monologue about them for a distressingly long time.

 

“It's like they didn't even consider the possibility of a rigged bet,” Mu Qingfang muttered after their third allied peak lord meeting, slipping a portion of his earnings into Shen Yuan's waiting hand. He would use the money to replace the brushes and some of the inkstones his disciples were using. They were in awful shape, having been used in several ways contrary to their purpose.

 

He would also give the kitchen staff a small bonus, he mused. They deserved it for their hard work in feeding a veritable army of cultivators around the clock. He had been floating the idea of mentioning unions to them, which they would likely share with their peers on other peaks. They'd been particularly receptive to his improved workplace safety procedures, and he'd taken suggestions for what to include in them. 

 

“Most of them are too noble to even consider the possibility,” Shen Yuan pointed out, catching Shen Qingqiu's eye across the hall and sending him a saucy wink. This earned him an expected scoff and sneer. Mu Qingfang watched this interaction impassively.

 

“You have tea with him weekly?”

 

“Yes,” Shen Yuan confirmed, grimacing at the reminder. The first time had been one of the most uncomfortable experiences of his life. 

 

Newly off his pain medication (and his insides shriveled with embarrassment over his own previous thoughts and actions), he'd thrown up into a bush afterwards. It had been two hours of Shen Qingqiu relentlessly demanding information, a vial of poison set on the table's edge, ready to be grabbed and its contents forcefully emptied down Shen Yuan's throat at any moment.

 

At least the tea had been good- warm and spiced with cinnamon, with faint notes of peppery heat. It was almost worth suffering through the whole ordeal. 

 

Shen Yuan had been careful not to reveal anything super significant to the plot, though Shen Qingqiu's displeasure at some of his more evasive answers was palpable. 

 

Their next few tête-à-têtes hadn't been much better, but Shen Qingqiu had toned down his intensity… marginally. He'd also quit leaving the vial of poison on the table after their sixth little tea party (the most recent), but was wearing a ring that Shen Yuan suspected served much the same purpose. 

 

Shen Yuan couldn't decide if this change was better or worse.

 

It looked almost exactly like those rings that assassins used to wear when they were attempting a more discrete killing. His meimei had once made him watch a several-hour documentary on similar items when she was in her historical romance phase. Shen Yuan had spent almost the entire time making snide remarks about the quality of some of the historical reenactors' wigs. Their er-ge had loved it, which wasn't a surprise to either of them, and went so far as to procure a fancy tea pot that could pour different liquids based on how you handled it. Shen Yuan thought it best not to ask him who he wanted to poison.

 

Shen Qingqiu had also taken to visiting Ling Shou more frequently, with the excuse of painting the landscape or visiting the demon horse, who seemed to fucking love the guy for some reason. Truly, the universe had no sense of justice. 

 

Shen Yuan's disciples had been kind enough to let him know that several of them had been cornered and interrogated on the efficacy of the restructured disciplinary system. Therefore, he was not surprised when Luo Binghe had shown up at his office one day, half-written punishment essay in hand and a mournful gleam in his eye. Shen Qingqiu had shown the completed version to him later with sadistic glee. He'd taken the whole thing a step further and the bastard had required in-text citations.

 

“Shidi is not entirely useless,” he had proclaimed, his voice strangely melodic in his exuberance. Shen Yuan was left speechless, still reeling from the shock of seeing in-text citations in a xianxiasetting. Shen Qingqiu took a dainty sip of tea, fingers perfectly crooked around his cup. “My disciples have never been better behaved.”

 

Shen Yuan had lit a candle in his heart for all the Qing Jing disciples. He was pretty sure having to write an essay for Shen Qingqiu was a fate worse than death, especially since he had invested in red ink to mark errors. 

 

Honestly, Luo Binghe might rip his legs off for this sin alone.

 

“My condolences,” Mu Qingfang said solemnly, pausing to nod at his greatest rival, Chen Qingquan, of the agricultural peak. She glowered at them as she brushed by, her rage spurred on by the smug look on Mu Qingfang's face.

 

He leaned over, and in a low voice told Shen Yuan, “She's absolutely furious that I keep beating her at this. She did actually accuse me of cheating the other day, if you can believe it. Tried to convince the others, but none of them believed her.”

 

“I mean, we are cheating,” Shen Yuan pointed out. 

 

“I prefer to call it ‘using my connections wisely’,”Mu Qingfang said, stroking his mustache rather villainously. Shen Yuan thought it looked dumb, and had half a mind to break into his quarters and shave it off while he slumbered. Or perhaps pay someone else to do it for him. “Plus, all my earnings go towards my disciples. It's not like I'm using them to buy a fancy crystal weiqi board.”

 

Once Chen Qingquan was gone, they fell back into step together and left the meeting hall, the brisk autumn breeze ruffling their hair. 

 

“What do you reckon she'd do if she ever found out about it?” Shen Yuan asked. He hadn't spent enough time around her to really get a grasp on her personality beyond her antagonistic relationship with Mu Qingfang. 

 

“Oh, likely something uniquely horrible,” Mu Qingfang said, characteristically blasé about the idea. “She will ensure that you know she is angry with you. It is part of her charm.”

 

“So a more forthright Shen Qingqiu?” Shen Yuan said, trying to envision it. “I will exercise caution in abundance around her.”

 

“Good,” Mu Qingfang said, lips quirking into a small smile. “I would appreciate it if you stopped by my peak tomorrow. I wanted to discuss the creation of an antivenin with you.”

Shen Yuan fluttered his lashes and flashed him a wide grin. “For you, my dear accomplice, anything.”

***

Lian Jiahao’s bare feet sunk into the muddy riverbank with an unpleasant squelch , but he was unperturbed. He was used to it. When he deemed himself in close enough proximity to the water, he knelt and began to dig through the mud, wincing when sharp, tiny rocks and shells scraped the tender skin of his fingers and embedded themselves beneath his nails. 

 

His hands weren't as rough as his A-niang's or A-die's or any of his older siblings’, though the latter bunch would ruffle his hair and tell him they'd get there with time whenever he bemoaned the difference. 

 

Insects chirped, concealed amongst the shadowed copses that grew almost to the river’s edge. The moon’s pale light caught on the carapaces of the river crabs, ethereal when coupled with their natural bioluminescence. 

 

Lian Jiahao made a small, victorious sound when he found what he was searching for- a small, sad-looking plant with a thin stem, hairy leaves, and a handful of star-shaped blossoms only slightly larger than his pinky nail. He pulled it from the thick mud carefully, the scraggly roots quickly giving way.

 

He tucked it into the pocket of his trousers, alongside a handful of herbs he'd stumbled across on the way here. 

 

He continued his search for a shichen longer before he sat back on his heels, exhausted and not without a liberal coating of mud on him. He didn't much mind the mud himself, but his parents would likely be upset if he returned in such a state. Especially now, with his baby sister sick. Hopefully, tonight's efforts would prove fruitful and she would be on the mend soon.

 

He stripped off his outer layers and left them in a pile atop one of the larger stones on the riverbank before he plunged into the water, disoriented only for a few moments before he got his bearings. He swam perpendicular to the current with practised ease, and he dove beneath the surface to poke at a few of the river crabs, who snapped their pincers at him in protest. They'd pinched him when he was young and he still had a bit of a grudge about it.

 

Once he was done bullying the crabs, he perched atop a stone shelf on the far side of the river, the water only a few inches deep here, and ran his fingers through his hair to work the knots and clumps of mud out of it. He murmured curses under his breath- some new ones his san-ge had said the other day that earned him a spirited swat from da-ge that Lian Jiahao had immediately wanted to repeat. He found he liked the way they felt rolling off of his tongue, and committed them to memory. Just in case.

 

The knots did not go quietly. He'd inherited his mother's thick, stubborn waves, which on her looked distinguished, but on him… well. His older sisters liked to tease that he looked like a creature borne of the forest itself, with hair to match. 

 

When he was closer to a boy than a sentient pillar of mud, Lian Jiahao donned his previously divested clothing and started back home, using the moon's position and some of the constellations to guide his way. He smiled when he saw an owl swoop overhead.

 

He passed unimpeded through thick tangles of wilderness until he found the beaten dirt path that continued eastward to the nearest town. He went west, neither dallying nor rushing. His absence would most likely pass unnoticed, and even if it were to be discovered, it wouldn't be remarked upon by anyone.

 

He was fortunate enough that the skin of his feet was tougher than that of his hands, hardened from years of roaming barefoot, as he was now. He hardly twitched when he stepped upon pebbles or sharp roots. Shoes made too much noise, in his humble opinion, and were too confining.

 

He wasn't far from his family's farm when he heard a soft chitter, followed by a pained whine. He stopped, head canting as he tried to discern which direction it had come from. His senses had always been better than everyone else's, which meant that things quickly got overwhelming back home, where it was a cacophony of scents and noise, and he too often found himself overwhelmed. He'd mustered some control over it with time, but he still found himself having to slip away and roam the boundaries of their land on occasion. 

 

He crept towards the noise’s origin, scooping up a sharp-looking rock as he went, clasping it loosely. There was always the possibility that this was a trap to lure in ignorant travellers. He could be set upon by highwaymen, mercenaries, or demons. He scolded himself even as he left the safety of the path. He'd always been too curious for his own good, and he didn't like it when animals were hurt. His A-die had recognised his proficiency with them early on, and he was tasked with keeping their livestock fed and healthy. In return, they seemed to like him too, always gentler with him than his siblings.

 

The distressed noises led him to the quarry, where the townsfolk harvested stone to build their homes and shops. The quarry was shallow as far as quarries went, though the ground was craterous and uneven where the soil had been stripped away and generations of inhabitants had chiseled into the dark stone. The entire floor of it was almost too treacherous to traverse.

 

Lian Jiahao picked his way across the barren stretch carefully, feeling out the ground ahead before taking a step. It would do him no good to accidentally shatter his ankle on this impulsive detour.

 

After what felt like forever, he saw a quadrupedal silhouette dragging itself across the ground, pained noises escaping its muzzle. It froze when it noticed him, its glowing amber eyes watching his approach with distinct wariness. He crouched slowly and extended a hand for it to sniff like he did for the farm animals. He didn't know whether doing so lessened his chances of having his hand bit off, but he mused that it wouldn't hurt to try.

 

It remained in a statuesque state as he shuffled the final few centimeters separating them, noting its canid form and russet fur- a foxlike creature. He wanted to pet it, to feel the silken strands of its fur beneath his fingers, but he understood that it was more than the creature would be able to handle at this exact moment. 

 

One of its hind legs stuck out at an odd angle, and he suspected that this was due to some dislocation or fracture. He hoped for the former, as that was something that he could probably fix. Just a few weeks prior, one of his sisters had dislocated her shoulder falling off the roof, and Lian Jiahao had watched their mother shove the ball joint of her humerus back into place in the shoulder girdle. Er-jie had hissed in pain and clutched his hand so hard that it had bruised and the bones of his fingers had creaked in protest, but she was soon hurling around logs and plowing the fields as if she'd never sustained any injury at all.

 

He moved slowly, and felt around the leg, yelping when the creature startled and bit him, sharp teeth sinking smoothly into his arm. He winced with the pain of it, but did not cease his gentle prodding. His heart sank when he realised its femur hadn't been dislocated, but horribly broken. It was as good as a death sentence.

 

One of their horses had broken a leg once, and it had been swiftly put down. 

 

“It wouldn't have healed right,” his da-ge whispered to him afterwards, drawing him into a warm embrace. He had run to the barn, where the familiar scent of hay and quiet shuffle of hooves would soothe him. “We did it a great kindness. Its suffering was brief, rather than forcing it to suffer a torturous, drawn-out half-life. It never would've recovered.”

 

Lian Jiahao still had the rock from the path in hand, and it was light enough to wield without trouble. He wasn't particularly bulky- he was still recovering from the lean winter months- but he wasn't scrawny either. Having laboured on a farm all his life, he knew he was perfectly capable of crushing its skull or snapping its neck. But he made no move to heft the stone to strike, paralyzed by indecision. He himself had never been the one to put down any of the animals for food or for their injuries because his family had realised he got too attached to them. 

 

After over a minute of trying and failing to talk himself into it, Lian Jiahao sagged, dropping the rock and watching it clatter against the bumpy terrain. He sighed and rubbed at his brand new bite wound, glancing at the creature. It just watched him silently, no longer still, but making no effort to drag itself away. It seemed resigned to its fate.

 

“What would you have me do?” he quietly intoned, expecting no response and receiving none. He couldn't muster the courage to kill it, but he couldn't live with himself if he left it here to suffer alone. If he were hurt like this, he would want someone to stay with him.

 

Don't humanize the animals, Jiahao, he scolded himself. It was a lecture he'd heard countless times, but he had difficulty doing otherwise. He'd heard his older siblings and parents whispering in the kitchen late at night, expressing their worry over how soft he was, how unsuited he was for the only kind of life that would be available to him. Nobody would ever apprentice him with his oddities. He never interrupted these meetings, despite the ache in his chest as they reassured each other that he would grow out of it.

 

Maybe I never will, he had thought, an unpleasant tumult of emotion boiling within him. 

 

Putting aside his own worries, he reached out and carded his fingers through the creature's soft fur, scratching along its back intermittently. It made no move to bite him now. Perhaps it had already accepted the inevitable, accepted its demise. Perhaps it understood the futility of fighting against him.

 

Its fur was every bit as soft as he had expected it to be.

 

How about, whispered a faint but familiar voice at the edges of his mind, You put it back together, like you did yourself.

 

His breath hitched at the suggestion.

 

He didn't recall much of that night, little more than a year prior. A flash of a silver blade, his blood spilling forth in a quantity greater than he believed possible for a person to possess, the burning that tore through his body, the hiss of a voice in his ear (or was it elsewhere, was it real?) about destiny.  

 

He would have dismissed it as nothing more than a disturbing dream, had he not bore the mark of that night- a ropy silver scar bisecting his torso from sternum to navel. And the heat had never fully abated either, running hot beneath his skin when he was agitated or upset, like a second circulatory system twined around his primary one, pooling in his chest and stomach and head. There had also been those unexplainable happenings from even before that- the surges of inhuman strength, the small motes of light that would appear nearby during that period of his youth when he was unable to contend with the dark, how he'd somehow crawledup the side of a building as a toddler. 

 

What's the harm in trying? the voice coaxed, but Lian Jiahao hesitated. If he did whatever the voice told him to, if it yielded a result, he could no longer proclaim ignorance. He could no longer keep pretending that he would grow into what his parents wished him to be. He couldn't claim to be the same as the rest of his ilk, and that opened up the possibility of being driven from his home if anybody ever found out. He had seen just how dangerous possessing such otherness was; a young woman who could do much the same as him was beaten within an inch of her life in the town square and thrown into the river to drown a few minths prior. Her death was used as a cautionary tale.

 

But…

 

Well. He had always liked animals.

 

He flattened his palm against the creature's back, and its ears twitched slightly, startled.

 

“It's alright,” he soothed, in the same voice his mother used to calm his youngest sister when she woke wailing in the night. “I've got you.”

 

He thought of the blaze of warmth of his own healing, pared down to something that wouldn't feel like its innards were being burned away, and he felt a responding heat build in his chest, and it wended through his flesh to his fingertips, and then hooked onto something other, something he knew belonged to the creature.

 

Mend, he thought, commanded, and to his relief (, horror, elation) the broken limb shifted and smoothed, made perfect and whole again. His hands shook as he withdrew them. 

 

As soon as it regained its footing, the creature was off like a shot, fleeing into the trees at the quarry's edge, quickly subsuming into the night. 

 

Lian Jiahao remained there until the sky began to lighten, and then finished his journey home, silent as the grave.

 

He told no one of what he'd done.

***

The bone-deep dread did not abate when Shen Yuan woke.

 

Was that…?

 

[User has accessed a memory of Peak Lord Lian Qingliu's.]

 

But how? Did you give it to me intentionally?

 

[No…this System does not know how User accessed it. Perhaps Lian Qingliu's soul left an imprint behind, or the System Admin sent it to you without prior notification.]

 

But why only now? Why not right after I got here or any time in the past few months?

 

[This System is unsure. It will send a message to the Admin posthaste. In the meantime, User should get ready for the day.]

 

Pushing his unease aside, Shen Yuan groaned and flopped back onto his very nice, not-porcelain pillow he'd stolen from Qian Cao Peak. The crime had been one of necessity. “Five more minutes.”

 

[This System can and will blast a shrill, irritating alarm to ensure that User does not return to his slumber. (•⩊•)]

 

“You're so cruel,” Shen Yuan complained, slowly sliding off the bed and onto the floor. How he missed sleeping in. The wooden planks were chilly beneath his cheek. Autumn was now well and truly upon them, the leaves changing hues and the nights chilly. It made him doubly grateful for the steaming pots of tea at breakfast and dinner. 

 

[User is the one who insisted that this System help ‘get your ass out of bed’ after you nearly missed the last hallmaster meeting.]

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Shen Yuan grumbled, flapping his hand at it in the vain hope that doing so will make it go away. It didn't, so he rose and readied himself to face the world.

 

Today was an important day (allegedly)- Zhang Min was very insistent on the fact- and not because it had anything to do with fancy pants ambassadors from other sects or politicians from the non-cultivator world. No, it was important because he and his small army of bloodthirsty disciples would be tasked with shearing Cang Qiong Sect's flock of Kicking Woolly Deer.

 

The wool from these poor-tempered critters were an essential part of keeping the sect's members warm through the bitter winter (which would probably be worse than down the mountain, as it rightfully should be, despite Airplane's flagrant disregard about how summer and elevation worked, the stupid hack), but was a pain to harvest due to the Woolly Deer's tendency to donkey kick any foes with enough force to crush in a grown man's rib cage. The horrid things were only briefly mentioned in PIDW, mostly overlooked in favor of some steamy barn papapa , which… ew, unsanitary. Or would it be ewe, in this case?

 

[-5 B-Points]

 

Hey, what the hell?!

 

[This existence is a torturous one indeed. The gods are cruel.]

 

Fuck you! One could argue that in this case, you are acting in the place of a god! Abuse of authority! Jail for ten thousand years!

 

[*Eye Roll* Whatever.]

Did you just…

 

This is not some shitty role-playing server! Don't you roll your eyes at me! You don't even have eyes!

 

[You don't know that!]

 

Well, do you?

 

[...]

 

[-5 B-Points]

 

Shen Yuan said several unkind things about its mother under his breath, aggressively combing his hair.

 

Fortunately for him (and the sect), his disciples were hellions with enough pent-up energy and rage from not biting each other that they were the perfect candidates for wrangling the Woolly Deer, and would probably just bounce like a rubber ball if they sustained any blow from them. They were like those kids who fell down three flights of stairs and then got right back to their feet, completely unscathed.

 

The dining hall was the busiest he'd ever seen it, a frisson of excitement in the air. He spied a few disciples from other peaks amongst the throng, talking to his disciples with bright eyes. 

 

Zhang Min joined him halfway through his meal, shoveling congee and egg and chicken into her mouth at a truly appalling speed. She'd switched out her ornate head disciple robes for something sturdier and a bit frayed at the hems, which would be best for the day's activity. Once she finished her obscene caricature of eating, she wiped her mouth and primly set her bowl down. 

 

“Mu-shibo sent over a few disciples for when ‘ one of Lian-shidi's rabid disciples inevitably sustains a serious injury’.”

 

Shen Yuan considered whether he should be offended by this. He decided not to be… this time. “Alright, but anyone else who's turned up will either need to help out or leave. No idle spectators.”

 

Zhang Min shot him a wicked grin, “So ruthless, Shizun. Exactly what I was thinking.”

 

Shen Yuan shrugged unrepentantly and sipped his hot cup of jasmine tea. He nudged the pot her way, and she poured herself some gratefully.

 

When they'd finished the pot between them, she leaned over the table and whispered, “I bet you three days’ paperwork that at least five people break a bone.”

 

He really didn't mind doing paperwork, though he'd been doing less of it since Zhang Min forced him to Oversee disciple training and take care of some of the smaller, more non-threatening species they kept on the peak. He wasn't going to tell her that, though.

 

Shen Yuan snorted. “Wow, gambling over the health and well-being of our disciples? How boorish. Also, no way am I taking that deal. They make injuring themselves look like second nature.”

 

Zhang Min's eyebrows crept up her forehead as he spoke. “Wow, those tea parties with Shen-shibo have done a number on you.”

 

Shen Yuan grinned, then arranged his face into an impassive mask and sniffed primly, “You seem to be labouring under the misapprehension that I give a damn about your thoughts on my visits to your martial uncle.”

 

That earned him a guffaw, which drew countless eyes towards them. He let the mask drop, and met the onlookers’ stares with a challenge in his eyes until they glanced away. “No, but really, I wouldn't be surprised if our disciples managed to fill an entire wing at Qian Cao before the day is finished. They have a penchant for trouble.”

 

“Would you be willing to gamble on it?”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was way too willing to make bets today. That could only mean one thing. “Not if it involves doing that drudgery that Shang Qinghua claims is necessary administrative paperwork. I'll leave that privilege to you.”

 

Zhang Min made a wounded noise and clutched her chest, and then flopped to the side and pretended to be dead. Shen Yuan didn't blame her. Having to do all of Shang Qinghua's paperwork would make him crave the sweet release of death as well.

***

 Shen Yuan marched down the row of his waiting disciples (and guests, who were told in no uncertain terms to join or fuck off), poised like one of those drill sergeants he'd seen in the movies. The youngest of the bunch were safely off to the side with the Qian Cao representatives. Shen Yuan didn't want them in harm's way, so today they'd be receiving a hands-on first aid lesson. Hopefully it wouldn't traumatize them too severely.

 

“Alright you lot, listen up,” he said, voice loud enough to carry to those at the ends of the row. “Everyone knows why we're here, so let's just cut to the chase. I want you to gather in groups of three to five, since the Kicking Woolly Deer have the privilege of being both mean and unreasonably large. Everyone will be provided shears, and each group will receive a sack to put your collected wool into. You may use whatever methods you see fit to subdue the deer, so long as you don't cause them any harm that can't be easily fixed. Respect them as living beings. If I see you being unnecessarily hostile or rough towards them, you will be writing punishment essays, and I'll take a leaf from Shen Qingqiu's book and make you do in-text citations.”

 

This sent a ripple of fear down the row, and Shen Yuan resisted the urge to smirk. “If you see anyone out there injured, you help them out. Qian Cao was kind enough to spare us some of their esteemed medical professionals, who are right over there. Understood?”

 

He received a chorus of ‘Yes, Shizun,’ and ‘Yes, Shishu’. He nodded at a lanky boy in Bai Zhan robes with his hand raised.

 

“What if we want to attempt to take on one of the deer single-handedly?”

 

Honestly should've seen that coming. Those Bai Zhan disciples are something else. System, how likely do you think it is that he'll be one of the ones with a broken bone?

 

[This System would wager that it is a good 70% chance.]

 

Mm. I'm inclined to agree.

 

Shen Yuan considered the boy's question, doing a quick tally of all the competent adults present. He could spare one or two for this ill-fated venture. “If you're so keen on it, you may attempt it so long as you can convince one of the handlers or hallmasters to supervise. Otherwise, find a group.”

 

With that, he turned and led the group into the sprawling enclosure, which encompassed a huge swathe of land that was half meadow, half forest. Behind him, the disciples argued and divided themselves up, practically vibrating with anticipation. The hallmasters handed out all the supplies, sending some of the disciples more prone to troublemaking stern looks. 

 

When everything had been distributed, Shen Yuan addressed them again, hands on his hips. “The group that collects the most wool is exempt from chores for a week. If we see any sabotage or infighting, believe it or not, punishment essays. Don't forget to  have fun and use your brains. And we begin… now!”

 

A few of the groups tore off across the meadow, shouting like hooligans and holding their shears before them like swords.

 

“Probably shouldn't let them run with sharp objects,” Zhang Min said, sidling up beside him with a sack and a pair of shears tucked under her arm. She didn't sound particularly concerned. “Though I suppose they'll have to learn how eventually. Oh, and if your ducklings show up, I'm putting them to work.”

 

Shen Yuan massaged his temples and nodded. He didn't even try to protest the whole ‘ducklings’ thing. It was futile at this point.

 

“You want to try your hand at shearing one of the deer?”

 

Shen Yuan eyed her suspiciously. There was something about her tone… “Not particularly, no.”

 

Zhang Min had an evil glint in her eye, one that promised terrible, terrible things. “And what if I decide that doing so is a mandatory part of your training?”

 

So this is her revenge. Truly diabolical.

 

[A masterwork. (￣^￣)ゞ]

 

He clasped his hands together pleadingly, “Please, have mercy.”

 

[No mercy, User.]

 

“No mercy, Shizun. Go on then. If you don't, I'll foist Shang-shibo's paperwork on you.”

 

Now that was a fate worse than death. The twitchy rat had been especially on-edge recently, and Shen Yuan didn't want to run the risk of making him snap by missing a line on the forms or something.

 

With a put-upon sigh and slumped shoulders, Shen Yuan accepted the shears and sack she handed him, cast a smug Zhang Min one last miserable look, and traipsed off to find an über-hostile deer that would doubtlessly beat the snot out of him.

***

Chaos. This whole affair was chaos.

 

Everywhere he looked, disciples were having it out with the thrashing deer, getting tossed around and nearly gored on their antlers before diving in for more. The deers’ handlers looked very pleased about the whole thing.

 

[How is it that your disciples possess more courage than you?]

 

Shen Yuan thought that was a bit mean, but didn't bother rising to the bait. He was too busy trying to slow the frantic flutter of his heart and stymie the violent tremble of his hands. 

 

There's probably something in their drinking water that encourages them to abandon all sense.

 

The biggest problem was that he couldn't just whip out his sword and slaughter the damned looming things. Ling Shou was home to one of the only herds of Kicking Woolly Deer in the world, and their wool was softer and more insulating than any other. He couldn't break their limbs, or rip off their antlers, or snap their necks. He'd been discouraged from trying to knock one of them out since the handlers weren't sure if that could have lasting effects, and the last thing anybody wanted was a hyper-aggressive deer hybrid with brain damage.

 

Shen Yuan stopped to lend a hand to some struggling disciples, and then had to backtrack because a Wan Jian disciple had broken several ribs and likely punctured a lung. He deposited the Wan Jian disciple amongst the busy Qian Cao representatives, then turned around and continued his dreaded task.

 

Thank the gods for Mu Qingfang, he thought, shuddering at the idea of what might have happened without medical professionals on standby.

 

It took around half an hour before he finally found an unassaulted deer, deep into the trees. It stood a good eight feet tall even without factoring in its magnificent antlers, which were large enough that Shen Yuan could not help but wonder whether it experienced frequent neck pain. Its wool was a fluffy, dense golden-brown cloud, flecked with little white spots. When it noticed him, its wet nose twitched, eyes watchful, front hoof scraping at the damp, muddy ground.

 

Shen Yuan held up the shears between them. “Trust me, you'll probably feel better once all that bulky wool is off of you. It'll grow back in time for winter.”

 

The deer looked like it disapproved of that idea, and to convey this, it bellowed, lowered its head, and charged him.

 

One of these days, I'm going to find a nice animal, who doesn't immediately try to kill me. Besides Hatsune Miku, the love of my life.

 

He only just managed to avoid getting impaled, though his robes were not so fortunate. One of the tines of the deer's antler cut through the fabric of his robes across his chest and wrenched, tearing away a good chunk of fabric and leaving his pectorals naked and uncovered. He and the deer both paused to stare down at his brand new boob window in shock (though the use of the term was arguable, considering the entirety of his pectorals were now hanging out). 

 

Did I just… get wife-plotted?!

 

[...Somehow, yes. User's tits have been exposed for the world to see.]

 

He poked at his own exposed chest, nipples pebbled by the chill. He glanced back up at the startled deer, voice cold. “You will pay for this indignity.”

 

Before it had time to resume its attack, Shen Yuan decided to do possibly the stupidest, most ill-thought-out and impulsive thing he'd ever done. He put Lian Qingliu's impressive bulk to good use and dive tackled the goddamn deer.

 

And it worked.

 

The both of them went rolling across the forest floor, and Shen Yuan combined his strength and qi to keep it down while he attacked its coat with the shears like a deranged barber. Halfway through, hysteria caught up with him, and he laughed, which evolved into cackling in a manner that could be described as nothing less than deranged. This seemed to kill the last of the deer's resistance, and it stopped struggling beneath him.

 

[User?]

 

Yes, System?

 

[Are you…alright?]

 

My bosom has been exposed to the world, he thought, face flushed with embarrassment, and manhandled the deer onto its side. It made a weak attempt at escape, but stopped when Shen Yuan pressed it harder into the dirt. I'm terrified out of my mind, and really, really confused. I have no clue why this beast is being so cooperative right now. Maybe I was really run through, and this is all some fucked-up afterlife. He paused. Well, all of this is.

 

[User has made good progress in confronting his fears.]

 

Oh, have I? I hardly noticed. 

 

[Your sarcasm is unappreciated.]

 

Well, my clothes getting torn up is unappreciated! I really liked this robe!

 

[It does bring out your eyes.]

 

There was a stubborn bit of wool on the deer's belly that he couldn't reach in this position, so he growled in frustration and wrestled it over, arms straining with effort. He'd rolled up his sleeves to keep them out of the way earlier, and the corded muscles of his forearms flexed as he trimmed off the final bits.

 

With a sigh of relief, he climbed off the deer, and it wasted no time in fleeing, probably as humiliated as an evil, clothes-tearing deer could get.

 

He only noticed his wide-eyed spectators when he turned to collect the scattered wool. Luo Binghe, Ning Yingying, and Liu Mingyan were all gaping at him a few paces away. Luo Binghe's face was concerningly red, like he was about to explode.

 

Shen Yuan glowered at his ruined robes and waved them over, before he knelt and started sweeping wool into his sack. “The damned thing tore my clothes. I hope you all are actively participating rather than simply gawking at all the deer-tormenting my disciples are engaging in.”

 

“No, Lian-shishu,” Liu Mingyan said, an edge of humor in her voice. She stooped down and helped him gather up the wool. “We were looking for one of the deer ourselves and happened upon your struggle.”

 

“We heard your maniacal cackling,” Ning Yingying piped up, nudging Luo Binghe hard enough to earn a hiss of pain from him. Luo Binghe nodded, though did not say a word. Shen Yuan frowned and followed his gaze to his chest.

 

Oh, I see. He must be looking at the scars. Perhaps he's wondering what inflicted them. They're not particularly great to behold.

 

Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan exchanged a glance. 

 

“Well, I appreciate you all coming to help out with this,” Shen Yuan said, sealing up the wool sack and hefting it over his shoulder once it was full. “The dining hall will be open late tonight, so don't hesitate to take your time and think your strategies for deer conquest through.”

 

“We won't,” Liu Mingyan said, flashing the still-silent and very flushed Luo Binghe an amused look.

 

Ah, I wonder if I interrupted their flirting, or perhaps a bizarre, deer-centric date.

 

He gave them a small wave and took off back towards the enclosure's entrance, finding just as much pandemonium as before. 

 

The Bai Zhan boy was going one-on-one with one of the deer, one of the handlers watching him like a hawk. She looked like she desperately wanted a drink. 

 

One of the other groups had managed to coax a deer to sit peacefully with them in the meadow while they wove chains of flowers together, completely ignoring the havoc around them. They didn't even bat an eye when one of their fellow disciples was flung over their heads and landed in a heap nearby.

 

Shen Yuan greeted them and scooped up the wounded disciple beneath his arm, the disciple's limbs hanging limply. Once he'd handed the disciple off (and done his best to ignore the shocked looks his exposed cleavage earned him), he separated another two disciples who were beating each other to the dirt and assigned them punishment essays.

 

Zhang Min's jaw dropped when she saw him, and accepted the bag of wool. 

 

After a few moments of strained silence, Zhang Min asked, “Have fun?”

 

His glower was answer enough. He swore that the next time Shang Qinghua assigned him unnecessary paperwork, he wouldn't lift a finger to help her.

 

She chuckled and handed him her outer robes, which he accepted with quiet thanks. It just barely covered him, and was far too short, but his chest was safely concealed once more. He turned back to watch his disciples, and slowly felt something in him start to settle.

 

And, as the afternoon wore on and his disciples laughed and devised some truly diabolical methods of deer-shearing, he found that he had enjoyed himself, overall. The flower-weaving group won the week of no chores with their creative strategy, and at dinner that night he listened to the boisterous retelling of the most daring of the sheep-shearing feats.

 

As night fell, he sat on his porch and watched the moon rise.

 

I suppose that for an afterlife, this isn't really all that bad.

Notes:

I came very close to writing the phrase "breasted boobily" because I think it's funny.

Let it be said that my beta reader is a person of the people. Originally, he was gonna have a full-on brawl with the Woolly Deer, but then Stormy was like, "He should get a boob window instead," et voila. I actually like it more than my original plan lol.

Also, Lian Qingliu memory! I wanted to write some of his backstory, but I wasn't really sure when I'd get to it (my 'outline' is just a list of stuff I want to make happen, and I go through it to figure out what fits best together), but I figured it wouldn't fit in too poorly here. Guy didn't have an awful childhood, but it definitely gets worse lol.

Probably won't have so long of a wait between chapter next time, sorry about that. Had a big mental breakdown and uh... could be better. I finished the rough draft for this bad boy weeks ago, but didn't have any motivation to work on my final draft. On the bright side, I know what I want to happen in the next three chapters!

Hope you all are enjoying your November, and thank you for reading <333

Chapter 10: Woe, Butthole Spiders Be Upon Ye

Summary:

Disciples are selected, conversations are shared, and Mu Qingfang gives in to Shen Yuan's demands.

Notes:

Got a short chapter for y'all, next few should be longer (save me :']).

Can't believe I've passed 50k with this. Never thought I'd make it this far, honestly. Thank you to all of you have stuck with me thus far, and to any new readers, welcome!

Shen Yuan watched the gaggle of prospective disciples dig with a frown. “They're so… small.”

 

Qi Qingqi snorted. “What were you expecting, an army of giants? A bunch of adults?”

 

“No,” Shen Yuan said, resisting the urge to point out that there were in fact adults among those chipping away at the dirt below, though there were not many of them. And of those that had come, the majority either seemed to be rogue cultivators or completely destitute. 

 

The rest, however, were children. Their ages seemed to span from about seven to the late teens, and all of them were covered in dirt. 

 

The disciple selections were held twice a year, once in the autumn and once in the spring. Applicants first had to brave thousands of stairs as a test of their tenacity, and then dig a hole in qi-hardened soil. Those around nine to fifteen were the optimal age to be inducted into the sect due to the malleability of their qi pathways, but people outside that range were picked on occasion.

 

Shen Yuan wouldn't be surprised to learn that the person who had contrived these trials really hated children. 

 

The peak lords oversaw those undertaking them, watching comfortably from a raised platform that was high enough that they could see over the entirety of the area. Supposedly, they were supposed to stay out here all day, but he knew full well that his martial siblings would leave as soon as they had taken their pick of the bunch.

 

He frowned when he saw a boy on the far side of the grounds collapse, completely exhausted. Even from here, Shen Yuan could tell that he was stick-thin and was liable to be blown away in the slightest breeze.

 

“Mu-shixiong is giving medical care to those who require it, right?”

 

Qi Qingqi glanced at him, and clearly detected his guilt and concern. “Mu-shixiong said he'll attend to any in poor shape once the trials have concluded, so long as their condition isn't life-threatening. If it is, he'll step in immediately. They'll be fine.”

 

Despite her attempt at reassurance, Shen Yuan found that he could not look away from the boy crumpled in the dirt. He looked to be one of the youngest here based on stature alone, and his clothes were threadbare and slightly tattered, not nearly warm enough to protect from the day's chill. 

 

He was moving before he even realised, descending from the platform and wading through the crowd of hopefuls. They scurried out of his way, eyes darting nervously towards him, like they half-expected him to strike at them. He did not know how stormy his expression was.

 

He knelt beside the boy and checked his pulse. It was hummingbird-quick beneath his fingers, which he was unsurprised by. The child was in poor shape, his face gaunt and his hair filthy and matted. That he had managed to make it up the stairs at all and had dug a not-inconsiderable hole in the ground was both a miracle and a testament to his strength. Or was it desperation? He did not look like he would survive the oncoming winter without a change in his circumstances.

 

Mind made up (it had been decided minutes ago, when he first saw him stumble), Shen Yuan gently scooped him from the unforgiving earth. He was light, so light that it almost felt like carrying nothing at all.

 

Qi Qingqi was shaking her head in disbelief upon his return, clearly exasperated. “You're too soft on them, Lian-shidi.”

 

“He performed well for someone so young,” he said, a mite defensively. He nudged his martial siblings aside to get to Mu Qingfang, who had his head disciple take the boy back to Qian Cao Peak. When he awoke, Shen Yuan would bring him to Ling Shou, where they would have their tea ceremony. 

 

Hopefully the rest of my disciples don't rope him into the damned toad worship. It's like a plague.

 

He resumed his place at the railing, Qi Qingqi teasing him some more, before she mentioned that Liu Mingyan had found someone she wanted to induct into the book club, and the ceremony would take place in a few weeks' time.

 

Shen Yuan grimaced. He didn't even want to imagine how much Liu Mingyan might want to practise for the ceremony. From what Ning Yingying had told him, they'd spent several hours drilling their choreography prior to his initiation.

 

The two of them lingered until the trial’s end, alongside Shang Qinghua and Chen Qingquan. Many of the prospective disciples had already left, but a few of the more stubborn ones had stuck around. Of those remaining, Shen Yuan picked two who he’d thought had shown promise, and led them back to his peak on foot. He didn't think he could balance them on his sword.

 

As he walked, he could not help but wrestle with himself. Should he fail to stop Luo Binghe's destruction of Cang Qiong, it was all too likely that these children would die alongside his disciples, condemned by his choices. That they would be torn apart and feasted upon by slathering, unremorseful monsters. 

 

Still, despite this, he could not turn them away, with the fragile hope in their young faces when he'd plucked them from the crowd and their dawning wonder when they set eyes on their peak for the first time.

***

“Come to confess to another heinous crime?” Shen Yuan teased, glancing up from one of the latest of the punishment essays he had to look over. The one on top of the stack was from a disciple who had somehow managed to dye one of the goats a glittery hot pink. None of the handlers could figure out how the disciple managed it, nor how to reverse it. 

 

Luo Binghe hovered in the doorway of his office, displaying uncharacteristic trepidation. He had a few leaves tangled in his hair.

 

He had been acting oddly as of late, more avoidant of Shen Yuan, and when in his presence, prone to foregoing eye contact, suddenly flushing very red, and stuttering. 

 

Concerned, Shen Yuan had asked Ning Yingying about this odd behaviour and whether he had done something to scare the boy. This question made her laugh so hard she fell over, and then she nearly choked on her own spit. That was enough of an answer to soothe some of his worries.

 

“Would you like to sit down, Luo-shizhi?” Shen Yuan asked, gesturing at one of the chairs on the other side of his desk. After mulling this over for a few seconds, Luo Binghe seemed to steel himself and shuffled over. He settled on the seat's edge, as if he anticipated needing to make a quick escape. Shen Yuan quashed the flutter of anxiety (and perhaps hurt) at Luo Binghe's continued refusal to look at him. He was an adult, and it was his duty to ensure the wellbeing of those in his care (or who were close enough to it, with their continual proximity). 

 

Shen Yuan set his brush down with a quiet click, and leaned back in his chair to study Luo Binghe. His eyes- which were fixed determinedly on the floor- had dark bags beneath them, and he seemed more disheveled than usual, his robes wrinkled and hair escaping its customary ponytail.

 

“Are you alright, Luo Binghe?” Shen Yuan asked, head tilting ever so slightly.

 

Fingers fidgeting, Luo Binghe quietly admitted, “I don't think so.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded, and offered him a rock from his desk that had a lot of strange edges and curves. “I suspected as much. You've seemed out of sorts recently.”

 

Luo Binghe sighed and accepted the rock, smoothing his fingers over its rough surface. “This lowly disciple has been subject to many strange and disturbing thoughts as of late. It makes this one wonder if his shizun's previous estimations of himself as a mongrel and a beast were true.”

 

Shen Yuan's eyebrows knit with concern. “Do not speak so poorly of yourself. Luo-shizhi is a talented swordsman and a dedicated student. Your acts of vengeance against Ming Fan and his cohorts are both cunning and amusing, and your cultivation has improved significantly as of late.”

 

“Only thanks to you,” Luo Binghe protested, shooting Shen Yuan a mild glare before returning his gaze to literally anything else in the room. Shen Yuan was pretty sure that if he could rotate his head one hundred and eighty degrees without injury, he would be doing so right now.

 

He'd given Luo Binghe one of his peak's cultivation manuals not too long after their first meeting, and Zhang Min assessed the boy's progress every month. He had little doubts that Shen Qingqiu was aware of this arrangement, but the bastard never mentioned it.

 

“Luo-shizhi is still the one who put the effort into improving,” Shen Yuan pointed out. “And as for your so-called ‘strange and disturbing thoughts’, it's completely normal at your age to have unusual daydreams and impulses. God knows that I would fantasize about shoving Shen Qingqiu off a mountain several times a day if I had him as a master.”

 

This turn in the conversation caused red to blossom across Luo Binghe's face, and even the tips of his ears pinkened, and Shen Yuan stifled the urge to coo at him. What a sweet little white lotus! “That's not-” He cut himself off.

 

[You're delusional, User.]

 

Shut up, I am not!

 

“I just-” Luo Binghe made a small, frustrated noise, his nose wrinkling slightly before he assumed a mask of calm. “This one thanks Shishu for his reassurances.”

 

Shen Yuan studied him, the cracks of his frail mask. The firm set of his mouth, which wavered downwards at the corners. The twitch of his eyebrows, the exhaustion in his eyes. Despite his unease, Luo Binghe clearly wanted to expound no further on his personal issues. 

 

Maybe he's already dreaming about chopping Shen Qingqiu's limbs off. It would be a bit of a shame, if only because the bastard kept plying him with cups of high-quality tea.

 

“Luo Binghe is welcome to disclose whatever he needs to me, whenever the urge arises,” Shen Yuan said quietly, taking his brush back up again. “He will find no judgement nor censure from me, no matter how terrible he might deem that information to be.”

 

Luo Binghe nodded, looking oddly cowed. In an act of mercy, Shen Yuan shot him a sly grin and handed him the next essay in the stack he needed to look over.

 

Luo Binghe's eyes widened in disbelief as he read the first few lines. “They incinerated their sword?! How?!”

 

Shen Yuan shrugged, “Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you. Wouldn't want you to attempt to do the same with Ming Fan's blade.”

 

This prompted an inelegant laugh and a snort from Luo Binghe, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “I'm afraid I can't even deny that, Shishu. I must say, your disciples are skilled at finding themselves in the most unlikely predicaments.”

 

“I think the giant toad is leaking neurotoxins into the water supply,” Shen Yuan deadpanned, pleased about the swift change in Luo Binghe's demeanor. “That's the only plausible explanation for their behaviour.”

 

“I disagree,” Luo Binghe said, like the contrarian little shit he liked to be sometimes when he wanted to set Shen Yuan off on a rant. “Any of the other peaks’ disciples would leap at the opportunity to-” he swiped the next essay off the stack and squinted at the misdemeanor scrawled at the top of it, “-teach the Bone-Munching Mountain Parakeets to screech expletives at the youngest disciples and any visitors.”

 

“If you're about to ask to borrow them for your own nefarious purposes, the answer is no.”

 

“Shishu would not assist this one in his time of need?” Luo Binghe asked, eyes wide and teary, lip quivering ever-so-slightly. And look, in any other context, Shen Yuan would've crumbled like a house of cards when faced with such a pleading expression. Luo Binghe's tears were a powerful and well-wielded weapon, but if he gave in, Zhang Min might actually beat him to death and scatter the chunks of his corpse on the wind.

 

So, with a heavy heart, Shen Yuan rolled up a nearby piece of paper and lightly smacked Luo Binghe atop his fluffy head. “Absolutely not. It's bad enough that I know of so many of your crimes. I'm not about to begin actively assisting you in committing them.”

 

Luo Binghe muttered something that sounded rather like, “At least not yet,” and Shen Yuan whacked him again for his impertinence. Thankfully, Luo Binghe didn't look particularly put out by his refusal and subsequent attacks, but the devious glint in his eye had not yet abated. “If Shishu would be willing to turn a blind eye-”

 

“Stop ruminating on your future crimes in front of me! You're incorrigible!”

 

“This lowly disciple understands. Shishu wishes to feign ignorance. He will only inform Shishu of his misdeeds once they have been done."

 

Cheeky little shit, Shen Yuan thought fondly, rolling his eyes. He supposed that it would be best to be kept up-to-date with Luo Binghe's multitudinous felonies. At the very least, the stories were highly entertaining.

***

Shen Yuan rapped gently on the doorframe, startling Mu Qingfang from where he was hunched over a veritable mountain of paperwork. 

 

“You wanted to see me?” he hedged, and Mu Qingfang scribbled something and swept over to him, the very picture of immortal grace but for the smear of ink at the hinge of his jaw.

 

“Indeed, I require your expertise on one of my cases.”

 

“I'll give you a hand, but only on one condition,” Shen Yuan said. He would've been happy to help without any sort of compensation, but he was going to take full advantage of this opportunity.

 

Mu Qingfang paused. “Your terms?”

 

Shen Yuan smirked and crossed his arms across his broad chest. “You shave off that horrid mustache of yours. It's an eyesore, and unhygienic! It's-”

 

“It's stately!” Mu Qingfang protested, his usual detachment tossed aside in favour of defending his beloved facial hair. “It makes me look dignified and masculine!”

 

Shen Yuan snorted. “It looks like you shaved a strip of fur off of a small rodent and affixed it to your upper lip.”

 

Mu Qingfang glared at him witheringly. Any lesser man would've fled and never returned. “I disagree.”

 

“That's too bad. Either it goes, or I go, and it sounds like you want my help pretty desperately.”

 

Mu Qingfang sighed, massaging his temples. “Fine. I'll shave it off later.”

 

Wow, he must really want my help.

 

“Well, then I'll be happy to assist,” Shen Yuan chirped, clapping him on the shoulder. 

 

He allowed Mu Qingfang to drag him down several halls, marveling at the almost labyrinthine nature of them. “So what creature do you need my assistance with?”

 

Mu Qingfang looked almost gleeful. “Are you familiar with Anus-Dwelling Arachnids?”

***

“I will never be able to cleanse my brain of the horrors I bore witness to on this day,” Shen Yuan whispered, head in his hands. “Airplane put fucking butthole spiders in his stupid novel. I just spent my afternoon coaxing them out of someone's ass with chunks of raw meat.”

 

To this, he received an unsympathetic squeak. He cracked open an eye and watched Hatsune Miku clamber onto his lap. He flopped limply onto the grass and trailed his fingers through the nearby pond. He twitched when he felt tiny teeth nibble on his ear. Another lizard curled up on his unrestrained hair, which stung his scalp as it tugged at the strands.

 

“You're getting too big to use me like your personal jungle gym,” he grumbled as Hatsune Miku plodded across his stomach. She'd grown to a meter in length and put on several kilograms. 

 

She didn't care about his opinion, though, and curled up on his chest, nudging at his temple with her snout until he gave in and scratched her under her chin. Her eyes fluttered shut at his gentle ministrations. 

 

“If I ever got the chance to meet Airplane, I would pound him into a pulp.”

 

[Oh? You would pound him? („ಡωಡ„)]

 

“Shut up, you know what I meant! There was absolutely no reason for him to put butthole spiders in PIDW.”

 

They were so bad and unnecessary that he'd probably suppressed the memory of them.

 

The only forgivable explanation is that they were taken from Airplane's drafts, but I already know they weren't.

 

[Indeed, they were from Chapter 587, and their bites increase the sensitivity of the affected area. The ejaculate of Heavenly Demons is one of the few things that are effective at driving them from their… holes.]

 

Shen Yuan's eye twitched. It's on sight, Airplane.

 

Hatsune Miku seemed to sense that his attention was divided, and yowled for more pets. 

 

“Little dictator,” he sighed, warmth building in his chest as she made little rumbly purrs and kneaded his chest like a cat.

***

Shen Yuan let himself into Shen Qingqiu's bamboo house for their eleventh tea party, thicker winter robes drawn tightly around him.

 

Qing Jing was like a different world in the autumn, the trees dyed lush reds and deep oranges, the bamboo patches creaking in the heavy winds. The tranquil ponds were choked with the fallen leaves, which drifted lazily across their surface, and a few disciples crowded the pavilions with painting supplies, trying to capture the image of it.

 

Shen Qingqiu inclined his head in greeting as Shen Yuan settled into his usual place, steaming cups of tea already poured and waiting. 

 

“I've heard that we have you to thank for Mu-shidi's new look,” Shen Qingqiu drawled. With his lavish robes, impeccable posture, and sheer presence, one would think themselves in the presence of royalty. He certainly comported himself as such, sometimes. 

 

“It wasn't worth it,” Shen Yuan said with a shudder, and blew on his tea before taking a sip. He only slightly scalded himself, and made a pleased hum at the delicate citrus flavour of the drink. “Where the hell do you get your tea? Do you have a dealer? Can you set me up with them?”

 

Shen Qingqiu sniffed and took a small drink from his own cup. “I cultivate connections that allow me to acquire such luxuries. I am afraid that these contacts would find you terribly uncouth, and would afford you nothing more than a well-deserved comment about your personal shortcomings and perhaps a handful of sodden weeds.”

 

“I wouldn't mind sodden weeds,” Shen Yuan said cheerfully. “They can be useful for either animal feed or fertilizer.”

 

Shen Qingqiu scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Shen Yuan just grinned at him. He'd become disturbingly familiar (and daresay comfortable) with his snippiness from their time spent together.

 

He was even beginning to catch onto Shen Qingqiu's moods, and whether he genuinely meant an insult. 

 

Shen Yuan recently could not help but wonder why their martial siblings seemed unable to discern the difference, especially since they'd known him for longer. How could they not understand that when Shen Qingqiu's eyes weren't narrowed into slits, that when his knuckles weren't white around the guard of his fan, that when his shoulders weren't stiff and his voice not deeper and colder that he was being scathing in a manner not meant to belittle, but to tease? How did they not understand that the best way to respond to that was to roll with it or to say something completely absurd in exchange, strange enough to throw him off his guard? 

 

And then, he had come to the horrible but unsurprising realization that perhaps Shen Qingqiu didn't actually have any friends. 

 

Sure, the sect leader was willing to throw his life away for him, but from what Shen Yuan had observed of their (viscerally uncomfortable) interactions, Shen Qingqiu looked like he desired nothing more to be far away, almost akin to a cornered beast, and Yue Qingyuan looked like someone had hit his puppy with a car every time Shen Qingqiu was within fifty meters of him. Their dear sect leader kept trying to apologize to him, but never elaborated on what exactly he was apologizing for, which Shen Yuan knew drove Shen Qingqiu up the wall.

 

At the last peak lord meeting, Shen Qingqiu had sat himself beside Shen Yuan- who had pinched himself several times to ensure that he was not, in fact, dreaming- and once the meeting had concluded, had practically attached himself to Shen Yuan's side. They'd had a long conversation about fan-making. Apparently Shen Qingqiu made a lot of his insult fans himself.

 

It had not been lost on Shen Yuan how his eyes would periodically dart in Yue Qingyuan's direction, as if to ensure he had not come too near. Shen Yuan had chanced a glance himself, and was unimpressed by the petulant look on Yue Qingyuan's face. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to stride over and interrupt their conversation.

 

The other peaks lords interacted with Shen Qingqiu as little as possible, their faces thunderous at his many caustic remarks. They believed every rumour about him.

 

It made Shen Yuan feel almost bad for the guy, which was the last thing he wished to feel regarding the Scum Villain.

 

Fingers snapped in front of his face, startling him. “Shidi? Don't tell me your final few brain cells decided that they would be better served gone from your head and the doldrums of your thoughts, leaving you insensate in my home. I asked you a question.”

 

Shen Yuan blinked a few times, and shook his head like a dog shaking water from its fur. “Sorry, Shen-shixiong. I was just distracted by something.”

 

Shen Qingqiu wrinkled his nose, but refilled Shen Yuan's empty teacup for him. “Yes, I imagine you were thinking of one of your ghastly creatures or beastly disciples. Honestly, they would benefit from lessons in etiquette and propriety. They're only slightly better than Liu-shidi's horde of little monsters.”

 

“Hey, my disciples are fine just the way they are,” Shen Yuan protested. Shen Qingqiu looked thoroughly unconvinced. “Don't look at me like that! They've mostly stopped biting people!”

 

“That you believe that your disciples ‘mostly’ abandoning such an abhorrent habit is an accomplishment speaks volumes about the quality of the education that they're receiving.”

 

Shen Yuan had to actually bite his tongue to refrain from saying, ‘Well, at least I've never hit any of them.’

 

Saying it wouldn't do anyone any good, and he got the feeling that it would lose some of the ground he'd made with Shen Qingqiu. 

 

Luo Binghe said that Shen Qingqiu hadn't whipped any of his disciples in over a month, which might not seem that impressive to most people, but the fact that it was Shen Qingqiu held some significance. It proved him capable of change, of growth. It proved that he was less of an uncompromising piece of shit than PIDW painted him as. 

 

Sure, the guy was still a sadistic bastard- his standards for and eagerness to assign his punishment essays were proof of this- but he'd softened slightly into someone just a little more tolerable. Someone Shen Yuan didn't find quite as irredeemably evil.

 

So, instead of laying into Shen Qingqiu for his past misdeeds, and dismissing his progress as a person, Shen Yuan simply said, “I disagree. Their education is fine, they just… nibble on each other sometimes. They're getting better.”

 

“Your standards cause me persistent despair,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, downing his own tea like a shot. “Can they be any lower?”

 

“You realise by criticizing my standards, that includes who I spend time with, and therefore you are inadvertently insulting yourself,” Shen Yuan pointed out, refilling Shen Qingqiu's cup because he kind of wanted to see if he'd drink it like a shot again.

 

“I never said I was good company,” Shen Qingqiu said, a sardonic quirk to his lips, and Shen Yuan cackled, caught off guard.

 

“You're not horrible company,” Shen Yuan said, “But you would be better if you told me who your tea dealer is.”

 

“If you insist,” Shen Qingqiu sighed, clearly about to go on a whole diatribe about his generosity and why Shen Yuan was undeserving of it, and Shen Yuan settled in to listen- might as well humor him. 

 

It wasn't until that evening that he realised that they hadn't spoken of his supposed visions of the future at all.

***

Shen Yuan awoke to someone pounding on his door. He swore under his breath, but pulled it open. He was a little too forceful, and it splintered. Again.

 

Yue Qingyuan stared at the remains of his door, stunned. The poor guy went through what looked like a full reboot before he seemed to remember why he'd come.

 

Shen Yuan sheepishly invited him inside, carefully avoiding impaling any splinters in his foot. They sat at his table, Yue Qingyuan's face grim.

 

“Another mission?” Shen Yuan asked soberly, trying to ignore the sudden heavy tang of iron on his tongue, of the memories of desecrated corpses scattered across the streets. 

 

“Yes,” Yue Qingyuan said, and told him all he needed to know. A mind-eating monster had been terrorizing the countryside, killing any it crossed. It had only just found itself in Cang Qiong’s territory, where they had the authority to deal with it.

 

Shen Yuan accepted the mission. That was his first mistake.

 

His second was not checking the date.

Notes:

Mu Qingfang can now have his hot girl summer (winter?), unharassed by his peers about his facial hair.

Binghe does in fact steal one of the cursing parakeets, but for some reason Ming Fan really seems to like it.

The next few chapters are probably gonna be a lot less silly than the last few have been. Gonna have all the despair n stuff. Creeping back into canon territory in a chapter or two.

One day Shen Yuan will be able to go out on a mission without having to fear for his life. That day is not today :))

EDIT (11/27/24): Someone asked what he looked like so you can find my shitty doodles of him here lol (https://www.tumblr.com/maximum-rat/768347403437948928?source=share)

Chapter 11: Hatsune Miku Develops A Taste For Flesh

Summary:

In which Shen Yuan goes on a road trip, drinks some bad tea, and goes spelunking.

Notes:

*emerges from the dirt, a clown hat firmly situated on my head, and offers you this 15.2k chapter*

Howdy, and happy new year! Behold the fruits of my suffering.

I made the grave error of not splitting this up. I thought it would be 8k at most :'))))

We got some monster stuff this chapter, so all the violence warnings that come with that. A million thanks to my beta reader Stormy, who slogged through this behemoth of a chapter to search for any mistakes.

Shen Yuan sat bolt upright, chest heaving, desperate for air. He was tangled in his sheets, his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he felt all at once too warm and abnormally cold. Lingering panic and revulsion propelled him out of bed, his way lit by the glow of his PC screen. The latest chapter of Proud Immortal Demon Way was still open, but he was unnerved to realise that he could not recollect what had happened in it.

 

Shen Yuan grabbed his glasses off of his nightstand and shuffled closer, squinting at the bright screen. To his confusion, he found that the words were illegible, practically turned to hieroglyphics overnight.

 

He snorted.

 

It would serve that hack author right, getting some kind of virus. This is certainly easier on the eyes than some of his shitty papapa.

 

Shen Yuan closed the tab, the click of his mouse stark in the silence of his apartment. He frowned, suddenly uneasy. It was too quiet. There was neither the usual din of the city, nor the monotonous hum of the air conditioner.

 

Maybe it's busted again, he thought exasperatedly, but then he realised that that couldn't be true. It was cold in here, far colder than it had any right to be. If anything, it should be aggravatingly loud.

 

I'll call Er-ge later, he decided, sliding his feet into his limited edition Luo Binghe slippers. He'll know who to call for repairs.

 

He shuffled over to the door of his room, dodging a few of the PIDW paraphernalia that had wound up on his floor. He was pretty sure cleaning day was tomorrow. He'd pick it up then. Probably.

 

Shen Yuan paused with his hand on the doorknob, swallowing down a sudden swell of inexplicable emotion that rose in his throat. 

 

I feel like I've forgotten something important.

 

But try as he might, he was unable to recall what that might be. 

 

I'll probably remember later. He sighed and wrenched the doorknob. The door creaked open. He stepped into the hallway beyond, the final vestiges of his dream slipping away.

***

“Ow! Look, I get you're displeased and don't approve, but for fuck's sake, stop biting me!”

 

Hatsune Miku did not, in fact, stop biting him, her beady little eyes narrowed. To say that she wasn't taking the news of his imminent departure well was an understatement. Apparently, agreeing to undertake a monster-hunting mission without either a definite end date or her approval was a sin, which she was doing her level best to make him repent for. The sad thing is, it was kind of working.

 

“Oh, sorry to disrupt your carefully curated schedule with my duties and responsibilities,” he hissed as antagonistically as he could muster. She didn't appreciate his attitude (she was a lizard, he was surprised she could recognise his tone) and retaliated by digging her sharp little claws into his arm. He could've easily dislodged her, but he didn't want to accidently harm her. “That hurts, you know? Do I need to ground you?”

 

[Are you attempting to gentle parent the lizard, User?]

 

She has a name. And yes. Does it matter, so long as it works?

 

[...This System does not think it is working.]

 

[But regardless…]

 

[+5 B-Points for sheer gall]

 

Shen Yuan watched Hatsune Miku attempt to merge with the flesh of his arm, not entirely unamused. “I expected better from you, young lady. I am disappointed with your behaviour.”

 

Hatsune Miku's eyes widened minutely, and her blue pigtail-petals drooped. Never had a lizard looked so chastened. Slowly, she unlocked her jaw, forked tongue lapping at the blood that welled up from the grievous wounds she had inflicted. Once he'd been cleaned to her satisfaction, she wriggled around in his hold until he was cradling her like a baby and gave him a truly lethal pair of puppy dog eyes. They nearly surpassed Luo Binghe's in efficacy.

 

“Don't look at me like that!” he groaned, unable to tear his eyes away. Evil, vile creature.

 

What followed was a half hour of begging (on both sides), pleading, negotiations, and finally, a hard-won resolution. Hatsune Miku downright refused to be parted from him for the foreseeable future, so he had no choice but to bring her with him on his noble quest. Not that he really minded. Most of his qualms about bringing her were in regards to her well-being, but she didn't seem overly concerned about that. Finding food for her wouldn't really pose them any issue, considering she subsisted off of plants and sunlight. 

 

“Are you certain this is what you want?” he asked her softly, one last time, hovering just outside the mouth of the secret lizard tunnel. She nibbled his fingers affectionately, which was answer enough. He sighed and nodded to himself. He would have to grab a few more plants to stow in his qiankun pouches for her.

 

But, as far as party members went, she wasn't too poor a choice.

***

He bustled around his kitchen, hissing in pain when he stubbed his toe on the corner of the cabinets. He wanted nothing more than to clutch his wounded appendage and howl expletives.

 

The torments I suffer in the name of tea.

 

His kettle had not yet begun to whistle, so he rummaged through his cabinets at an idle pace, frowning when he discovered things in improper places, far from where he liked to stow them. It was as if someone had gone through them and either shifted their contents an inch to the left or someplace completely nonsensical. A few things even appeared to be missing. It was an affront to good organisation.

 

He withdrew a few of his multitudinous boxes and jars of tea- most of them gifts from Er-ge, who had opinions about tea brands. He sniffed at a few of the loose-leaf teas and set them aside- their labels were missing and he had no other way to determine what exactly they were supposed to be. He smelled nothing from them.

 

His brows furrowed in confusion. Am I coming down with something?

 

That was the only plausible explanation. There was no way in hell all of his tea had somehow managed to simultaneously lose their aromas. He decided he felt fine, so it probably wasn’t anything that would have him dropping dead within the next few hours.

 

He settled on what he hoped was a green tea/peppermint blend- he really couldn’t tell, so he was relying solely on wishful thinking- and set the teabag in his favourite mug. It had fanart of Liu Mingyan, midleap, her sword poised to strike. He wrapped the teabag's string thrice around the ceramic handle. He didn’t want to suffer the indignity of having to fish the bag out with his fingers. 

 

When the water was boiling (and he had jumped a foot in the air from the kettle’s shrill whistle), he pulled it off the stove and poured a good measure into his waiting mug. Steam clouded up, fogging his glasses.

***

His youngest disciples gave him tearful farewell after tearful farewell, some of them clinging to his robes as if they believed he might not ever return, and Zhang Min awarded him a single raised eyebrow at the sight of Hatsune Miku draped across his shoulders and around his neck like a feather boa. 

 

She’d had much more warning of his impending absence this time- he had sought her out as soon as Yue Qingyuan had left- and was thus better equipped to handle the various challenges that she might face. They even had a protocol in place for any attempted coups. He had also privately asked Mu Qingfang and Qi Qingqi to check on her occasionally to ensure that she was taking care of herself.

 

Once the throngs of disciples had parted, she stepped forward and pressed a heavy cloak into his arms. He tucked it gratefully away, certain that it could come in handy in the face of the impending winter. 

 

The lining was a disturbingly familiar wool- the very same that he had set his disciples to harvest from the Woolly Kicking Deer.

 

“A cloak made with the discards of my greatest foes. How considerate,” he said flatly, though he knew she could see his amusement. But he knew better than to encourage her. It might go to her head, stroke her ego just a little too much.

 

[You've somehow managed to make it sound dirty, User. Just leave the poor woman in peace.]

 

That's what I'm trying to do! And you're absolutely disgusting, System! Why do you look for euphemisms in everything?!

 

[Hearing about your Luo Binghe lingerie ruined this System. It is a changed entity.]

 

Stop mentioning it! You keep bringing it up unnecessarily!

 

[Is that shame I detect, User? Are you feeling even a measure of the torment that this poor System felt when it learned about-]

 

Yes, shut up! I'm trying to say goodbye, and you're making it difficult to focus!

 

[Fine. This System will find someone who actually appreciates its company.]

 

[(`ー´)]

 

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes at it, and Zhang Min smirked. “Take care of yourself, Shizun. Don’t leave me wrangling these hellions all by myself.”

 

“I'll think about it,” he said, pretending to mull it over. “But I'm pretty sure they like you better than me. Maybe because you're also involved in all that creepy toad worship.”

 

And then he was off, the peaks of Cang Qiong growing smaller and smaller behind him, the rising sun painting the horizon in soft pinks and deep purples and a glowing golden-orange hue that Shen Yuan thought might be his favourite colour. He twitched when Hatsune Miku partially buried herself beneath his travelling cloak to escape the frigid air.

 

I'll probably get plenty of that at night , he thought ruefully, and scratched her behind her pigtail-petals. She preened at his touch.

 

He relished in the wind in his hair, the crisp breeze, the way his cloak billowed around him. Flying had not yet lost its lustre.

 

If he was by himself, he would've been alright to fly straight on without breaks, but since he was toting with him a small, highly opinionated lizard that was neither immortal nor able to suppress its ability to piss, they stopped every few hours. 

 

He could (begrudgingly) admit that the breaks did him some good, allowing his eyes a break from the strain of (mostly) staring straight ahead, dry and stung by the wind. He took a few gulps from his waterskin, nibbled on some of his rations around midday, and made sure no opportunistic beasties absconded with Hatsune Miku. Woe be upon any who tried.

 

A hawk had attempted to grab her when she was frolicking in a patch of rather withered-looking flowers- swooping down with talons extended as she nibbled archly on their stems. Shen Yuan, who had looked away for only a moment, yelped in alarm and snatched the bird out of the air. He glared and brought it up to his face, feeling its frantic pulse beneath his fingers.

 

“Do not,” he hissed, then released it. The hawk hauled ass away from them, and he didn't dare to take his eye off of Hatsune Miku for the remainder of their break. She remained blissfully ignorant, and thoroughly decimated the flower patch.

 

“You're a terror,” he murmured fondly, extending his arm to her so she could scramble up its length. She shimmied beneath the loose sleeve of his outer robes in her quest for warmth, and he pointedly did not complain about the temperature of her scales. He wouldn’t give the System the satisfaction.

***

He nearly spit the first mouthful of his tea out in disgust. Despite the water having been boiling a mere three minutes prior, it was now frigid and oddly gritty, as though someone had upended a cup of sand into the mixture.

 

The granules clung to his tongue, and he swiped them away, gagging at the phantom sensations they left in their wake. 

 

After braving two more sips of his drink- for science- he admitted defeat and poured the rest down the drain. What a waste.

 

He made a mental note to discourage er-ge from buying that brand again. Well. He would if he had been able to figure out what brand it was. The lack of labels made that pretty much impossible.

 

Shen Yuan grabbed a blanket off the couch and wrapped it tightly around himself. The soft fabric tickled his exposed skin, but he luxuriated in its warmth; it provided a barrier between him and the ravages of his busted thermostat. 

 

He’d just tapped on Er-ge’s contact information to give him a call when somebody knocked on his door. He stood there motionless for far too long, struggling to recall whether anybody had mentioned they were dropping by today. 

 

The knocking only grew louder, and uneasily, he peered through the peephole. He grinned when he saw it was his meimei on the other side of the door, her face scrunched with impatience.

***

The wool-lined cloak proved to be a godsend, especially once the sun had set. After gathering branches and brutalizing a tree or two, he set about trying to create a campfire. It took him two hours and an unmentionable amount of splinters, the System guffawing in his ear the entire time. But he had done it.

 

Shen Yuan pitched the small tent that the original goods had kept stowed in one of his qiankun pouches, and curled up inside, several blankets and a lizard who coveted his body heat piled atop him. Hatsune Miku curled into a ball on his chest, making tiny whistling noises in her sleep that he suspected might be snores.

 

Outside, the surrounding trees susurrated in the wind, their branches occasionally clacking more loudly together. Dinner had been more rations, but he’d tried (and failed) to catch a few fish from a nearby stream, nearly taking a surprise plunge when he lost his footing on some of the slick wet stones on the bank.

 

His rest was fitful, and he threw in the towel an hour before dawn, his dear lizard companion tucked close, swaddled in the wool-lined cloak and somehow still asleep.

 

He prodded at the cold, blackened remains of his fire, unsurprised not to discover a single surviving ember. He rubbed some feeling back into his nose, half-sure he would’ve lost it in the night to the cold were it not for his cultivation.

 

Shen Yuan didn’t bother with breakfast, and was off as soon as he’d packed everything up. An hour into the day’s flight, Shen Yuan asked the System whether it was capable of playing music, and it could- though it refused to play anything but Mongolian Throat Singing and ominous Latin chanting that could only be considered music because of the occasional harpsichord interlude. Shen Yuan lasted ten minutes before he was begging it to turn it off. Silence, blessed silence, was a mercy compared to such an assault on his eardrums.

 

The next few days passed with little distinction, only punctuated by a brief sojourn in a handful of towns for a meal, or, once, to stay the night. Regardless of their location, he attracted distrustful glances, which only worsened the further he got from Cang Qiong. Children quavered in his shadow and men palmed their weapons when he drew near. 

 

On the eighth day, quite by accident, Shen Yuan caught an eagle. It had been after Hatsune Miku, her milkshake bringing all the predatory birds to the yard, and he’d grabbed it, killed it, cooked it, and had it for dinner that very night. He was craving meat that wasn’t jerky with the consistency of shoe leather, and it satiated that desire, though he did feel a little bad about it afterwards. Hatsune Miku had joined in on the fun, and ate a few morsels of it.

 

Uh, System? I thought she couldn’t eat meat?

 

[...]

 

[She’s not supposed to. This is… unprecedented. I think your gentle parenting has created a monster.]

 

I’ve failed my child. I should've enrolled her in team sports.

 

He didn’t bother trying to make her spit it out. He was morbidly curious what effect it might have on her body. Despite the careful eye he kept on her for the next two days, he saw no visible changes nor signs of discomfort. Interesting.

 

After that, both wildlife and human settlements became more sparse, and it felt more and more like they were the only living beings in an otherwise empty world. The birds had migrated a few weeks before in great flocks, and many others were now hunkering down for hibernation. The world was balanced on the thin precipice between autumn and winter, that delicate period prior to the fall of those final few leaves and the sky was naught but a heavy grey shroud.

 

It was another four days before he encountered civilisation again. The village was nestled in the cradle of rolling hills, kilometres of tilled, fertile soil surrounding it. 

 

Shen Yuan landed a good distance away, boots sinking into churned-up mud, and took a leisurely stroll down the country lane. He had to work very, very hard to prevent Hatsune Miku from flinging herself into the mud with reckless abandon. He was not going to attempt to bathe her again so soon. He was still recovering from last time.

 

He passed a few solitary figures on his way into the village proper, all of them shrinking away as he swept by, which he told himself he wasn’t bothered by. He knew how he looked on a good day, and after being in the wilderness for the past two weeks had not done him any favours. There was a wild edge to his appearance that he had noticed when he’d spied his reflection in a pond, worsened by his mud-splattered clothes and without the distinguishing finery of an immortal cultivator. He was rocking a full beard now, which he didn’t care to shave away because it helped keep his face warm, and his features were just the slightest bit sharper.

 

He perused the market stalls with great relish, and for dinner that night he had a spicy pork stew at one of the village’s few establishments, which felt like it suffused warmth into his very core. He left his payment on the table and considered whether it would be worth it to splurge on a room for the night. The snow clouds on the horizon made up his mind for him, and he enjoyed the first hot bath he’d had in… well, he didn’t know how long it had been, but it was a while. The hot water was a balm on his stiff muscles, and he lounged in the small wooden tub until the water was lukewarm. 

 

After a good night of rest, he felt rejuvenated and a touch more aware of his surroundings. He checked carefully over the information Yue Qingyuan had bestowed upon him to ensure he was still on track- he was- over breakfast, and fed Hatsune Miku some of the greens that had come with it. 

 

He was about 150 kilometres northeast of where the monster had been reported, and if he flew straight for it, he should arrive in less than a day or so. 

 

He ignored the voice in the back of his mind that whispered something would surely go wrong.

***

Meimei gathered him in a hug, arms like a vice around him. He ruffled her hair, mussing it up, but she didn’t complain as she normally would.

 

“You’re gonna crack my ribs if you keep it up,” he teased her, and she sheepishly let go and divested herself of her coat, hanging it on the back of one of his chairs.

 

“You might want to put that back on, it’s cold as hell in here,” he said, gesturing around as best he could while still keeping a firm grasp on his blanket. “AC’s busted.”

 

She shrugged, and set a bag of takeout on his table. “It doesn’t feel cold in here to me. You hungry, San-ge?”

 

His brows furrowed in confusion. How could she not feel it? His feet felt like icicles even in his Luo Binghe slippers, and he was pretty sure he’d be able to snap off one of his toes within the hour if he didn’t put some damn socks on.

 

“I suppose I could eat,” he said, accepting a takeout container and a set of chopsticks.

***

There was not an excess of blood like there had been on his first mission, and the signs of a struggle were minimal at best. The corpses- desiccated husks, really- lay where they’d fallen, shrivelled, their eyes peering sightlessly at the overcast sky.

 

The surrounding fields were blackened with rotten vegetation, a spoiled harvest. A few animals roamed freely, others just as dry and dead as the people. A goat snuffled at his hand and tried to chew on his robes until Hatsune Miku hissed and swiped at it, the petals down her spine bristling.

 

Do Herbivorous Petal-Bodied Lizards have a lizard equivalent of arrector pili that allow her petals to raise like that?

 

[I don’t understand you, User. Why are you thinking about that right now?]

 

Why are you listening to my private thoughts?! Really, this sounds like a you problem.

 

Shen Yuan crouched beside one of the bodies- this one had been a young woman, once- and examined her. Her skin was greyed and almost mummified, clinging to her bones, her clothes loose and filthy from weeks of blowing sediment and mercurial weather. What appeared to have once been a dark, viscous fluid was crusted around her eyes and mouth. And the smell was odd- it was unlike the overwhelming stink of despair that had hung over Baifeng Town. Instead, the air was perfumed with something musty and old, like dust and old parchment.

 

He examined her body thoroughly- with a whispered apology- for any signs of violence. He found no lacerations or puncture marks, no broken bones, no signs of blunt force trauma. The only sign of something wrong was her condition and her expression of abject terror and despair. It was the same expression he found on the rest of the villagers’ faces.

 

What did you see? he wondered, when he found an old couple slumped over their table, surrounded by rotten food. Their heads were both turned, eyes affixed on a point somewhere beyond him. The same point. Had the creature somehow managed to dispatch them both without moving? And if so, how?

 

Hatsune Miku was more sedate than usual, not demanding to run around as she normally would upon landing. Perhaps she held some understanding of the tragedy of this place. Perhaps she merely smelled danger, and was smart enough to remain concealed. 

 

He stroked her scales for comfort, and turned away. A less gruesome death than most, but not any easier to witness.

 

Shen Yuan combed the houses and paths for anything unusual, and found a fleet of strange footprints preserved in a few places, where the weather had not destroyed the tracks, plentiful and reptilian-looking. He found a few deep furrows in the earth as well, where something seemed to have dragged itself.

 

How strange, he thought. Maybe it’s not working alone.

 

He followed the tracks eastward.

***

To his great relief, the food did not have weird granules in them, but the noodles were gummy and almost impossible to chew, and the sauce they were coated in was absurdly salty. It was as if he was incapable of having good food, which he greatly resented.

 

The drama that Meimei had stuck on was entertaining enough, though something about it seemed strangely familiar. 

 

He frowned and drew his knees up to his chest without looking away from it, squinting at the male lead. He looked awfully familiar, from his annoyingly perfect ponytail to his bishounen face to his pristine white robes and beauty mark just beneath his eye.

 

He looks like Liu Qingge. What is he-

 

Then he stopped and frowned, feeling suddenly very nauseated and off-balance. He clutched the arm of the couch, taking slow, measured breaths. 

 

Liu Qingge is not real. Airplane really never described what he looked like, and this is the last way I would expect him to look. He never appeared in-person in PIDW , so it makes no sense that I see this guy and conflate him with Liu Qingge. Why am I having all of these strange thoughts? Why does everything feel wrong? There’s definitely something going on, something wrong with me, but what-

 

“San-ge?” Meimei asked, face creased with concern. Am I going crazy? “Are you okay? You seem… distressed. Nervous. Has something happened?” She smiled teasingly. “Did Airplane finally post something bad enough to make you crack?”

 

Shen Yuan opened his mouth to answer her candidly, to spill his guts about the way his brain was screaming wrong, wrong, wrong about everything, but he suddenly found himself incapable of doing so, choking on everything he wanted to say. He was still wrongfooted, still confused and on edge, and he wanted to confide in her so badly, like he normally did, but his instincts were slowly growing louder, screaming at him that he couldn't, that he shouldn't be near her, that he had to get away. He felt almost like a mouse caught in a glue trap, willing to chew off his own limb to escape.

 

But she’s my sister, he tried to argue with himself. She’s pretty much my best friend. We’ve always been there for each other, confided in each other. 

 

He had held her hand as she learned to walk, barely stable on his own two feet. He had been there for every birthday and holiday, for every milestone, had encouraged her to pursue her passion and show the world what she was made of rather than do what their parents expected of her.

 

Something isn’t right here, the voice protested, the small, fearful, ancient part of the human psyche given a voice. His hands clenched in frustration, but she did not notice. She did not notice his obvious discomfort as she usually would’ve, did not notice the quickness of his breath or the slight trembling of his body that was not caused by the cold.

 

She would’ve noticed, the voice insisted, or perhaps it was him, and he gritted his teeth, angry and confused by his own thoughts. Would’ve? Why would’ve? This is her. This is Meimei.

 

Is it? asked the voice. A chill ran down his spine, and he shook his head to clear it. He was thinking crazy thoughts. Maybe he was having a bad reaction to his meds. He’d have to call the doctor tomorrow to see about changing one of his prescriptions. 

 

“I’m fine,” he finally choked out, watching her from the corner of his eye. She turned her head and stared at him dead-on, and continued staring at him for a long time. She didn’t turn away until a fight began onscreen, missing some of the love triangle drama she usually loved to complain about and make fun of. 

 

“I’m glad,” she eventually whispered, and settled back into the couch cushions.

***

Nobody alive had seen the monster.

 

He worked his way northwest on foot, finding more settlements chock full of mummified bodies, but nobody in the surrounding area knew what was attacking them. They only knew that there was something out there that they had good reason to fear. Some of them erected walls around their towns and villages. Some refused to leave their houses. Some killed travellers and strung up their bodies as a warning.

 

Still, he kept searching, combing through house after house, town after town, looking over body after body, each offering little more information than the last. Still, he did not allow himself to give up so easily.

 

One morning, he awoke to a world blanketed in white, snowflakes swirling down from above and settling atop his head, which he'd poked out of his tent. After allowing himself to feel quiet wonder at how thoroughly his surroundings had transformed overnight, he got ready for the day, ignoring the flakes melting and the unpleasant sensation of cold droplets of water against his scalp. He roused Hatsune Miku, who yawned and stretched languidly, rather like a cat.

 

After she pushed past her grogginess, she snapped at the falling flakes and chased a few. He kept an eye on her to make sure she didn't break her neck by falling off of something.

 

[How fatherly of you.]

 

I'd deny the paternity allegations, but I've already admitted to gentle parenting the lizard.

 

[If you'd tried, this System would have reminded you how you tuck her in and tell her bedtime stories every night.]

 

The judgemental tone is unnecessary.

 

[You want to give this System a fatherly lecture soooooo badly.]

 

What, I'm not mad, I'm disappointed?

 

[That's the one.]

 

I resent that. I got one better for you. You're grounded. For life.

 

[ヽ( `д´*)ノ]

 

Shen Yuan chuckled and scooped Hatsune Miku up. Of course, she'd managed to pick up a liberal coating of mud from her romping around. It was no surprise, but he wasn't too worried about washing her off. They'd set up camp within sight of a pond, the surface of which had only partially iced over. 

 

He broke it up with a single slam of his sword hilt, and washed the thrashing lizard. He endured several bite wounds, not flinching even as blood ran down his fingers to his wrist. The glacial water easily washed away the grime that clung to her scales and the small gaps between them.

 

He let her claw under his underrobe after, eye twitching only a little when she tore out a few strands of his chest hair as vengeance. She would get no bedtime story for that later. He cleaned his own hands and directed his qi to the bites, and within moments, the wounds had closed and smoothed over with soft, new skin.

 

Within the next month, it is likely that most bodies of water will have frozen over, making them harder to spot from above, and their options for camping would narrow. Water was important for the continued well-being of one half of their party, after all.

 

Here's to hoping this is concluded before winter fully sets in.

 

His food supply was dwindling as well- he hadn't been brave enough to peruse the wares of any merchants for some time (and even if he had, he was unsure whether they would've deigned to sell to him). He was down to a meal a day, inedia taking up the slack for the ones he missed. He didn't feel hunger in the form of the cramping aches that he'd had before he'd been stuffed into Lian Qingliu's body, but rather a deep, unsettling hollowness in his abdomen. 

 

He wasn't sure whether this was because of his own uneasy feelings towards the missing meals, or if Lian Qingliu's cultivation wasn't good enough to sustain inedia for too long. Maybe he was hindering its efficiency since he was still eating a little rather than nothing at all.

 

All that led him to wonder how inedia even worked. Was it a cessation of digestive bodily functions? Did qi from his dantians replace the energy output by the mitochondria, who transformed glucose from food to chemical energy via aerobic cellular respiration? Was qi already some form of chemical energy, or did it have to go through some process to make it usable to the body to run itself? And if it was already chemical energy, how did it transform to manifest attacks and connect with spirit blades and infuse talismans? 

 

He'd lost weight since the start of this misadventure, the angles of his face sharper, and some of the fat that had padded his middle was depleting. Maybe the body used up stored fat before switching entirely to an inedia-run system? What about when it came to exercise, when carbohydrates were initially burned as fuel before it eventually converted to breaking down stored fat for energy? Was the energy needed provided by qi, or did performance suffer until the conversion of stored fat to usable energy? Was the rate of lipid breakdown increased in some way in immortals practicing inedia to allow them to more quickly utilize such energy in emergencies?

 

Beyond that, humans depended on food to acquire some of the essential vitamins and minerals. Did inedia pause the need for them, or provide an alternative? Or did his body recycle them somehow? Synthesize new ones? Were some immortals walking around with a serious vitamin deficiency? Was scurvy a thing here?

 

[Oh my godddd. You're such a nerd. Please stop, you're giving this System a migraine.]

 

You're not curious about how this works?

 

[You're thinking about it too much, User. It can be explained away with magic~.]

 

You can just say that you don't know how it works.

 

[...]

 

[Fine.]

 

[This System is unsure of the exact mechanics of inedia. All it knows is that the process is compliant with the laws of thermodynamics. (￢_￢;)]

 

Cool, so you don't know everything. That means you should stop making fun of me for not figuring out where this monster is.

 

[Over my dead body, User.]

 

You could at least give me a hint!

 

[Not a chance in hell.]

***

He could feel her eyes dart to him and away, time and time again, but he did not dare ask her about it. She did it throughout the course of her favourite movie, which she usually paid great attention to until the credits rolled. 

 

She did not coo when the couple finally kissed, or regale him with behind-the-scenes info he could recite from memory for how often she repeated it, nor did she cheer when the slimy advisor kicked the bucket. His death was different than it ought to be, Shen Yuan thought. He did not remember him being drowned this graphically.

 

‘Is everything alright?’ he longed to ask. ‘Has something happened? Why are you behaving so strangely? Why is it so cold? Why do you keep looking at me?’

 

  “Er-ge will be here soon,” she said, a gentle smile on her face. 

 

She had not picked up her phone or glanced at the clock once. Shen Yuan couldn't muster the courage to ask her how she knew.

***

“Can I trouble you for some assistance?” called a soft, nearby voice, and Shen Yuan startled. He had not heard any voice but the grating, mechanical Google voice of the System in some time.

 

He turned, and it took him a few moments to find who had spoken. On the side of the road was a demon beside a cart, and Shen Yuan quashed whatever surprise might've shown on his face at his unexpected appearance. His coloring was the pallid, frosty equal to the snow-festooned world around them, though his eyes were a deep oak colour, and he was wrapped in a thick, fur-trimmed cloak that was hemmed in some of the most intricate embroidery he'd ever seen.

 

Proud Immortal Demon Way tended to vacillate between how its demons were portrayed. They were either bloodthirsty, maiden-stealing brutes that would eagerly smash each other to a pulp if they thought it would benefit them, or they were clever, civilized, and willing to parlay when they knew they hadn't a chance in hell to defeat Luo Binghe (this usually resulted in female relatives being married off to be absorbed into Luo Binghe's ever-expanding harem). Their personalities in each chapter or section of the monstrously long novel seemed to come down to Airplane's needs at the time. Goons to unrepentantly grind into paste? Brutes. Political thriller-esque manoeuvering to display Luo Binghe's intelligence and prowess? Calculating.

 

Shen Yuan had complained about this often, in Airplane's comment section. 

 

Cultivators, from what he understood from both his personal experience and what he remembered from the book, tended to have the unnuanced take that all demons were the same and should be unhesitatingly reduced to a grease spot. They were taught that demons shouldn't be trusted nor allowed to encroach on human territory. Shen Yuan thought that was stupid, and opted to live and let live unless a demon was going around and killing people willy-nilly.

 

If this guy were to kill anyone, his horns would be a pretty handy weapon.

 

They curved up from his forehead and around like a ram's and they glistened like ice in the weak sun. He could probably gore someone on them if he were so inclined.

 

[New Quest Available: <À La Carte>]

 

[Help <Merchant Big Horns> move his cart to the nearest town.]

 

[Reward: Mission-Relevant Intel and Assorted Knickknacks]

 

Shen Yuan tapped the Accept button without hesitation. He was amenable to assorted knickknacks. 

 

Whoever named this guy should be pelted with Airplane's anachronistic tomatoes or locked in an oubliette. ‘Big Horns’? How unimaginative.

 

“Not at all,” Shen Yuan responded, and approached Big Horns. The demon stiffened when he noticed the sword at his belt, and Shen Yuan couldn't blame him. He shot Big Horns a small smile that he hoped was non-threatening and asked, “Is your cart stuck?”

 

With the height of the drifts on either side of the road, it was not unlikely. The night before had brought with it a veritable blizzard.

 

Big Horns seemed to relax slightly, and shook his head. “The wheel broke- I had to make a quick escape and hit some rough terrain.”

 

Shen Yuan glanced at the wheel in question and winced. The spokes were splintered beyond repair- it was a miracle that Big Horns had made it anywhere at all. “I don't think this is salvageable. What were you escaping from?”

 

Big Horns shivered and wrapped his cloak more tightly about himself, but Shen Yuan suspected that it was not because of the cold. “A monster stalks these hills and steals the life from any who have the misfortune of crossing its path.”

 

“Have you seen it yourself then?” Shen Yuan asked, crouching to see if there was any way to take the wheel off the cart. What remained of it was buckling under the weight of the rest of the cart, and was unlikely to last much longer. If he could work it off, he could lift this side of the cart from the axle the rest of the way to their destination. 

 

“I saw it from a considerable distance, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I wasn't close enough to look into its eye,” Big Horns said, watching him poke around his wheel with apparent confusion.

 

Its eye? Singular? 

 

“Its eye?” Shen Yuan asked, mind already whirring through his internal catalogue of PIDW fauna. Single-eyed monsters were something of a rarity, especially eyes that served a significant role in their sustenance acquisition. 

 

“Yes,” said Big Horns gravely. “Any and all who met the creature's singular eye were entrapped and drained of their vitality, leaving behind only husks.”

 

“Do you think its assault on the town was happenstance, or something planned?”

 

Big Horns seemed to consider this, eyes narrowing in thought, fingers drumming on the side of his covered cart. “I think its presence there was a bit of a surprise to it, for it did not start attacking immediately. It seemed almost startled, before it began its rampage.”

 

So a free-roaming monster, rather than one who purposefully stalks down prey. That eliminated a good amount of the potential culprits, who did not venture far from their dens or territories, which left three possible monsters. Terrestrial, one-eyed, nomadic, vitality-sucking.

 

And those tiny footprints he had seen all over the atrack sites… that narrowed it down to one possible monster.

 

The glow of accomplishment from figuring out the monster's identity rapidly dimmed when confronted with the thought of actually having to fight it. And he still had yet to locate it.

 

Ah, shit. 

***

Shen Yuan jumped at his er-ge’s knock, his brother rapping a familiar rhythm against the wood. Meimei smirked and he made a face at her, and for but a moment, everything felt normal. He wasn't too cold or weirdly nauseated, and his instincts weren't screaming for him to get out of here.

 

“Are you going to get the door?” she asked, grabbing another blanket off of the couch and wrapping it around herself, despite her proclaimed lack of need for it. 

 

And then all the dread and anxiety came crashing back in, and he very much did not want to get the door. His limbs felt leaden and unwieldy, as if his body purposefully desired to make itself incapable of doing so. He swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat as the knocking continued, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

“I don't think I should,” he whispered. Surprisingly, Meimei didn't seem particularly perturbed by this. She simply nodded and turned up the volume of the television. 

 

“He won't go away,” she intoned lowly, twirling a strand of hair around a finger.

 

“I know,” he said, and opened his eyes, doggedly settling his focus on the cooking show that was on. They were making a Paris-Brest.

 

No matter how loudly either of them cranked the volume, the knocking remained loud and perfectly clear.

***

Death-Eyed Mind Stalkers were creatures who, despite having an eye, only cared to use it to consume the minds and qi of their prey. To hunt, they were dependent on their impeccable hearing, and could craft a legion of small minions from their own flesh to drag their future victims to them. They were not particularly nimble, and were lethargic in low temperatures. They hibernated for two or three months each year, which would probably be the best time to slay one. The problem with this was they liked to crawl into a dark hole to do so, and he didn't enjoy the idea of going blindly into any place that could give the creatures a potential advantage.

 

Shen Yuan explained all this to Big Horns as he helped move the cart, having succeeded in jimmying the wheel off. He had to stoop a little to keep the cart level, but his back muscles thankfully didn't put up too much of a protest. 

 

Hatsune Miku, who Big Horns had been immediately enamoured with, lounged atop the covered cart, gazing imperiously down at them as she nibbled on some snow daisies. Shen Yuan had draped his cloak over her to keep her warm and happy.

 

“I had wondered why you brought her on such a perilous venture,” Big Horns admitted sometime later, after he too had discarded his outermost layer, sweat beading on his forehead. “But she seems the outrageously stubborn type.”

 

“You would be correct,” Shen Yuan chuckled, and Hatsune Miku side-eyed him, as if she knew he was talking about her. “She made her feelings about me leaving her safe at home abundantly clear. I was lucky not to lose a limb.”

 

Big Horns’ head tilted back when he laughed, the long line of his throat on display. There was something oddly enrapturing about it, but Shen Yuan could not figure out what it was for the life of him. He could not tear his eyes away until Big Horns’ laughter had stopped.

 

How odd.

 

[Oh dear god. How are you so oblivious?!]

 

Oblivious about what?

 

[It's a little strange to stare at someone's throat like you were, unless there was some measure of attraction.]

 

Attra- what- I'm straight! Totally, one-hundred percent heterosexual!

 

[Then why were you staring at his throat?]

 

I- it's a nice throat! It's not gay to appreciate a man's throat!

 

[(」°ロ°)]

 

[I wish you could hear yourself.]

 

[Whatever, sure. You're the epitome of heterosexuality.]

 

I'm glad you understand.

 

“I was a little worried at first, when I realised you were a cultivator,” Big Horns admitted, handing another snow daisy to Hatsune Miku, who accepted his offering with a sniff of his fingers and a lick of thanks. “I reckon any attacks against you would be futile,” he gave Shen Yuan an emphatic once-over, and Shen Yuan felt himself redden under the scrutiny. “But I suppose I got lucky. Plus, I might even convince you to purchase some of my wares before we part ways.”

 

“How pragmatic of you,” Shen Yuan said, cheeks still flushed red. “I might be inclined to do so, if you would be so kind as to expound upon what these wares are.”

 

Big Horns immediately brightened, and awarded him a fang-filled beam. 

 

“All manner of interesting and beautiful things!” he crowed, and with a flourish, he pulled back part of the cart's cover to reveal the hodge podge within. There were a lot of tchotchkes, a few scrolls, a handful of books on yellowing paper, a collection of landscape paintings and portraits, and a truly concerning amount of knives and daggers. 

 

Shen Yuan considered the merchandise with a sharp eye, and carefully plucked a little rabbit statuette from the mess. He examined it with interest- it was ceramic, its body painted white and gold, with a little pink nose and dark, gleaming eyes. It was cute.

 

“Do you trade for these, or make them yourself?” he asked, setting it back in its place- between a stone kestrel and a silver boot knife- with utmost care.

 

Big Horns abashedly answered, “Anything painted is my work. The rest I trade for or find.”

 

“The paintings are incredible,” Shen Yuan tells him, eye catching on a painting of a crane amongst lotuses, lean and poised. It bore an uncanny resemblance to Shen Qingqiu. It also looked like something he'd slap on an insult fan.

 

“They're my bestsellers, after the knives, of course,” Big Horns said proudly, and then cursed when he stumbled over a pothole. 

 

The rest of their journey was spent discussing painting techniques and Big Horns told him tales of some of his most unruly or amusing customers. In exchange, Shen Yuan regaled him with some of his disciples’ misadventures. 

 

The townsfolk here seemed much friendlier than any he'd encountered for some time, and they didn't bat an eye at the presence of a demon. They asked a passing woman for directions, and managed to hunt down a place where Big Horns could get a replacement wheel.

 

They had dinner together that night, and fed Hatsune Miku small pieces of broccoli. She seemed to enjoy the ginger sauce, licking it from her talons afterwards.

 

Soon, it was time for them to part ways. Big Horns pressed the crane painting, rabbit statuette, and a steel dagger into his hands with a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

 

“For luck. Perhaps we'll see each other again sometime.”

***

The door rattled on its hinges, creaking ominously. Something thunked loudly against it, as if someone had thrown themself at it.

 

Er-ge had given up on knocking a half hour ago.

 

“Is this some weird, elaborate hallucination?” Shen Yuan asked, sprawled out on the floor, blanketless. He had felt suddenly very hot, and was dripping sweat, his clothes sticking to him again.

 

Meimei still watched him, an almost predatory cant to her head. Her dark eyes were almost sharklike, as if she could taste blood in the air. He was finding himself slightly less disconcerted by it than he had been, but he wouldn't let himself relax completely. There was no guarantee that whatever was outside his door was any less dangerous than whatever had come over her.

 

The cooking show was on an advertisement break, and the last few minutes had been nothing but ad after ad for vehicles, all with broadly smiling salespeople and jaunty jingles.

 

“Do you think it is?” Meimei asked, taking a mouthful of his discarded noodles.

 

“I… I'm not sure,” he admitted, wrinkling his nose at the slurping noises she made. Meimei was normally a neat, quiet eater. Er-ge would have allowed nothing less. He'd relentlessly drilled etiquette into them. “I thought so at first, but should I be able to feel all of these sensations and taste things if it were?”

He paused, and smiled mirthlessly at her. “And I think your eyes might be the wrong colour.”

 

“Are they?”

 

“I believe so.” He frowned. “Shouldn't I know that for sure?”

 

“How curious that you don't,” she mused, and sat up, drawing a hair tie out of her pocket. “Will you braid my hair?”

 

Shen Yuan nodded and climbed back onto the couch so that he could better manipulate her thick hair into order.

 

His hands moved without any need for his attention- he'd done this thousands of times before.

 

“This could be a dream,” he suggested, though he had little hope that it was. She hummed neither in agreement or disagreement.

 

“Am I in danger?” he asked.

 

She smiled, one that made his instincts scream at him to get far, far away. “You're probably safer here than out there. If you wanted to take your chances, you'd have already opened the door.”

***

 The trail became clearer after that, since now Shen Yuan knew exactly what he was looking for, but that did not mean that it wasn't time-consuming to keep following it. Travelling by sword hadn't been an option in weeks if he wanted to keep on track, so he continued on foot, or hitched a ride on the back of the occasional generous farmer's cart.

 

It snowed daily, and most plants either fell dormant or died, the precious water stored in their stems freezing and rupturing their bodies. Shen Yuan was glad he'd had the foresight to bring as many plants under a preservation talisman as he had for Hatsune Miku, who now slept most of the day. He found she was less sleepy when given a heating talisman.

 

Between each town and village were swathes of devastated plants- trampled bushes, snapped branches, claw-marked roots- and torn-up earth, the path of destruction snaking further and further north.

 

Sometimes, at rivers and streams, he had to stop and comb the opposite bank until he picked up the trail again.

 

Soon, he was finding shreds of molted skin and scales, which he tried to convince himself was a good thing. He was not very convincing.

 

Hatsune Miku patiently endured his ramblings about the monster (among other things, since she was his only conversational partner who wasn't inclined to bully him). He had taken to explaining the plot of PIDW to her, but skipped over all the sex. She didn't need to hear about all that, she was just a baby.

 

Introduced in Chapter 196, the Death-Eyed Mind Stalker proved itself a formidable foe. Luo Binghe had had to save a fair maiden (of course) from a rival demon, who had somehow managed to tame one of the beasts. 

 

Upon arriving at his rival's lair, he was tricked into meeting the Mind Stalker's eye, which plunged him into a bacchanalian fantasy, his world a haze of lust and imbibements. Unfortunately for Shen Yuan's eyes (and sanity), Airplane only knew so many adjectives, and he would've actually snapped and killed someone had he had to read ‘bouncing breasts’ or ‘dripping flower’ one more time. Eventually, Luo Binghe stopped being horny long enough to realise that he was in a false reality, fought his way out, killed the beast, and neatly decapitated his rival with Xin Mo. Afterwards, he married the fair maiden to further pad out his harem.

 

Shen Yuan, who was not the powerhouse Luo Binghe had been at that point of the story, nor the owner of a bunch of powerful magical items that made him nigh unbeatable, could not simply charge the beast and hope for the best. 

 

No, he was going to have to be smart. Quick, smart, and incredibly fucking lucky.

***

“Open the door, Shen Yuan,” crooned the thing that was probably not Er-ge. The door shuddered as it (he?) slammed himself into it once more.

 

“I would prefer not to,” Shen Yuan replied candidly from the other side of it. He had migrated to his kitchen, and watched the door from atop one of his barstools.

 

This earned him a minute-long reprieve. Probably because not-Er-ge couldn't believe how stupid he was. 

 

Shen Yuan was eager to lower their estimations of his intelligence.

 

“You're only making him angrier,” Meimei said. She sat on one of the countertops, face masked in shadow. Her eyes glinted in the near-darkness. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to know what would happen if he dared to look away from her.

 

“I'm good at that,” he said simply, and withdrew one of his kitchen knives from his knife block. It never hurt to be prepared.

***

Pale-bellied fish swam against the current, drifting over moss-covered stones on the riverbed. Shen Yuan speared one with a stick he had sharpened specifically for this purpose, and it writhed in the throes of death, its blood tainting the water around it. He managed to spear another and crowed his victory. And then he danced around like a crazy person.

 

Refraction. In all his previous attempts, he had completely forgotten about the concept of refraction, and now… now he had succeeded where he thought that he might never do so. 

 

The relief that came alongside the accomplishment was so strong that tears stung his eyes. It would be his first proper meal in about two weeks. He was down to the last of his rations. He never wanted to go on an extended camping trip again, after this.

 

[Look at you, User! You're a proper mountain man now!]

 

[+10 B-Points]

 

“I know you're mostly calling me that to rag on my appearance, but thank you,” Shen Yuan said, jogging back to camp in his exhilaration. He cleaned and descaled his fish, ignoring the System goading him to eat it raw. He had no issue eating raw fish in his old life, where there were health and safety standards. Here, he was much more likely to pick up worms or some weird horny disease from improper food handling.

 

[That does make this System wonder if parasitic worms are capable of surviving in your current body, or whether they'd be killed instantaneously. You should try it. For science.]

 

For your own entertainment, you mean. Over my dead body! With my luck, they'd manage to survive and probably cultivate to ascension. Burst out of me like a Xenomorph. I'm cooking my fish, thank you very much.

 

[Spoilsport. (눈_눈)]

 

[...]

 

[This System will give you 200 B-Points if you eat a worm-infested fish.]

 

200 points?! How easy do you think I am, you cheap bastard?!

 

[Do you really want me to answer that, User?]

 

He ate his (cooked, thank you very much) fish with great relish, feeling very proud of how far his survival skills had come. These days, he could get a campfire set up in about ten minutes.

 

Hatsune Miku curiously sniffed at one of the chunks of fish, so he tore off a little and offered it to her. She'd already eaten meat and hadn't keeled over dead, so it was probably fine. She ate it happily, and licked the juices from his fingers afterwards.

 

[Great, you've given her a taste for flesh.]

 

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes and opted to ignore it, instead savoring the way the fatty meat practically melted in his mouth. It would be perfect if he had some sauces or seasonings at his disposal.

 

After dinner he washed up, and then it was time for bed again, night falling ever earlier now that it was well and truly winter. Hatsune Miku still insisted on sleeping on his chest, despite the fact that she was now bigger than a small dog and beginning to approach medium dog territory size-wise. Her unfortunate habit of accidentally stepping on his diaphragm had become significantly more painful.

 

“One of these days, you'll be too big for this,” he told her fondly, scratching her behind her ears. She purred contentedly, eyes fluttering shut. She'd be bigger than him, someday.

 

Probably won't live long enough to see it.

***

“You should let him in,” Meimei said, peeling an orange. It was dry and withered inside, but she popped it in her mouth and chewed it like it was a great treat.

 

“I'm not that stupid,” said Shen Yuan, watching the door and watching her. He didn't have long left before it was forced open.

***

The mountain was the highest point for kilometers, piercing through the earth's crust below like a tooth through gums. Its sides were sheer stone cliffs, near insurmountable for any without the power of flight. 

 

This has to be it, Shen Yuan thought. Though he was weary down to his bones, he was determined to see this through. This just screams boss battle to me. If it's not, I'll boil my shoe and eat the leather.

 

The last few days had been a lesson in misery. There had been snow so deep that he sank to his waist when he didn't step carefully enough, and he was both freezing and soaked to the bone, his wool-lined cloak only capable of doing so much. The trail had almost been destroyed by the intensity of the weather. If the Mind Stalker wasn't here, he would either have to plead with the System to throw him a bone or just give up.

 

“Ready?” he asked Hatsune Miku, who squeaked the affirmative and nudged his thickly-bearded jaw. 

 

Please let this be the place. Please let this be over soon. If I have to endure any more offers of B-Points to eat raw fish, I will take drastic measures.

 

He climbed on his sword and sped towards the mountain.

***

The door was splintering, but he was unable to discern what laid beyond.

 

Shen Yuan stood, and noticed offhandedly that it had begun to get cold again.

***

The mountain was honeycombed with tunnels, and Shen Yuan slipped into one of the lower ones without any difficulty. He figured that if he were a monster looking for shelter for the winter, he'd want to go down into the earth's embrace rather than up, where it might be more draughty. To his great relief and elation, he soon was finding more scraps of shed skin, which confirmed he was on the right track. 

 

Oh thank god. If I'd had to enlist the System's help, I just know it would've demanded something stupid.

 

[Worm fish.]

 

Ugh. I don't understand your obsession with this.

 

[I just know what I want.]

 

Shen Yuan stopped to scribble down a note about the amount of skin-shedding this thing did in his bestiary- seriously, it was a lot- and tied a thin strip of cloth around Hatsune Miku's eyes as a safeguard. 

 

There hadn't really been that many drained animals, but he was sure the Mind Stalker would eagerly gobble them up if it awoke from its hibernation to find them there. 

 

The air inside the mountain was at least ten degrees warmer than outside, and that difference only increased the deeper they went. The distant howl of the wind echoing through the tunnels was mildly disorienting, but Shen Yuan was able to filter it out after a little while.

 

Lichen and moss sprouted on the otherwise smooth walls of the stone tunnels, illuminated by shafts of light that spilled through miniscule holes in the rock that had to cut through a considerable amount of earth. Underfoot, there were a bunch of loose pebbles of varying size. It was a two-fold hindrance: not only did they make traversing the tunnels difficult, it could also alert anything lurking about here of his presence.

 

Couldn't have chosen nice tunnels, where it would be significantly less likely that I shatter my ankle?

 

[Only the best for you, User! ( ◡‿◡ *)]

 

Shen Yuan grumbled and shook his fist at it, which made him feel a little better.

 

And then he heard it.

 

The slightest shift of stone- little more than a soft click- from the way he'd come. He spun to face the noise’s origin, sword in hand, heart beating a frantic rhythm beneath his sternum. Nothing jumped out at him, but he wasn't so naive as to believe himself alone.

 

I forget about its minions. It was with dawning horror that he realised he hadn't remembered to account for them in his harebrained schemes. He would have to hope for the best and pray there weren't enough to overwhelm his person. 

 

Wait. Isn't the fact that there are any running around proof that the Mind Stalker isn't quite hibernating yet?

 

[Unfortunately, you are correct. Any minions are assimilated into the Death-Eyed Mind Stalker's body upon reaching hibernation, as they hold nutrients that its body will need over the next few months.]

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why is it still awake?!

 

There was no way he was going to get the drop on the monster, with how good its hearing was. 

 

It undoubtedly already knew that he was here. It was probably already hunting him.

***

“I would barricade the door if I thought it would do me any good,” he sighed.

 

“Why wouldn't it?” Meimei asked, fiddling with discarded orange peel, having finished her nasty-ass dry orange.

 

He gave her a flat look. “I'm not trapping myself in here with you.”

 

She gave a pretty good impression of innocent bafflement. “And why not, San-ge?”

 

He paused, sensing a trap here. Perhaps she hadn't yet done anything to him because he was still playing along with her and treating her like his sister. If he stopped now and started accusing her of not being who (what) she was masquerading as, there would be nothing stopping her from dropping all pretenses and doing something that was probably along the lines of what not-Er-ge wanted to do to him.

 

There's a sadistic gleam in her eye as she awaits his response, like a scientist all-too eager to vivisect a particularly interesting specimen. She would feel no remorse over what happened to him whatsoever. 

 

And she definitely knows that he knows, has known that he's known for some time now, but he is not so stupid as to set another monster upon himself when another is already so close at hand.

 

So he musters the most convincing grin he can and rolls his eyes at her. “You should already know the answer to that. I don't want to sit through ten hours of your TV shows.”

 

And, thank the gods, she accepts the answer.

***

There were more of them now, coming nearer as their numbers multiplied- their boldness bolstered by the certainty of support. He saw them lurking in the shadows around him, most careful to stay out of his line of sight, and he was about two seconds from blasting them with qi. 

 

Hatsune Miku, bless her, was hissing and snarling at them from atop Shen Yuan's head. He should really work on ridding her of the habit, she would break his neck one of these days attempting it.

 

[User?]

 

The System sounded almost nervous.

 

Yes?

 

[This System would advise you to address your followers now, before their forces grow too vast.]

 

Shen Yuan nodded reluctantly, slightly reeling at the unexpected advice. Of course, the System could be secretly trying to hasten his demise, but he hoped that they were past that.

 

The only reason he hadn't done anything to the minions yet was because he wanted to see what they would do, and he knew he was getting awfully close to being mobbed.

 

He planted his feet and sent qi surging into his sword, the runes along its length surging sun-bright. Zhang Min had set him to learning this as soon as he left Qian Cao post-Liu Qingge, citing the need for some more long-distance protection. He whirled and sent a broad sword glare at his would-be attackers, the wall of concentrated qi slamming into them and throwing them into the tunnel walls with a series of dull thuds.

 

Their bodies fell to the ground, each one dead. Deep, molten grooves glowed where his qi had impacted the walls, and rock dust rained down from above.

 

In the distance, something roared in fury.

 

Ah, I seem to have made it even angrier.

 

[You're very good at that, User.]

 

Shen Yuan stooped to examine one of the little flesh minions. They were a hideous, bipedal fusion of a lizard and what looked like a developing fetus, with lamplike yellow eyes beneath a grey film. 

 

They soon were melting into a foul puddle before his very eyes, and he recoiled from the foul stench of rotted flesh and fish.

 

He wondered if they had had their own individual consciousness, or whether they were some part of a hivemind. He hoped for the latter, as the former made him feel a little sad to consider.

 

He steeled himself and ventured onward, sword held aloft before him, the lilac light of the runes his torch. 

 

The tunnels grew darker and narrower, hardly wide enough to swing his blade. Where before the pebbles had been avoidable, now there was naught but pebbles beneath him. Any sharp turns had him nervous he was about to get his head bitten off, but he was lucky enough to avoid such a fate.

 

He immediately wanted to leave when the ceiling became low enough that he had to crawl. It made him instantly claustrophobic, and put in mind the thousands of tons of earth overhead that he had been trying very, very hard not to think about.

 

Still, he called upon his courage and pulled himself along, fraught with nerves and about two seconds from turning around and just loitering around the area until the monster emerged in the spring. He hated how the earth seemed to press in on him from all sides, how easy it would be for it to shift and trap him beneath it. If the tunnel collapsed, would he die, or would his cultivation sustain him still? Would he live against his will, his life one of pain and darkness, unable to find his way to the light again and clinging to what he could remember of it, even as the memories dimmed? Would he lose his mind? He knew bad things happened to people who were stuck by themselves for too long. Would he become little more than a slavering animal himself, reduced to mere instincts and needs? 

 

And what about Hatsune Miku? She wouldn't deserve such a cruel fate. If she didn't die immediately, she would face a slow, cruel death of starvation. How long would she cling to life for him? Or would she give up quickly, too angry and afraid to hang on? Would she plead for her death? Would she want him to end her suffering?

 

Scrape.

 

His breath stuttered, and he froze, not daring to move a muscle.

 

Scrape.

 

He'd had to put his sword away, for it was too big for him to swing here. All he had was his boot knife and the steel dagger Big Horns had gifted him. The steel dagger was what he wielded now, knuckles white on its hilt.

 

Scrape.

 

There was a junction up ahead, where the tunnels branched off into multiple paths. It was coming from that direction, and if he wanted to kill it, he had to draw it this way.

 

He swallowed thickly.

 

Through the darkness was a silhouetted form, even his cultivation-honed night vision unable to pick out any significant details of it beyond the mass of its body.

 

It's now or never, Shen Yuan. You can do this.

 

“ Hey!” he shouted, and slammed his eyes shut. “Guess who killed all your nasty little minions? I did! And it was easy!”

 

He heard it pivot towards him, the air shifting around it, and he scrambled backwards as it threw itself at him, hot putrid breath puffing against his face from centimeters away.

 

He yelped and retraced his path the best he could, trying to ignore the occasional raking sting of its claws across the backs of his legs and the snap of its jaws as it tried to get ahold of him.

 

Just keep going, he told himself on repeat, almost like a prayer. Just keep going.

***

The door flew off its hinges and Er-ge entered the apartment, cool as a cucumber and not a hair out of place. It was remarkable how unflustered he seemed for someone who had been trying to break down his door for the past hour.

 

“Shen Yuan,” he chastised, shaking his head condescendingly. “It was rude of you not to let me in. Have you forgotten all of your manners?”

 

Shen Yuan did not move, did not say a word. Just stood there and watched both of his not-siblings, just waiting for someone to make a move.

 

Not-Er-ge bared his teeth at him in a snarl, something the real Er-ge would never deign to do. Real Er-ge would douse not-Er-ge with one of those spray bottles people used on unruly pets. He found such behaviour terribly uncouth. Shen Yuan had received many a lecture about comporting himself with dignity and grace. If they had need to attack someone, they should either use their words to verbally obliterate them, or, if talking smack failed, stab them with something poisonous. Shen Yuan had received many poisonous gifts throughout the years. Da-ge had confiscated most of them. “Answer me.”

 

“You're not my brother,” Shen Yuan said coldly, and brandished the knife at him. Not-Meimei slid off the counter but didn't approach, looking terribly amused. The shadows seemed to move with her, thickening around her. “I don't know what all of this is, but you will let me leave, or I will make you regret it.”

 

The temperature dropped suddenly, their breath clouding in the cold air.

 

“I don't think I will,” not-Er-ge hissed, and then promptly collapsed.

 

That was… anticlimactic.

 

And then not-Er-ge’s limbs began to shake.

***

When the pebbles changed to soft dirt, Shen Yuan knew he was going the wrong way, but he couldn't backtrack. Not now.

 

He dove around corners and clawed himself up and down piles of dirt, and then, in the blink of an eye, he was freefalling, plummeting towards some distant unknown. Before he could formulate a plan, break himself from the terror and adrenaline that raced through him in equal measure, he landed heavily, breath punched out of him. 

 

They had fallen into some kind of cavern, the walls, the floors, and the ceiling all encrusted with crystal, sharp and strange beneath them. Its colour shimmered and changed beneath his touch, lightening to the same lilac as his sword glowed. Qi reactive?

He wheezed, clutching at his aching ribs ( were they broken?) and only rolling out of the way a second before the Mind Stalker crashed down where he had laid, its form clear for the first time.

 

Its body was lumpy and misshapen, covered in a layer of peeling grey and brown scales. Its legs were unnaturally long and spindly, and looked like they should be unable to support its bulbous middle. It had a long, thick tail and a face uglier than sin. Skin stretched over its skull and two empty eye sockets (why did it even have those?), its maw was long and lined with rows of serrated teeth, and a single eye was pressed shut on its forehead.

He stood on shaky, damaged legs, and drew his sword again, trying to determine where best to strike. Logic suggested decapitation was the way to go, but the creature had no neck, and it was difficult to puzzle out where exactly the head began.

 

He could stab it in the eye and take away its primary weapon, but that would involve a degree of accuracy he was unsure whether he could muster blind. Doing it with open eyes was just asking for trouble. He could try to sever a major vein or artery, but due to his unfamiliarity with its anatomy, he could potentially miss. Maybe he should just pick a spot to aim for and pray?

 

Shen Yuan dove under it, rolling between its legs as it snapped at him, Hatsune Miku cushioned safely against his chest. He winced as some of the crystals embedded in his skin. It would be a pain to remove them all later (assuming that he survived).

 

It snarled and whipped around, and he slammed his eyes shut once more, dodging out of range of a swipe he'd felt coming. A swipe of its tail sent crystal fragments flying at him, and they sliced into his arms and face, causing him to stumble in his bid to get away and lose his balance. He recovered as best he could, but the beast made itself suddenly silent, he could not in any way discern where it was, where it approached him from. He knew that even if he stood as quietly as he could, it would still know he was there from the heavy scent of blood rolling off him from his accumulating injuries. How terribly clever, he could not help but think. Perhaps someone has used that trick on it before.

 

Or perhaps it was simply lucky. It probably knew this underground network of tunnels well, could probably find its way out without use of a single one of its senses. It felt comfortable here, protected enough to spend months here dead to the goings-on of the world above it.

 

He channeled some qi into his sword, which had it quickly pulling him away from where he'd been standing as he clung to it for dear life. Before he could get very far, he was swatted out of the air, sent flying into more of the crystals, his body curled protectively around Hatsune Miku, who he never should've brought with him. His sword clattered to the ground out of sight.

 

A long-toed paw landed on his throat and pressed, cutting off his air. He grabbed the steel dagger from his belt and plunged it into the Mind Stalker's ankle, but it did not react at all, and he needed to get his sword, to do something-

 

His lungs burned as the paw pressed harder against his windpipe, its head lowering to be level with his own. It wanted him to look at it. It was willing to do whatever it took to make him do so.

 

Claws dug into his forehead and slashed down his face to his chin, and he choked on a scream, eyes flying open from the shock and pain of it, one of them destroyed-

 

A single yellow eye stared back at him, its pupil deep, fathomless. He could not look away, his screams dying in his throat, his hand going limp on the hilt of the steel dagger.

 

He felt like he was drowning, even as a paw removed itself from his throat. The world flickered black at the edges. His skin felt like it was burning, his brain boiling in his skull, his qi aflame inside his spirit veins.

 

All this in a single moment that felt like it encompassed an eternity, the span of a universe's life- from its conception to collapse. 

 

And then-

***

-Shen Yuan sat bolt upright, chest heaving, desperate for air. He was tangled in his sheets, his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and he felt all at once too warm and abnormally cold.

***

Shen Yuan went straight for the doorway as not-Er-ge’s body convulsed, but before he could reach it, a concrete wall erupted out of the ground and obstructed it, trapping him inside. Behind him, not-Er-ge's eyes rolled back in his head, foamy saliva dripping out of the corners of his mouth.

 

Despite being perfectly aware that this thing was not actually his brother, it still took considerable effort not to run to his side. It looked like him, though there was almost something… blurry about his features when you got up close. And his eyes… when Shen Yuan had seen them, they had held the same sadistic, predatory glint as not-Meimei's.

 

Not far away from them, not-Meimei also dropped, and with his heart in his throat, he bore witness to a truly monstrous transformation.

 

Their bones broke, pushing haphazardly through smooth, unblemished skin. Their muscles and tendons peeled apart, chests and abdomens splitting open to reveal the viscera glimmering inside. It spilled out alongside a torrent of blood, and he had to swallow down his own bile as not-Meimei retched, vomit splattering against his floorboards.

 

And then, it was like there was a hook in both of them, dragging their broken bodies together. They juddered, and then, slowly (almost tentatively), tendrils of sinew and nerve wove together, veins and arteries braiding and tucking themselves away, skin melting and fusing over them. All the while, they maintained a stolid silence. 

 

Their broken bones joined together with little rhyme or reason, and two well-formed faces deformed as they met and melded, turning unrecognizable, inhuman. And then finally, blessedly, it stopped. Everything was perfectly still.

 

After a few minutes, the thing that had once looked like his siblings shifted, and slowly it stood on malformed legs, up and up, until its head brushed the ceiling.

 

Shen Yuan counted himself very fortunate that he didn't piss himself in fear. It looked down at him, and he was suddenly very sure it wanted nothing more than to tear him apart.

 

“Yuan-ge,” it rasped, still capable of speech, though he had been pretty damn sure it should not be able to do so. The barrier entrapping him within the apartment didn't seem to be going anywhere, so he backed the fuck away from it, trying to put as much space between them as possible while still leaving himself room to move if necessary.

 

This honestly felt like something out of a horror story. Sure, Shen Yuan liked them as much as the next person, but that didn't mean he was keen on experiencing something like that for himself.

 

Maybe I died and this is hell.

 

“Yuan-ge,” it repeated, and flexed its strange, fleshy mitts. It shifted its weight from side to side, testing its balance. It took an uncertain step forward, and when it didn't fall, it smiled a terrible smile. “You shouldn't run away. Come greet death with dignity.”

 

And then it was shambling towards him, and he went to move out of its path, but he found himself stuck fast, his feet sinking into the ground.

 

The world around them swirled and changed, the familiar comfort of his apartment falling away. Instead, he was buffeted by frigid winds and felt the sting of snow on his skin. He was in a flat, empty plane, devoid of anything but the blizzard raging around him, and the thing slowly drawing nearer, its eyes oddly luminous.

 

He yanked fruitlessly at his legs and shouted in surprise as he only sank further into the ground. He had somehow managed to retain his kitchen knife through the shift, and he swiped at the thing as it loomed over him, its features impassive. It drew back slightly, but it didn't seem intimidated by his efforts. More… amused.

 

Faster than he could blink, it knocked the knife from his hand, sending it flying, and his only weapon turned to mist mid-air.

 

Well, there goes any chance of fighting this thing off. I'm fucked.

 

“Temper, temper,” the thing hissed, and grabbed him by the jaw, jagged talons pinching painfully into his skin, but not yet breaking it. “Did it hurt to see their faces again?”

 

Shen Yuan's eyebrows furrowed, and his fear gave way for a moment in favour of befuddlement. “What do you mean?”

 

He had only seen Er-ge and Meimei (the real ones) two days ago. At least, he thought so, but there was just the slightest nagging at the back of his mind. He remembered a faint impression in his mind of their presence, but the specifics of their visit escaped him. And hadn't they texted him yesterday? 

 

But what had they said?  

 

A slow, lazy grin spread across its face, and its grip on him tightened, the tips of its talons puncturing his skin. “How curious,” it murmured, a slight echo of his earlier conversation with his false sister, “That you should forget.”

 

Shen Yuan glowered at it and shoved at the ground, which only made him sink more. Reluctantly, he abandoned his efforts to extract himself from the mire keeping him stuck. “Either get to the point or kill me. I don’t have the patience to listen to your villain monologue, where you’ll undoubtedly soliloquize about your indomitable strength and cleverness, blah, blah, blah.”

 

The thing looked momentarily disgruntled, before its warped, ruined face darkened with anger. “You insolent wretch, you cannot even begin to understand-”

 

“Oh, brother, you just can’t help yourself, can you?” Shen Yuan muttered, and winced when it shook him, its grip bruising.

 

“Irreverent,” it snarled, with a spray of spittle. Shen Yuan wrinkled his nose in disgust as some of it landed on his face. He'd always hated when people spat more than they spoke. “Do not interrupt me again.”

 

“Well, don’t slobber on me again. It’s unhygienic.”

 

“You are in no position to make demands!” It took a slow, deep breath in, probably trying to reign in its overwhelming urge to snap his neck there and then. If he was dead, it would have nobody to monologue to. How sad.

 

Apparently, it had some degree of telepathy, because it said (snidely), “No, what’s sad is your diminishing recollection of those you loved most. Your mind couldn’t even remember your own brother’s face. How long would it have been before you forgot their voices? How long before your memories of them would have all faded away, leaving only the faintest echo behind? How deep would your anguish have been, knowing something was missing, but finding it irretrievable?” 

 

“What are you-”

 

“They sacrificed so much for their Yuan-ge, traded their time and money for your happiness, and you rewarded their efforts with a corpse. How do you think they felt, finding your body? Do you think that they blamed themselves?”

 

“But I’m alive,” Shen Yuan argued, trying to ignore the sinking pit of dread that had opened up in his stomach. Around them, the world flickered.

 

Though I still don't know why I'm here, or what here even is. I still don't know why I feel so wrong, or how I got here in the first place. I don't know what this thing is or why it was mimicking my family.

 

He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and pinch himself and pray he woke up. He wanted to see his actual siblings, to share a meal and listen to them talk about their lives.

 

The thing bent down until its mouth was beside his ear, its breath ghosting over his skin and sending goosebumps down his arms. “Are you certain?”

 

It straightened up and circled him like a predator, at ease, like it had all the time in the world to savour its meal. Perhaps it did. He rubbed his aching jaw. “Luckily for you, you will no longer have to concern yourself with the degradation of your memories. You will meet your end here, by my hand. Is that not a kinder fate?”

 

“Is that how you’re justifying this?” Shen Yuan asked, pushing down the ugly emotion boiling within him. 

 

“I don’t need to justify anything,” the thing said, scoring a claw down his cheek. It watched in fascination as blood dripped down his cheek and off his chin. “But I thought you would appreciate the circle of life, considering who you are.”

 

“I don’t see how my identity should have anything to do with my level of appreciation for the concept, but I find myself increasingly unappreciative of it. And didn't anyone teach you not to play with your food?” Shen Yuan ground out, and in a moment of overwhelming impulse, he bit its hand, which it had foolishly kept in biting range. Putrid blood filled his mouth and he spat it out in disgust.

 

It snarled in pain, snatching its hand back and cradling it to its chest. Before his very eyes, the wound erased itself, like it had never been there at all.

 

Shen Yuan was beginning to feel lightheaded and just… heavy. The world around them flickered again, and the thing froze, its smugness gone in the blink of an eye.

 

“No,” it hissed furiously, and grabbed Shen Yuan roughly by the hair, yanking out a few strands in the process. “I was supposed to have more time!” It sighed. “Well, I suppose I must expedite the process then. I would say it was a pleasure, but...”

 

It lunged, jaw unhinging as if to swallow him whole.

 

 In the split second before it reached him, time slowed and then stopped, the snow around them frozen in place midair. Its grip on his hair disappeared, his fringe fell back into place. What-

 

And then pain erupted in Shen Yuan's skull, memory after memory shoved back into place. He screamed in pain, clawing uselessly at his head- there was too much too much too much.

 

The world around them fractured, darkness spilling in, the thing swept away along with the current, and then Shen Yuan was falling, deeper and deeper, bright lights flashing around him.

***

Hatsune Miku, the bravest and most stubborn of lizards, had managed to climb atop the Mind Stalker’s back for a safe approach to its head, where she gouged its eye out, breaking Shen Yuan from its thrall.

 

Shen Yuan would later wonder at this, unsure how she had worked her blindfold off so that she might navigate her surroundings, considering it had been a snug fit and she lacked opposable thumbs.

 

It took him only a split second to regain his senses, consciousness slammed back into his body, before he grabbed her and booked it towards where he thought his sword had fallen, the creature’s shrieks of pain and fury reverberating around them. It had not anticipated the possibility of his escape. If it had been cautious, he would still have been pinned beneath its paw.

 

A faint, thready pulse of qi guided his way, weaving between crystal-encrusted pillars. Behind him, he could hear movement, the Mind Stalker doubtlessly in pursuit. He dodged a swipe of its heavy tail. Getting hit by that would probably shatter his ribcage, and as it was, they probably wouldn't hold up to another battering.

 

The beast was obviously disoriented by the loss of its eye, its movements awkward and stilted despite its lack of need of it for mobility purposes, but Shen Yuan figured he’d be pretty clumsy too if part of his body had just been unceremoniously torn away. 

 

He sent weak blasts of qi at it, not enough to harm it, but enough to hinder its charges. The blasts knocked it back ever so slightly, and when they missed, they exploded the surrounding beds of crystal, making the ground treacherous to cross. Sprays of jagged crystal scraped its skin, in a reversal of roles.

 

Shen Yuan spied his sword ahead, and in his haste to retrieve it, he slipped on some of the broken crystal, his ankle buckling beneath him with a crack. He grit his teeth and pressed on, adrenaline masking most of the pain.

 

His sword shot into his hand as soon as he was near enough, his qi calling to it like a magnet. He twirled it in hand as the beast bore down upon him, and he drove it into its open mouth, angled upwards, through its soft palate and into its brain. 

 

Its breath hitched, and dark fluid dripped down his sword's length, puddling below. The Mind Stalker twitched, the pulpy remains of its eye almost accusatory, and then it slowly slumped to the ground, its final breath rattling in its chest.

 

“Fuck,” Shen Yuan breathed, and sat heavily beside it. His face burned, the pain of his damaged eye so sharp that he felt he might pass out. He gingerly prodded at the wounds to his face, wincing at the torn edges of skin and the muscle he could feel beneath his fingers. He could already feel his qi working to repair the injury, and bowed his head, trying very, very hard not to cry.

 

[User?]

 

It was right, he thought bitterly. I am forgetting them. 

 

[Perhaps you are forgetting some of the finer details, but those aren’t so important. What matters is that you hold onto the parts of them that matter. You will never forget how they made you feel, when you were there with them. You will never forget where you came from, not entirely. You will never forget how they were there for you when you needed them at pivotal moments in your development. Though they are not here with you now, there will always be a part of them with you. They helped shape you, Shen Yuan, and you did the same to them in turn.]

 

Okay... thank you.

 

He felt along his ankle, which was now throbbing horribly. He'd definitely broken something. Hatsune Miku gently licked some of the blood from his cheek, nudging his cheek with her own in a display of comfort.

 

Could I ask who found my body?

 

The System hesitated, perhaps sensing that he would be distressed regardless of the answer.

 

[It was your sister.]

I see. 

He did not speak again that day.

 

***

It took a day for his qi to mend his ankle and another to restore vision to his wounded eye. He’d snapped his fibula, which was lucky- a tibial fracture would’ve meant a longer recovery. His ribs were still a touch tender, but the pain was mild.

 

He spent most of his recovery collecting some of the qi-reactive crystals and staring blankly at the ceiling while he tried to get a handle on his despair. He mostly succeeded.

 

He was more tired than he’d been in his life, and he felt like he could curl up here and sleep for a century. But no, he had to return to Cang Qiong and give his report. After that, he could lock himself in his house, flop onto his bed, and maybe have a nice cry. Oh, maybe he could wheedle Shen Qingqiu into giving him a cup of his fancy tea. Maybe then he’d feel like a person again.

 

Once his body was repaired enough to be up and about, he had to find his way out of the crystal cavern and crawl through the crushingly narrow tunnels until they opened up again. From there, it was easy enough to find his way back out of the mountain, and make for home.

 

It took a week and half to make it there, even on a direct flight path- his qi was significantly drained by the Mind Stalker. He rested as little as he could get away with, just wanting his mission to be over.

 

He didn't want to think about what he'd seen ever again if he could help it.

 

Fish were less plentiful now, many of them already moved to warmer water to escape the cold. He wiped out the last of his food stores, and he had to stop and buy Hatsune Miku some plants to eat.

 

In what little down time he had before he fell asleep each night, he worked on bestiary entries, painstakingly drawing monsters with as much detail as he could recall.

 

Finally, at long last, he spied the sect in the distance, the peaks of Cang Qiong towering above all else. They had an incomparable majesty, which was only enhanced by the glowing bridges that connected them. 

 

His heart sank when he drew close enough to see the smoke rising from Qiong Ding and to hear the clamour of an alarm. Cracks were forming in the rainbow bridges surrounding it, trapping those without spirit swords on the peak.

 

Oh shit, I forgot about the Demon Invasion!

 

[How could you forget?]

 

In my defense, I've been busy.

 

[Fake fan.]

 

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes at it and set course for Qiong Ding, hoping that he could get there before there were any casualties.

Notes:

I do enjoy the occasional Mongolian Throat Singing song.

I don't know if all the anatomy stuff is right when he's talking about inedia, but to be fair its been two years since I took my anatomy courses, and I'm pretty sure I've repressed ninety percent of the stuff about ATP and cellular respiration. My favourite units were the urinary tract/reproductive system unit and the pulmonary system unit. I memorized all the layers of tissue in the ballsack, and it was a blast.

Mu Qingfang would love gummy vitamins...

Next chapter: The Demon Invasion! I still need to figure out how involved I'm gonna have him lol. It should not take almost a month again because I refuse to write another chapter this long (barring, possibly, the IAC/Binghe Super Turbo Hell stuff).

I think Shen Yuan should eat worm fish.

Thank you all for reading! <3333333

Chapter 12: Ode to the Kool-Aid Man

Summary:

A fight, a reunion, and a bath.

Notes:

Bro is straight-up not having a good time.

Apparently there is more than one kind of photosynthesis.

Shen Yuan landed heavily, and neatly disarmed a rampaging demon with a practiced flick of his sword. The demon held his gaze for a few long seconds, clearly weighing their options, before they turned tail and fled.

 

A disciple in the robes of the Agriculture Peak emerged from some nearby bushes, visibly blanching at the sight of him.

 

[You know, she might be more afraid of you than of the demons.]

 

That she hasn't run off screaming is a point in my favour.

 

“I presume the leaders of the demon's invading party are in Qiong Ding's hall?” he prodded when she merely stood there, staring at him like he was a horrible ghoul. 

 

“Yes, the demons barricaded the doors,” she confirmed, and then after a long moment of scrutiny lamely tacked on, “...shibo.”

 

He very valiantly did not roll his eyes, and marched towards the hall's entrance to have a look for himself. He disarmed a few demons on the way (both in the sword sense and the literal sense), leaving a trail of bewildered disciples in his wake. 

 

The doors to the hall were bolted shut, but he was unfazed by this. He'd read enough action novels and spy novels to know that while the doors might be nigh-impenetrable, the area around them usually lacked the same reinforcement. He set Hatsune Miku among some shrubbery and sternly told her to stay put, then trudged over to a bare stretch of wall not too far from the doors.

 

He felt the qi buzz through him, and he willed it to the surface. He felt it thrum under his skin and wrap around his muscles and bones, reinforcing them. He murmured a quiet prayer, then took a deep breath in, and charged the wall.

 

With a battle cry of, “Oh Yeah !”, he slammed into the stone, and the wall exploded on impact, cracking and cleaving apart with the barest touch of his qi.

 

[Really, User? The Kool-Aid Man?]

 

A long, mechanical sigh rang through his head.

 

[Points for creativity.]

 

[+5 B-Points]

 

As the dust settled, Shen Yuan was suddenly very conscious of hundreds of eyes, all affixed on him. The hall was dead silent, and Shen Yuan quickly glanced around to get his bearings and to figure out what was happening. 

 

At the hall's center was Liu Mingyan and a demon girl, frozen mid-grapple. Shen Yuan's eyes widened in shock. Is that…

 

The demon girl was clad in gauzy red fabric that covered the bare minimum, and a substantial quantity of gold jewelry. Bells were sewn into her outfit and her elaborate hairdo, and jingled at her wrists and ankles. She stared at him with wide amber eyes. Her feet were bare, which made Shen Yuan grimace.

 

Are her feet not cold? he wondered, as someone whose toes had not felt like anything but numb chunks of ice for quite some time.

 

She could be only one person- the wily and ferocious Sha Hualing, one of Luo Binghe's favored wives and premier generals.

 

Once again, he found himself stunned by how young a character (a person) was. In addition to that, there was something in her features that seemed familiar, but he could not for the life of him pinpoint exactly what it was.

 

After a prolonged staring contest, she seemed to overcome her shock and went back to beating up Liu Mingyan, who was putting up a good fight but still clearly losing.

 

Shen Yuan silently approached the brawl, disciples parting before him like the sea. Their eyes bore into him, and he suddenly felt every bit as haggard as he probably looked. None spoke as he passed.

 

Well, he thought, I suppose this is what it feels like to be part of a fascinating yet mildly repulsive zoo exhibit.

 

[You probably smell like a zoo.]

 

Stop implying that I stink! And you don't have a nose, how do you know what I smell like?!

 

[This System is very intuitive.]

 

At the front of the throng, he was met with the bizarre sight of Shen Qingqiu lounging atop Liu Qingge's unconscious body. The man was poised as if he were perched on a throne, and his fan fluttered in his hand as he watched the fight before them.

 

“Lian-shidi,” he greeted, without looking his way.

 

“Dare I ask?” Shen Yuan murmured, keeping one eye on the battle himself.

 

“I don't think I've ever seen you so ragged and downtrodden,” Shen Qingqiu continued, as if he had not spoken.

 

He also seemed awfully nonchalant about their reunion, so he probably hadn't missed Shen Yuan too much. Shen Yuan tried to decide whether or not he was offended by this. 

 

“Avoiding my question?” he asked, with a raised brow. Shen Qingqiu sighed gustily.

 

“This moron,” he punctuated the insult with a rather aggressive jab of his fan into Liu Qingge's side, “Immediately charged in and tried to murder their leader. He wouldn't listen when I told him to wait, so I took matters into my own hands. Also, he's been leaving a bunch of dead animals outside of my house for the last few months, and I was eagerly awaiting an opportunity for vengeance.”

 

It was a good thing he had stopped Liu Qingge's potential rampage. Relations with the Demon Realm were a delicate balancing act on a good day, and killing their saintess would tip the scales and plunge the cultivation world into war, with countless casualties on both sides.

 

“Good,” Shen Yuan said simply, and Shen Qingqiu blinked owlishly at him, as if he had expected Shen Yuan to harshly scold him. He was quick to reassume his aloof mask. “How has-”

 

“Shishu!” a familiar voice called, and he had only a moment to brace himself before another body collided with his own. Shen Yuan grunted at the impact, but bore it without complaint. Errant curls tickled his neck, and he noted that Luo Binghe appeared to have had a bit of a growth spurt in his absence. 

 

Luo Binghe’s arms were vice-like around his waist, and Shen Yuan affectionately awarded him a pat on his fluffy head. Luo Binghe drew back slightly, eyes as bright as stars.

 

“You’re back,” he said quietly, reverently, as he studied Shen Yuan’s face. His gaze held an intensity that was almost disconcerting. His face was also quite red. Had he been doing a lot of running and fighting prior to his arrival? Shen Yuan glanced over at Shen Qingqiu, who watched their interaction with an unreadable expression, which likely meant nothing good. Probably a lot of punishment essays in poor Luo Binghe’s future.

 

“A-Luo!” Ning Yingying called from nearby, roughly elbowing through the crowd- which Shen Yuan was secretly very proud of her for- and she froze when she saw them. Her mouth wobbled, and Shen Yuan found himself with yet another disciple clinging to him like a limpet.

 

This is my fate- to be squeezed to death by two overenthusiastic disciples. What a way to go. Er-ge would laugh himself hoarse.

 

[This System suspects that they will not let User out of their sight for the next decade.]

 

Cheers, Shen Yuan responded tiredly. In all likelihood, Luo Binghe would remember this day when he came to slaughter everyone in the sect, and ensure that his death was extra painful for having the audacity to be hugged by his future wife.

 

The fight between Sha Hualing and Liu Mingyan soon concluded, Sha Hualing its victor. Liu Mingyan stopped in front of Shen Qingqiu, her head bowed in shame. “This disciple has lost, and in doing so has shamed her sect. This one humbly requests Shen-shibo’s punishment.”

 

Shen Qingqiu studied her, and Shen Yuan prayed that she would not be met with harsh censure. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Disciple Liu fought with admirable skill and spirit, and put herself forward when no other would volunteer. There is no need for punishment of any form. I will see to it that your master knows of your courage.”

 

Liu Mingyan nodded, and then stood silently beside him and her unconscious brother. Sha Hualing, who had been watching this exchange, beckoned a member of her demon entourage forward. Shen Yuan felt his heart freeze in his chest at the sight of him- he was giant, in the truest sense of the word, built like a tank and clad in armour that was covered in spikes. Behind him, the demon dragged a hammer that looked like it could smash someone flat in a single blow.

 

“This final match will determine our victor!” Sha Hualing crowed, prowling the edge of the crowd. She smirked as some of the disciples cowered away from her. She then went on to explain how Elder Sky Hammer’s armour was coated in an incredibly deadly poison. Shen Yuan resisted the very strong impulse to just lay down on the ground and give up. This is too much! I don’t want to deal with this!

 

But then, he glanced down at Luo Binghe, who clung to him still. He had grown, yes, but he was still a child. He shouldn’t have to deal with something like this, especially not when there were (semi) competent adults around. 

 

Shen Yuan was an adult (barely), and responsible for the wellbeing of the disciples of his sect. He could not bury his head in the sand and hope danger left him untouched.

 

[If you stop Luo Binghe from fighting Elder Sky Hammer, then this System will have no choice but to penalize you with the loss of 10,000 B-Points.]

 

Shen Yuan froze, fury licking at his insides. In the last few weeks, he noticed he’d been a bit more volatile, quicker to anger and despair. What.

 

[This fight is a vitally important plot point, as it allows him to earn the attention of the female leads and will later allow him to unlock skills crucial to his continued survival.]

 

[If you interfere with this, this System is required to mete out punishment, which will end in your demise.]

 

At his sides, Shen Yuan’s fists clenched. The System seemed to misunderstand his priorities. Honestly, death didn’t sound entirely unappealing at the moment, plus, he was destined to die prematurely anyways. Why not take the noble route out?

 

He straightened and sent a silent apology to Zhang Min, who would be left to handle a mountain full of rabid disciples. “I-”

 

“This disciple volunteers!” Luo Binghe loudly interrupted, peeling away from Shen Yuan and levelling him with a truly impressive glare. Shen Yuan stared back, stunned. He found himself suddenly unable to speak.

 

Ning Yingying paled, and turned beseechingly to Shen Qingqiu, who looked on with barely-suppressed glee. “Shizun, surely you won’t let A-Luo fight?”

 

Shen Qingqiu sniffed. “If the Little Beast wants to partake in this suicidal endeavor, then this master will not waste his time trying to stop him.”

 

Shen Yuan opened his mouth to protest, but Liu Mingyan slapped a hand over his mouth, demeanor unusually stern. “Shishu is not in any shape to fight a demon such as that, and this one does not think that Luo Binghe would allow you to put yourself in the path of danger. In all likelihood, if you tried to fight Elder Sky Hammer, he would get himself killed trying to take a hit for you.”

 

Shen Yuan wanted to argue. Had he not fought several demons on his way here? Had he not survived months without human company, with only an overly-affectionate lizard and a deranged mechanical entity to talk to? Had he not just blown a hole in the wall? Sure, he was weakened by his mission, and still had some lingering pain from his fight with the Mind Stalker, but he was willing to fight. He could fight. He could shoulder the burden. If he couldn’t shield those in his care from danger, what was the point of him?

 

Luo Binghe and Elder Sky Hammer faced off, waiting for Sha Hualing’s go-ahead to begin their fight. Luo Binghe’s face was stubbornly set, his shoulders squared, his head held high. He showed none of the anxiety that PIDW Luo Binghe had wrestled with.

 

Despite his determination and his training, Luo Binghe was on the back foot from the start. Elder Sky Hammer battled in a way that boasted experience, and his sheer strength meant that each time his hammer impacted the floor, the stone beneath broke with the force of his blows. This slowed Luo Binghe down, who was undeniably fast and nimble, but he could not avoid every blow. Shen Yuan winced when he heard the (unfortunately familiar) crack of bones after a particularly brutal hit.

 

He could only watch on in horror as Luo Binghe fought for his life, Liu Mingyan and Ning Yingying’s hold on him the only thing keeping him from rushing into the fray. It wasn’t even the fact that it was Luo Binghe, who he had come to care for, getting the shit beat out of him- if it were any other child he would feel obligated to help. 

 

Despite how clear it was that Luo Binghe was outmatched, he could not help but believe that he would come out on top. When someone nearby muttered, “Isn’t this obvious how this will go? The demon should just put that disciple out of his misery,” he looked coldly at them. 

 

“Luo Binghe will win,” he replied, though a skeptical part of him was anything but confident in that assessment. He knew that Luo Binghe was protected by the protagonist’s halo to some extent, but he didn’t know how exactly it worked.

 

Luo Binghe’s head turned ever-so-slightly in their direction, and his shoulders tensed. He must have heard them.

 

It was as if a switch had flipped, the decidedly one-sided beatdown becoming less so. It seemed as though all he had needed was to hear someone's faith in his abilities. 

 

 Despite incurring more and more injuries, Luo Binghe’s movements did not falter, only becoming swifter. After what felt like an eternity of evasion, Luo Binghe lunged at Elder Sky Hammer, hands glowing with qi. He had spied a lapse in Elder Sky Hammer’s defenses, and took the chance. His qi-charged blow laid Elder Sky Hammer out flat, the demon’s weapon blown out of his hand and across the cleared ring of space.

 

Luo Binghe straightened gingerly, eyes scanning the onlookers until they landed on Shen Yuan, and the disciple offered him a bloodied grin. Shen Yuan smiled shakily back at him. It was as if he were seeing him again for the first time. Before him stood not the gentle lamb he had grown accustomed to, but the beginnings of the bloodthirsty wolf he would someday become. Shen Yuan could not name the sudden tightness in his chest at the thought.

 

Shen Qingqiu stood, though he kept a foot firmly planted on Liu Qingge’s back. His hand rested lightly on Xiu Ya’s pommel. “We have won your game, Saintess. Leave our sect as you promised, or I will have no choice but to revive my companion and set him on you.”

 

Sha Hualing, who had been slapping Elder Sky Hammer and berating him for losing to a fifteen-year-old, turned to Shen Qingqiu with simpering sweetness. “Of course, Master Shen. Apologies, I was merely putting my subordinate in his place. He lost, and the burden of his punishment will fall upon himself.”

 

Elder Sky Hammer’s face darkened with humiliation and fury, and Shen Yuan watched him carefully, even as conversation buzzed around him. It was often the desperate that were most dangerous.

 

It was thanks to his abundance of caution that he noticed the moment that Elder Sky Hammer started in their direction. It was less than a second before the demon stood before them, hammer hefted over his head, Luo Binghe in the path of his looming strike. Shen Yuan was moving before he could think better of it, slamming a fist into the demon’s face, which sent him stumbling back. Without pause, he drew his sword from its scabbard and sliced Elder Sky Hammer’s head off. It fell to the ground and rolled away. His body followed soon after, a crumpled heap of metal and flesh.

 

In shock, Shen Yuan stared at the detached head. I just killed someone. A person. 

 

[Oh. My. God.]

 

[+50 B-Points]

 

It was dead silent in the hall once more. He shook himself. I can freak out about this later. I need to focus on getting the demons out of the sect right now. C’mon Shen Yuan, compartmentalize.

 

He smiled coldly at Sha Hualing. “I would suggest you better control those under your command, Saintess, lest someone else get hurt. Now, as my martial brother has already told you, leave. I will not hesitate to do the same to any of your peons that dally.”

 

[+5 B-Points]

 

[You’re giving this System chills!]

 

He wondered absently whether there were any chairs in the hall. He’d never wanted to sit down so badly before. He felt super dead on his feet.

 

Sha Hualing bit her lip, clearly mulling her options over. Shen Qingqiu seemed to decide she was taking too long, and restored Liu Qingge to consciousness in her moment of distraction. The War God sprang to his feet, and threw himself at the demons’ invasion party without an ounce of hesitation.

 

They scattered, and there was an awful lot of yelling and lopped-off limbs as they fled. Shen Yuan watched them go, and turned to his little group of ducklings, who were all gazing up at him wide-eyed. I’m a terrible role model for them.

 

“What?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“Lian-shishu saved this lowly disciple’s life,” Luo Binghe whispered, back to his intent staring. “This disciple owes-”

 

Shen Yuan held up a hand to stop him. “Luo-shizhi owes me nothing. I was merely doing my job.” He paused. “On second thought, you can do something for me.”

 

“What?” Luo Binghe asked eagerly, perking up like an excitable puppy. Shen Yuan was certain that if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

 

Shen Yuan flicked his forehead lightly. “Stop throwing yourself between me and danger. It’s not your responsibility to protect me. Yes, you were valiant, but you’ve also been beat to shit. If you don’t go straight to Mu Qingfang after this and get checked out, then I won't bring you on any missions with me in the future.”

 

You’d think he’d just told Luo Binghe that he had a week to live by how obviously miserable the prospect made him. “This disciple will do as Shishu wishes. This- I am happy that you’ve returned from your mission.”

 

“As am I,” Shen Yuan said lightly, and ruffled his hair.

 

“Can you teach us how to burst through walls like you did?” Ning Yingying cut in, bumping Luo Binghe out of the way to talk to Shen Yuan. If looks could kill, Ning Yingying would have fallen down dead from the glower Luo Binghe sent her way.

 

“When you’re older,” Shen Yuan said, then evasively refused to specify when that was. If he taught them that, Shen Qingqiu might actually kill him for it.

 

“Did you find any literary masterworks on your travels?” Liu Mingyan piped up, and he gave her a look. He knew exactly what she considered a literary masterwork . 

 

Admittedly, he had purchased a book (in the loosest sense of the word) or two to help quell some of his boredom on the way back, both of which had been annotated to hell and back. He’d even held a mini book club in his tent one night, which had gone about as well as expected. The System had bullied him for his reading choices, and Hatsune Miku, who was a lizard and thus illiterate, tried to chew on some of the pages.

 

“I might be convinced to share if you catch me up on all the gossip I’ve missed out on,” he said, and Liu Mingyan eagerly took the deal, launching into a story about a Wan Jian disciple who had “slipped and fallen” on one of the tools they used in the forges, and who had needed the expertise of Mu Qingfang himself to help remove it. 

 

Luo Binghe allowed them to shepard him to Qian Cao Peak, where he was mournfully dragged into a room by one of the no-nonsense disciples, and they were informed in no uncertain terms that he would be detained there overnight.

***

Zhang Min nearly wept with relief when she saw him, but that was less about the demon invasion and more about being left in charge of the Ling Shou disciples for so long. 

 

“There was a 25 percent increase in biting incidents in the two weeks following your departure,” she lamented, and handed him a sizable stack of already-graded punishment essays to read for future entertainment. “Some of them were contrite, but quite a few tried to justify the behaviour. For the real troublemakers, I took a leaf out of Shen Qingqiu’s book and made them do in-text citations.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded solemnly. “A necessary evil.”

 

Thankfully, the damage to their peak from the demon invasion was minimal, and there hadn’t been any casualties on their end. Apparently, the giant toad and the flesh-eating birds had planted themselves at the entrances to the peak and eaten any demon who got too close. Shen Yuan was beginning to understand the toad worship a little bit.

 

His disciples were overjoyed when he put in an appearance at dinner, and he begrudgingly allowed them to dogpile him and demand the details of his mission. He gave them his account, though omitted some of the more gruesome or personal details. 

 

Once he managed to convince them to go to bed, he returned to his house and began on his report to Yue Qingyuan, and after a few hours, Hatsune Miku nodded off. He carried her to his bed and set her at its center, where she curled into a ball with a quiet purr. He hadn’t tried to take her back to the lizard cave yet, but he suspected it might be futile to attempt to do so. She didn’t seem especially keen to let him out of her sight, and he felt much the same.

 

Oh my god, am I in a codependent relationship with a lizard?

 

[Yes.]

 

Shen Yuan groaned and sat himself back at the table and resumed work on his report, trying to keep from thinking about the fact that he had killed someone today. His eyelids felt increasingly heavy, and the gentle song of the nocturnal birds did him no favors. Still, he stubbornly forged on, detailing as much as he could. 

 

It was past midnight when there came a knock upon his (newly repaired) front door. Who would be knocking at this hour? He pushed himself to his feet with a groan, joints stiff and knees cracking from staying in one position for so long.

 

He yawned widely and swung open the door. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see Shen Qingqiu here.

 

“Uh, hi?” Shen Yuan mumbled weakly, face warming as Shen Qingqiu looked him over, all too aware of his filthy clothing and tangled hair. He hadn’t yet had a chance to bathe himself or change. “What are you doing here?”

 

Shen Qingqiu’s disapproval was obvious, and he raised a single eyebrow at Shen Yuan, who groaned and stepped aside to allow him entrance into his abode. “I decided that it would be prudent to ensure your wellbeing after your extended absence and the… excitement of this afternoon. You seemed a tad… fraught.”

 

“I think you just missed our teatimes and talking shit about our dear martial siblings,” Shen Yuan said.

 

“I suppose I did,” Shen Qingqiu admitted, with a rather put-upon sigh. He swiped Shen Yuan’s report off the table and looked it over with squinted eyes. “Your handwriting is abhorrent. If you were on my peak, I would’ve banished you for your appalling penmanship.”

 

How does the word ‘penmanship’ exist if pens don’t exist? Fucking hack author.

 

[Focus, User.]

 

“Good thing I’m not on your peak then,” Shen Yuan sighed, and sprawled out on the ground. He couldn’t sleep until he finished the report, and he couldn’t finish the report until Shen Qingqiu was gone. “Now that you have proof of life, will you leave?”

 

Shen Qingqiu looked down on him with that damn unreadable expression again, his eyes lingering on the jagged tears in Shen Yuan’s robes and the threads of silver hair at his temples that he’d noticed a few days after the Mind Stalker. The System had dismissed it as a side effect of the whole vitality-draining thing, and he hadn’t suffered any other adverse effects, so it was probably fine.

 

“I think not,” Shen Qingqiu eventually said. “I cannot in good conscience leave you to wallow in your own filth. And I haven’t had the privilege of a decent conversational partner in months.”

 

He pulled something out of his sleeves- qiankun sleeves seemed way more practical than a bunch of pouches sometimes- and set it down in the corner of the room. With a small burst of his qi, there stood a tub full of steaming water. 

 

Ah, he thought. Shrinking, warming, and water containment talismans. Very clever.

 

“You smell like something died, and your hair… well, it’s best I not speak my opinion on the state of it,” Shen Qingqiu said, while pulling bottle after bottle from his sleeves and setting them beside the tub. Shen Yuan watched on in shock as he set up a privacy screen around the tub and then raided his room for a clean change of clothes.

 

This is a hallucination, Shen Yuan thought, subtly pinching himself over and over again. He did not wake up from this absolutely bizarre turn of events. There is no way that this is real.

 

Finally, he found his voice. “Why are you doing this? I thought you didn't like me.”

 

“You're… tolerable,” Shen Qingqiu admitted, though he looked as if this admission pained him. “And I refuse to be in close proximity to someone who reeks as badly as you do.”

 

Shen Yuan stared blankly at him. Shen Qingqiu found him tolerable? Surely that had to mean there was something wrong with him.

 

[There are many things wrong with you, User, first and foremost your purchase of the Luo Binghe lingerie.]

 

Stop. Mentioning. It!

 

Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms. “Stop gawking, and get in the tub, shidi.”

 

Shen Yuan acquiesced and slipped behind the privacy screen with a murmur of thanks. He winced as he stripped off his clothes- the garments were adhered to his skin in places, which was definitely not sanitary.

 

Once he was bare, he stepped into the blessedly hot water, and slowly sank into it, the water almost silken against his skin. His sore muscles luxuriated at the all-encompassing heat. 

 

He washed himself methodically, taking care to scour every inch of his body. He scraped dirt from beneath his nails and from behind his ears, and ducked his head beneath the water to dampen his hair. A quick glance at the bottles Shen Qingqiu had left for him to use revealed that most of them were for hair, and he used those and a finely-carved wooden comb to attack his tresses. His eyes fell shut as he lathered some of the soap into his hair. It was the first proper hair wash he’d had since his transmigration.

 

Maybe I should get some of this for myself, he thought, as he watched the comb glide easily through his cleaner hair, snagging on some of the knots. He attacked them, wrestling with them until he could find no more.

 

At long last, he stood and dried himself off, wrinkling his nose at the filthy state of the water that remained in the tub. It was hard to believe all of that had been on him. He pulled on the robes that Shen Qingqiu had chosen for him- they were light and thankfully not too rough on his skin, which was slightly tender and sensitive from how aggressively he’d scrubbed it. He snorted when he noticed the bamboo embroidered around the sleeves. Of course Shen Qingqiu had picked something that aligned with his tastes.

 

He emerged to find Shen Qingqiu had taken over his table. At its center was a pot of steaming tea (the teapot was Shen Qingqiu’s favourite, painted with bright-scaled fish that wove between verdant seagrass) and a platter of snack foods. Shen Qingqiu had a pile of his paperwork for Qing Jing, which he was working through at a steady rate.

 

Shen Yuan pinched himself again- just in case- and sat where Shen Qingqiu had left his report. He poured himself a cup of the tea, and realised that it was his favourite blend of Shen Qingqiu’s. He suddenly found that he was unexpectedly close to crying at this unanticipated kindness, and he took a moment to compose himself. Shen Qingqiu did him the favour of not mentioning the dampness of his eyes.

 

It was the most human he’d felt in some time, with soft clothes and clean hair, and the prospect of food and company. He had not realised how dearly he’d missed it.

 

He inhaled the fragrant steam rising from the cup, then took a careful sip, its delicate flavour spilling pleasantly across his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, and he savoured it before swallowing it down. It was the best thing he’d tasted in months.

 

“Enjoying yourself?” Shen Qingqiu asked, sounding far too amused. He lazily poured a cup for himself and swirled the liquid in the cup before taking a drink.

 

“Immensely,” Shen Yuan admitted, and then went back to work on his report, markedly more awake and less miserable than he had been before. 

 

They worked in a comfortable silence, only broken up by one of Shen Qingqiu’s occasional scathing comments about one thing or another. Quite a few of them were about Shang Qinghua, who Shen Yuan considered confronting about his role in allowing the demon party to invade Cang Qiong. 

 

Shen Yuan got up to stretch his legs once or twice, and checked on Hatsune Miku, who had moved to bury herself amongst his pillows.

 

Once he sat down the second time, Shen Qingqiu had paused his work to say, “Mu Qingfang’s gambling winnings have significantly decreased in your absence. Do you have any idea as to why that might be?”

 

“Not at all,” Shen Yuan lied, not daring to look at him.

 

“You both have not been subtle in the slightest,” he snorted, then sighed when he flipped over one of his disciple’s calligraphy sheets. “You’d think they did this whilst blinded and inebriated. Their only saving grace is their skill on the guqin is near-unmatched.”

 

“Do I need to bribe you with something for your silence regarding your observations on my and Mu Qingfang’s… business dealings?” Shen Yuan asked nervously. Shen Qingqiu grinned wolfishly, and Shen Yuan nearly rescinded the offer. 

 

There was nothing good in his expression, but whatever he asked was likely far preferable to what Chen Qingquan would do to him should she find out about their racket. She’d probably string him up by his toes, carve open his chest cavity, and use his ribs as a xylophone.

 

“How about my dearest shidi owing me a favour, to be collected at a moment of my choice in the future?” Shen Qingqiu said lightly. They both already knew he’d agree to it. “It would be adequate recompense. Would you agree?”

 

“Yeah,” Shen Yuan sighed, and massaged his temples. He should probably let Mu Qingfang know that Shen Qingqiu had found them out the next time they talked. Hopefully he wouldn't be too pissed.

 

Shen Qingqiu laughed at his misfortune, and they lapsed back into the soothing quiet.

 

When they finished the pot of tea, Shen Qingqiu got up to make more, the practiced movements of his hands almost hypnotic.

 

In the early hours of the morning, Shen Yuan found himself slipping into a half-asleep lull, the gentle rasp of Shen Qingqiu’s brush on paper and the whisper of tree branches moving in the wind chipping away at his efforts to remain awake. He rested his cheek on the table, and allowed his eyes to fall shut. 

 

I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment. Just a moment. Then I’ll get back to work.

 

He slipped into sleep easily, his mind quiet for what felt like the first time in forever.

Notes:

I'm afraid I have been ensnared by the idea of DILF-Yuan, so I gave him some grey hairs lol. As a treat. He is also not doing super hot mentally right now, but a lot of that is due to isolation and the whole monster debacle. More of Airplane's poor world building should hopefully cheer him up!

Luo Binghe had several crises this chapter (good for him), and he strongly considers commissioning art from Ning Yingying. She was the culprit behind the poorly-drawn yaoi illustrations in the book club book.

The System is not capable of olfaction, it just likes to bully Shen Yuan.

Next chapter should be a return to our (ir)regularly-scheduled tomfoolery.

Thank you all for reading! <333333

Chapter 13: A Face Not Even A Mother Could Love

Summary:

Shen Yuan discovers the world's worst eggs, Luo Binghe gets put through the wringer, and someone loses their head.

Notes:

I'll be honest with you, I completely forgot about the Meng Mo stuff. Oops.

Shen Yuan should not have trusted the substitute teacher.

 

Two days after his return to the sect, he was back in the classroom, trying to assess the damage that had been wrought in his absence.

 

He had hoped that by recruiting one of the willing teachers, he’d kept his disciples’ educations on track. He’d left behind months of lesson plans and activities to ensure that they understood the material, but when he’d asked his students about their progress, they had stared blankly at him.

 

“Did he teach you anything at all?” he asked, internally fuming and plotting the substitute’s painful demise. What was the point of spending days painstakingly compiling his knowledge if it had not been utilised in any capacity?!

 

One of the peak’s best students, Gu Yan, shook her head. “He kept going on long rants about proper hoof care, shizun. It was unbearable.”

 

“Yeah,” another disciple piped up. “Any time he got even slightly close to teaching something relevant, he went on a long tangent about equine health!”

 

“If I have to hear about hoof afflictions ever again, I will throw up,” someone muttered near the back of the room, which earned a few giggles and murmurs of assent.

 

“It was so bad that even the Qing Jing disciples stopped showing up!”

 

Ning Yingying and Luo Binghe (who Shen Yuan was almost certain was still supposed to be on Qian Cao) blinked innocently back at him. Shen Yuan cursed under his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was most certainly going to have a talk with the substitute teacher later, and try very, very hard to refrain from drop-kicking him off of the steepest part of Ling Shou. He had picked that teacher to take over because he thought he could be trusted, but it seemed he had been sorely mistaken.

 

“Okay then,” he sighed, and gestured to one of the diagrams that hung on the wall. “Then let’s start from the top then. Of all the relationships between the species of the Endless Abyss, the symbiosis between its plants and a handful of fungal species are the most critical to the health of its ecosystems.”

 

A common misconception about the Endless Abyss was that it was entirely boundless wastes, but in actuality, it had several distinct biomes, most of which were home to a richly diverse array of species. Several of these biomes had soil that contained inadequate organic matter or lacked high enough levels of vital nutrients to be able to support plant life, and abyssal mycorrhizae were the solution to this. 

 

In PIDW, Airplane had been rather hand-wavey about how exactly plants had been able to grow in regions so devoid of the necessary components for life while still being able to be considered plants. Plants, by their very nature, did not tend to be extremophiles, so the universe had had to come up with a plausible explanation for their continued survival, and thus, abyssal mycorrhizae were born.

 

Fungi would intertwine themselves with the roots of the plants, and between them was an exchange. In return for carbohydrates synthesized by the plants, the fungi would increase their nutrient and water uptake, and in times of drought or lacking nutrients, the fungi would allow the plants to better weather harsh conditions.

 

In addition to this exchange, mycorrhizae also offered another benefit: interpersonal communication. The fungal species of the Endless Abyss had extensive mycelial networks, which spanned great swathes of the realm. Through them, the plants were able to communicate about their conditions and any threats they might be facing. For example, if a swarm of insects were ravaging a grove of trees, their signals of distress would alert those nearby of the danger, which would allow them time to ready their natural defenses before they too were attacked. 

 

For the plants in the regions devoid of many nutrients, their survival was highly dependent on the transfer of nutrients through the mycorrhizal network. The volume of nutrients transferred through this network were one of the most significant differences between abyssal mycorrhizae and the mycorrhizae outside of the Endless Abyss. 

 

There were minimal disruptions during his lecture- and tangible relief from his students at the lack of reference to horses. He answered a few questions on the distinctions between mutualism, commensalism, and parasitism, and whether a plant from their realm would be able to form a relationship with any of the abyssal fungi (Shen Yuan was unsure of this, but it seemed possible).

 

Once their class had concluded, he slumped over the lectern in relief and mentally composed a passive-aggressive summons for the substitute teacher. His throat was sore from speaking for so long, and he took a long drink from his waterskin.

 

He was just preparing to depart for his office when the door opened, and one of his disciples came in, visibly brightening when he spied Shen Yuan.

 

“Shizun,” he greeted, and Shen Yuan smiled at him. 

 

Wu Hai was thirteen or so and introverted compared to his peers. His teachers spoke highly of his intelligence, and as far as Shen Yuan was aware, he was not involved in any of the toad worship.

 

“How can I help you, Wu Hai?” he asked, stepping out of the classroom and beckoning Wu Hai to follow. 

 

“Do you think you could get me a pass for the Qing Jing library, since you’re friends with Shen-shibo now?”

 

Qing Jing’s library was the largest in not just the sect, but in the world. It was the PIDW equivalent of the Library of Alexandria, boasting priceless texts and arcane knowledge that might not be found anywhere else. It was also heavily guarded, and the only people allowed inside were those who had Shen Qingqiu’s express permission. Scholars from all over visited the peak in hopes of gaining access to the wealth of information, which had led to countless technological innovations and scientific discoveries. 

 

When Luo Binghe had come to exact his vengeance, he had demanded access, and when refused, he had demolished the entire thing, destroying millenia of knowledge.

 

“I don’t think your Shen-shibo would consider us friends,” Shen Yuan said. Sure, the guy had made him tea and kept him company and ensured that he bathed, that didn’t make them friends. “Anyway, what do you need access for?”

 

Wu Hai reached into his pocket and gestured for Shen Yuan to give him his hand. Apprehensively, he offered it, and Wu Hai dropped a mound of rather unappetizing slimy grey lumps in his palm. 

 

Ewwwww. What the fuck are these? System, can you tell?

 

[...]

 

[This System cannot tell.]

 

[Unidentifiable grey lumps?]

 

Wow, thanks. Very helpful.

 

Swallowing his revulsion and his urge to hurl the lumps away from him, Shen Yuan prodded one of them and stifled a gag at its gummy texture. With a shaky smile, he asked, “Might I inquire as to what these are?”

 

“Eggs,” Wu Hai beamed, picking one up and gently squishing it between his fingers.

 

Oh god. Dare I ask?

 

“Of what?” Shen Yuan asked, suddenly very certain that he was better off not knowing.

 

[I don’t know User, don’t they say that knowledge is power?]

 

I don’t think they were talking about disgusting mystery eggs when they said that!

 

“My lamprey-spiders!”

 

Shen Yuan quickly consulted his mental bestiary, but came up short. There was always the possibility that he had overlooked them (or purposefully forgot them, such as in the case of the butthole spiders), but something told him that he had not. “Your lamprey-spiders? This is very interesting, but how does library access play into this?”

 

Wu Hai glanced around to ensure that there was nobody within earshot, and whispered, “Because I made them.”

 

All of Shen Yuan’s thoughts died a swift death. He gaped at Wu Hai, then squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for patience (and salvation from the eggs that were still in his hand).

 

“When you say that you made them…”

 

“I bred a species of freshwater lamprey with a spider that can live in both aquatic and terrestrial environments,” Wu Hai happily explained. He seemed to sense that Shen Yuan did not want to be holding the eggs anymore, and carefully scooped them back up and put them back in his pocket. “And I wanted access to the library so I could look into historical instances of successful hybrid creation.”

 

Shen Yuan put his head in his hands and took a few deep, calming breaths. He was an adult. He was not going to scream or cry or throw up, nor was he going to turn around and leave the peak for another few months. After a minute or so of this, he slowly lowered his hands. Wu Hai looked less excited now, a touch of apprehension to his features.

 

“Do you… not like it?” Shen Yuan was tempted to answer affirmatively, but he got the feeling he would completely shatter the kid’s heart if he did so. “I thought that since you’re always so happy to talk about rarer species, you’d like to see something brand-new.”

 

[Awww, how sweet! Something made just for you, User!]

 

I'm just wondering how he managed to get a spider and a lamprey to copulate. 

 

[This System does not think it wants to know.]

 

This kind of makes me think of that one recurring villain guy from later in PIDW, the one that kept sending all those weird hybrids after Luo Binghe.

 

[Same guy.]

 

Pardon?!

 

[It's the same guy. He was off-peak on a mission when Luo Binghe destroyed the sect, and returned to find his home razed. He dedicated his life to getting vengeance on the demons.]

 

Ah. Should I encourage this then?

 

[It is User's choice.]

 

Gee, thanks.

 

Plastering on a fake smile, Shen Yuan replied, “Wu Hai is very creative, and his thoughtfulness is appreciated. Did you make these in your dorm?”

 

Wu Hai shook his head. “I found an old building near the bottom of the peak that was abandoned. My friends and I like to study in it because of how quiet it is! Do you want to see it?”

 

Oh great, there are more of them that know about it.

 

Shen Yuan did not want to see Wu Hai's creature creation meth lab. “Sure. Would you mind if Zhang Min came with us? I'm sure she would find it all very… informative.”

 

Wu Hai looked liable to explode from joy. Shen Yuan was concerned about his health. “Not at all! Do you think she'll want to hear about their life cycle?”

 

“Totally,” Shen Yuan said, trying to figure out how close to an aneurysm this would bring Zhang Min. She had been given a few days off from her duties after taking on his responsibilities for months, but he was pretty sure she would kill him if he didn't inform her of all this.

 

They found her near one of the larger ponds on Ling Shou, placidly sketching one of the Black-Banded Ibises as it hunted for fish. She was in a plain set of robes, her hair in a less severe style than usual. She glanced up at their approach. “Shizun, Wu-shidi, how can I help you?”

 

Shen Yuan gave her a strained smile. “Wu Hai wanted to show us the building where he has been making a rather unique species of animal.”

 

Zhang Min's eyebrows furrowed, and she mouthed ‘making’ to herself. As soon as it clicked for her, her eyes widened and her head whipped towards Wu Hai. Shen Yuan reckoned she was probably glad that this wasn't happening when she was at the helm.

 

“I would like to see what Wu-shidi has done,” she said, and stood, tucking her sketches into her sleeve.

 

Wu Hai led them down the mountain, and Shen Yuan nearly sobbed with relief at how far from the high traffic areas the building was. He turned off the main pathway and ducked onto an old footpath, the entrance to which was almost entirely obscured by overgrown foliage. After crossing a shallow stream and scrambling up a low rock wall, they found themselves in front of a dilapidated building. The roof was riddled with holes, the walls were blanketed in plants, and the sweet, musty stench of decay nearly overpowered the scent of the surrounding forest. The windows had been broken, and the door was busted. A curtain had been hung from the top of the doorway, and it fluttered in the wind.

 

They ducked inside, and immediately the musty scent intensified and mixed with a slightly fishy smell and an iron-like tang. It was lit by a few scant rays of sun that penetrated the holes in the roof and a few night pearls that were placed haphazardly around. Glass jars lined just about every available surface, their tops sealed but for a smattering of holes poked for air. 

 

The creatures inside the jars were something out of a nightmare- or perhaps one of the Alien movies. Spindly spider legs jutted haphazardly out of a long, slimy body. Its face was one that not even a mother could love; a hideous combination of mandibles and a lamprey’s natural face. Their gaping mouths revealed rows of jagged teeth. 

 

Shen Yuan bent down to examine one of the creatures dragging itself around the jar. Its legs didn’t seem to support its body weight very well, and the ones that he could see that were suspended in water seemed to have issues manoeuvering. “Do they eat insects like spiders or drink blood like lampreys?”

 

“Oh, they drink blood.”

 

Zhang Min’s eyes narrowed. “And where have you been getting blood to feed them, exactly?” 

 

It was a good question, considering how many of the lamprey-spiders there were in this small building. Shen Yuan hoped whatever he was feeding them was ethically sourced, but he got the impression that Wu Hai was not particularly concerned with ethics.

 

“I’ve been feeding them mine, and some of my friends have donated theirs,” Wu Hai explained, pulling up his sleeve to show arms that were covered in round bite marks in the shape of the lampreys’ mouths. 

 

Oh dear lord, I’m going to have to give all the disciples a talk about this later.

 

Shen Yuan massaged his temples. “Okay, you are going to go see your Mu-shibo after this, no arguments. Look, why don’t we sit down?”

 

He sat cross-legged on the floor, and Wu Hai obediently followed, watching him expectantly. Zhang Min remained staring, peering into the jars and muttering to herself. “Now, Wu Hai, that you were able to produce a viable hybrid is miraculous, but may I pose you a question?”

 

“Yes, shizun?”

 

“Do you think that these creatures enjoy a good quality of life?”

 

Wu Hai tilted his head. “What do you mean, shizun?”

 

“Do you think that these creatures' anatomies allow for a comfortable existence, or are there deformities or features that interfere with their biological function, mobility, reproduction, or unnecessarily strain their bodies?” Shen Yuan gently questioned.

 

Wu Hai frowned and stared at some of the creatures. “I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it all that much. I know that they can’t move around all that well, and their mandibles make it hard to latch on sometimes. Most of them are sterile, with underdeveloped reproductive organs, and some of their respiratory systems don’t form correctly. Half of them that hatch have undeveloped gills or book lungs, and die.”

 

“Am I correct that you were so caught up in whether you could make a hybrid that you didn’t really consider whether you should?”

 

[Really, User? Jurassic Park?]

 

Hey, it perfectly conveys my point! Don’t be a hater!

 

Wu Hai hung his head, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I should’ve-”

 

“You’re okay,” Shen Yuan said softly, ruffling his hair. “I am very impressed with what you’ve achieved, I just think it’s important to think about these things going forward. I don’t mind securing you a library pass, I just ask that any experiments you carry out going forward happen with adult supervision, once you’re sure that the results won’t result in a hellish creature that lives in constant agony.”

 

He got the feeling that regardless of his approval, Wu Hai might have continued his experiments, so he might as well ensure that he wasn’t going to make something that destroyed part of the peak or caused significant injury.

 

“And don’t feed them your blood!” Zhang Min chimed in. She had opened one of the jars and was prodding at one of the lamprey-spiders, who wriggled pathetically away from her touch. “You don’t know what kind of bacteria they may have in their mouths!”

 

“If you’re truly interested in learning more about this in a more hands-on way, I believe your Chen-shishu is doing research on specialized cultivars, and was looking for research assistants,” Shen Yuan said. “It would help her a lot, and give you some more experience. I could ask if she’d be willing to take you on, if you want.”

 

She had talked quite extensively about her greenhouse of death, and Shen Yuan knew way too much about the plants she housed in there.

 

It had been a major hindrance to Luo Binghe’s armies. Clouds of toxic pollen had choked the air surrounding it, and rivers of corrosive sap had run down her peak’s slopes and eaten through flesh and armour alike. Man-eating plants had snapped up a few unsuspecting soldiers, and a strangling vine had hung even more of them. 

Wu Hai hesitated, twisting his hands nervously. “Do you think that I would do well there?”

 

“Some species of plants are not too far off from animals, if I’m being honest,” Shen Yuan said, thinking of some of the more sentient plants that Luo Binghe had encountered on his travels. He was pretty sure there was a plant girl in the harem. “And Chen-shimei has some pretty terrifying plants at her disposal. I believe they would be to Disciple Wu’s tastes, and that he would thrive in such an environment.”

 

“If she’s willing to allow me to help, then I would be happy to,” Wu Hai said, probably thinking about the dangerous plants he could make. 

 

Zhang Min shuffled over. “Don’t forget his punishment essay.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Wu Hai.”

 

Wu Hai shrugged. “It’s okay. For the unsupervised experiments, right?”

 

“Well, yes, as well as using your blood to feed a legion of your… lamprey-spiders,” Shen Yuan said. “And we’ll have to figure out what to do with all of the ones that you have.”

 

[You could burn them?]

 

God, I wish. 

 

Zhang Min guided Wu Hai out of the building, hand firm on his shoulder as she herded him towards the entrance to the peak. Shen Yuan would not be surprised if Mu Qingfang committed an actual homicide when he heard what Wu Hai had been doing.

***

The world around him was hazy and abstract, an endless, featureless sprawl in every direction. Shen Yuan glanced around, perturbed, and tried to recall how he’d gotten here. The last thing he remembered, he had been trying to fall asleep and… oh. Oh no.

 

System?

 

[Yes, User? How can this dutiful System assist you?]

 

Please tell me that this isn’t the Dream Realm.

 

[This isn’t the Dream Realm.]

 

[Jk, it totally is. Have fun! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡]

 

Never say ‘jk’ to me ever again. That is somehow more traumatising than almost being murdered by a flesh amalgamation of my siblings.

 

Now, what the hell am I doing here?

 

[You’ll see. ( ≖‿ ≖ )]

 

Aiya, no rest for the weary. 

 

I don’t like that face, by the way.

 

[I could say the same about yours.]

 

…Rude.

 

Shen Yuan much preferred his regularly-scheduled nightmares to this, thank you very much. He would take being torn apart over by faceless horrors than having to touch a plot-relevant event with a ten metre pole any day. What was he even doing here? It wasn’t like-

 

“Shishu?”

 

Shen Yuan jumped, caught off guard, and squealed very masculinely. Luo Binghe seemed surprised by this reaction, as if he couldn’t imagine someone who looked like Shen Yuan making a noise so high-pitched. To be fair, Shen Yuan himself had been surprised the first time he’d done it (in fact, he’d been surprised the first time he’d opened his mouth at all- he had expected Lian Qingliu to sound like someone who regularly ate gravel and broken glass for breakfast). “Luo Binghe?”

 

“How are you here? What’s going on?”

 

Shen Yuan, unfortunately, knew exactly what was going on. His shoulders slumped. Why was he the one who was here? The whole dream demon debacle was meant to highlight the depth of trust between Luo Binghe and Ning Yingying, and lay the foundation of their future amorous relationship. 

 

There had been countless paragraphs describing tender eye contact, emotional handholding, and oaths of fidelity, all culminating in a gentle kiss between the two. Shen Yuan was pretty sure Airplane had had a thesaurus in one hand as he wrote it because it used adjectives that were not in his usual, extremely limited rotation. It was both a blessing and a curse. Shen Yuan had thrown up in his mouth a little when he saw ‘coquettish’ and ’frisky’ being used . Airplane’s normal quality of writing seemed like heaven after that.

 

That Shen Yuan was the one here now… something was amiss. 

 

Had there been some kind of error on the System’s part?

 

[This System is offended you even consider that a possibility.]

 

[After an unnecessary scan of our data, this System located zero discrepancies.]

 

Okay, ruling that out then.  

 

Perhaps just by being transmigrated here, Shen Yuan had irrevocably screwed something up. Things had seemed to have been going fine- well, not fine necessarily, but on track- and the plot was blessedly predictable. Then, he’d entered stage right, blundered around like a bull in a china shop, and blown up several important plot points. 

 

Would it fix anything if I snuck over to Bai Zhan and suffocated Liu Qingge with a pillow?

 

[No, but you should totally do it.] 

 

The System’s disregard for the sanctity of life wasn’t enough to lift him from the black mood he had found himself in. Distantly, he realised that Luo Binghe was chattering at him, but Shen Yuan could not comprehend any of it, too busy brooding over his own inadvertent missteps. 

 

I can still salvage this, right? I could just stop talking to everyone who isn’t a part of my peak, sequester myself in the depths of the lizard cave, and eat bugs for every meal. Surely they wouldn’t miss me for too long.

 

[I think that ship has long sailed, User.]

 

[Shen Qingqiu might actually kidnap you and then torture you if he thinks you’re avoiding him.]

 

…I fear you may be right.

 

[This System is always right.]

 

[Look, User, through some miracle, you have become the individual that Luo Binghe trusts most to help him. He still holds Ning Yingying dear, but his trust in her is a different kind than that which he has in you.]

 

[His instincts pulled you in because you have demonstrated care for his well-being and a willingness to attack those who pose him a threat. You effectively handled Elder Sky Hammer when he could’ve caused Luo Binghe great physical harm, and have provided him the seeds of vengeance against his peers.]

 

I suppose that makes sense, Shen Yuan reluctantly admitted, and found himself significantly calmed. Okay, so I’m Luo Binghe’s shoulder to cry on. I can do this, so long as I don’t have to do anything in a ‘coquettish manner’.

 

He found himself startled out of his thoughts when Luo Binghe poked his cheek. The boy seemed mortified by his own boldness, scrambling a few steps away. “This one is sorry! Shishu was staring into space and not responding, so this lowly one was worried!”

 

Shen Yuan waved him off. “No harm done, Luo-shizhi. This one was merely ruminating on the situation. I am sorry that I wasn’t responding.” He clapped his hands together, the sound echoing strangely around them, and started walking in a randomly chosen direction. “To answer your question, we are in your Dream Realm.”

 

Luo Binghe rapidly paled, and glanced around them. “Is it supposed to look like this? Is there something wrong with it? Are you real, or a figment of my imagination?”

 

Shen Yuan rested his hand atop Luo Binghe’s fluffy head in hopes that it would soothe him. It seemed to work a little. “I am real,” he said amiably, and lightly flicked Luo Binghe’s forehead. This had the intended effect and earned him an expression of mild affront. “And based on my knowledge of such realms, I think it is reasonable to assume that your dream realm has been tampered with. I believe I am here because Luo-shizhi pulled me inside in an instinctual bid for help.”

 

“This disciple is sorry for involving Lian-shishu,” Luo Binghe said. “He should not have been brought here against his will. Does shishu have any theories as to what may have caused the tampering?”

 

“Luo Binghe has nothing to apologise for,” Shen Yuan quickly assured him. The only person here allowed to have a misplaced sense of guilt was him, dammit! “And if I had to guess, I would say that this is the handiwork of a demon, for I can sense an abundance of demonic qi at the borders of this realm.” He paused. “I do not think that this situation was born of malice, but we should still exercise an abundance of caution, yes?”

 

With the look Luo Binghe gave him, you would think Shen Yuan just informed him that the sky was fuchsia and that Shen Qingqiu was being replaced as peak lord by a sheep. “But they’re demons, shishu! How could they not have malicious intent?!”

 

Shen Yuan could not help but feel pity for the boy. To feel this way about demons, and then discover his own heritage would undoubtedly cause a substantial blow to his psyche and self-perception. Had PIDW Luo Binghe ever truly overcome his loathing of demons? Sure, he accepted the power that came with his lot in life, but he had often referred to himself as monstrous, or, in a horrid echo of his master, a beast. “Demons are as varied and complex a people as humans. Just as humans are capable of great evil, demons in turn are capable of acts of great kindness. Writing them all off as reprehensible is not only a disservice to demons, but also to oneself.”

 

“Has Shishu met any friendly demons?” Luo Binghe asked.

 

“Yes, and quite recently,” Shen Yuan said, smiling at the recollection. Around them, the landscape distorted strangely, the pieces falling away and shifting, as if a lot of ill-fitting pieces were being cobbled into a whole. “When I was on my mission, I encountered a demon merchant who needed assistance. He ended up providing me with information that was vital for my mission’s completion, and we shared a nice meal together later that night. Should I see him again, I would be delighted to share another.”

 

It was amusing to see the emotions play across Luo Binghe’s face as he spoke. His expression eventually settled into something that looked quite irritated indeed. “Shishu is so accepting of people’s differences.”

 

Why the hell do you look so annoyed about it?!

 

A strained silence descended upon them, and they wordlessly continued their venture across the Dream Realm. A heavy fog built around them, and after what felt like hours of walking, a small city emerged from the gloom. 

 

“Do we enter?” Luo Binghe asked, discarding his stubborn refusal to speak. He took a step closer to Shen Yuan, his hand twitching towards his belt, where his standard-issue sword normally hung.

 

Shen Yuan studied the city a little longer, taking in the tattered banners that hung from the walls and fluttered in a nonexistent breeze, the towering gates, the uneven road leading up to the gates. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes, I think we will have to. Be on your guard.”

 

They met no opposition at the gates, and entered into the city proper easily, the world around them sharpening into focus. Where before, things had seemed like out-of-focus abstractions, now they held excruciating detail. Every colour was preternaturally vivid, each thread and stitch and hair visible from a kilometre away. It was overstimulating, and Shen Yuan immediately had a headache. 

 

With all of the overwhelming detail screaming at him, it took him some time before he realised that none of the people surrounding them had faces. Their features were blurred and smooth, without eyes or noses or mouths. Shen Yuan shuddered against his will. He’d always found dolls and mannequins creepy, but this was just taking things too far.

 

“What’s wrong with them?” Luo Binghe whispered, voice ringing like a gunshot around the area despite his lack of volume. 

 

“In the Dream Realm, one cannot create living people from nothing as they can greenery and buildings,” Shen Yuan said, then gestured at a bolt of fabric a merchant was peddling nearby. “Look at the details on that. Despite the lack of faces, everything else here is exquisitely detailed, and a clear display of power. The one who is interfering with your dream realm must be Meng Mo.”

 

Meng Mo had been as close to a caring adult as Luo Binghe had ever gotten. Sure, it wasn’t as if the elder demon had much choice in his proximity to Luo Binghe, but despite his entrapment, he had never treated him poorly. When Shen Yuan had transmigrated, Airplane had been in the middle of an arc where Luo Binghe was working to attain a body for his dear mentor. Shen Yuan was still angry that he would never get to see its completion. It was arguably the most interesting thing Airplane had written in years.

 

Luo Binghe still appeared to be bursting with questions, but he forewent asking them, instead scanning the market they were travelling through with keen eyes. Almost to himself, he murmured, “This place looks familiar.”

 

Before Shen Yuan could ask him to expound upon that, Luo Binghe grabbed his arm and was hastily pulling him through the crowd. “Shishu, I just saw someone here with a face!”

 

Shen Yuan quickened his pace, and their pursuit began in earnest. They swept down wide roads and around corners, braved narrow, twisting alleys and climbed a despicable amount of stairs, the labyrinthine city pressing in around them. They nearly lost their target on several occasions, and it was mostly sheer dumb luck that saw them through.

 

They finally caught up to him at the mouth of a dreary-looking alleyway, where several youths- all with faces- converged upon a small figure that was curled into a tiny ball in the mud. Noises of pain escaped the child as the others beat him and spat insults.

 

Shen Yuan’s heart sank as he watched. It took a Herculean effort not to intervene. Luo Binghe gasped and stumbled back a step when he glimpsed the child’s bruised visage, wrapping his arms tightly around himself in self-defense, as if he could still feel the pain of the attack that he was rewatching. “I had wondered why this place seemed so familiar to me,” he said, a tremor in his voice. “Why my mind conjured shortcuts and my feet wanted to carry me elsewhere during our pursuit. Is this- are these my memories?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” Shen Yuan said quietly. “That’s why they have faces. They are real people, or constructs of them, while everyone else is a sort of… placeholder.”

 

He gingerly rested a hand on Luo Binghe’s shoulder, wanting to offer comfort, but unsure whether it would be welcome. When he was not shrugged off, he continued, “All of this that we’re seeing is an illusion, conjured to test you in some capacity, I imagine. Luo Binghe, regardless of what you are shown, you must not attack. It could damage your mind and trap us here.”

 

This would prove difficult, as Meng Mo was a master at figuring out what would best incite retaliation by his victims. 

 

It was not long before the world around them transformed, depositing them inside of a sparsely-furnished hut. Warm light spilled through the windows, gilding the edges of the rough wooden furniture. Tucked into a small, rickety bed was a woman with a lined face, a young Luo Binghe knelt at her side, one of her hands clasped between his own.

 

The Luo Binghe at his side made a choked noise, and Shen Yuan watched with his heart in his throat as the washerwoman spoke tenderly to the young Luo Binghe, her eyes studying his face as if it were the last time she would gaze upon it. She sent him off for a meal that she would never have the opportunity to eat, and the older Luo Binghe shook with anguish. When he made to approach the facsimile of the woman who had been his mother in all but blood, Shen Yuan could not find it within himself to stop him.

 

It was not long before they were sucked into another memory, then the next, a ceaseless deluge of misery that showed Luo Binghe at his lowest. It showed how hated he felt, how lonely, how desperate for kindness and connection. Luo Binghe grew increasingly agitated, his chest heaving, his eyes glowing an inhuman red, the air around him building with supercharged qi. It stung Shen Yuan with his proximity, but he weathered it without complaint, a lighthouse in the stormy sea.

 

It was not long before Luo Binghe hit his limit, even with Shen Yuan’s reassurances, and he lunged at one of the constructs, which wore the face of Ming Fan, who held a jade Guanyin out of false-Luo Binghe’s grasp and set his cronies on him. His hand glowed with qi, and Shen Yuan moved before he had a chance to think things through.

 

Lost in his rage and despair, Luo Binghe did not stop, and Shen Yuan took the blow to his stomach. It knocked him clean off his feet, sending him sprawling in the mud. He fought down bile and shakily tried to catch his breath. He was certain that if this were not the Dream Realm, he would currently be suffering several broken bones. Quite against his will, the pain caused tears to well in his eyes, and they slipped down his face. 

 

“Fucking ow,” he wheezed, swallowing down bile. He gingerly sat up, and found that they were somewhere entirely new. Luo Binghe’s attack must have been powerful enough to completely shatter whatever entrapped them within the illusory memories. Now, they were within a forest clearing, the gibbous moon above limning their surroundings in silver.

 

It took some time for Luo Binghe to come back to himself and regain awareness of his surroundings, and then he was at Shen Yuan’s side, crying and stammering apologies. 

 

“Luo-shizhi packs a hell of a punch. Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Shen Yuan teased, and this managed to coax a watery laugh from the boy. Shen Yuan magnanimously allowed him to fuss a little, and accepted a hand up.

 

“Why did you get in the way?” Luo Binghe asked once Shen Yuan was solidly back on his feet. Shen Yuan noted that his eyes were back to their usual dark colour. “Why didn’t you hit back?!”

 

Because I’m stupid and forgot that was an option. Also, it could’ve hurt you.

 

“It was the right thing to do,” Shen Yuan said instead, handing Luo Binghe a handkerchief. This one had a magpie embroidered on it, mid flight. “And trust me, I’ve been hit far worse. Much better than almost getting my eye gouged out!”

 

Oddly, this did not seem to reassure Luo Binghe. “Shishu should not have been hit at all! And what do you mean, you almost got your eye gouged out?!”

 

Shen Yuan barked a laugh. “A story for another time. Am I not the adult here? Should I not prioritise a disciple’s well-being over my own? I would endure innumerable attacks, if I had to.”

 

Luo Binghe shook his head. “I shouldn’t have-”

 

Shen Yuan flicked his forehead once more. “If something self-deprecating comes out of your mouth, I will assign you a punishment essay of my own. What’s done is done, and look, the memories have stopped.” When Luo Binghe didn’t respond, he sighed. “Luo Binghe, you could not have predicted this course of events. Your past was painful, and Meng Mo took advantage of that.”

 

“I should’ve been stronger!”

 

“And you will be, with time,” Shen Yuan assured him. “Though if you were much stronger physically, I would probably be a meat pancake right now.”

 

Luo Binghe fidgeted with the handkerchief, and avoided his gaze. “Do you think that I could be as strong as you?”

 

Shen Yuan smiled, struck by the same inexplicable melancholy that had afflicted him after Luo Binghe’s defeat of Elder Sky Hammer. “Should he apply himself, I think Luo-shizhi has the potential to far surpass me.”

 

Luo Binghe looked like he wanted to protest this, but before he could, his eyes caught on something over Shen Yuan’s shoulder. Shen Yuan turned, and approaching them was an elderly demon, who could only be Meng Mo. His footfalls were noiseless and the hem of his ornate robes were unstained despite the way his robes trailed in the dirt.

 

He regarded them with strange, pale eyes, and his gaze lingered on Luo Binghe. “You must possess considerable strength to have broken through this elder’s illusions.”

 

Meng Mo circled them languidly, visibly measuring them with his gaze, though it was less like an animal sizing up its prey and more like a scientist studying a particularly interesting specimen. Luo Binghe followed the demon’s progress with his head, and Shen Yuan calmly stared straight ahead. It wasn’t him that Meng Mo so dearly wanted to talk to, after all.

 

Finally, Meng Mo seemed satisfied and stopped before them, eyes passing over Shen Yuan like he didn’t exist. Shen Yuan couldn’t blame him for his indifference, he was obvious cannon fodder when weighed against Luo Binghe.

 

“Approach, and join me in conversation, boy,” Meng Mo said, in his strange, hoarse voice. Shen Yuan idly thought that he sounded like he smoked a pack a day.

 

Luo Binghe bristled, and looked to Shen Yuan for guidance. Shen Yuan gave him a smile that he hoped was encouraging, and nudged him forward. “Why don’t you see what he has to say? Perhaps he might explain his meddling with your dreamscape.”

 

“And if he attacks?” Luo Binghe asked nervously, his voice low and his eyes darting towards Meng Mo, who wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop.

 

“Then I will be here,” Shen Yuan said, and with a nod, Luo Binghe reluctantly shuffled over to Meng Mo, who looked inordinately pleased with the situation.

 

Despite his own reservations, Shen Yuan knew that Meng Mo wouldn’t harm Luo Binghe, and conversing with him was necessary to escape the Dream Realm.

 

The demon briefly glanced at Shen Yuan. “I hope you don’t mind allowing us some privacy. I’m sure you understand why I would rather not have a Cang Qiong cultivator listening in.”

 

Before Shen Yuan could reply in any capacity- he would have definitely protested, for Luo Binghe’s sake- a burning pain lanced through his head. It only took him a moment more to collapse, mind being forcibly shoved into another dream- or perhaps, a memory of sorts.

***

Despite his hopes, the rain turned out to be more of a hindrance than a help. It created copious amounts of mud, which did its utmost to disrupt his already-tenuous footing, and made it almost impossible to discern from which direction his enemies attacked. Water dripped into his eyes, leaving him half-blind, but he did not have the opportunity to wipe it away. He would not be afforded the privilege of reprieve, for if he stopped now, if he faltered, he would meet his end.

 

Felled demons littered the land around him, but each foe was quickly replaced within a second. Blood seeped into the land and formed streams where the earth was saturated by rain.

 

Lian Qingliu had been told that he was a force of nature when he fought, unyielding and with a crude brutality that stemmed from his desperation to survive. It had earned him censure in duels, but he was glad for it now, when his home was under siege and he was one of the final defences between the demon armies and his disciples.

 

Somewhere to his right, Zhang Min faced her own onslaught, the ringing of her clashing blade only just penetrating the cacophonous rain and the red haze that had swallowed his mind.

 

At several points within the past few hours, he had found himself nearly overwhelmed, but he had clawed his way back from the brink each time, enduring each arrow and laceration and broken bone without faltering. His thoughts had quieted in the chaos of battle, his humanity set aside in pursuit of victory (and victory, in this case, was allowing his disciples enough time to escape, regardless of what befell him).

 

He had told (begged, ordered, threatened) Zhang Min to go, but she had refused, steely in a way that he had not often seen. In truth, her presence had saved his life. Were it not for her, and the few teachers and beast handlers that followed them into battle, he would have long been overwhelmed.

 

With time, it seemed that the hordes were thinning, which allowed Lian Qingliu the naive hope that they may yet see the other side of this. That they might have the opportunity to rebuild, that he might spend more days in the sun, taking in fledgling disciples and watching them grow and soar on their own wings.

 

This dream was shattered by Zhang Min’s death. It had taken a single moment of misfortune, her foot slipping in the mud and unbalancing her, for a fatal blow to strike true. A footsoldier cleaved her head clean off of her neck, and just like that, she was gone forever.

 

The demon had a millisecond to bask in its victory before Lian Qingliu cut it down with a howl, sounding every bit like the very creatures he had so dedicated himself to rearing. The creatures that had been indiscriminately slaughtered, burned alive in an oily fire that the rain only worsened rather than extinguished. It had been hot enough to melt stone. It was unlikely that any buildings remained standing.

 

When the demons’ leader finally appeared, Lian Qingliu did not initially notice him, too absorbed in a whirlwind of grief and violence. It was only when the horde withdrew that he took notice, watching him pass unchallenged through the ranks, who parted before him with haste. His red eyes regarded Lian Qingliu as if he were a particularly amusing pet.

 

Lian Qingliu spat out a mouthful of blood, watching the demon right back, waiting for him to make his move. It was this demon’s fault that Zhang Min had died, that innocent creatures had been immolated, that his peak was in ruins and his disciples fleeing for their lives. His hand tightened on Lao Gen’s hilt, and it hummed in his hand, resonating with the tumult of his emotions.

 

“Shishu,” the demon crooned, his smooth voice somehow perfectly clear despite the near-deafening downpour. “You’ve done considerable damage to my armies, but I can’t allow such destruction to continue.”

 

Shishu? Lian Qingliu thought, flabbergasted, before he remembered. Ah, Shen Qingqiu’s most detested disciple. The bastard had raved about one of his disciples being a demon in disguise, but he had never put any stock in it. Especially after what he did to poor Liu-shixiong.

 

“Don’t call me that,” he said coldly, pointing his sword at the demon. “You are not a part of this sect. You lost that right when you set your ilk on us and spilled the blood of innocents.”

 

The demon bared his teeth at him, revealing sharp fangs that looked like they could tear through flesh as easily as a knife through tender meat. “A waste,” the demon spat, eyes burning. “To think that I was prepared to offer you a position among my ranks. You like your beasts so much? Then this lord will be generous, and provide some for your enjoyment.”

 

He flicked his wrist, and the air around them warped- it was a tear in the very fabric of reality. 

 

Lian Qingliu didn’t have time to swing his sword before the first monster was tearing into him, its hot breath puffing against his face as its talons tore into the soft skin of his abdomen.

 

A deep cerulean fluid dribbled from its maw and into his open wounds without resistance. He didn't concern himself with it at the time, too preoccupied trying to escape its grasp. He threw every bit of his remaining qi at it, but it was unmoved, and it continued its quest to rip him apart, to strip the flesh from his bones, to unmake him entirely.

 

Lian Qingliu was too consumed by pain to notice its cohorts, which followed it through the tears in reality and set upon his remaining staff, the unlucky few who had not yet found mercy through death. All he could feel were his muscles being stripped from his bone, his organs spilling out of the confines of his abdomen, his skin being ripped off in strips. He contented himself with the knowledge that it would soon end.

 

What he had not realised that the monster’s saliva was designed to force its meal to cling to life long past the point they should have died. He quickly found himself praying for death, as he was reduced to a collection of bones and strings of meat. Had he not done his duty? Had he angered the gods? Was he undeserving of mercy?

 

He would’ve screamed himself voiceless had he still possessed vocal cords.

 

It took him almost twelve hours to die, mind trapped within an annihilated shell, unable but to feel anything but terror and an all-encompassing agony despite his lack of remaining nerve endings. 

 

While he languished, Luo Binghe saw to it that his fleeing disciples were captured and killed, sinking his claws into all but one.

 

Luo Binghe wouldn't discover the cost of this oversight until far, far later.

***

When Shen Yuan awoke, he was himself again, but the bone-deep pain remained. He leaned over the side of his bed and threw up. He was trembling uncontrollably, unable to banish the things he had seen, had felt.

 

“Are you sure I can’t fuck off and retire?” he asked tremulously, trying to forget Zhang Min’s death and Luo Binghe’s sadistic enjoyment of his demise. How gleefully he had watched. 

 

[Unfortunately, User may not vacate his position.]

 

[Sorry, User.]

 

Thought so,” he mumbled, and fell back against his pillows. 

 

God, he fucking hated Meng Mo. Hadn’t he given Ning Yingying a nice dream?

 

Maybe he should take a sick day.

Notes:

I double-checked my own recollections of mycorrhizae with Peter Wohlleben's 'The Hidden Life of Trees,' which was the nearest book I had on hand with information on the subject. In spirit of this fic:

Flannery, T., & Wohlleben, P. (2016). The Hidden Life of Trees. Greystone Books.

Please excuse the lack of italics, I have no clue how to do it in the author's notes.

I would prefer every lamprey ever stayed 500 km away from me lol. Also, sorry about the abundance of spider stuff, I guess they're just on the brain.

Pour one out for the original goods.

I don't know how many chapters I'll have between here and the IAC, since this whole period is kind of skimmed over in canon, which leaves me lots of room to torment Shen Yuan. I have expanded my list of stuff I want to have in this fic, and can't wait to get started.

As always, thank you all so much for reading!

Chapter 14: Eat Your Heart Out, Property Brothers

Summary:

Shen Yuan makes some tea, does some interior decorating, and entertains a petition.

Notes:

I had to write an essay on purple-coned spruce forests for one of my classes, and I will cry if I have to think about them anymore.

My one goal is to make this longer than Robinson Crusoe, because I fucking hate Robinson Crusoe.

Thank you for reading!

<3

This glimpse of his destiny was yet another topping on the shit sandwich that was his life, and he felt worn down in a way he never had been before. He wasn’t sure whether everything that he had faced thus far was meant to break him down to nothing or to sharpen him, like honing a sword’s edge on a whetstone.

 

Pain lingered in his body, along his spine and down his limbs, the muscles twitching and protesting each movement. He was not sure how it was possible, the sensations surviving the transition from dreaming to waking, but he accepted it as just another thing he would have to deal with and moved on.

 

Hatsune Miku, once awoken, was quick to notice his distress, and even quicker to lay on top of him about it. Despite Shen Yuan’s scepticism about her methods, he soon found the terror and fury and misery that boiled inside of him leeching away. 

 

It was not gone in its entirety, but it was enough of a reprieve that he felt that he could breathe again, and get his thoughts in order.

 

Her body was a warm weight, the gentle rumble of her purrs a balm on his frayed nerves. He sighed and stroked the soft petals along her spine, and scratched at the sweet spot under her chin that she loved.

 

So absorbed was he in petting Hatsune Miku and trying to avoid thinking about Lian Qingliu’s death (and how coldly that Luo Binghe had looked at him), that he startled when the Luo Binghe that he knew burst into his house and then his bedroom, looking fearful and windswept. His hair was nothing short of a disaster, and there was an unspeakable quantity of twigs and leaves snarled up in his dark locks.

 

Time? he asked muzzily, cradling Hatsune Miku to his chest and sitting up. She made a noise of complaint at the change in position, but allowed herself to be soothed with a gentle scratch to her soft underbelly.

 

[Twenty minutes.]

 

[He cut down the usual travel time on foot between your peaks by 250%; an impressive feat.]

 

I’m not even going to attempt the math for that, my brain feels like sludge.

 

Reluctant to move though he was, he rose to greet Luo Binghe, failing to stop the wrinkle of his nose at the chill of the floor beneath his feet. He did his best to avoid gazing at Luo Binghe’s face- look at him too closely and he was back in the mud and the rain, every nerve alight with burning pain. It’s not him, I’m not there, it’s not him-

 

“This lowly one is so sorry! Shishu should not have been dragged into this one’s mess!” Luo Binghe wailed, gripping him by the shoulders and frantically looking him over, as if he expected to find some manner of physical injury upon his being. He paused when he noticed Hatsune Miku, who was silently observing him, obviously making judgements of her own. “What manner of creature is that?”

 

“A uniquely stubborn lizard,” Shen Yuan said weakly, holding her up so that Luo Binghe could better see her. Luo Binghe didn’t seem particularly thrilled about her presence, which was a little odd. He typically seemed to like the beasts that resided on Ling Shou, even the ones that didn’t like him all that much. “Her name is Hatsune Miku, and she saved my life on my most recent mission. As much as Luo-shizhi’s concern is appreciated, there is no need for it. I am well. In truth, I should be asking after your well-being. Did Meng Mo cause you any harm?”

 

Luo Binghe looked away, a bitter cast to his features, and Shen Yuan suspected that it had to do with the reveal of his heritage. “Not at all. He wanted to discuss how I broke through his illusions, and spent a lot of time going on about his own power and unmatched prowess regarding dream manipulation. Once he was done, I told him that interlopers were unwelcome in my mind and that he must leave. He departed quickly after that.”

 

Wow, he’s fucking terrible at lying. “I see. And is Luo-shizhi alright psychologically? I cannot imagine that having your worst memories dredged up was pleasant, especially for an audience.”

 

Luo Binghe sighed, and his grip slackened, his hands sliding off of Shen Yuan’s shoulders. “I had forgotten some of those things. I think- I think it would’ve been better if they’d remained buried. But I will be fine, given some time.”

 

His obvious misery was enough to banish the spectre of his older self when Shen Yuan looked at him, enough that his silent assertions of it’s not him, not him, not him broke through the lingering haze of fear and unease surrounding his presence. 

 

This Luo Binghe was already different from his novel counterpart- he had friends, he had made progress on his cultivation, he still had his jade guanyin, he had something of a mentor figure in Shen Yuan. He was not lonely and withdrawn and desperate for any amount of kindness, and harm was not being inflicted upon him by his master’s hand (anymore). There was a brightness to him, a dignified strength, that had blossomed, and it was becoming harder to see him as the demon lord hellbent on the annihilation of Cang Qiong. And the System did say that some things may be averted, with effort. Would this Luo Binghe accept the trade of Shen Yuan’s life for that of his disciples and staff? Could he earn himself a merciful demise?

 

“If Luo-shizhi ever wishes to discuss what we saw, I am here to listen.” Wryly, he added, “Or shizhi can go take his frustrations out on some of the training dummies, which I hear he has made a habit of.”

 

Colour appeared high on Luo Binghe’s cheeks, and his eyes lowered in shame. “This disciple apologises,” he mumbled.

 

In Shen Yuan’s absence, Luo Binghe had somehow managed to destroy a handful of training dummies, which was an impressive feat considering that the Artifacts Peak had enchanted them to be more durable. This practice saved their sect a good amount of money, considering how quickly Bai Zhan disciples went through unaltered dummies. 

 

“Better than cracking open Ming Fan’s skull,” Shen Yuan said lightly, ruffling his hair. He slipped past him to the main part of the house. It was about time for Hatsune Miku’s breakfast, and since he’d gotten past the brunt of his emotional distress, she was bound to start complaining of her famished state soon.

 

“He’s not been too bad lately,” Luo Binghe admitted, and made a face. “Though I regret acquainting him with that accursed parakeet. Shizun let him keep it because it insults Liu-shishu every time it sees him.”

 

“Oh, that makes sense,” Shen Yuan laughed, and made a victorious noise when he remembered where he had stashed the plants for Hatsune Miku. He crouched and pulled a bag of preserved greens out of one of his cabinets. He’d managed to strike a deal with Chen Qingquan about supplying him these in return for an opportunity to research the lizards in a noninvasive, non harmful way. He pulled a handful out and allowed her to attack the greens. “Though I think it prudent to remind Luo-shizhi that I did warn him against attempting to weaponize the bird.”

 

“And this one regrets not heeding Lian-shishu’s sound advice.” Luo Binghe said, watching Hatsune Miku eat from his hand. “Could this one cook a meal for you?”

 

Shen Yuan was caught off guard by this sudden, seemingly random request.

 

In the PIDW canon, Luo Binghe had only ever cooked for his wives, or for women who would one day become his wives. Seeing as Shen Yuan was neither a woman, nor someone who Luo Binghe would desire to wed, this offer was just about the last thing he’d expected to come out of Luo Binghe’s mouth. 

 

But then again, cooking had also been cited in PIDW as a form of stress relief for Luo Binghe, so it was probably fine if he allowed it this once, especially after such a harrowing misadventure.

 

“I suppose I could suffer Luo Binghe’s cooking for one meal,” Shen Yuan said, and Luo Binghe brightened and immediately set to work, moving through the kitchen like it was second nature. He handled a knife with ease, chopping vegetables with such speed that Shen Yuan was slightly worried that he’d lose a finger.

 

Before long, he set a bowl of perfect, snow-white congee in front of him, and Shen Yuan took a careful bite. He bit back an obscene noise at its taste. 

 

Simple dish though it was, it was probably the best thing he had ever eaten.

***

Shen Yuan found himself swept up in work- arranging for some of his disciples to go to Wan Jian Peak for their spirit swords, setting up donations of the excess wool from the Woolly Deer, convincing Chen Qingquan to take Wu Hai under her wing for her greenhouse of pain.

 

She had agreed after he told her about the lamprey-spiders (and showed her Wu Hai’s lab), and Wu Hai had spent the last few days rambling about apomixis and the effects of polyploidization on the fertility of interspecific hybrids to anybody who would listen.

 

This had, of course, led to more paperwork piling up on his desk, and for a few days, he spent hours working through countless forms and waivers. The last thing he expected was to discover a neat manuscript at the bottom of one of the piles, the rudimentary sketches on the cover matching the yaoi-hands art style of the first book club book he’d had the privilege of tearing apart. His eye twitched.

 

How they’d managed to get the manuscript into his office was something of a mystery. It was supposed to be inaccessible to anybody but him and Zhang Min once it was locked, but it did not surprise him that whoever had left this here had somehow managed to circumvent their security measures. 

 

Of course, Zhang Min might’ve just let them in for her own amusement.

 

There was a note tucked inside the manuscript, just behind the cover. It was written in the same red ink that all of the book club missives carried.

 

Immortal Master Lian,

 

We of the Literary Society of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect request your assistance with an ongoing collaboration between several of our members. From our meetings, we have discovered that you possess a keen eye for detail and a strong passion for high-quality literature.

 

With your help, we believe that this story, the fruit of our members’ collaboration, could be elevated to the status of a masterwork. 

 

Your job, should you choose to accept, is simple. We need for you to read through this manuscript, and as you do so, make notes and mark down any edits you think are necessary. If you feel that changes should be made to the characterization or plot, feel free to go into as much detail as you desire.

 

Once you are satisfied with your work, bring everything to Xian Shu Peak and leave the manuscript and your notes at our headquarters; we will ensure that they end up in the right hands.

 

As compensation for your work, you will receive ten percent of all profits made from selling the novel once it is officially published.

 

If you do not wish to work on this project, merely return the manuscript to headquarters unaltered.

 

Next meeting is on the new moon- we will be reviewing The Deadly Flower’s Allure .

 

Please bring snacks.

 

There was no question as to which course of action he should take. It was his duty, as long-term PIDW aficionado, frequent cyberbully of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, and part-time editor, that he saw this project through. 

 

He would refine the contents of the manuscript into a gem more brilliant than anything anyone in this world had yet seen! 

 

And I will not hold back, he vowed, taking up his brush with the gravity of a warrior preparing for battle.

***

Since coming to know Shen Qingqiu in a greater capacity, Shen Yuan rarely found himself concerned for the (former?) Scum Villain, or the people in his general vicinity. 

 

Discovering him face-down at his desk, body trembling with barely-suppressed rage, was certainly one of these instances where he was.

 

“Did one of the disciples insult your calligraphy again?” Shen Yuan asked, upon receiving no response to his entrance into Shen Qingqiu's sanctuary.

 

It was the time at which they normally met for tea, but Shen Yuan had realised something was up the moment he stepped inside the bamboo house. No tea or snacks had been fussily arranged on the table as they usually were, and the house was not as superhumanly neat as it normally was during his visits.

 

I knew that bastard cleaned up prior to my arrival! ‘Naturally organised’, my ass!

 

Shen Qingqiu hissed out something that sounded awfully close to ‘kill’, which made Shen Yuan realise that an intervention was probably necessary. The last thing anyone wanted was a Shen Qingqiu hellbent on murder. Knowing him, he’d probably poison a well or river to off as many people as humanly possible.

 

He made to pat him on the shoulder, used to the casual physical contact amongst those of his peak, but as soon as his hand came near, Shen Qingqiu slapped it away, glaring up at him with a face blotchy from rage.

 

“Such presumption,” he snarled, grabbing Shen Yuan’s wrist so hard it felt like the bones were going to snap. “Did I give you permission to lay a hand on my person? Did I give any indication that I would wish to be touched?”

 

Shen Yuan noted the wild look in his eye, and decided that he would keep his hands to himself around Shen Qingqiu going forward. He made a small noise of pain when Shen Qingqiu’s grip only tightened, but did not wrench his arm away. “Apologies for my presumptiveness, shixiong. This foolish shidi merely wished to ensure your wellbeing, and interpersonal contact is a regular occurrence on this one’s peak. I will not touch you again should you not wish for it.”

 

Shen Qingqiu seemed to reel himself in, and released him. He snapped open a fan that sat on the edge of the desk (birch guard and ribs, painted with turtles, accompanied by a short poem about gauche displays of material wealth), and concealed the lower portion of his face behind it. “Lian-shidi is forgiven for his impudent actions.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded patiently. Demanding an explanation would not do him any good. The look in Shen Qingqiu’s eyes had been horribly similar to that of a cornered animal, ready to fight for its own survival. 

 

It’s certainly not something I would expect from someone who seems so aristocratic and refined. Maybe something bad happened to him that made him reluctant to accept another’s touch. He frowned. System, what did PIDW say this guy’s background was?

 

[It didn’t.]

 

Sorry, what?!

 

[Shen Qingqiu’s backstory was never provided in the PIDW canon. Most of what was mentioned or thought to be true was conjecture.]

 

That’s weird. Also, why the fuck wouldn’t Airplane give us some information about what made this guy so… himself?! That would have been so much more interesting than the same insipid papapa over and over again!

 

[This System is afraid it must agree.]

 

Oh really?

 

[...]

 

[Don’t let it go to your head.]

 

“Well, since it’s time for our regularly scheduled tea party- sorry, interrogation- how about I brew us a pot of tea and then we can talk about whatever is making you feel the urge to commit a homicide?” Shen Yuan proposed, already trying to decide which tea he would like to prepare. Maybe that light, citrusy one that Shen Qingqiu seemed fond of? “If it’s something super personal, you can just insult me and my tea-making skills, and I won’t pry any further.”

 

The fan dipped slightly in Shen Qingqiu’s hand. “I’m going to insult your tea-making ‘skills’ regardless. The pots of tea you make consistently taste like dishwater.”

 

“You’d better gird your loins then,” Shen Yuan said cheekily, and set about making tea. He whistled as he worked. He dearly missed the convenience of modern teabags. 

His er-ge always turned his nose up at them, but Shen Yuan had never been as picky with his food and drink as his brother.

 

Shen Qingqiu eventually shuffled over to watch him, and his distress at Shen Yuan’s efforts was palpable. While he waited for the tea to steep, Shen Yuan watched some of the passing Qing Jing disciples through the window. Some were armed with instruments and others with teetering piles of scrolls.

 

Once the tea was brewed to his satisfaction, he set the pot and all the accoutrements at the table and Shen Qingqiu joined him, the turtle fan resting next to his hand. He was eyeing the teapot like he expected it to come to life at any moment and attack him. Shen Yuan poured them each a cup, slightly cheered by the colour of the liquid that spilled forth from the spout. I’m definitely getting better at this!

 

[Still not good enough for Shen Qingqiu’s astronomically high standards!]

 

[Good effort though! Have some B-Points for not making garbage.]

 

[+2 B-Points]

 

Gee, thanks. Your generosity is truly unmatched.

 

As anticipated, Shen Qingqiu made a face of disgust upon his first sip. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to poison me.”

 

“It’s all a part of my master plan,” Shen Yuan said blithely, taking a drink of his own dubious beverage. Hm, much better than last time. Still could’ve steeped longer, and I think I made the water too hot- there’s a bit of an astringent taste to it. Still drinkable, despite what Shen Qingqiu might insist. “I’m conditioning you to accept my shitty tea so that when I finally do decide to poison you, you won’t see it coming.”

 

Shen Qingqiu snorted, something that seemed to surprise the both of them. He was quick to regain his poise, and with it was this look - an implicit warning that they were not to speak of this lapse in composure. “A respectable plan.”

 

“Of course you’d think so, Mr. I-Will-Carry-Around-Poison-To-Threaten-People-With. Now, would you like to explain the apoplectic state I found you in?”

 

Shen Qingqiu took another small sip of his tea and glared down at the table as if it had personally offended him. “As I previously mentioned, Liu Qingge has taken up the repulsive habit of leaving the corpses of various creatures outside of my house. While our relationship has always been contentious, our antagonism never extended to the point of leaving dead animals on one’s doorstep. Perhaps my role in his rescue has further soured his feelings for me.”

 

Shen Yuan’s brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make any sense. Doesn’t he have a rigid code of honour?”

 

“Supposedly,” Shen Qingqiu sighed, and set a small scroll and a few scraps of paper on the table. “I started a list after the first few incidents to make a record of the different animals he’s killed. Some of the bodies were accompanied by notes. Some of them I didn’t get to in time due to responsibilities I had off peak, and needless to say, a several-day-old corpse is unpleasant and oft unrecognisable.” 

 

Shen Yuan picked up one of the notes. It read, ‘Eat the liver.’

 

Another said, ‘Skin it and cook it.’

 

“Verbose,” Shen Yuan muttered sarcastically, and scanned the list of animal corpses. Shen Qingqiu had been thorough- he noted when individual body parts had been left to him. Shen Yuan came away confused.

 

From what he could recall, most, if not all, of these beasts had parts of their body that, when consumed, bolstered a cultivator’s spiritual energy and made them less likely to have a qi deviation.

 

Oh, it seems that there’s been a big misunderstanding here. Liu Qingge should’ve just talked to Shen Qinggiu to express his thanks or apologies or whatever this is supposed to be. He apologised directly to me for what he did during his qi deviation, why couldn’t he have done the same for him? Was he afraid of what Shen Qingqiu would say, or whether he’d refuse the apology?

 

To be fair, Shen Qingqiu probably would reject it, but he should’ve at least made an effort. 

 

Still, just leaving dead animals around his house without explanation is a horrible idea! With their history, there’s way too much room for misinterpretation! Why does everyone in this world repress things and never communicate like mature adults?!

 

“And Liu Qingge never explained why he was leaving you these?” Shen Yuan pressed, massaging his temples. 

 

“The one time I caught him in the act, he said, ‘for you,’ and took off on his damned sword,” Shen Qingqiu grumbled, then downed the rest of his tea. He made to pour another cup and glowered at Shen Yuan. “This does not mean that your tea is any good. This shixiong is merely parched.”

 

“If Shen-shixiong insists,” Shen Yuan said, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He laughed outright when Shen Qingqiu reached across the table and smacked him with his closed turtle fan. “Aiya, okay, okay! My tea-making skills are lower than a worm’s, I got it!”

 

“I’m glad we are in agreement,” Shen Qingqiu sniffed haughtily. “What are your thoughts on the list?”

 

“They’re all creatures that benefit you if you ingest them, so Liu Qingge probably is attempting to convey his regret about his past actions in a way that would make much more sense were he a cat.”

 

This was very clearly not what Shen Qingqiu had been expecting. “He’s not doing this to insult me, or because he’s holding a grudge?”

 

“Not as far as I can tell,” Shen Yuan said. “But he should have just tried to talk to you. I’m sure you would’ve eventually gotten around to speaking.”

 

“I’m not sure I would’ve been willing to hear what he had to say,” Shen Qingqiu said quietly. “He’s misinterpreted my actions before, and thought I wanted him dead. I was- am still bitter about that, and the things he’s told our martial siblings about me.”

 

“Then that’s on him,” Shen Yuan said. “He’s not owed your forgiveness, just as you’re not owed his forgiveness from the bad things you’ve done to him in turn. Maybe you guys should just fist-fight each other until you feel better.”

 

Shen Qingqiu looked pensive, his long fingers drumming on the tabletop. “I would not be entirely opposed to it. It has been some time since we last sparred. And… he would be more likely to speak candidly in the adrenaline of battle.”

 

“If it sweetens the deal, we can also use your fight as a distraction to get revenge for the more… odorous of his offerings.” 

 

A horrible, beautiful idea had popped into Shen Yuan’s head. “Tell me what you think of this…”

***

“Remind me again why you are in possession of these, Lian-shidi,” Shen Qingqiu said, watching Shen Yuan extract his unfortunately vast collection of homosexual literature from under his bed.

 

Since they’d been so kindly bequeathed to him, he’d suffered through more than a few of them. The writing was of elementary quality, the plots paper-thin excuses for smut, and the characters overwhelmingly one-dimensional. It was so bad that he was almost eager to get to the more pornographic portions of the books, which were scintillating compared to the rest.

 

He’d exhausted most of the Ling Shou library’s stock of trashy novels, and these were poor substitutes, but he was making do.

 

“Because I love to read about two men having sex,” Shen Yuan deadpanned, and laughed at the scandalised look his remark earned him. “Don’t make that face at me, I’m obviously being facetious.”

 

“Your jests still do not explain why they were stuffed under your bed.”

 

“I’m not going to leave them out where anyone could find them!” Shen Yuan protested, and did one last check that he’d grabbed all of them. “Anyways, changing the subject now. Do you have the talismans and papers?”

 

Shen Qingqiu pulled them from his sleeves. There was an impressive quantity of each- probably more than they needed to suit their purposes. “I must admit, I never envisioned using my talismans in such a fashion, but I’m eager to see the results. And we will be discussing your abhorrent reading habits later.”

 

“We’ll see. I’ll take half?” Shen Yuan asked, and Shen Qingqiu nodded in confirmation.

 

The talismans were apparently an invention of Shen Qingqiu’s, and had been one of the things that earned him the title of Qing Jing’s head disciple. They served a twofold purpose: to copy information from any medium, and then transfer the previously copied information to paper. It combined two separate talismans into one, and that he had been able to succeed in making it without blowing himself up was nothing short of a miracle. 

 

Shen Qingqiu said that they were typically only used in the Qing Jing library, and only on books or scrolls that were irreparably damaged. It was the first time their power was being harnessed for evil mischief.

 

Shen Yuan admired the delicate brushstrokes of one of the talismans, and then pressed it to one of the anatomically-lacking illustrations in one of the yellow books. A small push of qi into the talisman activated it, and the characters covering the talisman paper bled red. 

 

“A visual indication of a created copy is a nice touch,” he said. It was probably necessary, if they were working with invaluable texts. The last thing you wanted was to put fresh ink down on top of something you’d meant to copy. “Do you have a way to un-transfer in case of any mishaps? And are all copies done solely in black ink, or can you make colour copies?”

 

“A transference reversal talisman is something that I’ve been working on in my free time, paltry though it is,” Shen Qingqiu said, watching as Shen Yuan pressed the red-inked talisman to a blank piece of paper. Shen Yuan activated it, and the red characters turned gold as lines bloomed on the paper beneath, the illustration perfectly recreated within seconds. “And these ones do not copy colours, but I do have a small supply on my peak of those that do.”

 

“These are incredible!” Shen Yuan praised, comparing the copy to the original. “Why haven’t you shared them outside of your peak?”

 

Shen Qingqiu started on his own stack of yellow books. “I have had no reason to. I ask that you refrain from telling anyone of their existence.”

 

Shen Yuan was half-tempted to protest, but then he thought back to Shen Qingqiu’s earlier reaction to his boundary-crossing, and decided against it. He didn’t want to break whatever measure of trust that Shen Qingqiu had in him. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Alright, I won’t tell anyone that you’re secretly a mad genius-” Shen Qingqiu preened at the compliment “-but I do ask that you keep me updated on your progress on the transference reversal talismans.”

 

“I suppose that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to regale you with my experiments,” Shen Qingqiu said, and narrowed his eyes at one of the illustrations. “I am not sure such contortions are possible.”

 

“I know, right? They’re absolutely horrible. Anyways, do you think that adjusting the characters that dictate the appropriate recipient material of the would allow for more diverse transfer options?”

***

Bai Zhan Peak was intimidating from a distance, and more than a little sad-looking up close. Nobody came to greet them at the gate, which suited their purposes perfectly, but it sent Shen Qingqiu into an impassioned rant about etiquette and the proper treatment of guests.

 

Safely ensconced in the protection of a cloaking talisman, Shen Yuan didn’t have to control his facial expressions, which was a relief when Shen Qingqiu went on a tangent about cutlery.

 

As they made their way up the mountain, Shen Yuan found himself thinking that a lack of etiquette seemed the least of Bai Zhan’s problems. From what Mu Qingfang had told him, Liu Qingge was only in the sect for about a week out of every month, and his idea of 'teaching' involved beating the snot out of his disciples. The buildings on the peak were ramshackle and appeared one stiff breeze from collapsing in on themselves. There was little grass or undergrowth to be found, and what little was left was almost trampled beyond repair. The only protection from the dirt and stone underfoot was a patchy layer of pine needles. Any trees they saw were missing huge patches of bark and lacked any low-hanging branches.

 

Soil erosion must be a huge problem for them. Maybe the best course of retribution would be informing Chen-shimei of the state of the vegetation here. She might actually kill Liu Qingge if she saw this.

 

Standing proud at the peak’s apex was Bai Zhan’s training grounds, which were in much better shape than everything else here. The stones were undamaged and unweathered, and the wooden structures along the training ground's rim were well-maintained.

 

When Shen Yuan spied the unsullied white of Liu Qingge’s robes through the throngs of his disciples (many of whom were unconscious), he got Shen Qingqiu’s attention. “He’s there. Do you have the signalling talisman?”

 

“Yes,” Shen Qingqiu, mouth hardly moving as he spoke. He would make a decent ventriloquist. “I’ll activate it if he goes too far from me. I still have doubts about my ability to keep him distracted for longer than a quarter of a shichen.”

 

“That’s fine,” Shen Yuan assured him. “Your presence here is mostly to provide yourself an alibi when he starts searching for the culprit. Meet you back on Qing Jing?”

 

Shen Qingqiu nodded, and without another word, he glided towards the training grounds. Shen Yuan wondered how long it had taken him to perfect his gait. He’d tried to copy it in private and had felt like a giant idiot.

 

After a quick glance around to ensure that nobody had somehow noticed him through the cloaking talisman, he retraced their path back down the mountain, and took a turn he was mostly sure would lead him to Liu Qingge’s residence. Shen Qingqiu had told him how to find it, but he’d been so nervous as he’d explained that he wasn’t sure he’d absorbed all that many of the directions. 

 

Evidently, he had recalled enough, and soon found a small home on the peak’s eastern slope. He did a tiny victory dance, the judgemental System his sole audience.

 

[It would be better if you threw an arabesque into the mix.]

 

I’m not taking critiques on my victory dances.

 

[I’ll give you 20 B-Points if you can manage an arabesque penché.]

 

…I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds painful.

 

[More’s the pity.]

 

It was sorely tempting to waltz straight into Liu Qingge’s house and set to work, but the guy struck him as the deeply paranoid type, so instead, he sent out a probing thread of qi.

 

It brushed up against a humming array, a shock of cool qi zapping up his spine. From what he could discern upon further examination, its purpose was to keep people out under certain conditions, and to alert Liu Qingge if they were forcefully tampered with or breached.

 

It was entirely possible to disassemble them, which was not ideal, as it took forever. There had been a chapter in PIDW when Luo Binghe had spent weeks taking down one of his enemy’s arrays so that he could rescue a maiden from their fortress. But perhaps I could make a hole in them. It would still take time that he wasn’t sure that he had, but it seemed like a plausible solution.

 

He glanced down at the signalling talisman that he’d hung on his belt, which remained inert. Their scheme was working thus far, but if he went rushing straight in, he doubted that Shen Qingqiu could stall Liu Qingge enough to see their scheme completed in its entirety. Liu Qingge could pilot Cheng Luan with terrifying speed and coordination, which would give him two minutes at most.

 

But, if he was smart, and Shen Qingqiu was distracting enough, they could have hours before their work was discovered.

 

The slow way it is, then.

 

He settled cross-legged amongst a nearby copse, reaching out with a greater volume of his qi, and he allowed his eyes to fall shut to better visualise the array’s components. He carefully picked out one of the individual strands of qi from the array’s structure, and severed it with his own.

 

He hardly dared breathe as he waited for some alarm to go off or for Liu Qingge to come charging down the mountain like an enraged bull. When a minute passed without anything happening, he breathed his relief and moved onto the next, severing strand after strand.

 

Though the process quickly grew arduous, there was a part of him that absolutely loved picking a portion of the array apart. It felt like he was carefully deconstructing a segment of a finely-woven tapestry, providing him a glimpse of the painstaking effort that had gone to its construction. There was a horrible intimacy to it, to be elbow deep in someone’s qi, their masterwork. With time, it grew easier to see the shape of things, and to find the portions that were most vulnerable.

 

He was blind and deaf to the world around him, and it was only thanks to the occasional ping from the System that he was able to remember to check the signalling talisman. It was the one that told him when he’d finally made a hole big enough for him to slip through, which occurred far sooner than he’d anticipated.

 

He slipped through the hole in the array and opened Liu Qingge’s door, anxious about what he would find on the other side. He half expected to find a bunch of pelts and body parts pickled in jars. The reality was disappointing. The interior of Liu Qingge’s home was sparsely decorated, as if he was only ever there to sleep, which Shen Yuan concluded made sense based on what he knew of him. 

 

It didn’t take him long to stick the copied pornographic images on every available surface, and once he’d done so, he spread the remaining pages on Liu Qingge’s bed. An army of lewd, poorly-drawn men gazed lustily at him from every corner of the room, and he cheerfully thought to himself that it was an improvement over Liu Qingge’s previous decor. 

 

“A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers,” he murmured, and slipped back out of the array. If he knew how to patch up the hole he’d made, he would, but unfortunately he did not. Should he leave a note letting Liu Qingge know there was a gap in his security?

 

[Quoting Shakespeare now? Should this System be concerned that User will take to feigning madness or indiscriminately slaughtering his disciples?]

 

Don’t be daft. If I were to slaughter anybody, you would be first on my list.

 

He activated the signalling talisman and had a nice jog down the mountain and across the rainbow bridges, adrenaline still buzzing in his veins. He passed a few people, but none of them seemed to notice him. Once he was safely within the confines of the bamboo house, he removed the cloaking talisman and waited for Shen Qingqiu’s return.

 

It took an hour for him to arrive, his eyes bright and face flushed with mirth. “I do not think I will ever forget his expression when he saw your redecoration of his home. He looked moments away from having some sort of breakdown. He could hardly get a word out, he was so embarrassed!”

 

“Did he suspect you?” Shen Yuan asked, drinking a cup of the cold leftover tea from earlier. He thought it tasted slightly better cool than hot, an opinion that Shen Qingqiu did not share, based on the way he spat his out.

 

“Of course he did,” Shen Qingqiu said, stretching idly. There were dirt stains on the elbows and knees of his robes, but he either didn’t notice or care. “He accused me of the crime the instant he saw the pictures, but I kindly reminded him that as a scholar, I would never lower myself to read such obvious garbage, and that I had been too busy fighting him to have time to plaster such lewd images all over his home. Some of his staff vouched for me and said that I’d gone directly to the training grounds.”

 

“Did you guys talk things out?”

 

“If you’re asking whether he explained his reasoning beyond the indiscriminate slaughter of various animals, the answer is yes,” Shen Qingqiu said, running his fingers through his hair to fix it. “And we have a… truce of sorts. I think in a year or two, I will confess to the crime, to see how angry it makes him.”

 

“Only if I’m there to see it and the ensuing duel to the death. And I’m glad that you guys worked things out between you,” Shen Yuan said, and Shen Qingqiu flashed him a wicked smile.

 

“Well, it’s not easy to hold a grudge when you’re shoving someone’s face into the dirt. I suppose in return for your assistance with the matter, I should show you the proper way to prepare tea. I’m not sure I can tolerate any more of your swill.”

 

“That’s really not necessary,” Shen Yuan protested, eyeing the door. If he was quick enough, he could probably still escape. “I love drinking my swill.”

 

“Oh, it is entirely necessary,” Shen Qingqiu said, and planted himself in the path of the door, shattering all of Shen Yuan’s hopes and dreams. “Don’t look at me like that. Get up, Lian-shidi. I will not tolerate any loafing around. You will remain here until you can brew a cup of tea to my standards.”

 

Shen Yuan kissed his freedom goodbye, and allowed Shen Qingqiu to herd him over to the cabinet where he stored all of his tea. With his luck, he would be here all night.

***

Shen Yuan was enjoying his midday meal when a sudden hush fell over the dining hall.

 

A disciple had climbed onto one of the tables, and held a sheet of paper aloft. “Hear ye, hear ye! My fellow members of Ling Shou Peak, it has come to my attention that shizun is contemplating shaving his beard! Me and my brethren in the ‘Keep Shizun Bearded Society’ protest such a thoughtless act, and beg for your support!  We believe that a bearded shizun is a better shizun! His face simply isn’t the same without it! For those that feel similarly, please sign our petition, which we will present to shizun at the end of the week!”

 

He’d made the mistake of asking Zhang Min whether he should shave in a public area the other day, so really, he should’ve seen this coming.

 

Should I feel offended about this on the original goods’ behalf?

 

Shen Yuan was mostly disturbed that there was a club dedicated to the status of his facial hair, but in truth, his disciples could be doing much worse things in their spare time. At least they weren’t snorting drugs or getting each other pregnant. 

 

I suppose that there’s no harm in letting them campaign for me to keep my beard, even if my mind is already made up.

 

After all, how many signatures could they possibly get?

***

As it turned out, they could collect hundreds of signatures. 

 

He read through them with increasing incredulity. How the hell did they convince all of these people to sign? Did they hold them at swordpoint until they agreed?!

 

There were a bunch of signatures from people on other peaks, and a handful from people that didn’t even belong to the sect. All of the peak lords had signed, except for Mu Qingfang- he was still holding a grudge against Shen Yuan for making him shave off his mustache- and they had apparently convinced the giant toad to lend its support (there was a mud splatter near the bottom of the page, with the words ‘Giant Toad’ neatly written beside it).

 

[Wow, who could have guessed that giant amphibians have opinions on your facial hair?]

 

I blame you for this.

 

[This System has not even done anything.]

 

“Fine,” Shen Yuan sighed, the weight of countless eyes on him. “I won’t shave it off.”

 

He’d already decided against it even before the circulation of the petition, but he didn’t mind his disciples thinking that they played a role in his decision. He knew how much he had valued even the smallest of victories in his own adolescence.

 

The dining hall erupted in cheers, and Shen Yuan allowed himself to be swept up in the ensuing celebrations. It was no hardship at all to allow them this happiness, even when he had to stop a few of the more rambunctious ones from jumping off the roof or streaking down the mountain.

 

“You’ve opened the floodgates,” Zhang Min told him later, a grim look in her eyes. “I saw one circulating that was calling punishment essays ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. This might be the end.”

 

“If they start one about making you god-queen, I’ll be the first to sign,” he said in mock-solemnity. 

 

She shuddered. “No way, I will castrate you if you do.”

 

“I will keep that in mind.”

 

“Shizun?”

 

The serious tone of her voice took him off guard, and he looked at her. There was a grim cast to her features, far removed from her usual self. “I kept thinking about what you said, a few months ago, about everyone dying.”

 

Guilt constricted his insides. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

 

“I’m glad you did,” she said. “Because I’ve been doing some research on ways to protect our disciples in any scenarios where they might find themselves in life-threatening peril.”

 

Shen Yuan hardly dared hope. “Did you find anything?”

 

“Yes,” she said, and handed a book to him. It was thick, and tatty around the edges. The seal of Qing Jing’s library was stamped on one of the corners. “Shizun, have you ever heard of anchor stones?”

Notes:

The disciples collecting signatures had two drawings of their shizun (with beard/without beard), and the 'with beard' picture was much higher quality than the other one. Shen Qingqiu signed the petition because he thought it was funny.

It took Shen Yuan seven hours to make tea to Shen Qingqiu's standards.

Inspiration for Hatsune Miku comes, in part, from one of my dogs, who also squeaks and climbs all over me, even though she is seventy pounds and about my height standing on her hind legs. She is baby and I love her.

The Property Brothers were the first people who have anything to do with interior decorating that I thought of. I watched a lot of them on HGTV growing up, which I think shaped me as a person.

In my rough draft, I had Shen Yuan propose burning down Liu Qingge's house in vengeance, but I ended up cutting it.

I think I'll start doing progress updates on my Tumblr, so if you're interested, you can find me at:

https://www.tumblr.com/maximum-rat?source=share

Fair warning, I do reblog a lot of the skin creature stuff.

Chapter 15: Guess Who's About To Lose Knee Cap Privileges?

Summary:

Shen Yuan ponders some rocks, makes a deal, and watches some dancing.

Notes:

CW for mentions of mpreg (but probably not in the way you'd expect)

Thank you all for reading <3333

Despite how many plants and animals of the Proud Immortal Demon Way world Shen Yuan had committed to memory, he had never been able to keep the artifacts straight, and for good reason. If rare items were currency, Luo Binghe would have been rolling in enough dough to purchase a country. 

 

In addition to the sheer quantity of them, Airplane had frequently gone with the blandest and most repetitive names possible. His tendency to name things for their attributes meant there was a lot of overlap- he was pretty sure there were at least twenty rare, magical artifacts that had ‘pure snow’ or ‘golden heart’ in their names.

 

Even after racking his brain for hours, he still found himself drawing a blank as to what exactly an ‘anchor stone’ was and whether it had been mentioned in PIDW . He considered himself fortunate that Zhang Min had graciously allowed him to borrow her educational material.

 

Upon opening the book she had borrowed from the Qing Jing Library, Shen Yuan cringed. The style of writing seemed archaic, and gave him a mild headache to decipher.

 

He brought the book back with him to his house, and spent several hours that night chipping away at the dense text. He put it aside when the words began to blur together and he found himself reading the same sentence over and over.

 

The next morning he was back at it, squinting at the cramped writing while absently spooning breakfast into his own mouth. He scribbled down the most salient points- there was a lot of filler in this book. He did not need to know the author’s lunch habits or the contents of their wardrobe. 

 

Anchor stones were a limited form of travel that were utilised several centuries ago by a small sect in the west that has since been lost to time. Once painstakingly crafted, they had the ability to pull someone within a specific range back to them upon the activation of individual ‘keys’ that were linked to the anchor stone. The range of the anchor stone’s pull was dependent on the amount of qi poured into them during their creation ritual.

 

It was this factor, as well as the rarity of some of the ritual components and the cost of upkeep, that stopped them from becoming more widespread. Most cultivators hadn’t had the qi necessary to make a working anchor stone with a range greater than fifty kilometres. 

 

In addition to this, once planted (or anchored) into the earth, they were immovable. If you wanted a stone in a different location, you had to go through the whole anchor stone-making process again. Fortunately, the keys could link to several stones, so one wouldn’t have to make multiple for each person.

 

The more he read, the better Shen Yuan felt about the possibility of making one. If he could by some miracle dump enough qi into the stone during its creation, it could be used by his disciples in any instances of grievous injuries obtained while on missions or night hunts, or if they received any time-sensitive information. 

 

There also seemed to be a way to link all the keys to a master key, which could be used to simultaneously activate all of the individual keys and send the keyholders to the anchor stone. It seemed exactly the kind of thing that he would need in the future, for dealing with any vengeful demon lords and- something that he had not considered all that much- the Immortal Alliance Conference.

 

You see, he had largely forgotten the dangers of the Immortal Alliance Conference beyond its role in the reveal of Luo Binghe’s demonic heritage and Shen Qingqiu casting his disgraced disciple into the Endless Abyss. While it did mention heavy casualties, any deaths had been pretty much exclusively cannon fodder deaths. It had also been near the beginning of Airplane’s absolute behemoth of a story, so he didn’t recall all that many details.

 

But I technically have a peak full of cannon fodder, he thought grimly, glancing at the bleary but content faces around him as they ate. Any number of them could die.

 

His lessons on the abyssal floral and fauna might allow them to contend slightly better with the monsters unleashed by the demons and Shang Qinghua on the Conference, but it was one thing to know about something and another to find oneself face-to-face with it, as he well knew.

 

And beyond the possibility of death, there was also the very real threat of injury, or of them witnessing their dear friends being slaughtered right in front of them. 

 

I won’t let that happen, he vowed, marking his place in his book and turning back to his breakfast. He was sure that he could convince Zhang Min that a test stone somewhere on the peak was a good idea, and he could worry about finding a place to put another off-peak after the whole Immortal Alliance Conference debacle was through. 

 

At the first sign of something amiss, he could send them all away. He, of course, would stay and see if he could prevent Shen Qingqiu from earning himself a future in a pickle pot. 

 

Zhang Min would undoubtedly be furious, but he preferred her alive and angry over dead and unable to be furious with him as he deserved. 

 

[You would have to be very careful with your timing, User. Too soon, and people might suspect you of colluding with the demons, too late and you might lose some of your disciples.]

 

[Very high stakes, this System approves! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧]

 

[And the pain of getting the ritual components…]

 

Oh god, I take it back. If you of all people approve of it, it must be torturous.

 

[This System could make a quest out of it!]

 

[Quest: <Anchor? I Hardly Know Her> Available!]

 

Oh my god, I hate you so much.

 

[This System is aware! ( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ )]

 

[Quest Description: Create a functional anchor stone.]

 

[Reward: 500 B-Points]

 

[Accept? <Y/N>]

 

Shen Yuan sighed and accepted the quest, scowling at the spray of digital confetti the System saw fit to attack him with.

 

He greeted Zhang Min as she slid into her customary seat opposite him, dark bags under her eyes. Shen Yuan was sure that he didn’t look any better himself. 

 

“What do you think?” she asked, once she had gulped down several cups of tea, like a woman dying of thirst. “Would it be worth attempting?”

 

“En. I think it could prove invaluable to us, should we succeed in the creation of one,” he said, sliding his notes across the table so that she could peruse them in her own time. “Might I suggest creating one here on the peak first? It could be a great boon to our disciples when they go off on any missions.”

 

Zhang Min nodded slowly, visibly warming to the idea. “That would be really useful. And we wouldn’t have to rush trying to find the perfect off-peak location. What about the material components? Some of the things it lists… I’m not really sure where to find some of them.”

 

“It won’t be a problem,” he assured her. There weren’t that many components, but of those that were required, some of them were difficult to acquire, or thought to be lost. Luckily for them, Shen Yuan knew where to find everything that they would need. He recognised some of the items on the list as things Luo Binghe had needed for something or another in PIDW, and could probably fly straight to them if he wanted to. “The thing I’m most concerned about is whether the two of us could create a broad enough operable range for the stone with only our qi. The book said that rituals were normally performed with four or more cultivators, all of or above the Foundation Establishment stages of cultivation. While we both have golden cores, I’m still concerned that we would fall short.”

 

“I think I might have a solution for that,” Zhang Min said, a note of anxiety colouring her voice. “And for helping us figure out the finer details of the ritual circles itself. I don’t have any experience building ritual circles, and I think I’m safe in presuming that you aren’t exactly well-versed in it either.”

 

“You want to bring someone in?” Shen Yuan guessed, and she nodded. “How are we going to explain our desire to partake in some old, obscure ritual?”

 

“We could say that we wanted to see whether we could do it for the sake of our poor, traumatised disciples. They were mentally scarred by the events of the demon invasion.”

 

Shen Yuan laughed delightedly. “You’re a genius! I didn’t think you had it in you to be so duplicitous.”

 

Zhang Min grinned and made a small ‘cheers’ motion with her spoon. “I’ve had lots of opportunities to practise manipulation on my dear martial siblings, especially when they don’t want to respect curfew.”

 

“So who is it that you want to bring into the fold?”

 

“Ren Qingxin.”

 

“The Artifacts Peak Lord?!” Shen Yuan spluttered, choking on his own saliva. One of the hallmasters was kind enough to reach over and pound him on the back until he could breathe normally again. He wiped away the tears that his impromptu choking had produced, and grimaced at his wet sleeve. “I mean, I understand that she’s probably the best person to ask for help, but can we trust her to be discreet?”

 

“I have it on good authority that she won’t disclose any secrets unless she feels they pose a clear and present danger to the sect,” Zhang Min said, which didn’t reassure him as much as she probably hoped. “Shizun, anchor stones are artifacts, her specialty. We shouldn’t discount her just because she’s one of your colleagues and there exists the most infinitesimal chance she could go running to Yue Qingyuan to spill all of your secrets.”

 

Shen Yuan sighed. “Alright, sure. I defer to your judgement. When do you want to go ask for her assistance?” 

 

“Would you be upset if I suggested that we go right now?”

 

“I’ll decide whether I'm upset once I no longer have a headache from that absolute brick of a book. Way too many personal anecdotes, the author took forever to get to the point.”

 

“Are you critiquing the writing quality of a centuries-old piece of text detailing the way to make an obscure mode of transport?”

 

“Yes. Being nonfiction does not preclude it from literary analysis or criticism.”

 

“Only you, shizun. Only you.”

***

Ba Bao Peak was a looming spire of dark rock, overrun with thick greenery that thrived in the unseasonable warmth that swathed it. They found no evidence of buildings or human activity beyond a well-trodden desire path that meandered to and fro around the mountain, and a wooden pole at the end of the aforementioned desire path.

 

“Why didn’t we just fly?” Shen Yuan asked, wiping sweat from his forehead and peeling his inner robes away from his body. It was entirely too humid here, and it had taken him approximately three seconds to start sweating.

 

“Ba Bao’s Head Disciple said that the true entrance to the peak isn’t visible from the air,” Zhang Min said, looking equally miserable, her hair wilted and her skin shiny with perspiration. “Of course, he could have been lying. He hates me, and I hate him. He’s an absolute snake. I’m ninety-nine percent certain that he murdered his predecessor, but the bastard didn’t leave any evidence to connect the crime back to him.”

 

“At least the view is nice,” Shen Yuan said. The wooden pole sat at the heart of a meadow brimming with purple flowers, their sweet and herby aroma pleasant. Glittering beetles and fuzzy bees clambered up and down the plants, pollen grains sticking to their bodies. A waterfall spilled into a pool of water somewhere to their right, and pale aspens dotted the peak’s slopes, mixed with a few deciduous trees with darker bark, and a scattering of conifers. A few fluffy clouds drifted slowly by.

 

A cheerful jingle startled them, and when they glanced up, a small, silver bell swayed in the gentle breeze, suspended from the pole. Shen Yuan was certain that it hadn’t been there moments before. This did not stop him from reaching out and tapping it with a finger. 

 

The contact made it jingle again, the sound amplified, and it reverberated through the meadow and echoed through the surrounding trees. Silver characters lit around the wooden pole’s circumference, and etched into the soil around their feet. The earth shook, and they quickly found themselves knocked off balance. Around them, pebbles vibrated, and the flowers swayed to and fro in a frenzied dance.

 

“What-” Shen Yuan started, his efforts at speech devolving into a shriek as the ground beneath them gave way to nothing. They were in freefall, and his mind was too consumed by blind terror to enact any action that might save him from death via fall damage. It was dark, all-encompassingly so, and it felt like a small eternity before the light returned, dim but present. 

 

The breath was punched out of him when his body came to an abrupt stop, hovering mere centimetres above the ground. Next to him, Zhang Min groaned, looking green around the gills. She croaked, “Words cannot describe how near I am to losing the contents of my stomach.”

 

Shen Yuan tried a few times to stand, but he seemed incapable of finding the ground with his feet. It seemed that they were trapped until some good samaritan came to their rescue. “Please refrain from expelling your vomit in my general direction.”

 

After his own vague nausea had settled some, he decided that it couldn’t hurt to get his bearings, and took a good look around. 

 

The interior of Ba Bao Peak reminded him ever-so-slightly of the lizard cave back on his own peak, by virtue of being inside of a mountain. It was as if something had reached in and scooped out most of the peak’s core. The buildings were an eclectic mix, none quite the same as any other. Some were built directly into the peak’s stone face, while others were placed haphazardly across the tiered floor of the cavern. Some were round, others square, and they were made of stone, bricks, quartz, wood, and some other materials that Shen Yuan would never have thought to use as building materials.

 

Bridges crisscrossed overhead, no clear pattern to their web, lit by strange strings of lights that wound around their railings. Similar strings festooned the buildings and lined the unordered streets.

 

Members of Ba Bao traversed these streets, occasionally having to double back and take another path. Their robes were a dark blue trimmed with silver, and more than a few of them had silver embroidery around the hems and sleeves. 

 

Not too far from them was an open-air library, with a gleaming metal fountain at its heart. A few of the Ba Bao disciples stared at them with undisguised curiosity, but none dared to approach until a young man ducked around the fountain and came to greet them.

 

His eyes glinted with amusement as he sank into a shallow bow. “Greetings to Lian-shishu and Zhang-shimei.”

 

His voice was unexpectedly deep and smooth, not quite matching his prettier features. He looked every bit the buttoned-up scholar- his dark ringlets secured in a neat ponytail and his clothes unwrinkled- but for the runes tattooed down the length of each of his fingers. His robes had more silver embroidery than any of the others that they saw. “This humble one welcomes you to Ba Bao Peak.”

 

He reached out and helped them to their feet, whatever was keeping them suspended giving way at his assistance. He ignored Zhang Min’s glower, his mien betraying nothing but a benign pleasantness that Shen Yuan suspected was anything but genuine. 

 

“Your help is appreciated, Shao Lixin,” Zhang Min gritted out, and she straightened her dishevelled robes. She seemed to notice the lack of recognition in Shen Yuan’s gaze, and leaned over to whisper, “He’s their Head Disciple.”

 

“Ah,” Shen Yuan said, and shot her a look of gratitude. The one that has allegedly killed someone, great. Shao Lixin observed their exchange with a placid smile affixed, then waved off some of the curious onlookers. “Sorry for dropping in on you unannounced, but we have a proposal for your shizun that we think she might be interested in.”

 

They had to endure a few moments of his unnerving stare, before he nodded stiffly and marched off, leaving them to scramble after him. The guy was hella lanky and had a long stride, so even with the benefit of Lian Qingliu’s substantial height, Shen Yuan struggled to keep up.

 

What is this guy’s deal? Why is he beefing with Zhang Min?

 

[This System isn't clear on the details. Perhaps it's a conflict of personalities?]

 

Maybe, he gives me the heebie-jeebies with the way he acts. He looks about two seconds from vivisecting someone.

 

[‘Heebie-jeebies’? Old-ass man.]

 

Hey, I am not an old man!

 

[Admit it, User, you’re as good as.]

 

Would an old-ass man buy Luo Binghe limited edition lingerie?

 

[Old people purchase all manner of strange paraphernalia, so yes, there exists the possibility.]

 

[This System thought that User wanted to drop the topic of his poor purchasing decisions?]

 

I just wanted you to stop complaining about the lingerie!

 

[If User so wishes, this System can continue making fun of him for it. It also has many opinions on the designs of the body pillows that User chose to buy. It wonders why so many of the Luo Binghes were lacking shirts. (≖⩊≖)]

 

That’s not-! I didn’t- t here was absolutely nothing weird about supporting artists in the fandom, which is what I was doing with the shirtless body pillows!

 

[Sure, User.]

 

Don't take that condescending tone with me!

 

Shao Lixin led them through countless buildings and up flights of stairs, across bridges and through room after room of stored artifacts, before finally they were ushered through a small, plain-looking door.

 

Behind the door was a narrow, dark hallway, a suffocating quiet descending over them when the entrance shut behind them. The walls were lined with tapestries. Shen Yuan’s heart caught in his throat when he saw one depicting Cang Qiong’s ruin, whorls of red, black, yellow, and orange thread, all of them shifting across the weave in a convincing approximation of living flame consuming the land. 

 

Reluctantly, he peeled his eyes away. In another, a boy with indistinct features teetered on the edge of a glowing rift in the ground, the figures of three others near him. Luo Binghe, he thought, with no small amount of horror. A third showed a broken, limbless body, its pale skin a beacon in the pressing darkness and the shadowed crimson pooling around it. A fourth showed a woman on horseback, her blade raised to the sky, qi haloed around her like an avenging god. 

 

“The Soothsayer’s Windows,” Shao Lixin said, making him jump. Shen Yuan hadn’t noticed him creeping up behind him. “A glimpse into possible futures. What one sees depends on what they hold dear. Most of mine show future research I could do, but I also see my peak crushed to nothing, a common image according to my peers.”

 

“How bizarre,” Shen Yuan murmured, pausing when he spied what was on another tapestry. Two figures in a tender embrace, one of whom wore a red demon mark on their forehead. The other looked startlingly like himself. How strange, to see him depicted like that with anyone but his wives when he should be on the path of conquest and vengeance. Maybe Luo Binghe feels bad about having to kill me, so he hugs me before he does? That’s the only explanation I can think of for such a scene. But then again, he is quite peculiar- I do not understand the motivations behind half of the things he does.

 

Shao Lixin frowned, but moved on. They passed one more tapestry- Zhang Min’s headless body in the mud, mountains of corpses and rivers of gore surrounding her- and then they were at the hallway’s end, before another door. This one was hewn from wood as dark as midnight and inlaid with tiny night pearls, arranged into the shapes of the constellations that played across the heavens. 

 

Shao Lixin tapped a rhythmic pattern on the door with his knuckles before pulling it open, a wave of perfumed air washing over them. Shen Yuan fought back a sneeze, the overpowering smell of herbs and smoke pervading his senses and leaving him light-headed. Zhang Min looked equally affected, pinching her nose shut and taking a few deep breaths, her eyes squeezed shut.

 

“Shizun!” Shao Lixin called, poking his head into the room beyond, seemingly unaffected by the strength of the smell. He was probably used to it. “Lian-shishu and his Head Disciple wish to speak with you.”

 

At a muffled reply,   Shao Lixin herded them inside. It was a hell of an office. The room was cylindrical and multi-storied, with balconies wrapping around the walls at each level all the way up to the vaulted ceiling far above, which was painted the same dark blue and silver as the Ba Bao robes. Thick carpets were strewn about the floor, dampening the sound of their footfalls. In the room's center were eight plinths, and atop each were one of the treasures that the peak was named for. He could feel the hum of the thick barrier arrays surrounding them from across the room, so powerful that it made the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. A flock of paper birds soared overhead, some of them perching on the same kind of string lights that lit the peak outside of this office. Up close, Shen Yuan could see that the lights were actually small, qi-reactive crystals tied together. The ambient qi of the peak must keep them glowing, which meant that they were probably a more sensitive variety of qi-reactive crystal, perhaps Everlight Gems, which were abundant in the south, or Captured-Sun Stones that could be found in deserts and around beaches.

 

Why is this place so big?

 

[The office of the Artifacts Peak Lord has an archive on upper levels, as well as a private laboratory.]

 

Oh, cool.

 

They found Ren Qingxin lying face-down under a small archway, where the carpets were particularly abundant, the rise and fall of her back the only indication of life. Shao Lixin looked unfazed enough that this was probably a common occurrence.

 

“Shizun, your guests,” he said, giving her side a gentle nudge with his foot. There was a sudden warmth to Shao Lixin’s voice and features that made him seem like a different person entirely, and Zhang Min looked absolutely floored at the change. Ren Qingxin rolled over with a put-upon sigh, stretching her back before she stood to meet them.

 

“I’d nearly cracked the entrapment mechanism behind the Stone Chalice of Eternal Torment,” she lamented, nudging the silver-framed pince-nez that were perched on her strong nose further up its bridge.

 

Shen Yuan had, up to this point, only seen her from some distance- they tended to sit on opposite ends of the table during any peak lord meetings. Up close, he could see the beauty marks that were scattered across her face, and that her eyes had an odd silver sheen to them when they caught the light. She possessed the same runic tattoos on her fingers as Shao Lixin, and many more than that besides, dark ink decorating the backs of her hands and disappearing beneath the narrow sleeves of her robes. The thin sliver of exposed skin between the collar of her robes and her sharp jaw was similarly adorned.

 

“How can I help you both?” she asked, in a low, pleasant voice. “I will have to warn you, if you’ve come to ask me about synthesising gold from lead, I will kick you out. Or urine, if I have to listen to one more person speaking of the synthesis of gold from urine, I will commit an act of unspeakable violence. I don’t have time to entertain that sort of thing, as some An Ding disciples have recently discovered a cache of stolen artifacts, which we’re busy cataloguing and trying to find the original owners of.”

 

“We’re after nothing of that sort,” Zhang Min said, glancing at Shen Yuan to see if he wanted to make the pitch. He didn't care either way, so she went on, “Are you familiar with artifacts known as anchor stones?”

 

Ren Qingxin’s eyes lit up, and she was quick to accept the book and Shen Yuan’s notes on the topic, scanning them with zeal. “I’ve seen references to them in other texts, and I think I encountered a handful of these ‘keys’ when I was a disciple, but I never truly delved into the subject.” She looked up at them suddenly, a sharp appraisal in her eyes. “Though I feel it is my duty to inquire as to what you want to do with such an artifact, and why you thought it necessary to research such a topic in the first place.”

 

“It’s not for any malicious purpose,” Shen Yuan said. “At my behest, Zhang Min was researching expedited transportation methods, and she thought it might be the best solution to our problems.”

 

Zhang Min nodded, and hung her head. “Our disciples were so upset by the demon invasion- some of them are having trouble sleeping, they felt so unsafe. They’re reluctant to go on missions further than a few li from the sect because they worry that demons are lying in wait for them. We thought that having the assurance of a faster way to travel home would help them feel safe and comfortable going out again.”

 

Shen Yuan very carefully did not react to her lies. If anything, the demon invasion really solidified the peak’s sense of security, unscathed as they were by the efforts of the invading demons to force their way onto their peak. They seemed less apprehensive of demons than they had been before. Toad worship was at an all-time high, and the Flesh-Eating Songbirds had been left a lot of meat as of late. 

 

“In addition, it would allow our disciples that venture out on missions to have a way to receive treatment in the event of life-threatening injuries or illnesses.”

 

“A noble cause,” Ren Qingxin mused, and tapped the list of ritual components. “Though I have some concerns about these. Do you have a plan to acquire them?”

 

“I’ll take care of hunting them down,” Shen Yuan said, and she raised a sceptical brow at him. He did not begrudge her her doubt; if he were in her shoes, he would feel much the same. “Most of our knowledge gaps concern the ritual itself.”

 

“While I am interested in working on this with you, the probability of successfully creating a working anchor stone is small,” Ren Qingxin said. “And I do not know if I can allocate time and resources to this cause without recompense.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded grimly. He understood her pragmatism- from the look of things outside, there was a lot going on here. Every hour counted. “What do you want in return for your involvement?”

 

“The venom of a Death Herald Serpent,” Ren Qingxin said, without even having to stop and think about it. Zhang Min blanched. Death Herald Serpents were found in a warm, humid tract of land on the border of the Demon Realm, and had one of the most potent venoms of the PIDW world- a concentration of 0.00041 mg/kg (parts per million) was enough to kill a normal human. Cultivators had slightly better resistance to it, but it still would kill someone without an antivenin (which were very, very rare and very, very expensive). Shen Yuan absolutely did not want to come face-to-face with some fuck-off huge snake, as he was only just getting comfortable around the non-venomous snakes they had on Ling Shou, but for the sake of his disciples, he would. Also, he kind of wanted to see if its design was as cool as some of the fanart had been. “And, should we succeed in the creation of an anchor stone, I ask that keys be made available to any members of my peak that desire one.”

 

“Would you require the venom before beginning work on the ritual?” he asked, ignoring Zhang Min’s hissed protests. 

 

Ren Qingxin scribbled something on Shen Yuan’s note page. “No, though I would prefer to have it sometime within the decade. I was hoping to see whether some artifacts were susceptible to it.”

 

“Oh, that’s a much better timeframe than I expected,” he said sheepishly. A part of him had expected to be sent off to fetch the venom immediately. 

 

At least I’ll have time to prepare myself. Would giant serpents appreciate supplication, or is it going to be another fight-to-the-death scenario?

 

[You should try both, just for fun.]

 

Ha ha, funny. Absolutely not.

 

“And I don’t see any problem with any of you Ba Bai folk having keys. With the work the ritual will probably take, that’s more than fair.”

 

“We have a deal then,” she said with a small smile. “Shao Lixin, could you assemble a research team for this project? You have a knack for picking the most suitable people for the job.”

 

Shao Lixin bowed deeply. “It would be this one’s honour, shizun. I already have a few people in mind. I look forward to working with you both, Lian-shishu, Zhang-shimei.”

 

Shen Yuan did not trust Shao Lixin’s friendliness, and exchanged a glance with Zhang Min, who looked equally unsettled. Was he merely pretending in front of his shizun, who he seemed singularly fond of, or did their genuine need of help with an artifact raise them in his estimations?

 

He did not comment on this change, and the three of them watched the young man depart. 

 

“Is there another way out of this peak other than that terrible plunge in, or should we expect to be catapulted out?” Zhang Min asked.

 

Ren Qingxin laughed. “No, no catapulting will be necessary. There are many ways into and out of Ba Bao Peak, you simply took the most exciting way in.”

 

Zhang Min’s cheeks flushed furiously, and she glared daggers at the door that Shao Lixin had disappeared through. “That little… Shao-shixiong made it seem that there was exactly one way in, and we had an uncomfortable hike up to it. Ren-shibo, would you mind terribly if I shattered his kneecaps as retribution?”

 

“I would prefer my Head Disciple with intact kneecaps,” Ren Qingxin said, placing their research material on her desk. “But he brought this on himself. If you are able to catch him, you are welcome to try to shatter his kneecaps.”

 

“Excellent,” Zhang Min said, baring her teeth in a smile that edged on a snarl. “I’ll see you back on Ling Shou, Shizun.”

 

With that, she sprinted after Shao Lixin, a war cry reverberating through the room.

***

Shen Yuan had been having a nice day.

 

Winter was at its end; it was beginning to warm up as spring drew nearer, the buds growing on tree branches and the first of the spring annuals were beginning to pop up in the rolling fields of Ling Shou. A few of the migratory birds had returned and begun to build nests, and the animals that had been in hibernation roused in their dens. 

 

There hadn’t been any pressing work to be done, as he and Zhang Min were on top of Shang Qinghua’s unreasonable piles of paperwork. Nobody had broken any bones, or been bitten, or bitten anyone else, and no buildings had been set ablaze (one of the disciples had attempted last week, after getting a poor grade on an essay about canid dental care). The food in the dining hall was as good as ever, and his last tea party with Shen Qingqiu had been spent pleasantly sniping at each other until they decided to talk shit about one of the books Shen Qingqiu was making his disciples read. 

 

On top of that, someone had been leaving unspeakably good food on his porch for the last few days, which he had greatly enjoyed (after testing for poison, of course).

 

He was out on a walk, basking in the sun’s rays when, out of the corner of his eye, he spied the most peculiar sight. Two of the horses in the Eight-Legged Horse Paddock appeared to be having a dance battle, their fellows gathering around them and whinnying encouragement.

 

Intrigued, he approached, joining one of the usual equine handlers, Huang Da, at the fence. Huang Da was one of the older people on the peak, and a non cultivator, his face lined and his hair gone silver. In all of Shen Yuan’s interactions with him, he had been pleasant, and he’d shared more than a few interesting anecdotes of his travels as a youth.

 

One of the horses leapt over the other. Shen Yuan squinted. He was pretty sure that the horse that had been jumped over was Xiao Xingxing, who looked just as evil and spite-filled as usual. “What are they doing? Is this some form of horse courting?”

 

“Close, Lian-xiansheng,” Huang Da said, nodding his approval when one of the horses executed a perfect somersault. Shen Yuan watched in disbelief. It was a miracle that it had managed to avoid snapping one of its spindly legs like a toothpick. “They’re mating.”

 

Shen Yuan was a bit confused, as the horses didn’t appear to be fucking. Maybe this was some kind of foreplay? “Is Xiao Xingxing trying to make the lady horse amenable to his advances? Also, isn’t it a bit early for that? Isn’t the usual gestation time for horses around a year?”

 

“No, the competition is a part of the mating, and the gestation time for Eight-Legged Horses is thirteen or fourteen months.” Huang Da said patiently, pulling his bamboo hat lower, to better shield his eyes from the sun as it began to set. “The loser of the competition is the one that carries the foal.”

 

Shen Yuan blinked, certain he’d misheard. “Sorry, what?”

 

“Whoever loses this competition is the one that becomes pregnant.”

 

“But Xiao Xingxing is a male horse. How… does that work?”

 

“This one is not entirely certain, Lian-xiansheng,” Huang Da said, taking out a wooden pipe and tucking some herbs into the bowl. He held it out in silent request, and Shen Yuan lit it with a spark of qi. Huang Da took a puff on the pipe, exhaling the smoke in a long breath. “Though this one is already quite certain of who will come out victorious. Weifeng is a magnificent dancer- she’s knocked up half of the horses here, in her time.”

 

Shen Yuan shuddered in horror, mind spiralling at the prospect of horse mpreg. 

 

I think this is the worst thing Airplane has ever done. I have to rearrange my scale of Airplane’s crimes for this alone.

 

[Awwww, is User upset by the prospect of male horses carrying young?]

 

[That’s cute.]

 

[You know, they’re not the only species who are capable of it.]

 

[(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)]

 

System, no, please. I do not want to know.

 

[So many sex flowers, so many interesting effects…]

 

I’m begging you, no more!

 

Was Airplane drunk when he wrote this?!

 

[Maybe a little bit.]

 

“Weifeng’s foals are always big,” Huang Da went on, oblivious to Shen Yuan’s mounting horror. “So sometimes we have to help out a bit, get the young out of there.”

 

Shen Yuan froze. By ‘get them out,’ surely he doesn’t mean…

 

[You’re Peak Lord, User. That means that assisting animals in birthing their young a part of your responsibilities! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧]

 

Shen Yuan gaped at it, and slowly sank down to the ground, legs unable to hold his weight. His hands shook in rage and terror, and quietly, he seethed. 

 

He hated Airplane. He hated him so much. He hated this stupid System that stuck him in Lian Qingliu’s body, he hated the Eight-Legged Horses for having horse mpreg, and he especially hated that he couldn’t run off and hide until all the animals had delivered their young.

 

[If User attempts to shirk his duties, this System will have no choice but to take away some of your B-Points. ( ≖‿  ≖ )]

 

I swear to you, I will find a way to destroy you. I will break you down to nothing, System, and I will dance on your remains!

 

Huang Da patted him on the shoulder, seemingly misinterpreting the cause of his silence. “I know, it still surprises me too sometimes, how beautiful nature can be.”

Notes:

Bā bǎo (八宝)- Eight Treasures

Fortunately for Shao Lixin, he escaped with his knee caps intact. Better luck next time Zhang Min!

Shao Lixin totally killed his predecessor. RIP previous Ba Bao Head Disciple.

Also, no joke, the urine to gold thing was what led to the discovery of phosphorus. Some guy was trying to make a Philosopher's Stone and distilled his piss so much he got phosphorus.

I am really bad at naming things (and thus Airplane's naming system is a blessing), and it took me an hour to figure out what to call the Artifacts Peak. At least it gave me some ideas for peak lore!

I've been sitting on the idea of anchor stones for some time now (before I even started writing this fic) and I put them in another SVSSS fic I started, which did not make it past the first chapter. I think it was originally an idea for a D&D thing, since we tend to do a lot of homebrewing in our campaigns, but since our current campaign is on indefinite hiatus, I never got the chance to do anything with them until now. Let me know if the explanation doesn't make sense or needs elaboration so I can fix it!

Hope you have a lovely day!

Chapter 16: For Want of a Xianxia U-Haul

Summary:

Shen Yuan converses with an amphibian, meets the research team, and carries a rock around.

Notes:

I've finally got a rough estimate for how many chapters until the IAC, which is a relief. I don't want to drag things out too long, but I don't want to rush it too much either.

Thank you all for reading! <33333

The first (and arguably most important) part of making an anchor stone is deciding upon its location, which must be a place that is rich in ambient qi. 

 

In addition to the vast quantity needed for their creation, anchor stones require a steady supply of qi from their environment to maintain their operative range. Inadequate ambient qi would cause a gradual degradation of the stone- their effective range would incrementally decrease until the stone lacked enough energy to pull anybody back to it at all.

 

It is for this reason that, a few days into spring, Shen Yuan mustered his courage and went to talk to the toad. 

 

The idea of holding a mostly one-sided conversation with a giant amphibian admittedly did not hold much appeal to him, especially as menacing as the amphibian in question was, but he had a favour to ask of it.

 

The cave which the toad called home was in the most qi-abundant area of the peak, where the various streams that ran across Ling Shou coalesced into a sprawling wetland; the area boasted species of birds, fish, insects, and amphibians that could not be found anywhere else in the world. The unnaturally pale lotuses that populated some of the pools were sometimes harvested for their roots, which were used in various dishes, or their gossamer petals for some kinds of medication. A few thin wooden bridges spanned the water, connecting the shaded islands of the area together. 

 

This portion of the peak was not disturbed all that often- there were few enclosures and all the creatures in this part were allowed to roam freely, as they were less apt to kill or poison someone who stumbled across them. It was admittedly overgrown, but Shen Yuan did not mind that at all, even when his robes became tangled in a few thorny bushes on the way over. 

 

Shen Yuan had it on good authority (his disciples that worshipped the toad) that the toad remained in its cave until just after dawn, so he’d gotten up earlier than usual to wait for its emergence. He found a small island not far from the cave’s mouth, and sank down into a cross-legged sit to wait. He fidgeted with a few dew-laden blades of grass, absently peeling them apart. 

 

A few fish circled nearby, darting up to eat any insects foolish enough to skim along the water’s surface, their lacey fins trailing behind them like veils. A heron on an island opposite him watched the fish with a hungry glint in its eye, which did not bode well for them. 

 

After a little while, Shen Yuan decided to just circulate his qi while he waited. The area’s qi felt cool and fresh against the heat of his own, the sensation of them pooling together in his dantians decidedly odd. 

 

Eventually, he heard movement, and felt slight vibrations in the ground as the toad emerged from its cave. Shen Yuan cracked an eye open, and watched it shuffle forward in no great hurry. It looked over the land like an old man proudly surveying his well-manicured lawn, its gaze coming to a halt when it landed on him.

 

Shen Yuan waved awkwardly. 

 

“Hey, how’s it going?”

 

The toad stared at him, probably considering whether it could get away with eating him. Shen Yuan very much hoped that the conclusion that it came to would be ‘no’.

 

“Uh, would you care to join me? I have something to ask you,” Shen Yuan said, gesturing at the empty space opposite him. The toad gave him a scrutinizing look, then slowly, it hopped over and settled before him. Shen Yuan soon decided that he did not like the toad looking at him. It was unnerving.

 

Anxiously, he cleared his throat, trying very, very hard not to think of what it did to those Bai Zhan disciples and the demons that had decided to attempt to invade the peak. “I’m working on a project that, should it be successful, will help keep the members of this peak safe. In order for it to work, it needs, like, a shit-ton of qi. This area of the peak is most abundant in ambient qi, and it shouldn’t cause too much disruption to the ecosystem beyond increased human presence, but I thought it would be polite to request your permission to use this area first. It is your home, after all.”

 

The toad stared, not moving at all. Shen Yuan surreptitiously wiped his sweaty palms on his outer robes. “I know you’re intelligent- scarily so- and you must understand that my disciples think the world of you. I haven’t missed that their offerings for you all disappear within a day of them being put out.” He still did not agree with their infatuation with it, but he understood it, to a degree. “And you protected them when their lives were threatened, which I can never thank you enough for.”

 

The toad blinked. Shen Yuan hadn’t the slightest idea if that meant something or not.

 

“So, I come to you with this humble request- please, may we use this place for our purposes? It is well within your right to refuse, of course. But should you allow it, know that we would put protections in place to minimise ecological disturbances.”

 

Shen Yuan stood and bowed respectfully to the toad. 

 

[You need to actually give it a way to answer you, User.]

 

Oh, right.

 

“If you’re cool with us using the land, blink twice for yes. Three times for no.”

 

The toad seemed to think for a long moment, then slowly, blink blink.

 

A sigh of relief escaped him, and Shen Yuan flopped bonelessly back to the ground. “Thank you. You’re terrifying, you know that?”

 

Blink blink.

 

He snorted. “Of course you do. Do you want a statue or something erected in your honour?”

 

Blink blink blink.

 

“Cool, less work for me.”

 

The toad gave him a very judgemental look indeed. Before he could ask it anything else- Why was it so big? What did it eat? What did it do with the drawings that his disciples gave it? What did demons taste like?- it turned and hopped away, wildlife skittering out of its path. 

 

Shen Yuan stared dumbly after it. “Good talk.”

 

[User, what did you expect? It wasn’t about to tell you its life story.]

 

Maybe one day...

***

It took several weeks for him to hear from Ren Qingxin on the matter of the anchor stone research team.

 

He was in the midst of lecturing about animal adaptations in the foetid swamps of the Endless Abyss when a small paper bird winged into the classroom and perched on his shoulder. He paused mid-sentence, casting it a curious look. He recognised its design almost instantly- there had been more than a few of these little birds in Ren Qingxin’s office.

 

The class whispered as he coaxed it into his cupped palm, and he eyed them suspiciously. They were undoubtedly cooking up some wild explanations for the bird, and he was sure that by dinner, rumours of some torrid affair would be circulating. The bird chirped a cheerful tune at the brush of his fingers, and unfolded itself. Shen Yuan morbidly wondered whether the birds had any sentience, and if so, whether he had just watched something die.

 

Research team assembled. 

Come tonight after moonrise. Shao Lixin will be waiting for you by the library.

-Ren Qingxin

 

He squinted at the brief note. For someone whose job likely involved great amounts of writing, Ren Qingxin’s handwriting was abysmal. Wow, I have definitely been spending way too much time with Shen Qingqiu.

 

When he looked up, he found all his students staring raptly at him, some leaning forward as if doing so would somehow allow them to read the message.

 

Ning Yingying raised her hand. Shen Yuan prayed that it was relevant to the lesson. She had a tendency to ask questions that led them very far off-topic. Once, she had sent him on a half-hour tangent on the most venomous animals of the steppe, which he was not eager to repeat anytime soon.

 

“What’s the note about, Lian-shishu?”

 

He gave her a flat look, and spared a glance at Luo Binghe, who was at the desk beside her. The boy looked livid, glaring at the paper in Shen Yuan’s paper as though attempting to set it on fire with his mind. How odd. Maybe he was really interested in the swamp creatures and didn't like the interruption to the lesson?

 

“Do you have a hot date, shizun?” someone near the back called, and Shen Yuan decided that he needed to get things back on track before his disciples started poking further into the details of his personal life.

 

“The contents of this are none of your concern,” he said sternly. “It’s from one of my martial siblings regarding something housed on this peak. Now, can anyone tell me how a Web-Footed Tree Crawler’s particular adaptations are advantageous in such a wet environment?”

 

Despite his best efforts to get things back on track, his students’ attention was lost, so he let them out early. As anticipated, by dinner, there were rumours of him and his tragic affair. His favourites were the ones painting him and Shen Qingqiu as star-crossed lovers, and he resolved to tell the crabby man about them upon their next meeting.

***

By unspoken agreement, Shen Yuan and Zhang Min returned to Ba Bao together. Hatsune Miku had wanted to come, but Shen Yuan didn’t want to bring her anywhere near Shao Lixin, so he left her in a nest of his pillows and sheets on his bed. She’d already been half-asleep when he departed, so he probably wouldn’t be faced with her wrath later.

 

They slipped into one of the entrances less liable to cause them a heart attack, and made their way to the peak’s main hub in a timely manner. As promised, Shao Lixin awaited them (his patellae unfortunately intact), ready to guide them to wherever Ren Qingxin wanted to meet.

 

Zhang Min had murder in her eyes, but the only acknowledgement that Shao Lixin gave her was a small, mocking grin. 

 

Shen Yuan reluctantly greeted him, and Shao Lixin gave him a more polite smile. Kiss-ass.

 

“Lovely to see you once more, Lian-shishu,” he said smoothly. “Were you successful in securing a space on your peak for the stone?”

 

“Yes,” Shen Yuan said, grimacing at the reminder of his rather pathetic conversation with the toad. “All sentient life forms in the area have given their go-ahead for the artifact to be placed there.”

 

Shao Lixin looked mildly intrigued. “Does your peak have many such creatures? How does their intelligence manifest?”

 

“It’s something of a mystery to me,” Shen Yuan admitted with a shrug. “Perhaps greater concentrations of qi in some areas might impact their neurological development, or perhaps some might simply be predisposed to greater intelligence due to their species.”

 

Of course, it could all just be due to Airplane’s janky worldbuilding, but that answer made him too angry to reflect upon for extended periods, so he purposefully opted to ignore the possibility as often as he could.

 

Shao Lixin got a mad glint in his eye, like he was two seconds away from concocting some deranged study on animal intelligence, so Shen Yuan quickly changed the subject, asking about the peak’s colourful architecture. 

 

He caught Zhang Min’s eye as Shao Lixin went on a rant about how columns lended sophistication to a building. There was no way they were letting this guy traipse around Ling Shou without supervision.

***

They were led back along the long, confusing path to Ren Qingxin’s office. Shao Lixin had moved on to talking about a set of cursed golden bracelets that were a part of the cache discovered by the An Ding disciples. 

 

The Ba Bao disciples had apparently had a hell of a time trying to figure out how to break the curse, which painfully disintegrated the arms of anyone who put them on. Shen Yuan pointedly did not ask how they’d figured out that particular effect.

 

The tapestries lining the hall to Ren Qingxin’s lair appeared exactly the same to him as they had last time, but Zhang Min froze in front of one of them, and asked, perturbed, “Why has this one changed?”

 

“They do that sometimes,” Shao Lixin said disinterestedly. “It’s not uncommon. It usually happens when you or someone close to you makes a major decision or change in their life. If it makes Zhang-shimei feel better, one of mine has recently changed.”

 

This clearly did nothing to make Zhang Min feel better, since she glowered at the tapestry like it had insulted her mother.

 

Ren Qingxin’s office was more chaotic than the last time they’d visited, books cluttering every available surface and papers strewn haphazardly about. The flock of paper-bird messages had grown to a veritable swarm, their song cacophonous. Based on the dark look Shao Lixin shot the paper birds, he was not a fan.

 

They climbed a narrow staircase a few levels, and followed the balcony around to the opposite end of the cylindrical room, where a door that otherwise blended into the wall was propped open.

 

The room where they were meeting was reasonably-sized, though most of the floorspace was occupied by an enormous decagonal stone table. Built into the walls were shelves honeycombed with cubbies, each of which were stuffed to the brim with some of the oldest scrolls Shen Yuan had ever laid on. He was half sure that if he sneezed in their proximity, some of them would simply turn to dust. Small metal plaques were affixed to the shelves beneath each cubbyhole, and appeared to be the only means of organisation, which made him feel a little itchy. A giant, glowing chunk of crystal was suspended overhead by thin metal wires, and cast a warm glow over the room. The whole place smelled of old paper and ink.

 

It seemed that most people involved in the meeting had beaten them here, already milling about the room or seated at the table. At their entrance, several heads swivelled their way, and Shen Yuan timidly waved in greeting.

 

“Shidi!” Ren Qingxin called from her spot at the table, and waved him over. Obediently, he went and settled in the vacant spot beside her. After a few minutes more of mingling, everyone sat and the meeting began. They began with introductions.

 

There was nervous Xu Haoyu, a non-cultivator and a researcher who studied early cultivation sects and their technology. He had apparently explored his fair share of ruins over the course of his career, had published a handful of books on the rise of cultivation sects and the evolution of their ritualistic practices, and had discovered the earliest attempts of the creation of spiritual swords.

 

Han Ai was the head of Ba Bai’s ancient artifacts research division, and she was eagerly poring over her copy of their notes on anchor stones.

 

Lu Zhi specialised in ritual creation, the properties of individual ritual components, and how they interacted with one another. She was one of the oldest people in the sect, having been a member of the peak under the reign of three different peak lords, and had intimate knowledge on how rituals had changed over time.

 

Lei Chang was a senior disciple, who worked in Ba Bai’s archives. At Ren Qingxin’s request, she had brought two old anchor stone keys with her. The amber stones, which were no bigger than a fingernail, were slightly cracked and cloudy. They passed the stones around, and Shen Yuan thought he imagined the flicker of warmth that the keys emitted as he took his turn to examine them.

 

Tao Huiying and Ke Long were both younger disciples, and their inclusion, as per Ren Qingxin, was mostly for experience. Tao Huiying spent most of the meeting excitedly fidgeting in place or spinning a heavy silver ring on her finger. Ke Long was slightly more attentive, though occasionally his stoic mien would falter, and he’d break out in a giddy smile. They’d both reached the Foundation Establishment stage of their cultivation, so most of their official involvement with the project would be during the ritual itself.

Once introductions were concluded, Ren Qingxin had Shen Yuan explain his reason behind wanting to construct an anchor stone, then he answered whatever questions he could (the younger disciples had many, some of which had little or no relevance to the task at hand), and went over the list of requisite ritual components.

 

Lu Zhi’s eyebrows crept steadily up her forehead as they went down the list. She turned to Xu Haoyu, who had spent the whole time looking overwhelmed, and murmured, “Weren’t the ritual circles of this era done in human blood?”

 

Xu Haoyu nodded, and in a quivering tone, said, “Usually the blood of the one who’s serving as the qi conduit is used to create the circles, yes. For a ritual this complex… it will probably take more than a human has in their body at any one time. A few of the rituals require blood from every participant, but the amounts demanded of them are negligible in comparison.”

 

Ren Qingxin nodded thoughtfully. She glanced at Shen Yuan. “I presume you intend to serve as the conduit?” 

 

Qi conduits were responsible for channeling all of the qi that the ritual’s participants donated for the ritual into the recipient vessel- in this case, the recipient vessel would be the anchor stone. It was reportedly an incredibly painful task, which Shen Yuan figured was par for the course for Airplane’s sadistic worldbuilding.

 

That also further explains how keen the System was on getting me to do this.

 

“It would probably be best,” he said, ignoring Zhang Min’s hiss of protest. “My peak would be the ones benefitting most from the successful creation of a stone, so it’s only fair.”

 

“Well, in that case, we will need you to stop by about once a week to collect your blood,” Ren Qingxin said cheerfully. At his spot at the table, Shao Lixin furiously scribbled down something. “We’ll put the blood under a stasis talisman so it won’t coagulate, and it will be as fresh as the day we harvested it when it comes time to perform the ritual itself.”

 

She paused, as if remembering something, and then began to furiously dig through her robes for something. After some considerable rummaging, Ren Qingxin made a small noise of victory and withdrew a small jar from the folds of her robes.

 

Qiankun robes? That’s a new one. How does that even work?

 

She tossed the jar to Shen Yuan, who caught it deftly, and opened the jar to reveal a bunch of small, reddish-orange pills. “What are these?”

 

“I stole them from Qian Cao a few months back because I was working on an old sword that made the smallest cut from its edge bleed for hours,” she said casually, as if Mu Qingfang would not rip her limbs off for stealing drugs from his peak. Shen Yuan knew how particular he was about keeping his medicine organised and accounted for, so she must have pulled nothing short of a heist to get her hands on them. “And I didn’t want to have to go back and forth between here and there every time I got scratched by it. These accelerate the rate of blood production in the body, and if you take these regularly, we should be able to get more blood out of you.”

 

Shen Yuan probably shouldn’t accept dubiously-acquired pills, much less ingest them, but he nodded and tucked them away for later. I can never let Mu Qingfang find out about this. I'm complicit now.

 

Han Ai clapped suddenly, making more than one person jump. “Alright, now that that’s settled, we should probably decide how often to meet.”

 

“Hmmm, once a month should suffice, unless we discover anything particularly important that was somehow overlooked,” Ren Qingxin said, which worked for Shen Yuan. If for some reason he had to miss one of them, he was sure that Zhang Min would be able to fill him in. “In the meantime, we can send any pertinent information back and forth, or meet in smaller groups.”

 

“How long do we have to look for information on this?” Lei Chang asked, eyebrows knit. “It might take me some time to unearth everything relevant to anchor stones from the archives.”

 

“We expect several months to years, so there's no rush,” Ren Qingxin reassured her. “The length of the project is mostly dependent on how long it takes Lian-shidi to gather all the components, and how long it will take the rest of us to figure out how to construct the ritual circle. Of course, you all will be compensated for your time working on the project…”

 

Shen Yuan really ought to get working on the component gathering. He resolved to begin sometime in the next few days. This wasn’t exactly something he could procrastinate on.

***

Components Necessary for the Creation of an Anchor Stone

1 Rock, Rich in Iron

Wool of the Golden-Fleeced Celestial Ram

Sap from the heart of a Moonstone Tree

4 Buds of an Iron-Bark Rowan

Powdered Spines of the Thousand Year Spiny Eel

Honey of the Orange Blossom Bees

Blood Harvested from the Qi Conduit (addition made by Xu Haoyu)

***

The rock would (hopefully) be the easiest thing to acquire. 

 

When he’d asked the System about why it mattered whether it had iron in it, it had gone on a lengthy diatribe that could neatly be summed up as: like calls to like. The iron in the stone would bind to the iron in his blood, tying them together and easing the transfer of qi between them.

 

Unfortunately, he had no clue how to tell whether a rock contained iron, so he went looking for Chen Qingquan. As the peak lord of the Agriculture Peak, she probably had intimate knowledge on soil composition, and dirt was basically broken-down rocks mixed with other stuff, so he felt talking to her would be his best bet.

 

When he asked her, she looked like her birthday had come early, and he came away from the hours-long conversation knowing more about rocks and dirt than he’d ever wanted to know. At least he knew what to look for now.

 

He decided that basalt would be easiest to collect, from around an old volcano a few days of continuous flight from Cang Qiong. The System assured him that it could check whatever rocks he found to ensure whether they were basalt (for a price, of course).

 

After giving Zhang Min a heads up and waiting for a lull in the usual chaos of his peak, he left, heading northeast as quickly as he could manage. If he did a few daring loop-the-loops or twirls on his sword, well, nobody was around to stop him.

 

[This System is concerned that one day you will mow some poor, unsuspecting pedestrian down with your irresponsible sword driving.]

 

Unless I start treating the rainbow bridges of the sect like Rainbow Road, I don’t think that’s something you need to be concerned about.

 

Hatsune Miku, who was lounging in her customary place around his shoulders, was not particularly keen on his manoeuvres, but only squeaked her complaints once or twice.

 

He landed on the edge of the lava field, kilometres of cooled lava stretching before him. Patches of moss and lichen populated some of the rocks, the first stirrings of life on the otherwise barren stretch. There had been a pretty severe eruption here around twenty years ago, and subsequent lava flow had razed nearby towns and villages. 

 

Shen Yuan was admittedly nervous about traversing an area that had once been a sea of molten rock, half certain that he would somehow manage to step in a surviving patch of uncooled lava, but fortunately for him (and his feet), he encountered nothing of the sort.

 

After a few hours of poking around, he found a rock that appealed to him, and which he was ninety percent certain it was what he was looking for. The System had provided some handy pictures (for 5 B-Points apiece). The rock was over a metre tall, and as thick around as a barrel. 

 

“Can you check this one?”

 

[50 B-Points.]

 

“Fifty- are you kidding me?!” Shen Yuan seethed, wishing he could stab the glowing display with his sword. “It’s to identify a rock! Surely identifying a fucking rock shouldn’t be so costly!”

 

The System gave its equivalent of a shrug, which left a weird feeling rippling in the air, like a current of low-voltage electricity.

 

[Since the rock is an essential part of User’s quest, this System cannot be faulted for adjusting costs as it sees fit.]

 

“Fucking scam artist,” Shen Yuan muttered. “Fine, I’ll pay up.”

 

[50 Points deducted from total balance!]

 

[Current Balance: 3369 B-Points]

 

“Nice.”

 

[You are a child.]

 

“You just don’t have a sense of humour.”

 

[This System has a sense of humour!]

 

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

 

[(¬_ ´¬ )]

 

[The rock is basalt.]

 

[Unfortunately, that means you have an immensely heavy basalt rock to transport- hundreds or thousands of kilograms of it. That is a higher weight than your qiankun pouches can carry.]

 

Shen Yuan groaned and pulled Hatsune Miku off his shoulders so that he could yell muffled expletives into her side. She nibbled on a loose piece of his hair, which was not quite as comforting as she probably hoped, but he appreciated the effort regardless.

 

He didn’t know how he’d overlooked the fact that rocks were, in fact, quite heavy. Rocks with higher iron content were especially heavy, as iron was very dense. 

 

He could always search for a smaller rock to haul back with him, but the book on anchor stones had said that larger stones were optimal. Plus, he didn’t want to waste another fifty (or more, depending on how sadistic the System was feeling) B-Points on identification.

 

He walked around the rock he’d chosen, examining it from every possible angle. Sadly, it did not spontaneously get any smaller.

 

There were qiankun pouches with a higher carrying capacity, but he hadn’t had the foresight to bring any with him.

 

 

If he knew how to make a shrinking talisman, he could've used one of those, but he lacked both the knowledge on how to make one and talisman paper, which he had forgotten to restock after his long mission a few months prior.

 

He didn’t want to chip pieces off of the rock, as it might cause problems with the ritual. 

 

[User could always return to his sect to acquire one of the higher-capacity qiankun pouches, then come back here.]

 

Knowing you, you’d make the volcano blow up or cause some other catastrophe to occur in my absence.

 

[...no]

 

[This System would never!]

 

That was probably the least convincing thing you’ve ever said to me, somehow topping that time you tried to argue that I didn’t have bird shit in my hair when I could see it with my own eyes!

 

[Oh well, it was worth a try!]

 

[Looks like User will just have to carry it! ( ｡ •̀ ᴗ •́ ｡)]

 

Shen Yuan contemplated simply lying down here and giving up on everything. Surely taking a nice dirt nap now would be better than toiling away until his inevitable death. 

 

[But your disciples…]

 

“Gah, fine! Stop trying to guilt me!”

 

He tested whether his arms could fit around the rock’s entire circumference- they could, but barely. His fingertips only just touched. Well, carrying it like that is not going to work.

 

He stripped off his outer robe- it wasn’t one he was particularly fond of- and set about cutting it into strips of fabric. He tied some of the strips together using the strongest knots he could recollect, and began to fashion them into a crude harness.

 

He ran some of the strips of fabric underneath the rock’s base and looped a few around its centre. He lashed it to himself, makeshift straps crossing over his shoulders and back, and around his middle.

 

[You’ve made what is inarguably the world’s worst baby carrier.]

 

“Well, it’s not like I’m putting any actual children in this thing,” he muttered, squatting down and trying to figure out how he was going to carry the rock. Though with the way Hatsune Miku is eyeing it, she might demand one of her own.

 

Wrapping his arms around it would still be precarious, but since it was now less likely to tip out of his grasp (thanks to his poor excuse for a harness), he would probably be okay to lift it and carry it from the bottom.

 

With a deep breath and a push of his qi into his muscles and bones for fortification, he lifted the rock, remembering his da-ge’s chiding, “Lift with your legs, not your back.”

 

It took some time for him to straighten completely, but once he’d managed to pick it up without breaking something, he felt like a (metaphorical) weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

 

The first hurdle had been cleared. The next challenge would be to actually fly while supporting himself, Hatsune Miku, and the rock. Based on how much he was struggling now, it would not be a straight shot back. He’d probably have to take frequent breaks. Lian Qingliu’s body was strong, but not that strong.

 

Luckily, Shen Yuan had had the foresight to get his sword out before attempting to lift the rock, and he got it hovering beside him without difficulty. Getting on the blade itself, however, was a long and arduous process, and he was panting by the time he’d managed it. Balancing was nearly impossible, so he stuck his feet to the sword with his qi.

 

He decided not to fly too high so as to not burn through too much of his qi, only just clearing the treetops as he wobbled forwards. He had to peer around the side of the rock to see where he was going, which quickly put a crick in his neck.

 

Getting back to Cang Qiong was nothing short of grueling. 

 

Shen Yuan could only travel for a few hours before his arms and legs would begin to shake with exertion, his qi reserves would dip, and he would find himself fighting to catch his breath. He was constantly paranoid that he would crash, or drop the rock and have it shatter into a million pieces.

 

He forwent sleep in favour of meditation and circulating his qi. He pulled as much of the ambient qi from his surroundings as he could manage, but it never felt like enough. His training sessions with Zhang Min had always taken great effort, but none of them were like this.

 

He was also sweaty and gross, a few holes and tears in his inner robes from where they’d snagged on the basalt. His muscles constantly ached, and he felt like a walking bruise.

 

It was twelve days before he finally glimpsed Cang Qiong in the distance, its siren song calling to the very essence of his being. 

 

Shen Yuan had to land soon after he spied it, but his hope was renewed. His journey had begun to feel sisyphean in the last few days, and he’d wondered if he’d somehow wound up in a rock-hauling purgatory for his various and sundry misdeeds.

 

His limbs could barely support his weight, and it took him a whole twenty minutes to extract himself from his harness. Once freed, he collapsed in the soft grass and chugged the contents of his waterskin to slake his incessant thirst. He felt like a man who’d been traversing a desert for weeks, who’d only just discovered his salvation in an oasis.

 

Once his water supply was depleted, he crawled over to the banks of the river he’d strategically landed near, and refilled his waterskin. He gingerly sat up, his abdominals protesting the movement, and took a moment to just breathe. Hatsune Miku curled up in his lap and licked his hands until he scratched the underside of her chin in the way she enjoyed.

 

A gentle breeze stirred the grass around him, and a few of the insects that had been fluttering around lazily bobbed in its current. Small, fluffy mice darted through the grass nearby, and he caught a glimpse of a rabbit before it dove into its warren. A few lizards sunned themselves on the warm rocks bordering the river.

 

He meditated there until nightfall, then went to check on the condition of his shoddy harness.

 

It was nothing short of a miracle that he’d gotten the rock this far without the straps disintegrating on him, especially the ones around the rock’s middle, which were hardly worn. This struck him as suspicious, but he was hardly going to tempt fate- or the System- by drawing attention to it.

 

He strapped himself back into the harness and set off on what he vowed would be the final stretch. He kicked his speed up higher than he’d been taking the rest of the trip, and did his best to ignore the slew of celebratory messages and the ominous Latin chanting the System was playing for him.

 

[You can do it, User! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ]

 

[You’re so close! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧]

 

[Only a few more hours of pain and suffering! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )]

 

He paid it little heed, the world narrowing to the distant peaks and each breath he took. The burn of exhaustion began far sooner than every other stretch he'd flown, but he grit his teeth and kept pushing forward. He had to gradually increase his cruising altitude so that he wouldn’t smash directly into the side of a mountain.

 

He nearly sobbed in relief when he reached the sect’s airspace, ignoring all the odd looks he attracted from his fellow cultivators.

 

He looped around his peak to the toad’s territory, landing on the very same island that they had held their earlier conversation. A patch of grass had been removed from the island’s heart, leaving only wet soil behind. The toad itself was waiting on the island’s outskirts, watching as he unloaded his precious cargo in the space prepared for it. 

 

The rock sank slightly into the moist earth, but did not suddenly explode or turn to dust or despawn.

 

Shen Yuan wheezed, gave it a light kick that he strongly felt it deserved, and collapsed beside it, uncaring that he was probably getting his robes even dirtier. They were already in poor enough shape that he would have to burn them, days of sweat absorbed by the fabric.

 

The toad hopped around the island’s edge, scrutinizing the rock, then abruptly jumped into the surrounding water. It was as much of a seal of approval that he would get from it.

 

[Congratulations, User! As a reward for your toil, and the entertainment you provided for this System, it has magnanimously decided to return the 50 B-Points it took as payment for the rock identification!]

 

Shen Yuan squinted at it, too tired to argue about its questionable idea of what constitutes a reward. “Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

 

[Remember to keep up the good work (and suffering)!]

 

“You need therapy.”

 

Shen Yuan ignored its undoubtedly poor comeback, and decided that he deserved a nap. He couldn’t be bothered to move, so he just pillowed his head on his arms and passed out right where he’d fallen.

 

An hour or so after dawn, a nearby shout roused him, and he reluctantly sat up and stretched his sore arms. Maybe he should plead with Shen Qingqiu to let him borrow his tub later- the hot water would probably feel incredible.

 

Standing up was a whole ordeal, and he had to use the rock to help lever himself to his feet. He’d only just gotten his footing when someone charged into him full-speed, nearly knocking him back over. Ah, there is only one person this could be.

 

“Luo-shizhi,” he greeted, wheezing slightly from the tightness of the boy’s arms around him. They were vice-like, and only tightened further at his acknowledgement. You'd think he hasn't seen me for a year, with the way he clings to me. “What are you doing here so early?”

 

Luo Binghe reluctantly extracted his head from where it was pressed against the grody robes covering Shen Yuan’s chest. “This humble disciple went to visit the kitchen staff here because they’ve been teaching him a few knife techniques, and they mentioned that they’d seen you pass by overhead when they were heading to the kitchens.”

 

Shen Yuan cocked a brow. “Did you run all over the peak until you found me then?”

 

Luo Binghe’s cheeks flushed slightly, and Shen Yuan stifled a coo. Aw, how sweet, the baby protagonist is embarrassed. “Not all over.”

 

Shen Yuan laughed and patted him on his fluffy head. “Well, I appreciate the effort. Do you have another of your crimes to divulge to me? Have another of your dear martial siblings found themselves in dire straits due to one of your ploys?”

 

Luo Binghe shook his head and released Shen Yuan from his hold. Practically bouncing in his exuberance, he untied his scabbard and held it out to Shen Yuan in offering. Shen Yuan’s breath caught in his throat. These were not the standard-issue equipment that Luo Binghe had been using. With trembling hands, Shen Yuan accepted the sheathed sword, handling it with utmost care.

 

He traced the intricate details of the scabbard with his fingers, following the swirled pattern that adorned it. Then, reverently, he drew the sword- Zheng Yang- from its sheath, revealing the untarnished blade. 

 

It glowed as if lit from within, the warm hues of the metal giving the impression of its namesake. The soft leather of its guard was warm, and it hummed assessingly in his hand. It was not overly ornamented, as some fan artists had drawn it, but the simple designs etched into the metal drew the eye.

 

It was a sword perfectly suited to this Luo Binghe, the white lotus who had not yet had his life torn apart and had to claw his way back from hell.

 

It would carry him through harrowing missions and solitary night hunts, and through the Immortal Alliance Conference. It would meet its end alongside Luo Binghe’s remaining youth and innocence, a casualty of his metamorphosis into the red-blooded hero that the world would shape him into.

 

“It suits Luo-shizhi well,” Shen Yuan said quietly, hoping that the melancholy that flared up at the sight of it was well-concealed. It was a bittersweet reminder that these warm, halcyon days were temporary, and that time (and destiny) waited for nobody. He returned the blade to its scabbard, and passed it back to Luo Binghe. “He ought to be as proud of himself as I am.”

 

Luo Binghe grinned crookedly, his eyes bright. “Then perhaps Shishu will not protest to having this humble disciple along on his next mission out of the sect, as he once promised.”

 

Shen Yuan spluttered indignantly and flicked the boy on the forehead for his impudence. “I made that promise under duress!” He sighed and pointedly ignored Luo Binghe’s formidable puppy dog eyes. “Aiya, there's no need for that. Once you've attuned to your sword and gained permission from your master, I will bring you on one mission with me.”

 

The bond between wielder and weapon was intimate, their connection grown through months of meditation together, which should occur immediately after the cultivator finds their spiritual weapon.

 

He flicked Luo Binghe on the forehead again in reprimand. “If you don't go to the Ling Xi Caves right now, I won't bring you anywhere! Why aren't you there now?! You could've shown me your new sword afterward! You're lucky it seems so agreeable!”

 

“Yes, Lian-shishu,” Luo Binghe mumbled, not sounding anywhere near contrite enough for Shen Yuan's tastes. “This one merely wished to warn Shishu of his impending absence.”

 

Shen Yuan sighed and massaged his temples. Forget being killed by the protagonist, he would die of stress far before then! “Luo-shizhi’s warning was not necessary, but appreciated. I'm sure he will be very successful in bonding with his new sword.”

 

Luo Binghe darted forward and gave him one last quick embrace before racing off, faster than Shen Yuan had ever seen him run.

 

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes and muttered some choice comments about disrespectful youths, ignoring the fact that by most people's estimations, he was barely beyond a youth himself.

 

After that pleasant reminder of the Sword of Damocles poised above his head, he marched off to apologise to Zhang Min for his extended absence and to bully Shen Qingqiu into letting him borrow his tub.

Notes:

Luo Binghe has been coming to the peak every day for about a week, waiting for Shen Yuan to show up. Ning Yingying will throttle him for this once they're both done bonding with their swords.

Shen Qingqiu does eventually surrender his tub to Shen Yuan, but mostly because he looks so pathetic and his clothes are a wreck.

I keep wanting to write Shao Lixin as unhinged as he is on the inside, but then I have to remind myself that he doesn't really show that side of himself and that he's pretty buttoned up. I also deleted a section where I talked way too long about stratovolcanoes versus shield volcanoes- it did not add anything to the story lol.

I did not understand the whole "lift with your legs and not your back" thing when I was a kid (and I heard it quite often), but now as an adult, I have never been more thankful to my parents for drilling it into my head. I have avoided many a pulled muscle thanks to it.

Chapter 17: Top Ten Worst Alchemical Brews (Number Five Will Surprise You)

Summary:

Shen Yuan shares some food, goes for a swim, and gets a nosebleed.

Notes:

Sorry for the long wait on this one. The end of the academic year had me pushing through countless papers and exams, but I am free (for the next few months, at least)! I'll be honest, this one fought me. It originally went in an entirely different direction, and I tried to get my brain to cooperate, but after writing 14k with nothing to show for it, I pivoted about 180 degrees and went with this instead.

Content Warnings

Blood, gore, body horror, vomiting, mentions of animal experimentation, consumption of a live animal, mentions of cannibalism

Thank you all for reading! <33333

Thousand-Year Spiny Eels were slow to maturation, and, as their names might suggest, even slower to a natural demise. 

 

Found almost exclusively in deep oceans, they only ventured to the shallower regions to reproduce, leaving their fertilised eggs buried deep under layers of sand. They could grow to hundreds of metres in length, and they were the uncontested apex predators of their habitats, eating sharks and smaller sea monsters without prejudice.

 

To the chagrin of those that dwelled on the coast, they saw fit to supplement their diets with the occasional human sailor.

 

Despite their longevity, there weren’t many of them. They tended to be highly territorial, their only interactions with fellow members of their species involving breeding or brawling. 

 

Few brave souls undertook the task of slaying them, and these instances were normally only to preserve their lives, or for those in desperate need of money.

 

The eels' body parts could fetch a handsome sum. The monsters had enough meat on them to feed a village for a year, their vitreous body was an excellent accelerant, and their bones- especially their spines- were coveted by alchemists.

 

In elixirs, freshly powdered spines could be used to stabilise more volatile concoctions, and this, coupled with the difficulty in obtaining them, made them worth a fortune.

 

Qian Cao had an army of alchemists at their disposal to brew the pills and potions that their patients required, and an extensive store of rare ingredients. Despite this, the universe still found a way to fuck Shen Yuan over.

 

“You’re out of Thousand-Year Eel Spines? Completely?!”

 

“Unfortunately,” Mu Qingfang sighed, flipping through one of his patients’ charts. His brow furrowed as he read something on one of the pages, and he scribbled it out. “We’ve already put in an order for more, but we’re not sure how long it will be before we get the next shipment in. On the bright side, there are alternatives, so we won’t be prevented from making medicine that has volatile bases. Huan Hua Palace typically gets priority with suppliers, since they’re willing to pay double the current asking price for their goods. It could be weeks to over a year before we get our hands on some.”

 

Shen Yuan hadn't been particularly impressed by Huan Hua Palace in PIDW. The gauche displays of wealth and spoiled demeanors of many of the disciples had not appealed to him. The only characters that had been tolerable were the head disciple, who was banished in favour of Luo Binghe, and a few of the wives, who actually had personalities.

 

His feelings towards the sect had only soured since his arrival here. He'd heard enough about the rampant nepotism and disciples buying themselves prestige to be utterly disgusted by it all.

 

“We should rob them blind,” Shen Yuan grumbled, only half-joking. “Convince them to gamble away their wealth and leave them destitute.”

 

Mu Qingfang looked wistful at the notion. “How sweet it would be. I've had to endure entirely too much wealth flaunting and one-upmanship and complaints about ‘peasants’.”

 

“Well, in that case, we should do it,” Shen Yuan said. “Then you could afford to pay more for ingredients than them.”

 

Mu Qingfang rubbed his chin thoughtfully, getting a bit of ink on it. “An upheaval of the natural order- I like it, shidi. I’ve never been opposed to opportunities to get my vengeance on Huan Hua and their irritating displays of wealth. Especially when their callous actions have impacted the health of my patients.”

 

Shen Yuan was just happy that Mu Qingfang seemed to have moved beyond his grudge against him for making him shave off his mustache. He was less thrilled about having to find an alternative method to getting his hands on the eel spines for the anchor stone ritual. It would still be possible, but would be a much more difficult task than he’d hoped.

 

In late PIDW, there had been plenty of independent alchemists (and of course, there had been several in Luo Binghe’s massive harem), who had long since established their own labs or wandered around, providing services to those in need. Alchemical products had become relatively accessible- one of the few benefits of Luo Binghe’s sect destroying and realm merging.

 

Unfortunately, the same could not be said of the present. Most alchemists were trained within a sect, and spent their careers in service to their sect. They were leery of outsiders, and almost certainly would deny him if Shen Yuan showed up at another sect, requesting such a precious ingredient. 

 

This significantly limited his options.

 

He could always try and slay one of the Thousand-Year Spiny Eels himself, but that would involve hunting one down to the deep ocean, and then engaging in a fight he wasn’t certain he could win. He considered this his absolute last resort- he did not want to fight some giant fuck-off monster in the middle of the sea.

 

His remaining options were to rob any distributors, which seemed like an exceedingly poor life choice, as it could come back and bite him in the ass later, or track down one of the few independent alchemical labs remaining and see if he could wheedle someone into handing some over.

 

There were three of these independent labs that he could recall off the top of his head. One was in the Demon Realm, one was in a pocket dimension that was only accessible for one month every twenty-eight years, and one had been abandoned and sealed off for some reason or another.

 

Shen Yuan decided to check out the latter first, and the Demon Realm one if he came up empty-handed. The pocket dimension lab wouldn’t work- if he recalled the timeline correctly, there were twelve or thirteen years before that would even be an option.

 

His target was on the coast, a significant distance from any human settlements, according to his maps. 

 

“I know the real reason you’re so keen to go on all these missions,” Zhang Min said, watching him scribble notes on the lab's location with undisguised amusement. 

 

Already anticipating an answer that was very wrong and mildly insulting, he grunted and gestured for her to get on with it. She grinned wickedly. “It’s because you’re suffering from Empty Nest Syndrome. You’ve looked tragically bereft since all three of your ducklings got their shiny new swords and sequestered themselves in the tender clutches of the Ling Xi Caves.”

 

“I do not look ‘tragically bereft’!” Shen Yuan protested, throwing a crumpled ball of paper her way. She dodged easily, and threw it right back at him. It bounced off of his forehead and onto his lap. “I do not miss the chatter of those crime-committing, cult-founding, hypertension-inducing hooligans!”

 

[Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.]

 

You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass!

 

“Sure,” Zhang Min said flatly, unconvinced. Shen Yuan’s eye twitched. “Anyways, I did what you asked and double-checked that Qian Cao was out of the eel spines. Mu Qingfang wasn't lying to you- they’re completely out at the moment. Their head alchemist had a conniption and nearly blew up half the lab because someone didn't do their job. The apprentice that was supposed to have notified someone that they needed to replenish their supply and fill out the order forms was banished to An Ding for three months as punishment.”

 

“Well, they won’t be likely to repeat such a mistake,” Shen Yuan said, thinking of the grueling labour he’d seen the poor An Ding disciples doing around the sect. “Mu Qingfang told you that?”

 

“No, I bribed one of the Qian Cao disciples into checking for me.”

 

“Shameless!” he hissed, hurling the paper ball back at her. She laughed at the look on his face and failed to dodge this time- it bounced harmlessly off of her shoulder. “Why does everyone around me feel the need to turn to a life of crime?! And then confess said crimes?!”

 

[Your personality is enough to drive anyone to criminality.]

 

Funny, I could say the same about you.

 

“The disciple assured me of their discretion.”

 

“They’d better be discreet, otherwise we’ll be checking our food and drink for poison for the rest of our lives.” Shen Yuan shuddered. “Which would probably be pathetically short, because if anyone can aerosolize poison, it's Mu Qingfang.”

***

[New Quest Available: <If You Give An Alchemist A Pestle>]

 

[Quest Description: Go to <The Alchemist's Fortress> and collect <Spines of the Thousand-Year Spiny Eel>]

 

[Reward for Completion: 200 B-Points]

 

[Accept? <Y/N>]

***

It had been years since he'd been to the coast, the salty sea air stirring up memories and a melancholy-tinged nostalgia.

 

His family had taken trips to the sea for several years of his youth, and he could only just grasp the sensation of sand between his toes and the sensation of being cradled by the water as he floated on its surface. 

 

Gulls shrieked and circled high above, occasionally breaking formation to dive for fish. He spied a pack of Seal Dogs cutting through the giant, white-capped waves with ease, lithe bodies propelling them up out of the water in perfect arcs.

 

The Alchemist's Fortress was carved into the stone face of the cliffs, shaped by what could only be years of effort. The edifice, when newly-hewn, must have been a marvel. The years had degraded it, but it still clung to its majesty.

 

A narrow path wound down the cliff face, weathered away almost to nothing. In a few years, it might be lost entirely, crumbled into the sea. 

 

Waves slammed into the cliffs relentlessly, sending spray high up its steep sides. Shen Yuan found his robes heavy with moisture before he had even edged halfway down the path. 

 

The stone underfoot was slick, and he nearly lost his footing more than once. He cursed the System under his breath the whole way down- it had been the one who'd told him that approaching the fortress via sword was impossible, since apparently some of the fortress' old defenses might still be intact.

 

There was evidence of old arrays carved into the cliffside, but none of them were active anymore. From what he could discern, they weren't damaged in any way. Whatever had been powering them seemed to have simply run out of juice.

 

Shen Yuan traced some of the runes with his fingers, following a spoke of them up as high as he could reach. He'd learned more about ritual construction in the last few weeks than he’d have preferred, Ren Qingxin prattling on about the progress that they’d made on the anchor stone ritual. Despite his middling interest regarding the subject, he'd listened and actually absorbed some of it. He took out his notebook and copied its design down to show Ren Qingxin later. Based on the information he could recall, he would date the array from around three or four centuries ago, which was several centuries after the fortress had supposedly been abandoned and fallen into disrepair. 

 

He frowned, and put the notebook away. Putting a security array on a building that was supposedly long-abandoned had his bullshit senses tingling. With his luck, there was some big, nasty monster in there. Nobody just spontaneously vacated a perfectly functional alchemy lab, which was costly to construct and stock.

 

The sun had dipped low on the horizon by the time he reached the great stone doors of the fortress. They seemed to be carved of the very same stone that the cliff was made of. Unlit braziers flanked the doors on either side, half-filled with decaying birds’ nests and bones. Uneasily, he plucked a bone from the pile and examined it. It had long since bleached, and he gently placed it back where he'd taken it from.

 

He saw no handles on the doors, and bum-rushing them bore no fruit, but poking around found him an ancient-looking lever that he seriously doubted would work. He pulled it, and the doors grinded open. He cringed at the squeal of the hinges- they were likely in a deplorable condition. A cloud of dust rose to greet him, and he choked on it, gritty particles coating his tongue.

 

That doesn’t seem very secure. Unless there’s a way to disable this lever from the inside, it poses a serious risk of people breaking in.

 

He squinted at the base of the lever. There was an old, defunct array there too, and he recognised the runes for ‘friend’. Maybe it revealed itself based on intentions? But that could cause problems with groups, if some held ill will.

 

[Criticising their security now?]

 

Yes.

 

[You have no appreciation for theatricality or the rule of cool.]

 

Not when it’s completely illogical!

 

He shook his head, exasperated, and slipped inside. The entrance hall was unlit, and the dying sunlight from outside only penetrated a few measly metres. What he could see was damp and dark, the distant drip of water doing nothing to improve his poor opinion of the place. The air was heavy with the scent of mildew and decay. It was also cold as balls, which he was especially unenthused by now that he was sopping wet from his trek down the cliffside.

 

Shen Yuan had only made it a few steps past the threshold when he heard something move nearby, and his sword was drawn in an instant, runes decorating its length alight. 

 

A ghoulish face emerged from the darkness, and Shen Yuan was shocked to find that the person was not dead when they shuffled closer. They looked closer to a shambling corpse than a living, breathing human being. Their eyes were dull and sunken into their skull, their skin oddly waxy and thin, face malformed as if it were in the process of melting straight off. Thin tufts of hair clung to an otherwise bare scalp. Their body was emaciated and their clothing was hardly more than a few scraps of fabric, horribly stained with substances that he'd prefer not to think about. Each breath they took rattled in their chest, and their exhales were accompanied by a slight wheeze.

 

Holy shit, what the hell happened to them? Did they step straight out of some horror game?!

 

“Hello?” he said softly, trying his utmost to tamp down the pants-pissing fear that their unanticipated appearance had caused. 

 

Please don’t bite my face off, please don’t bite my face off, please don’t bite my face off-

 

“A visitor?” the person asked, voice thin and raspy. Shen Yuan was pretty sure that he was speaking to a woman based on the pitch of her voice. He nodded, and she flashed him a painful-looking smile. Some of her teeth were missing, and the rest seemed to be rotting. “Are you here to speak with Dai-laoshi?”

 

A chill of foreboding went down his spine. Fuck, there's more of them?  

 

He was about two seconds from ditching this place and trying his luck at the Demon Realm lab. He did not want to meet any more people who looked like extras from a zombie movie, two seconds away from ripping out his entrails and gorging themselves upon them like they were some kind of succulent feast.

 

He weighed his options, then reluctantly nodded. “I have important matters to discuss with… your laoshi. Are they here right now?”

 

“Yes,” she rasped, and she darted forward and grabbed his wrist. He jumped, but didn't wrench his arm away or accidentally stab her in surprise. “I'll take you to him. I haven't been allowed in his lab for… a long time. I'm to greet visitors, he says. It gets lonely sometimes.”

 

Shen Yuan's brows furrowed. “Is it just the two of you? How long have you been here?”

 

“We're not alone, not really,” the woman whispered, as if letting him in on some big secret. “The others are still here. Still here, but gone.”

 

“Dead?” he asked cagily, eyes flitting around, half expecting for something to come lunging out of the shadows.

 

“No,” the woman sighed. “Just gone. I talk to them sometimes, at the top of the staircase, but they never talk back.” Shen Yuan once again considered making a break for the doors- there was only so much horror movie shit he could take. “As for how long it's been… I cannot tell you. I just know that I have spent many days watching the door for visitors. I’m Sun Hui.”

 

“Sh- Lian Qingliu. Has anyone else ever visited?”

 

“Long ago,” Sun Hui sighed, her grip on Shen Yuan's arm loosening as her eyes went distant. “There was a group of people who came, demanding to see Laoshi. They tried to kill him, but it didn't stick.” She leaned in until their noses were nearly touching, and it took everything in him not to back away. “They were foolish. They should've known that it wouldn't stick.” 

 

Wouldn’t stick?!  

 

“Laoshi was angry. They had interrupted his brewing, you see. He's been working on a big project. Important. He sent half of them down to be with the others, but the other half escaped.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I failed Laoshi. I couldn't stop them from slipping past me. That was when he stopped letting me come into the lab. I failed him!”

 

She dissolved into sobs, clawing at her face with dirty, overgrown fingernails, a mantra of, “my fault, my fault, my fault” slipping past her lips. Shen Yuan could not help but pity her, despite how fucking terrifying she looked. 

 

He awkwardly reached out and patted her on the shoulder, prepared to withdraw at any moment. Sun Hui shuddered at the contact, but did not pull away. Slowly, her cries subsided, and she straightened and wiped away her tears.

 

Shen Yuan let his hand drop away, staring awkwardly at his boots. Not for the last time, he found himself wishing he knew how to comfort people when they were upset beyond a pat and some paltry words.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked her once her breaths had evened back out.

 

She nodded jerkily, and he allowed her to drag him through the long, winding halls of the fortress. Broken bits of furniture and tattered scraps of fabric popped up now and again, amidst puddles of water that stretched alarmingly throughout entire segments of the compound. Sun Hui kept up a running commentary that occasionally devolved into furious muttering and humming, the slightest rustle sending her head snapping towards the noise’s origin. 

 

Eventually, she dove at something, and came away with a struggling rat, the creature clawing at her hand in a vain attempt to escape. She offered it to him, albeit reluctantly. “Want some?”

 

He shook his head, hoping this wasn’t going where he suspected it might be going.

 

Sun Hui shrugged and bit the rat's head off, then proceeded to eat the rest of it, bones and all. Shen Yuan could only watch on in horror and slight nausea.

 

“I get so hungry,” Sun Hui said, licking the blood off of her fingers. “Any food we had here ran out ages ago. I would be dead if it weren't for Laoshi, but not dead and sated are very different things.”

 

Shen Yuan stupidly chimed in with, “You’re not you when you’re hungry.”

 

[(≖_≖ )]

 

[You’re the worst.]

 

[-5 B-Points]

 

Shen Yuan really couldn’t argue with that.

 

After a few moments of consideration, he fished some of his rations out of one of his pouches and offered them to her. She stared at them in disbelief, and accepted them with trembling, reverent hands, cradling the food to her bony chest as if they were precious nectar and ambrosia.

 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he shrugged. It wasn’t like he needed them all that badly.

 

The lab was only slightly less dim than the rest of this godforsaken place, weak light spilling in from somewhere above. It was stuffed full of shelves, each heaped with miscellaneous jars and containers of ingredients, some more intact than others. Some appeared to be labelled, but others decidedly weren’t. Paper and broken pottery shards littered the floor, and Shen Yuan shivered when he stepped on what appeared to be a fish skeleton, the fragile bones crunching under his boot. The air was heavy with a cloying scent, so potent that he could taste it. Does this place not have any ventilation? That’s just asking for lung damage.

 

At the center of the lab, pacing agitatedly around, was Sun Hui’s teacher. The man twitched at their approach, but did not bother to turn around. His voice sounded just as horrible as hers. “What did I tell you about bothering me when I was working, A-Hui? Four leaves? No, that’s not right. Three leaves, reduce the heat. I have not yet forgotten your failure.”

 

Sun Hui shuffled her feet guiltily, her head bowed. Her eyes looked suspiciously damp. “This lowly one knows she has failed Dai-laoshi, and would only interrupt his work to fulfil her duty. We have a guest.”

 

“Do we now?” the man hissed, peering over his shoulder at Shen Yuan, a violent glint in his eyes. Holy shit, how is he in worse shape than his apprentice? Some of his skin appeared to have sloughed off, exposing the muscle beneath. Raw, oozing sores marred his arms and legs, and some of his fingers seem to have fused together. His lips seem to have been chewed off, alongside the end of his nose, exposing his vomer. His hair was just as sparse as A-Yang’s, his clothing covered in countless burn marks and fluorescent stains.

 

Shen Yuan steeled himself and bowed respectfully, keeping an eye on the man all the while. He didn’t trust the way this guy was looking at him in the slightest, and didn’t want to provide him an opportunity to stab him. “This one is humbled to be here. I have a favour to ask of you, if you would be willing to hear me out.”

 

The man stared at him with his sharp, bloodshot eyes, and slowly nodded. “I will hear your request if you fetch me some ingredients.”

 

Shen Yuan shot him his most disarming grin. “I would be amenable to that…”

 

“Dai Muyang,” the man said flatly, studying his face as if he expected some kind of reaction. When none was forthcoming, he nodded to himself, and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

 

System?

 

[Yes, User?]

 

Should I know who this guy is?

 

[Hm, this System supposes not, considering that User is not studying alchemy.]

 

[Dai Muyang invented several medically significant brews, such as the pills your dear martial sibling stole that increases the rate of blood production in your body, the osteo-regenerative elixir, and an elixir that helps fix the damage from traumatic brain injuries.]

 

Shen Yuan whistled in appreciation. So he’s a big deal then?

 

[He was, back in the day. He saved an Emperor from what otherwise would’ve been certain death, and was given this place as a reward.]

 

Why is he all, uh, melty-looking? And still alive? Alchemists don’t typically cultivate to immortality, at least outside of sects.

 

There had been an arc in Proud Immortal Demon Way that had dealt with that very matter- one of Luo Binghe’s alchemist wives realised that she was getting old (she got a few grey hairs) and had a big existential crisis and a tear-ridden monologue about how she would love Luo Binghe until she was withered and decrepit and dead (her words). Of course, Luo Binghe found some way to make her immortal (with his pillar and some artifact, which was perfectly in line with the insipid worldbuilding that Airplane’s feeble mind deemed acceptable) and they had celebratory sex about it. And then an orgy. Shen Yuan was pretty sure the narrative had called her an ‘older woman’ and ‘MILF’, even though she was neither a mother nor older than Luo Binghe. His eye had twitched nonstop for days afterwards.

 

[ Anyways, this guy was afraid of dying, and basically disregarded rule number one for alchemists: always test your creations on animals before you take them yourself.]

 

Shen Yuan frowned. Wow, that’s stupid. Like, disregarding the thing about animal testing, because that seems cruel, that’s about the dumbest possible thing he could’ve done. 

 

[He was desperate, and in his desperation he didn’t balance things correctly. Now, he’s practically incapable of death, to the detriment of his mind and body.]

 

Shen Yuan eyed Dai Muyang, who was muttering furiously to himself about numbers and figs. Really? I hadn’t noticed. I’m guessing Sun Hui got some of it too, considering she’s still alive.

 

[He was so convinced of his own success that he had all of his apprentices have some of it too.]

 

And they didn’t protest?!

 

[Of course they didn’t. He was seen as the ultimate authority on alchemical matters- to go against his word was akin to blasphemy. Anyways, they didn’t think to do trials on animals until later, and that was when they realised that they’d screwed up.]

 

Shen Yuan squeezed his eyes shut. And what exactly happened to all of those animals and apprentices that are so conveniently not here, that Sun Hui was insisting were ‘gone but not dead’?

 

[...It’s a surprise?]

 

Right. Something completely horrifying then, that I will probably have to deal with in some way or another.

 

[...No.]

 

You realise that putting ellipses before your response makes it incredibly obvious that you’re lying? Whatever, you’re paying for my therapy after this is through.

 

“Grab three- no, two- but if it doesn’t cancel out the Venomous Monkey Bird’s cerebrospinal fluid, then the whole batch will be ruined. Can’t have it ruined- not acceptable, not acceptable. Grab me two Four-Headed Iguana Parrot pin feathers, from the cabinet over there,” Dai Muyang commanded, gesturing vaguely in one direction. 

 

Shen Yuan nodded, and obediently traipsed off in that direction, scanning the shelves for the Eel Spines as he went. What few labels there were were difficult to make sense of, and there seemed to be no clear system of organization. Sun Hui accompanied him part of the way, then split off back towards the empty halls beyond with a soft, “Good luck.”

 

The soft lull of Dai Muyang’s voice followed him, debating ingredients with himself and casually pondering violence.

 

“Never enough competent assistants- moonstone to catalyse, perhaps? Smash his head in with a rock, before he can strike. It’d be more food… not enough rats in here these days, maybe they’ve learned to conceal themselves better.”

 

Shen Yuan finally tracked the pin feathers down to a dim, dusty corner, shoved to the back of a shelf. Luckily, it appeared as if the bottle they’d been stored in had some method of preservation built into them, as the feathers seemed like they’d been plucked straight from the bird.

 

“Peel the tender meat from his bones, then crack them open and suck out the marrow. Hm, or use his marrow as a thickener? No, no- it doesn’t need to be thickened. It’s almost too viscous.”

 

Shen Yuan forcibly ignored the musings about cannibalism. He forced a smile on his face and delivered the feathers to Dai Muyang, who accepted them with a grunt and spent the next five minutes examining them to (presumably) ensure that Shen Yuan had grabbed the correct ingredient.

 

When they were deemed acceptable, Dai Muyang stiffly nodded and shuffled away from where he’d been pacing, leading Shen Yuan to a small, open space against one of the walls, which housed little but a clawfoot tub. Dai Muyang stopped before the tub, and Shen Yuan glared at it like it had insulted his mother. It was distinctly out of place here, the anachronistic object mocking him with its very presence.

 

Its legs were a tarnished gold, its iron exterior flaked with a few remaining small chips of paint. Years of grime had built on its inside, making it look unpleasantly greyish-brown, with spots of rust adding an unwelcome bit of colour. A thick layer of black sludge boiled inside, the smell something close to roadkill, ozone, and pineapples. 

 

Dai Muyang dropped the feathers into the world’s worst tub juice, and a few thick globules sprayed out, landing with a sizzle on the stone floor. They looked like they could eat a hole through just about anything. Shen Yuan loathed to think about what it could do to human flesh.

 

A long iron stirring rod was propped up against one of the shelves nearby, and Dai Muyang limped over to it and started stirring his… delightful brew with it. The stirring made no discernable difference to it.

 

“What exactly are you making?” Shen Yuan asked with thinly-veiled disgust. The tub was throwing him off. He glared at it.

 

“The concept would go over your head,” the old alchemist muttered. “Get me some of the water from the Oasis of Agonising Demise. And some dried scorpions. Species is irrelevant.”

 

Shen Yuan didn’t appreciate the condescension or implications about his intelligence, but he went to fetch the torture juice without protest. This is for my disciples. It doesn’t matter if this guy is rude or creepy or seriously contemplating killing and eating me. He probably has a secret stash of ingredients somewhere, and once I’ve finished helping him he’ll give me what I need and I can leave.

 

The liquid ingredients were… decidedly unpreserved. Half of the jars had cracks in them, and whatever had been keeping them fresh had failed- colonies of mold and bacteria had overtaken them with gay abandon.

 

“Turn down the heat, let it sit overnight. Need to keep an eye on it, or A-Cheng will try and drink some of it. No, no, he’s gone. Gone, gone, gone, how long has it been? I can’t remember. Jiejie was supposed to come by last week. Been ignoring my letters- maybe I’ll eat her too. No, no, not jiejie. She’s nice, she’s nice. She’s probably busy, we’ll have to spend more time together when she finally shows up.”

 

All that remained of the oasis water was a slurry of bacteria at the bottom of its jar. Shen Yuan was less than pleased, but he grabbed it anyways, and wasted no time in finding the first dried scorpions that he could. He nearly took a spill when he lost his footing, catching himself on one of the shelves, which teetered ominously. 

 

Dai Muyang regarded the bacterial slurry with disgust. “What,” he snarled, “is that? Are you trying to destroy my work? Undo years of progress? Someone must have sent you. Who sent you?! Who sent you?! ”

 

Shen Yuan stood his ground when the man got his face, despite getting hit full force with the aroma of rotting flesh and putrid breath. “That’s all that’s left of the oasis water. Your preservation system on the liquid ingredients failed. I’m not here to sabotage you. I’m here because I have something to ask of you, like I told you.”

 

Dai Muyang snarled and hurled the jar against one of the shelves, the nasty bacterial sludge dripping slowly down the shelf’s side. Shen Yuan balked when a few drops splattered on his robes. With his luck, the droplets contained xianxia anthrax and he’d keel over dead within a few hours.

 

“Incompetent- would’ve ruined the whole batch,” Dai Muyang spat, stalking back to his disgusting bathtub and tossing the dried scorpions in. “The water won’t work- substitutes, substitutes… mm. No, that saliva wouldn’t work. Aqueous humour? Of what? Oh- pair that with the Cleansing Fire Palm Hearts. Yes, yes, but they’re not up here.”

 

An odd look crossed the man’s face, one that perturbed Shen Yuan more than all of his murmurings of cannibalism and awful bathtub sludge had. “Send him down with the rest. Yes. Thorn in my side, that’ll do. But it’s such a waste of meat… but if he can get them…”

 

“Down where?” Shen Yuan cut in. If there were more ingredients, then there might be the eel spines amongst them. Of course, that was where the horrible thing that would probably kill him also was, but it wasn’t like he could do anything to change that.

 

“There's a supply room downstairs,” Dai Muyang said, taking one of the dried scorpions out and eating it like it was no big deal. It crunched between his teeth, and he wiped his fingers on his filthy robes afterwards. That seems unhygienic. “We've had some trouble accessing it. You must understand, we're right on the ocean- add salt, no, would destabilize it- and rock can only last so long against its constant onslaught.”

 

“So it's underwater,” Shen Yuan surmised, already dreading his life choices. “Any chance the storage room is near the exit?”

 

Please, please, please, please-

 

“My life would be much easier if it were,” Dai Muyang said, shifting agitatedly.

 

Goddamnit, fucking video game logic. 

 

“So many resources rendered inaccessible- we were worried about thieves when we built it- some of our ingredients could only be harvested once in a millenia. Some of them came, and tried to steal.” There was a wicked gleam in the man’s eye. “But we caught them, and they will spend eternity ruminating on their mistakes. They will never know peace or rest. They will wish for death, but never be able to touch it.”

 

Shen Yuan nodded like this was a perfectly normal thing to say.

 

“And you wanted Cleansing Fire Palm Hearts?” he asked, just to be certain. He had little doubt that this guy would gut him like a fish if he offered him the incorrect ingredient. Dai Muyang gave an affirmative grunt. “And some kind of eyeball fluid?”

 

“The aqueous humour from the eye of a Jade Scaled Dragon,” Dai Muyang clarified. “But I want you to bring me the entire eye- it’s most potent fresh.”

 

“Sure,” Shen Yuan said, massaging his temples. “And how exactly do I get downstairs?”

 

“Through there,” Dai Muyang said, pointing at what appeared to be a blank stretch of wall. Shen Yuan squinted at it and felt around the area, but no entrance was forthcoming. There were also no conveniently-place levers to grant him entrance. Shen Yuan found himself mourning the lack. Maybe I judged the lever outside too harshly…

 

Dai Muyang sighed and shuffled over. He knocked a pattern on an unassuming part of the wall, and with a series of clicks and whirs, a portion of the wall slid away, revealing a small doorway.

 

Shen Yuan eyed it dubiously. “Is there a way out, or do I have to repeat the knocking pattern?”

 

“There’s a lever that will let you out,” Dai Muyang said impatiently, and shoved him inside. 

 

Shen Yuan floundered, only just catching his balance before the door whirred shut behind him. There was no light in what he presumed was the stairwell, and it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the change.

 

What is with these places and having poor lighting? One day, I’m going to go to some absolutely horrifying place and it will be properly illuminated.

 

[Keep dreaming, User.]

 

He just rolled his eyes and summoned a small mote of light, and it hovered just above his palm, pulsing with a warm glow. He was in a cylindrical stairwell, a helical staircase winding anticlockwise into the gloom far below. Each step was about two metres wide, and the gap in the middle was about three metres in diameter, with no railing separating the two. He could only just hear the distant roar of the sea, and each step he took bounced off the rough stone walls.

 

He kept his shoulder pressed to the wall on his right, paranoid of slipping and falling straight down the center of the staircase and breaking every bone in his body.

 

He took his time, and the staircase plunged down over what had to be a hundred metres. It was half an hour until he could see the bottom. To his dismay, the last few steps were submerged, the water appearing about waist-deep.

 

Am I really so desperate as to subject myself to this? He asked himself. The answer, unfortunately, was a resounding yes. He stripped off his outer robes, and, after some debate, his boots, and he stowed them away so that they wouldn’t get wet. He kept his sword belted to his hip, and retied his hair into a tight bun so it wouldn’t obscure his vision or get caught on anything.

 

He half-expected something to grab onto his ankle and drown him the moment he touched the water, but no such attacks were forthcoming. He waded in carefully, biting his lip against the squeak that nearly slipped out from how cold the water was. He shivered, and gritted his teeth once everything below the belt was submerged. His balls felt like they were trying to retract into his body.

 

He’d been fairly close in gauging the water’s depth- it only just came up to the lower portion of his chest. He trudged into the hall beyond the staircase without issue, his breathing almost the only thing he could hear thanks to the acoustics. 

 

This hall was lined with rooms, which, after some investigation, he found were living quarters for all of Dai Muyang’s absent apprentices. There wasn’t much left in the rooms anymore, but he checked every single one regardless, an old habit from whenever he’d played video games. He did find himself wishing for a mirror, and enough light to make checking around corners possible. Each time he entered a room, he was paranoid that something would leap out at him and attack, but there was nothing and nobody here.

 

This perturbed him, his dread only growing with each empty room. The missing apprentices and thieves weren’t here, which meant that they had to be closer to the storage room, which was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t sure how successful he’d be at finding the right ingredients in a time crunch, and he really needed those eel spines.

 

The unease only worsened when he found a room full of cages, which must have housed countless animals, once. There were no signs of them, no remains or droppings, or body parts.

 

He found three more rooms with cages, all of them devoid of any signs of life. 

 

Beyond these rooms, the hall sloped downwards, and if he wanted to go any further, Shen Yuan would have to submerge himself completely. He knew that cultivators could hold their breaths for longer than a normal person (and he still could not understand for the life of him how cultivation worked physiologically), but it still would be dangerous without knowing for certain whether there was somewhere to stop and catch his breath. 

 

Even that presented a danger- if the mixture of gases remaining at a potential breathing point wasn’t right, it could daze him, or even knock him unconscious. He’d heard horror stories of people unintentionally walking into a room filled with carbon dioxide and dying because of it.

 

[This System could inform User whether the air in any of the pockets is safe to breathe.]

 

And how much will it cost me?

 

[User is so distrustful! Perhaps this System is offering aid out of the kindness of its own heart.]

 

What heart, ah? That goes against literally everything I know about you.

 

[User is so cruel! .·°՞(っ-ᯅ-ς)՞°·.]

 

[Fine, if User insists, it will be 5 B-Points per air pocket.]

 

I suppose that’s okay. Two points per check would be better.

 

[User is ungrateful! After all this System has done for you! Jail, jail for a thousand years!]

 

Dramatic.

 

[(¬_ ´¬ )]

 

He ducked under the water, pushing off one of the walls with his feet to get some momentum. He tried to recall what he’d learned in some of the old swimming classes he’d taken. His da-ge, who’d been on his university’s swim team, had insisted on the lessons, but Shen Yuan had never really enjoyed it like his eldest brother and meimei had.

 

He soon reached a fork, and he fed a little more qi into his light, which brightened his surroundings slightly. Both paths looked identical, so he veered off the the left, following the hall through several twists and declines. There were no rooms down this way, so it didn’t take long to find his way to a dead end, where the ceiling had caved in.

 

Spitting a few curses that caused bubbles to escape him, he doubled back, his lungs already beginning to burn. Back at the fork, he retreated up the hall to where he could actually stand and breathe, taking a few minutes to recover.

 

The right hall was equally devoid of any rooms, but did not end in a collapsed section of ceiling. The hall angled ever deeper, and his ears popped unpleasantly at the change in pressure. 

 

There was an air pocket near the hall’s end, near an archway. He mentally nudged the System, which gleefully stole some of his B-Points.

 

[Don’t stop for air here. The nitrogen concentration is too high. Inhaling it could cause oxygen deprivation, or worse.]

 

Great. Thanks for the heads up.

 

Beyond the archway was a sprawling underground chamber. Mosaics swirled across the floor, images of gods slaying mythological monsters and heroes vanquishing the forces of evil. Arched columns lined the room, framing the remains of ancient frescoes, which were all but gone, destroyed by the invading tide. Far above, the darkness almost seemed to boil. 

 

The moment he had entered the chamber, there had been the unpleasant sensation of being watched, of eyes following and picking apart his every move. It made the back of his neck itch, and he subconsciously dimmed his light, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself. His animal instincts wanted to hide, to flee, but he overcame them and pushed on, head on a swivel. Nothing revealed itself, but the watchful feeling did not abate even once he’d slipped through the archway on the chamber’s opposite end.

 

Just past it was another air pocket, which the System deemed safe. Shen Yuan surfaced with a gasp, greedily sucking in air like he’d die without it (which he would). He tread water as best he could- there were only a few centimetres of space for him to take his breaths, his nose and mouth barely breaching the water’s surface- and it was over all too soon.

 

The few rooms down this segment of hallway seemed to be small labs, old rusted tools littering the floor and exam tables torn apart. The remains of several books floated near the ceiling. Claw marks marred the walls, and Shen Yuan traced them with his fingers.

 

The hall eventually began to slope upwards again, higher than the hallway connected to the stairwell had been, and he threw himself upon dry land with great relief. He may or may not have kissed the ground in his jubilance. 

 

“Shut up,” he grumbled to the System, which was just laughing at him. He wrung his hair and robes out as best he could, and rubbed some warmth into his arms. The air here was positively glacial, and he shook the water off his feet enough to feel comfortable pulling on his boots. He circulated his qi some, which helped bring sensation back to his extremities, and tugged on the door handle. It opened slightly, but the hinges appeared too rusted to allow the door to move easily.

 

He had to yank on the door several times before it would open, flying open with such force that he fell into a flailing heap just outside. 

 

Though the floor had a liberal coating of dust, all the ingredients inside appeared to be in perfect condition, all neatly labelled and organised in a way that actually had some semblance of consideration behind it. An ancient stasis array was still intact and humming away, keeping the centuries-old ingredients fresh and without a single colony of bacteria or mold.

 

He found his Thousand-Year Spiny Eel spines on a shelf in the midst of a veritable buffet of bones, and shoved the entire container in one of his qiankun pouches. The palm hearts and dragon eyes that Dai Muyang had demanded requested soon joined them. He had wondered whether it was worth enabling this guy and his hideous batch of tub juice, but he decided against giving the guy any more reasons to cannibalise him. 

 

Once he’d collected everything that he’d come here for, he performed one last cursory check to ensure there weren’t any world-breaking artifacts just lying around in this dingy little storage room. The door took some shoving to get closed, and Shen Yuan longed for some WD-40. 

 

He removed his boots and took a few steps backwards, eyeing the door to check whether it was flush, and tripped over something, only just avoiding bashing his head against the ground. His palms hadn't come through unscathed, however, some of the skin scraped off. He hissed in pain, watching blood trickle down his wrist.

 

What the hell was that?

 

He raised his light, and there, about two metres in front of him, was the thing he'd tripped over. He was unsure how he'd overlooked it before. A fleshy tendril, strands of rotting flesh woven around each other- which, for some fucking reason was lined with human teeth- wound across the hallway about half a metre up. It pulsed with faint miasma, and Shen Yuan was unsure how he'd missed it.

 

Could its energy have been suppressed? Where the hell did this even come from? I didn't see anything like it on the way in.

 

He leaned closer, and silvery little hairs caught the light. He grimaced.

 

This must have something to do with the absent apprentices and the disturbing lack of bodies.

 

[No, really?]

 

Your sarcasm is unnecessary and unappreciated.

 

There were more of the tendrils, twining across every surface and crisscrossing the hall at random intervals. It reminded him of those spy movies where the spies had to get through a gauntlet of lasers to get their hands on some treasure.

 

But if this were a spy movie, he thought, then I already would've set off the alarms. Maybe that means there's a certain amount I can get away with, without consequences. Maybe it wants to be certain that something is there, like a venus flytrap?

 

Venus fly traps had to be careful when springing their trap closed- doing so required energy, and if they snapped shut and there was nothing in them, they would have wasted that energy. To prevent this, their insides were coated with hairs, and any potential prey would have to stimulate the hairs twice within a span of approximately thirty seconds before the trap snapped shut and anything inside was digested.

 

Of course, he had no surefire way to know whether these tendrils worked like that besides poking at them, which was an idea he wasn't particularly keen on. They also didn’t seem large enough to eat him.

 

He got slowly to his feet, and took a few cautious steps, taking care not to step on any of the tendrils.

 

He had to duck under a few tendrils at head or chest level, but successfully avoided touching any more of them. He had a few close calls with the ones on the ground, having to balance on his toes or leap across sections of the floor that were entirely carpeted.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the flooded portion of the fortress. Sure, he wouldn't really be able to breathe, but there was a decreased chance that he would accidentally step on the tendrils and be killed in some grisly way.

 

He took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself- freaking out would only hasten his oxygen consumption, as would exertion- and dove smoothly into the water. 

 

Slow and steady, he told himself, navigating smoothly over a tendril that bisected the hallway. Don't freak out. This is just an obstacle course. You've seen plenty of people do obstacle courses.

 

Despite his caution, there were still too many close calls. He found himself missing the smaller frame of his old body. He'd been decently tall, but had lacked all the bulk that was giving him trouble now. There were some places where he would’ve been able to squeeze through before, but now had to find an alternate path for, and he kept freaking himself out by coming too close to the tendrils.

 

The burn in his lungs returned faster this time- he wasn’t doing too well at suppressing his own fear. There was a tendril alarmingly close to the air pocket near the chamber entrance, but he chanced it and clawed his way to the surface and tucked his limbs in. 

 

There wasn't room for him to tread water with it right there, so he had to content himself with a quick breath.

 

It was when he'd let himself sink back down that he made a grave error. He kicked out just the slightest bit too far, his leg impacting squishy flesh. 

 

Shit.

 

A tremor ran down the tendril’s length, and in sync, all of the other tendrils lining the hall shuddered and withdrew into the darkness of the chamber beyond.

 

The tendril that Shen Yuan had been unfortunate enough to hit wrapped around his ankle, the teeth sinking into its exposed flesh, and pulled. He was dragged flailing into the chamber, so forcefully that it disoriented him, and he couldn't tell up from down.

 

He scrambled for his sword’s hilt, unsheathing it and almost immediately losing it from the force with which he was dragged along. He tried to swing it at the tendril, but realised that he hadn't accounted for how difficult it would be to put sufficient force behind an underwater attack.

 

He managed a weak swing, but it proved ineffectual, his sword bumping harmlessly against the tendril’s side. He grit his teeth and tamped down his nausea enough to channel qi into his sword, which burned into the tendril’s flesh when pressed against it.

 

The tendril released him, recoiling violently, and he floundered for a few moments while he regained his bearings, a few bubbles escaping his nose.

 

He had to use the direction of the mosaics to figure out which way would take him to the exit, and raced towards it, sword awkwardly clutched in one hand as he paddled. It was a hindrance, yes, but he wasn't willing to part with it.

 

He'd spared a glance around to try and figure out where the tendrils had disappeared to, but there was no sign of them. They had retreated into the darkness far above, safely ensconced within. 

 

There was something strange about it, though, and he slowed his pace slightly, trying to figure out what exactly about it was bothering him. There was some degree of unnaturality to it, some quality that made him want to tuck himself as far from it as he could. It was looming, all-encompassing. It was… getting closer?

 

That is no darkness.

 

His eyes widened at the realisation, and he scrambled for the archway and the hallway beyond that would take him back to the stairwell, cursing Airplane and the System in equal measure. He didn't reach it before a black cloud further obscured the world around him, rendering his small light useless. His eyes watered and burned, and his skin itched unpleasantly. Is this… ink? Like an octopus? Or a squid?

 

That would explain the nightmarish teeth-tendrils. Or tentacles, he supposed.

 

[User is so observant! ( ദ്ദി ˙ᗜ˙ )]

 

[+2 B-Points]

 

He grappled blindly for the edge of the archway, having a vague notion of where it had been, but had no chance to lay eyes on it now, as blind as the cloud of ink had rendered him. His ability to see in the dark was no help here, and he found himself cursing Airplane yet again.

 

Shen Yuan felt the water shift around him as something approached, something abso-fucking-lutely enormous, but he didn't bother to look for it- it wasn’t like he’d be able to see anything.

 

His knuckles stung as they scraped along the wall, but after what felt like a small eternity, they hit empty water- a gaping void that held the promise of salvation.

 

He dragged himself through the hall’s mouth, thinking longingly of the air that was just inside that he was unable to breathe, and kicked off the jut of the archway. 

 

He retraced his path, passing long, blank stretches of roughly hewn stone, his heart beating a frantic staccato, and slowly the darkness became less absolute. When he could see the vague outline of his hands, he resummoned his light, which he had let flicker out.

 

The octopus… squid… thing seemed much too large to pursue him past the chamber, its body too vast to squeeze into the narrow tunnels, so he slowed his pace a bit, which didn't do much to alleviate the steady burn building in his lungs.

 

[Is User certain that it is incapable of pursuit?]

 

Yeah, why… oh shit.

 

[Oh shit, indeed.]

 

His meimei had loved watching ocean documentaries, especially the deep ocean ones where every creature looked like it had come from another planet entirely. He had the vague recollection of watching an octopus cram itself through a narrow opening in some container in order to get food or some kind of treat, the narrator calmly talking about how good the creatures were at stuffing themselves into spaces much too small for them.

 

A shift in the water around him was the only warning he had before one of the teeth-tentacles shot past him, missing him by a hair's length. He rolled out of its way, and swept his sword in an arc, concentrating more of his qi in it to burn it.

 

It retracted quickly, but more took its place. He just narrowly avoided them, swimming around the available space in no discernable pattern, kicking off every wall to keep up his momentum. 

 

In his haste, he forgot about the fork in the hallways, which he must have passed before he was entirely clear of the ink cloud. When he saw the pile of debris that marked the end of the leftmost fork, his heart sank. He was cornered.

 

He grit his teeth and turned to await the monster, jaw set and sword poised to strike. He wouldn't allow himself to go out like some pathetic, sad-sack, no-name NPC who crumbled at the first sign of danger and let himself die without putting up any sort of fight. He would either die knowing he had done everything that he possibly could've and that his peak was in good hands with Zhang Min, or find some way out of this.

 

His knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword, and he watched unflinchingly as the hulking form of the beast dragged itself around the corner, a mass of shadow eagerly in pursuit of its next meal. It barely fit in the hall.

 

Its tentacles weren't the only part of it that appeared to be halfway decomposed, the raw, bloated meat of its body tinged grey. Limbs, human limbs, jutted haphazardly from its body, all grasping and clawing and reaching, their digits swollen and blackened. Moon-pale eyes dotted its head in no discernable pattern, shards of broken orbital bones protruding around some of them. Its mouth, a jagged slash in its ugly face, as distant from an octopus as one could get, split open. Lining it was row after row of broken bones in place of teeth, splintered femurs and humeruses and sharpened pieces of mandible providing a macabre facsimile of teeth. 

 

Its worst feature decorated the back of its mouth and cavernous throat. Countless faces, human and animal alike, were formed and then unmade, weeping and snapping their teeth and regarding him with empty eye sockets.

 

Like Sun Hui had insisted, her cohorts were not dead. They were all here, trapped together inside a beast built of their collective bodies and those of the creatures that they had experimented upon. Death could not touch them, could not bring them peace or reprieve, and they were trapped in a hell of Dai Muyang’s own inadvertent creation.

 

If he fell here, he wouldn't be granted the privilege of an end. He would likely join them, imprisoned in his mind and in darkness, his body disassembled and its parts repurposed, growing this abomination.

 

Any advice, System?

 

[Uh. Don't die?]

 

[Stab good?]

 

[Don't get eaten?]

 

How practical. Never would've considered those things on my own.

 

His mind raced, cataloguing its body, which obstructed most, if not all of the hall. Killing it wouldn't be possible thanks to the alchemical cocktail pumping through its body, but he had already proven that it could feel pain. And its eyes… he wasn't sure how functional they were, but he thought he’d seen some of the pupils of its eyes react when confronted with his light. He could try his luck and see if he could disorient it. But that was a gamble- he could lose precious time trying something ineffectual.

 

But I'm strapped for any other ideas beyond stabbing it or trying to burn it.

 

He had proven that it could feel pain when he’d pressed his qi-laced blade to it, but would such a minor wound deter it when it was so close to capturing its next meal?

 

Disorientation it is.

 

It thundered towards him, ready to devour him, and he slammed his eyes shut and pushed as much qi into his light as he could. It grew so bright that he could see some of the light through his eyelids, could sense the warmth that it emitted, and he could practically feel the creature cowering away. He dimmed the light and beheld the results of his experiment.

 

The creature's tentacles and some of the human hands were scratching at its face, and it was curled in upon itself in pain, leaving a small gap between its body and the wall of the hallway. He smiled viciously, thanking the gods for its intact photosensitivity, and whipped into gear.

 

He dove for the gap, pressing so closely to the wall that an onlooker might think he was trying to merge with it. The limbs that weren't occupied with clutching the creature’s face grabbed and kicked at him, and he pulled his knife from his belt to deal with those, as he could wield it easier than his sword, which he sheathed for ease of escape.

 

He set off another blast of light, partially to be a dick and partially to buy himself a bit more time, and then he was past the brunt of its body and searching for the fork, sternly repeating the direction he needed to take as if he might somehow forget it again.

 

Shen Yuan found the fork and pulled himself around the sharp corner. It was pretty much a straight shot from here to the stairwell, barring the elevation change. He didn't delude himself into thinking himself safe this time, doggedly pushing forth and staggering up out of the water where the hall levelled off again. His inner robes felt inordinately heavy when waterlogged, but it hardly even registered- he was too concerned with avoiding an eternity of miserable torment.

 

He found it faster to swim down the hallway than to walk, and it was with delicious relief that he stumbled up the first few steps of the helical staircase, his chest heaving. He could scarcely catch his breath, but he couldn't let that stop him.

 

After this, I'm not touching any body of water larger than a puddle until I die.

 

[That long?]

 

Well, I’d say a decade, but I probably won’t be alive in ten years.

 

The meat creature, unfortunately, didn't let something as inconsequential as blindness and stabbing pain in its retinas stop it from getting its grubby hands on a meal, and decided to keep up its efforts at ruining his life. Its spirit would be commendable if this energy was focussed on doing something that wasn’t eating him.

 

He'd only managed to drag himself up a few steps when one of its tentacles shot out of the water and wrapped around his unwounded leg, to give him a matching set of injuries. It wrenched him back the way he’d come, back into the water below.

 

Shen Yuan flailed as he fell, his face bashing against the edge of one of the steps. His nose broke with an unpleasant crunch, and his head bounced and hit the step beneath, white flashing across his vision.

 

He howled in pain and clutched his face, choking on a mouthful of salty water as he was dragged under.

 

It took him a few seconds to understand what was happening, his thoughts suddenly woolly and hard to grasp. He clawed at the stone floor, his fingernails breaking, frantic to escape and unable to think clearly. If he could just have a second to get himself together, then he would be able to find a way out of this and wouldn't be gagging on mouthful after mouthful of seawater.

 

[User! Blast it with your qi!]

 

Shen Yuan spat a mouthful of seawater and blood at it, and made a face that hopefully communicated ‘how the hell am I supposed to do that right now?’

 

He felt heavy and uncoordinated, and wasn't sure he could focus enough to build his qi into a blast.

 

[If you don't kill this thing, that loser upstairs wins! You can't let that obnoxious prick win! This is what he wants!]

 

[Oh, and your disciples would be very, very sad.]

 

They would be sad, he thought muzzily, and his eyes narrowed. And I can't let that tub-juice loving bastard win.

 

The creature had wedged itself into the juncture, mouth expectantly open.

 

It was difficult, but he redirected his qi, allowing it to build. His grip on it was tenuous, and he nearly lost it more than once, but moments away from being eaten, he fired a qi blast full-force into the creature’s mouth.

 

It forgot itself in its agony, grip loosening enough for him to pull his leg free from its grasp, blood from both it and his nose clouding the water.

 

He booked it up the stairs, half-heaving as his body tried to expel all of the salt water he'd unintentionally ingested/inhaled. He was about as coordinated as a drunkard, but that didn't matter as long as he kept himself pressed close to the wall.

 

The repetitive circling made him dizzy and only worsened his nausea, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other. It wasn't so bad, really. He'd had worse.

 

He'd made it about three-quarters of the way up before he heard stirrings from below, and the sound of something wet smacking against stone.

 

Fuck, how desperate is that thing?

 

The sound repeated, getting louder, and with a thrill of terror, he understood it must be climbing up the levels through the staircase's center. Accompanying this was a chorus of wailing and pleading. Beneath the voices of the damned were the shrieks of wounded animals, which he'd heard enough of during his tenure as peak lord to recognise.

 

Shen Yuan forced his legs to move faster, swallowing down the bile that burned his throat. He could see the entrance up ahead, and the lever that Dai Muyang had mentioned.

 

He wrenched it downward, and with another series of clicks, a doorway opened for him. He squeezed through the gap as soon as it was wide enough and waited with his heart in his throat for the door to slide shut once more. It finally did, and he let himself drop to the grimy floor, blood running down his cheek and puddling on the stone.

 

On the other side of the wall, the creature snarled, and banged on the wall. Shen Yuan sat up and dragged himself further from the entrance to the stairwell. He didn’t want to be in grabbing range if the door's sealing mechanism failed. 

 

He didn’t have any way to staunch his nose's bleeding, and leaned forward, watching his blood drip down with distant interest. He wanted to lay down so badly, but if he did that, he could wind up choking on his own blood.

 

Dai Muyang was where he'd left him, hunched over his bathtub, looking almost cheerful. This fucking guy. 

 

“Hm, you survived,” Dai Muyang said, sounding grudgingly impressed. “I wasn't certain you would. Did you retrieve what I asked for?”

 

Shen Yuan dug the ingredients he'd requested out of his qiankun pouches and handed them over with a glare. “Fuck you, and fuck your shitty tub juice too.”

 

And then he threw up all over the old alchemist's shoes.

***

“You're leaving?” Sun Hui asked, guiding him back out of the fortress. She seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, and in that moment, she sounded painfully young.

 

Well, I guess it's not so surprising, he thought darkly. Of course she'd be happy to have company after being forced to spend god-knows-how-long alone. Fucking bastard.

 

“I am,” he said. He paused, debating with himself. Leaving her here alone felt wrong. He’d given her food, sure, but eventually that would run and she’d be right back where she’d been when he’d arrived. She still somehow retained some semblance of sanity, but how much longer here alone would it take to extinguish it?

 

[Collecting another duckling, are we?]

 

Stop calling them ducklings, for god’s sake!

 

He offered her his hand. “You could come with me. I'm from a cultivation sect, and your knowledge would be invaluable there. You would have food, clothing, and people to talk to. Nobody would keep you alone and in the dark.”

 

Sun Hui’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You want me to come to your sect? But I wasn't anywhere near as knowledgeable as the others were on Dai-laoshi’s methods.”

 

“That doesn't matter,” he said firmly. “You don't- you deserve better than this for eternity. You deserve better than a teacher that treats you like shit, and having to settle for eating live rats when you can catch them. You should be able to choose the direction of your future.”

 

Sun Hui glanced apprehensively over her shoulder. “But what about Dai-laoshi? He'd be left alone.” She bowed her head. “He was the one who took me in when nobody else would give me a chance.”

 

“That doesn’t mean you owe him your life, or your happiness,” Shen Yuan said quietly, “He made his choice. And if he wants to leave, all he has to do is walk out that door.”

 

He didn’t think that was likely, but he didn’t voice that aloud.

 

Sun Hui fidgeted nervously, playing with her fingers. “Your sect, where the people are- what if they didn't like me?”

 

“Then they're stupid,” Shen Yuan said, pleased when he earned himself a weak laugh. 

 

“What if- what if I'm not happy there?”

 

“If you're not happy there, then I'll help you find somewhere that you can be,” he said. “You have my word, which I’ve been told is worth quite a bit.”

 

Sun Hui studied his face, looking for any hint of deception, and he gazed patiently back at her. Then, she nodded, a tiny thing, and placed her hand in his.

***

Shen Yuan decided to donate the eel spines he wouldn't need for the rituals to Qian Cao Peak.

 

He had been visiting Sun Hui every day since their return to the sect, just to ensure she had someone around who she at least sort-of knew. 

 

Mu Qingfang hadn't batted an eye when Shen Yuan showed up with her in tow, wrapped in one of his spare sets of robes. He’d just helped her to one of the rooms and got the ball rolling on her treatment. He’d pulled Shen Yuan aside after asking her questions about her living conditions, her diet, her wounds, her mental health, her age, and what she was comfortable with, and he told him his side of the tale, omitting what he didn’t deem necessary.

 

Though it hadn't yet been a week since her arrival, Sun Hui already looked healthier. Her hair had been shorn down to her scalp, and fuzzy new growth was already popping up. There was more colour to her face and life in her eyes, and the wounds on her body had been attended to.

 

Shen Yuan was pleased to see a few of the Qian Cao disciples hanging around her room, talking about some alchemical concept that went completely over his head. According to Sun Hui, they'd been comparing techniques and getting her caught up on the advancements in the field since she'd been sequestered away.

 

He smiled and went to go find Mu Qingfang, resolving to come back later, when she wasn't occupied with the other disciples. He didn’t want to get in the way of her befriending her future peers. Mu Qingfang had already offered her a place on his peak, and she’d happily accepted.

 

He found Mu Qingfang near the surgical wing, looking absolutely dead on his feet.

 

“Surgery go well?” he asked, offering him some dried fruit. The man sighed and nodded, plucking the fruit from his fingers. 

 

“Some idiot managed to get something stuck up their rectal cavity,” Mu Qingfang said, tearing into the fruit. He ate quickly but neatly, and Shen Yuan silently passed him more when he got through all the strips he'd been handed.

 

Mu Qingfang hummed in thanks. “Claimed they ‘slipped and fell’, whilst nude, onto a small porcelain vase.”

 

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes. “Of course they said that. I'm sure it just happened to be lubricated.”

 

“It certainly was,” Mu Qingfang said darkly. “So what brings you here? Checking on the patient you brought in?”

 

“That’s part of the reason I’m here,” Shen Yuan said. “I also have a delivery for you.”

 

Mu Qingfang cocked his head. “Should I be nervous?”

 

Shen Yuan just grinned and pulled out the container housing the remaining eel spines. Mu Qingfang popped off the top and looked inside, his shock apparent.

 

“How- how did you get these?” he asked hoarsely, pulling one out and examining it. “Did you rob a supplier?”

 

“I didn't rob a supplier,” Shen Yuan said cheerfully, tossing him a wink. Mu Qingfang shook his head in disbelief.

 

“There's enough here to tide us over until we can get another delivery,” he said, putting the spine back in the container with the rest of them. “This is invaluable, shidi. What do you want for them?”

 

“I don't want anything for them,” Shen Yuan said quickly. “I needed some for my own purposes and these are what's left. You told me that you were out, so I figured they might as well go towards a good cause.”

 

“You're absolutely insane,” Mu Qingfang said, a tinge of hysteria to his voice. “For these, I would never grow out my mustache again.”

 

“That's a good offer, actually,” Shen Yuan said, and laughed when Mu Qingfang slugged him in the bicep. “Ow! Isn't injuring someone against your doctorly code?”

 

“Not when they're being an idiot,” Mu Qingfang said, taking the container from him and cradling it to his chest. “Dear gods. I'm half tempted to propose marriage.”

 

Shen Yuan made a face. “Sorry, no offense, but you're not my type.”

 

“That's because you have poor taste,” Mu Qingfang said primly. “Besides, I heard you and Shen-shixiong have something going on.”

 

Shen Yuan groaned. The rumours about him and Shen Qingqiu had still not abated, and Shen Qingqiu enjoyed it way too much. The last time Shen Yuan had gone over, Shen Qingqiu had pretended to kiss his cheek in sight of some of his disciples, which had made the rumours worse. “For the last time, we are not ‘involved’.”

 

“Sure,” Mu Qingfang said doubtfully. “On an unrelated note, I would appreciate it if your head disciple wasn’t bribing mine for sensitive information. I understand the desire for thoroughness, but really, I have eyes everywhere.”

 

Shen Yuan groaned. “Of course you know about that. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know she was doing it until she mentioned it, and I told her to knock it off.”

 

“All is forgiven,” Mu Qingfang said lightly. “This time.”

 

With that wonderful implicit threat, the man shuffled off, presumably to pass out in one of the supply rooms until he was needed elsewhere.

Notes:

I always enjoy a good meat monster, and the Resident Evil and Dead Space games hold a special place in my heart. Walking Dead was my first interaction with zombie media, and I really love the effort that went into their makeup and prosthetics. This chapter was additionally inspired by the Doctor Who episode 'The Lazarus Experiment', which scared the shit out of me as a kid.

I don't really know why I had Dai Muyang brewing in a clawfoot tub, considering its impracticality, but the image just kind of spoke to me. I also did not know the difference between a spiral and helical staircase prior to writing this chapter. I don't think I'll ever forget the difference now lol.

I've been going back and making minor edits to my earlier chapters (pretty much just grammar stuff, nothing important), and hopefully I'll catch up soon. The most significant change I've made is probably changing Shen Yuan's peak from the Beast Taming Peak to the Beast Handling Peak. It felt more accurate to how I've portrayed it in my writing, and it's been bugging me for a few months. I'm sure there are plenty of beasts there that have been tamed, but that's not the peak's primary focus.

Next chapter, I'm making him stay in sect lol. I have some stuff that I've been looking forward to writing, and the next few chapters should hopefully be pretty fun (fingers crossed). Chapter after next should be the outing with Binghe (poor guy lol), and I'll probably wrap up the ritual stuff a chapter or two after that. I don't want to drag this part of the story out too long, but I am having fun with it :3

Chapter 18: When Life Gives You Lemons, Throw a Bunch of Rocks At Stuff

Summary:

Shen Yuan has an anniversary, gets a new sparring partner, and wishes for a spray bottle.

Notes:

This wasn't supposed to have angst. Oops.

Thank you for reading! <3

Sometimes, Shen Yuan found himself too caught up in the hustle and bustle of the peak to stop to consider how long he'd been here (or marvel at the fact that nothing had exploded or gone catastrophically wrong in all that time). 

 

There was always something to be done- disciples to be trained, beasts to be wrangled, paperwork to be done and rules to be altered.

 

When he awoke one seemingly innocuous morning, he felt… off. Heavy. 

 

He pulled Hatsune Miku closer to his chest, and she made tired, happy sounds and wriggled around a bit before settling back into slumber. He stared at the ceiling, traced the groove of the wood with his eyes. He needed to get up, get ready for the day. He just… couldn't.

 

When the System popped into existence a few minutes later, he watched as it sprayed digital confetti, winced a little at the blare of its celebratory trumpeting.

 

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Important things come in threes!]

 

[User has been a part of the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way for one whole year!]

 

[+200 B-Points]

 

Oh.

 

Rather than feeling any sense of achievement from this, he just felt hollowed out, like someone had taken his innards and just scooped them straight from their cavity. 

 

He stoically endured several minutes of the System's celebratory Latin chanting, and once it had finished, he rolled onto his side and stared at the wall. He wished he could sleep, but he felt wide awake. Falling back asleep was about as likely as finding a bag of Doritos right now.

 

Get up, he told himself. But he couldn't. Or perhaps, more accurately, he didn't want to.

 

He didn't want to face the world outside, to smile and feign joviality. He didn't want to walk around wearing someone else's face, answer to someone else's name. To pretend to be someone who was gone irretrievably and who nobody knew was dead. A friend, a teacher, a brother, just gone in a blink and replaced by something far inferior, far uglier.

 

He pulled the blankets over his head and curled into a ball. Hatsune Miku woke for real then, worming out of the blanket cocoon and climbing onto his side to curl up there.

 

Shen Yuan didn't know how to shoulder such a legacy, one that he had done nothing to deserve. All he'd done was die, and in a laughably pathetic manner at that. He was just fumbling his way along and hoping for the best, but for all he knew, he could just be making everything worse.

 

No, if he truly wanted to do something worthwhile, he should kill Luo Binghe as he slept and save the world immeasurable misery.

 

The thought brought him up short. 

 

[User?]

 

“I wouldn't,” he said hoarsely, disgusted and horrified at the direction his mind had gone. “I would never.”

 

The only wrongs this Luo Binghe had done were his strings of petty vengeance against his fellow Qing Jing disciples and his interruptions of Shen Yuan's workday. He had done no evil, had done nothing to deserve harm. And beyond that, he was a child. Shen Yuan was adamantly opposed to causing children injury, knew the effects such a thing would have on their psyche.

 

[This System knows. Is User alright?]

 

Shen Yuan laughed, loud and awful. A seed of anger was cracking open and sprouting in his chest. “No,” he said when the laughter finally died away. “I'm really not.”

 

[Can this System do anything to help?]

 

“Leave me alone,” he said, grabbing his pillow out from under his head and pulling it to his chest. “Please. Just for today. I can't-” His voice cracked. “I can't talk to you today.”

 

[...]

 

[As User wishes. Just… if you need this System, you need only call.]

 

He nodded stiffly.

 

Shen Yuan would probably feel guilty about this later, when he wasn't practically overflowing with ugly emotions, but right now, watching it blink out of sight brought him nothing but an overwhelming sense of relief.

 

He stared at the weave of his blanket for a while, ignoring the coming of dawn and the light filtering into his house. If he'd been here for a year, then his birthday had been roughly three weeks ago, the first without his family. He hugged his pillow more tightly, and pressed his face into it. 

 

His last birthday had been a good one. His brothers had taken him and his meimei out to lunch at his favourite restaurant, and they'd spent the rest of the day together at da-ge’s fancy apartment, watching shitty movies and keeping a running commentary on them.

 

If he'd known it was the last time they'd celebrate anything together, then maybe he would've begged everyone to stay just a little bit longer. He would've paid more attention to his er-ge's griping about his annoying co-workers, to his da-ge’s stories about his heinously awful dates, to his meimei's ramblings about what she was learning in her classes.

 

When it came time to bid them farewell, he would've held them tighter, memorised the faces that he would never look upon again. Their faces, which so resembled his old one and were filled with love and affection for him, for Shen Yuan, alone.

 

All the friendships he had here, all of their regard was on the back of Lian Qingliu's labour. He had done nothing to deserve these peoples’ trust, especially when his very existence was a deception in and of itself. If they knew what he was, a stray soul piloting Lian Qingliu's corpse, then they would not think kindly of him in the slightest. They would not hesitate to rid the world of him. He swallowed thickly, around a lump in his throat.

 

If they found out, then this past year would have been for naught.

 

He didn't want it to be for nothing. He didn't want the things he had done, had learned to be for nothing.

 

He didn't want to have been changed irreparably for nothing.

Nobody knocked at his door, even past the point his absence would've been noticed. Zhang Min was probably keeping people away. It was a kindness he didn't deserve.

 

Eventually, he found the energy to move. Shen Yuan sluggishly swung his legs off the bed, and sat up. Hatsune Miku shrieked in protest and scrambled up onto his shoulders, where she was safe from being smothered by blankets. The floor was cool under his bare feet, and he only bothered to pull on his boots and grab a box out of his wardrobe before he climbed out the window of his house.

 

He didn't want to dress, or do his hair. He didn't want to see his face (not his face). Not today. Today, he just wanted to pretend that he was just Shen Yuan again, for as long as he could.

 

The banks of the river that ran by his house were swollen from the recent rain, and there were only a few stones that weren't submerged. He hopped across, fleet-footed, and landed on the opposite bank, balance not wavering for an instant. His boots sank slightly into the mud, and he pulled them free with a slight sucking noise.

 

He followed the river upstream for some distance, scaling walls of loose rocks and pulling himself up using a few exposed roots. He could only half-register his surroundings as he went, feverishly determined to reach his destination.

 

Hatsune Miku nibbled on leaves from the overhanging branches that dipped low enough for her to reach, and then rested her snout in the crook of his neck, under his collar. Her soft breaths tickled the skin there, and he scratched her head.

 

He veered away from the river after around half an hour and headed west, the still-rising sun at his back. 

 

It was, objectively, a beautiful day. The sky was a soft, clear blue, and the heat had not yet reached an intolerable degree. The meadows rippled with colour, an explosion of wildflowers having sprung up in wake of the late spring and early summer showers.

 

He saw members of his peak moving in the distance, going about their daily routines. He did his utmost to remain out of sight, sticking to the trees. He grabbed a spade from one of the tool sheds near the treeline.

 

He headed deeper into the woods from there, spying a few creatures as he went. None of them approached, most skittering away at the sound of his footsteps, which he made no efforts to quieten.

 

The air here was sweet with the smell of pine and rot. Birdsong echoed through the trees, accompanied by the quieter buzz of insects. He liked the wilder outskirts of the forest on Ling Shou, far less maintained than the trees swathing the peak's heart. Hatsune Miku took great enjoyment in watching a pair of chipmunks loudly squabble far overhead, her head tilting to watch.

 

His trek concluded when he reached an outcropping on the peak's edge, a few young aspens ringing its edges. The wind stirred up his thin inner robes as he stepped into a gap between two of the trees, gazing at the world beyond. 

 

He could just see a glimpse of the other peaks through sun-tinted clouds. Other members of the sect dove between them like kestrels, robes flowing behind them.

 

The outcropping had rockier soil than most of the peak, a sparse few flowers poking out of the ground. It was here that Shen Yuan set his spade to the earth and began to dig.

 

He used no qi, only the strength of his body. He tossed the discarded dirt off to the side, and soon it began to pile up.

 

He laboured until his muscles began to ache, until his face was dripping with perspiration. He worked until the grave was dug in its entirety (and quite a bit past that point, if he were being candid).

 

He grabbed the box he'd discarded earlier and set it in the grave. It contained several of Lian Qingliu's personal effects- ones that showed more wear than others. The oldest thing in there was a tattered ribbon, one that he had found squirreled away beneath a loose floorboard. He stared down at the box, oddly numb.

 

“I'm sorry that I'm here, in your place. I'll do my best by your peak as I can,” he said softly. “I sincerely hope that wherever you are, you're happy.”

 

He said a short prayer, the gist of which he only just could remember from his grandmother's funeral a decade before, and then began to fill the grave back in, one scoop after the next. He carefully patted down the dirt once that was finished, and then settled cross-legged beside it, spade resting beside him.

 

He might bring some food and incense here later- he had forgotten them in his haste. And he should probably find a headstone, despite his uncertainty regarding what to write on it. For now, he simply sat quietly, his temporary burst of energy abandoning him.

 

He didn't often get the opportunity to simply watch the world go by, and a part of him wouldn't have minded lingering there forever. His thoughts had finally quietened, soothed by the exertion, the poor excuse of a funeral, the beauty of the view.

 

Hatsune Miku slithered off of his shoulders and into his lap, pawing at his hand until he gave in and pet her, scratching at her petally ruff until she was purring.

 

He had only her pleasant company for a few hours, until the sound of approaching footsteps broke him from his rumination. They were clearly human in origin, so he didn't bother to move. With the amount of noise being made, whoever was coming was either terrible at moving quietly, or they were making as much noise as they could deliberately.

 

He sensed as the person stepped onto the outcropping with him, and their steps came to a halt just behind him. Hatsune Miku clambered up Shen Yuan's shoulder to greet them. She was far too sociable for her own good.

 

“Did this shixiong not warn his shidi that if he were to miss any of our tea sessions, he would be hunted down?” Shen Qingqiu said in a deceptively light voice, though his displeasure was practically radiating off of him. Shen Yuan knew how much the dude loved to stick to his schedule, and if this were any other day, he would've apologised.

 

“You did,” Shen Yuan agreed, pulling at one of the few blades of grass growing here until it broke.

 

Shen Qingqiu was silent, and his gaze was a physical weight on him. He could feel the way his appearance was being dissected in the man's mind, and wasn't sure he'd like whatever conclusion that he would come to.

 

He didn’t expect Shen Qingqiu to join him in the dirt, their shoulders a meagre few centimetres apart. His teal outer robes were splayed perfectly around him, the insensitive bastard. He had the gall to always look like a goddamn supermodel. Shen Yuan suddenly felt very underdressed and troll-like in his muddied inner robes.

 

“You'll get your clothing dirty,” Shen Yuan said softly, meeting his dark gaze and looking away almost immediately. He couldn’t deal with its intensity at the moment.

 

Shen Qingqiu whipped out a fan and snapped it open with a haughty flourish. It was almost enough to make Shen Yuan smile. “This shixiong has dealt with far worse than a bit of dirt.”

 

And, well. Shen Yuan really couldn't argue with that. He just watched as Shen Qingqiu pulled painting supplies from his sleeves, setting up a mat and paper smoothly.

 

Some bafflement must've shown on Shen Yuan's face, because Shen Qingqiu said primly, “As a master of the scholarly arts, I am appreciative of a fine landscape, and will not deny myself the opportunity to capture it.”

 

“Mn,” Shen Yuan hummed placidly, drawing nonsensical shapes in the dirt with his finger. “This shidi thinks his shixiong merely makes such an excuse to justify his interloping.”

 

“Lian-shidi wounds this shixiong,” Shen Qingqiu said, preparing his paints and selecting a brush from the fistful of them that he had. “Perhaps as vengeance, I should just paint you. You look halfway to a wraith.”

 

“I would make a poor subject,” Shen Yuan said, thumbing at his dirty sleeve a bit self-consciously. Shen Qingqiu snorted, and put paint to the paper with small yet confident strokes of his brush.

 

From small, disconnected patches of colour blossomed the world before them. Shen Qingqiu was truly a masterful painter- his work would be right at home in some fancy gallery.

 

“I have never had much use for grief,” Shen Qingqiu said, with a pointed glance at the empty grave beside them. “There has only ever been one person I’ve mourned for, for all the good it did me.”

 

He punctuated this bitter remark with an aggressive slash of his brush. Shen Yuan did not speak, familiar curiosity rearing its head. Shen Qingqiu sometimes made references to some hardships he faced in his youth, and Shen Yuan could not help but want to know more. Despite this, he had not pried, which he had a feeling Shen Qingqiu appreciated.

 

When Shen Yuan sustained his silence, Shen Qingqiu continued. “Some are so callous as to dismiss such suffering as the machinations of fate. As a necessity. As if greatness cannot be achieved without first having bled for it.”

 

“Well, if greatness is achieved through bleeding, then I must really be something,” Shen Yuan muttered. 

 

Shen Qingqiu laughed, sharper and louder than usual, and set his brush down. Probably to let this layer of paint dry. “I would have to concur, shidi. You have a knack for it.”

 

“I don't know what the hell I’m doing,” Shen Yuan admitted, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Hatsune Miku grumbled at the change in position, and slithered off him to curl up beside Shen Qingqiu, who regarded her only with an arched eyebrow. “I’m trying to make the best of a shitty situation, but sometimes it feels like I’m only making things worse for everyone around me. I don’t- I don’t belong here, not really. I haven’t done anything to deserve my position.”

 

Shen Qingqiu tilted his head as he digested Shen Yuan's words. Then, slowly, with a heavy swallow that clicked in his throat, he closed the scant few centimetres between them. He tentatively pressed their shoulders together, faint warmth bleeding through his robes. Shen Yuan stared at him for a few moments, at the discomfort obvious in his features, and offered him an infinitesimal smile and a gentle bump of their shoulders.

 

“When I was young,” Shen Qingqiu said, in a voice barely louder than the stir of the wind, “When my emotions would become too much for me to contain, I would find a rock and throw it. I would clasp it in my hand and hurl it as far from me as I could, and for a few moments, I could pretend that my problems went with it.”

 

Unable to help himself, Shen Yuan muttered, “Yeah, that tracks.”

 

He took the elbow to the ribs that that comment earned him with dignity, only a quiet sound of pain escaping him. “Sorry. I mostly channeled my emotional distress  into tearing apart literature.”

 

“That explains some things,” Shen Qingqiu said dryly, having been privy to more than a few impassioned rants himself. He took up his brush again, now that the paint had dried enough, and took to dabbing on the next layer. “But clearly your normal methods of emotional control failed today. Some of your disciples spied you as you were shambling across your peak, and were highly concerned. I would say that their concern was warranted, shidi. I cannot say I understand what inspired your delusions of unworthiness, but rest assured, if I thought you were incompetent, I would waste no time in telling you such.”

 

Shen Yuan sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Of that I have no doubt. “Most of the time I have enough going on to prevent me from thinking too much about my shortcomings. But today is different. It’s-”

 

“The anniversary of your awakening from your qi deviation,” Shen Qingqiu said, and of course the bastard remembered. He probably wrote it on a calendar to menace him about.

 

Shen Yuan shot him a look. “Yes.”

 

“Perhaps you should throw a rock.”

 

That was about the last thing Shen Yuan had expected him to say. He'd been bracing himself for some caustic remark about carelessness, and was caught off-guard. 

 

“Why?” he asked, and Shen Qingqiu shoved a fist-sized rock into his hand.

 

“Because that rock is offending this shixiong’s sensibilities,” Shen Qingqiu said with a sniff, “And I want it out of my sight. It's ruining the composition of my painting."

 

Shen Yuan debated throwing the rock right back into his stupid face, but relented with a dark mutter and stood, rock still in hand.

 

He approached the edge of the outcropping, stepping between two of the young aspens to stand on the brink, open air a centimetre past the toes of his boots. Far below, rivers twined across the landscape, carving spaces for themselves between thick forests and plains. A distant lake shimmered in the sun, a few people wandering its shores.

 

“I don't want to hit someone with it,” he said, mind conjuring the image of the rock striking the skull of a passerby, sending some poor soul into free fall, their body splattering against the ground far below.

 

“I'm sure that if shidi somehow managed such a feat, the victim would be entirely deserving of it,” Shen Qingqiu said, and Shen Yuan rolled his eyes.

 

He glanced at the rock. He remembered enough from his rock lessons to know it was some kind of metamorphic rock. He didn't think throwing it would make him feel any better about the state of his life, but he threw it regardless, watching it rise in a smooth arc before plummeting down to the earth countless metres below.

 

It didn't make him feel any better, but that didn't stop him from scooping up another one from nearby and hurling it like it had insulted his mother. With the third, he let out a yell of frustration, and that felt pretty nice.

 

His neat throws quickly devolved into frenzied hurls at the ground, his shouts becoming howls, his vision blurring. He wanted to go home, he wanted to hug his siblings, he didn't want to be here, he wanted for his life to make sense, he didn't want to live with the fucking promise of death hanging over his head constantly, he wanted to wear his own fucking face and hear his own fucking name.

 

And he knew, he knew that if he somehow managed to return to his own body now, right to the moment of his demise, that things wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't be the same. He'd learned things, seen things, done things that could never be undone.

 

He had accepted the yoke of responsibility, had killed someone, had put his all into keeping literal children from being slaughtered. He wouldn't fit in the life he'd lived before, had outgrown it in some capacity.

 

He could not help but long for it still.

 

When all the rocks near him were gone, he sank to his knees, stared down at where his projectiles had fallen while tears dripped down his face and snot ran from his nose. The tragic thing was that he felt quite a bit better. He could never let Shen Qingqiu know that though, or he’d be insufferable.

 

It was dusk when he finally moved again, dragged himself back to Shen Qingqiu, who was putting the finishing touches on his painting.

 

“Will shidi be at next week's tea?” Shen Qingqiu asked, not showing an inkling of disgust at Shen Yuan's state. “This shixiong has a blend he thinks Lian-shidi will enjoy.”

 

“This shidi will be,” he replied softly, making a face when Hatsune Miku crawled into his lap and started licking at his tears and snot. “Ew, stop that. That's unhygienic!” Once he'd wrestled her away from his face, he held her securely in his arms, where she was trapped and very cross. “Thank you. For being here.”

 

“Someone has to ensure you've not gone on a rampage and destroyed this sect’s reputation,” Shen Qingqiu said, waving away his thanks.

 

But he did press his shoulder to Shen Yuan's once more, and that alone spoke louder than any of his evasions. 

 

When the painting was completed, he offered it to Shen Yuan. He accepted it, handling it like it was made of porcelain.

 

He hung it on the empty stretch of wall beside his bed.

***

Without Zhang Min and her near-sadistic dedication to his training, Shen Yuan would've been long dead. 

 

He'd come a long way in only a year, countless new skills and knowledge crammed into his brain during their daily training sessions. Some of the physical stuff, such as sword stances, had taken only a few repetitions before he had them down, Lian Qingliu's muscle memory a boon. Other things took great time and effort to commit to memory.

 

His control over his qi had improved significantly, though at first his progress had been practically glacial. His sword seals had finally reached the point of being passable, his sword glares could probably level half a forest if he put his mind to it, and, perhaps most significantly, he now beat Zhang Min nine times out of ten in their spars.

 

She'd started sparring with him around four months ago, and she'd managed to beat him pretty much every time, leaving him aching and bruised. But he'd learned. Slowly. Painstakingly. 

 

He put in the work, and gradually he began to claim his own victories. The thrill of winning had still not yet worn off.

 

To Zhang Min, his successive triumphs posed a problem.

 

“Something needs change,” she stated bluntly, using her index finger to move the tip of his sword away from her throat.

 

Shen Yuan offered her a hand up, which she accepted. Once she had gained her footing, they both set about brushing dirt from their robes.

 

“Regarding what?” he asked, mentally running over their duel to see if he could recall making any errors.

 

“I think we're fast approaching the point where you're about at the level you were before,” Zhang Min explained, and took several deep pulls from her waterskin. She wiped a few errant droplets from her chin. “I can't really teach you much else because you were my teacher, and if we carry on without changing anything, I feel like your progress will plateau.”

 

Unfortunately, she made perfect sense. 

 

Still, Shen Yuan was surprised he'd progressed so quickly. He still felt clueless half the time, the original good's sharp instincts and reflexes earning him victories he wasn't sure should count. He didn't feel like someone skilled or powerful. He just felt like Shen Yuan with an ungodly amount of muscle, who could handle a deadly weapon decently.

 

[Psssh, come off of it, User.]

 

[At this point, you'd pose a serious challenge to, like, half of the peak lords in this sect.]

 

He frowned. You're joking, right? There's no way I'm a threat to them. Liu Qingge almost made me a human shish kabob, and that was when he was out of his mind and unable to strategise. They'd pulverise me.

 

[This System would like to remind User that Liu Qingge is an anomaly, who spends about ninety-five percent of his time fighting something.]

 

So he is a statistical outlier, and therefore should not be counted?

 

[(≖_≖ )]

 

[User, no.]

 

User, yes.

 

[ Anyways. The meat monster that you had the pleasure of acquainting yourself with recently would've killed a lesser cultivator. Hell, it would've given Luo Binghe a challenge.]

 

Well, yeah. Luo Binghe is fifteen.

 

[Stop being deliberately obtuse. User knows what this System means.]

 

Aiya, fine. Whatever. I'm strong and abnormally skilled at not-dying. 

 

“You should ask Liu Qingge to spar with you,” Zhang Min said, a wicked glint in her eye. Shen Yuan did not like that she and the System were both talking about the guy. “He'll probably agree- the Bai Zhan disciples say he's always happy to have someone new to spar with.”

 

That's probably because he flattens them in seconds and they never want to subject themselves to such indignity nor pain ever again.

 

[If User wants, this System can give you a rematch against berserker Liu Qingge. ( ≖‿  ≖ )]

 

Don't just offer to make a man qi-deviate, ah! And for your own sadistic amusement at that!

 

[(¬`ε ´¬)]

 

[User never lets this System have any fun!]

 

Ah yes, he thought dryly. How inconvenienced you are by me, your old ball and chain.

 

To Zhang Min, he said, “I don't know if he'd go for it. I cannot read that guy at all. I'm half-sure he hates me.”

 

“If he hated you, then he wouldn't turn his nose up at an opportunity to beat you into a pulp,” Zhang Min said wisely, and sheathed her sword. “And you can take whatever excruciatingly painful lessons you learn from him, and use them against me.”

 

“You just want to learn his moves without dealing with him one-on-one!” he accused her, and she nodded without shame.

 

“Of course, shizun. And I know you're too nice to break any of my bones, so there's way less danger involved! And if I ever want to break that bastard Shao Lixin’s kneecaps, I think I’ll need better training. He’s irritatingly slippery.”

 

“Less danger for you,” he muttered, already envisioning the state of his limbs after a ‘friendly spar’ with Liu Qingge. But if he could actually get Liu Qingge to agree to do this without snapping his limbs like glow sticks, if he could become stronger himself and help Zhang Min reach new heights in her own training, then they would be better prepared for whatever the universe decided to throw at them.

 

He still had nightmares about her decapitation, how her body had collapsed like a marionette with its strings severed. If he could give her this, then maybe Liu Qingge's bootcamp from hell would help keep her alive.

 

But first, he had to convince Liu Qingge to actually spar with him.

***

Despite what he said to Zhang Min about the guy, he didn't think Liu Qingge hated him.

 

His almost-murderer deigned to, on occasion, sit near Shen Yuan and Shen Qingqiu at their peak lord meeting. Liu Qingge would respond to Shen Yuan's stilted attempts at small talk with monosyllabic responses rather than the grunts he gave most people, and whenever they passed each other outside of the meeting hall, they nodded at each other in acknowledgement.

 

He wasn't too clear on the nature of the relationship between Liu Qingge and the original goods, but it seemed to be mutually ambivalent, from what he could piece together.

 

Shen Yuan didn't really know what to make of the guy still. He was powerful, principled, and surprisingly pretty. He was brusque but genuine, and refreshingly honest. He didn't have an ounce of duplicity in him, and Shen Yuan felt he wasn't caught in some dance of deception each time they spoke.

 

But beneath that was still the lingering apprehension, his shoulder throbbing with the ghost of pain each time his eyes landed on Cheng Luan. In another universe, one where Shen Qingqiu was just the slightest bit slower or Shen Yuan was the slightest bit unluckier, this man would be his murderer. And sure, he knew it wouldn't have been purposeful in the slightest, but that did nothing to stop that undercurrent of wariness.

 

It took him a few days to find Liu Qingge, as Bai Zhan's War God had been away from the sect, hunting down some big monster on the outskirts of their sect's territory.

 

The poor, white-clad Bai Zhan disciples were piled in hills of unconscious bodies by the time Shen Yuan found him, Liu Qingge poised and attentive in the centre of the training grounds.

 

Shen Yuan landed a safe distance away, careful not to step on anyone's head or fingers. He waved when Liu Qingge's head whipped in his direction. “Hello, Liu-shixiong.”

 

Liu Qingge's brow furrowed, and he approached, stepping around his fallen disciples smoothly. His expression softened slightly when he drew near enough to recognise him. “Lian Qingliu.”

 

That was a far better reception than he'd anticipated. He'd half-expected to be banished from his peak instantly. He mustered his courage and squared his shoulders. “I'm looking for a new sparring partner. My head disciple said I needed someone who would challenge me, and recommended I ask you. Would you be interested?”

 

Liu Qingge narrowed his eyes.

 

“I nearly killed you,” he said bluntly.

 

“You did,” Shen Yuan agreed easily. “But I got better.”

 

Liu Qingge didn't laugh, nor did Shen Yuan expect him to. He did succeed in making the guy a little less tense, however.

 

“You're an incredible fighter,” Shen Yuan said, sparing a glance at one of the disciples, who had regained consciousness and was now groaning in pain. “I want to get stronger, become better, and I can't do that on my own.”

 

“I would not go easy on you,” Liu Qingge said, a warning that was unnecessary.

 

“I would prefer it if you didn't,” Shen Yuan said. “As that would be counterintuitive. I would like to learn as much as I can before Mu Qingfang kills you for hospitalising your disciples as often as you do.”

 

Liu Qingge snorted. He'd probably been hearing Mu Qingfang’s death threats since his disciple days. “Alright. When will we fight?”

 

Shen Yuan shrugged. Liu Qingge had acquiesced far sooner than he'd expected. He had a laundry list of arguments and conniving schemes to convince him to spar, and he was a bit disappointed he hadn't gotten to use some of them. “Whenever you're available.”

 

“I am available now,” Liu Qingge said, his stance shifting. “We should begin with hand-to-hand combat.”

 

Wow, that's probably the longest sentence he's ever said to me. Should I be expecting a soliloquy within the month?

 

[Absolutely. You'll be reading each other poetry before you know it.]

 

Shen Yuan was quick to turn his laugh into a cough, and waved off Liu Qingge's concern. “I'm good shixiong, sorry. That sounds good.”

 

“Good,” Liu Qingge said simply, and attacked.

***

It was fortunate that Shen Yuan fully anticipated having his ass handed to him. Otherwise, his ego would've been just as bruised as his body, which had sustained extensive injuries over the two hours they fought. He limped his way back to his peak, making sure to glower when he caught Zhang Min’s eye. She looked delighted.

 

See if I help you the next time Shang Qinghua sends over a metric ton of paperwork. This will not be forgotten.

***

Zhang Min had pulled him aside one night and asked after the remaining locations of the anchor stone components.

 

“I haven't left the sect in some time,” she said resolutely, face grimly set. “And I want a chance to contribute, and to test my mettle against whatever is out there. I think they would provide me with a sufficient challenge, which I need right now.”

 

And, well. Who was he to refuse her?

 

He'd made notes on where everything was located ages ago, with any pertinent information regarding any guardians and/or local menaces scribbled down beneath.

 

One of the components required direct contact with a demon tribe with customs that could be misconstrued as hostile, and he was not about to create a scenario where either they or Zhang Min tried to kill each other.

 

The best thing to send her after was probably the buds of the Iron Bark Rowan, which was located in the heart of the Midnight Forest. There were a few hostile monsters lurking about, but there was nothing that should pose a considerable threat to her life, so long as she kept a level head.

 

He handed her his notes for the buds, as well as the ones he had for the Golden-Fleeced Celestial Ram, which was out in the same general direction. If she felt like making a detour, she was welcome to, but he wasn't fussed either way.

 

The next morning she was practically trembling with enthusiasm before she went, and they exchanged a quick embrace and he wished her luck. He watched her go, doing his utmost to ignore the odd pull of dread in his gut. It would be the first time since he’d awoken in Lian Qingliu’s house that first time that he wouldn’t have her to lean on to keep the peak running. Despite his anxiety, he wouldn’t allow himself to use it as an excuse to keep her shackled here. She deserved far better than that.

 

Mid-spring, Ling Shou had received another batch of disciples. The eldest was thirteen and the youngest was eight.

 

Despite the peak being all about handling animals, the baby disciples weren't allowed to go anywhere near them for some time. They were required to take an introductory course that introduced them to methods that would allow them to safely interact with the peak's varied fauna, and watched like a hawk at all times by their martial siblings to ensure that there was no rule breaking.

 

After a few months of learning how not to get a limb ripped off (a lesson some of the older disciples could stand to learn again) or torn to ribbons, Ling Shou's head disciple was supposed to take them to go see some nice, non-lethal animal. After that, they'd gradually be introduced to more dangerous creatures, their age and strength taken into account when determining the course of their progression.

 

Zhang Min wouldn't be able to take the newest batch of baby disciples for their first up-close animal encounter, so Shen Yuan would be taking the helm and praying nobody got mauled.

 

Shen Yuan wasn’t the best at handling younger children, but this bunch wasn't too bad. The younger ones were a bit squirmy, but took any gentle corrections to their behaviour with ease. The thirteen-year-old was as broody as anyone that age, but showed genuine interest in learning and listened to the lessons with minimal eye rolling. 

 

He was hoping that Zhang Min would be back before their first animal encounter, but she wasn’t. She’d given him the go-ahead to take them through it, so two weeks after her departure, he led the flock of baby disciples across the peak.

 

He tried to slow his pace enough to allow them to keep up, but even then they had to take about three strides for each of his. This was resolved when the youngest of the bunch, Tang An, timidly jogged up to his side and grabbed his hand in his own. The poor kid apparently had abandonment issues, which some of the hallmasters and teachers had informed him of. Something big involving the kid’s family had happened prior to the disciple trials, but Tang An refused to tell anyone the details.

 

Shen Yuan flashed Tang An a sunny smile, and the boy untensed slightly. It was easier to keep his pace slower after that, with the kid hanging off of him.

 

A few rainclouds lingered in the sky after the morning’s showers, and the scent of petrichor was strong. There were a lot of puddles, which he tried to avoid, but the baby disciples had no qualms about splashing through them on the way to their destination.

 

He guided the group to one of the meadows on the peak that didn’t have any fencing around it. The grass here was tall, about up to his lower thigh, and interwoven with the wildflowers. He didn’t say anything when the youngest two disciples stopped to pluck a few from their stems and shove them in their pockets.

 

Most of the peak’s creatures posed some degree of risk, but a long-established colony of Bumble Dormice had been the ideal first encounter for newcomers to Ling Shou for decades. They were generally docile, and accepted human presence easily enough, especially when bribed with food.

 

A cross between a Chinese pygmy dormouse and a bumblebee, Bumble Dormice were valuable pollinators and pest control. They had striped grey and cream fur, thick and fuzzy like a bee’s. 

 

Shen Yuan had wondered how being an insect-mammalian hybrid might affect their anatomy, specifically their musculoskeletal systems, but up close they just seemed like dormice with wings (which they used to communicate information) and antennae. It also left him with the horrible question of how they birthed their young and whether the male dormice died after the mating season was completed. 

 

[You could always check if they have nipples. That might answer some of your questions.]

 

First off, I am not checking whether a mouse has nipples. Second, knowing Airplane, he could have them hatch from eggs and still feed from their parents like creatures who birth live young, rendering checking for nipples pointless.

 

[Well, some animals are like that. Like the platypi, echidnas, and that one species of anteater.]

 

Good for them, but dormice are not included in that category. And I’m still not checking.

 

[Killjoy.]

 

The baby disciples’ eyes lit up when they reached the part of the meadow the dormice called home, the creatures visible through the grass. Shen Yuan beckoned the disciples closer, and had them sit in a loose circle, cross-legged. From one of his pockets he grabbed a small sack filled with dandelions.

 

“The creatures you can see scurrying around over there are Bumble Dormice,” he explained in a low voice. He didn’t know how sensitive to noise the critters were, but he wasn’t going to risk scaring them off. He fished the bits of dandelion out of the sack and evenly distributed them, keeping a few for himself. “They’re not especially common, but can typically be found in plains biomes, especially when there are a lot of flowers like there are here. Out in the wild, they’re skittish and will flee rather than approach, but this colony has been on our peak for a long time, and are therefore somewhat adapted to human presence. They might even allow you to pet them- gently- or even pick them up if you offer them a light snack, like each of you have now.”

 

The disciples glanced at their handful of dandelions. 

 

“Now, what did Zhang Min tell you was the most important thing to pay attention to when interacting with any creature?”

 

One of the disciples raised her hand eagerly. Shen Yuan nodded at her to answer.

 

“Body language?”

 

“Exactly, good job, Hu Chunhua!” Shen Yuan said. He wished he had gold star stickers or something to hand out as rewards. His family had used them to get him to do chores and stuff growing up, but his meimei had been less easy to coax into good behaviour. He’d tried to make a few sheets of them here, and after much trial and error, he’d figured out how to make them stick to something. The problem was that he hadn’t quite cracked how to make them unstick. “It’s important to treat our fellow creatures with respect, and paying attention to body language allows us to do just that, as well as keep ourselves safe. Body language can help us determine whether a creature is happy, afraid, fearful, hungry, or playful, and by discerning their moods, we can make choices about the best course of action to take. Angry or fearful animals might lash out in defense of themselves, and hungry animals might decide that you make an appetising meal, if carnivorous and desperate enough.”

 

As he spoke, he watched one of the dormice in his periphery creep closer, clearly weighing its options, little nose and whiskers twitching. He very carefully didn’t react when it emerged from the safety of the tall grass and flew directly into his hand. It eagerly attacked the dandelion bits, silk-soft fur brushing against his fingers. He slowly outstretched his arm, so the baby disciples had a better view.

 

“Now, knowing body language is important, but so is knowing what you’re working with. I know this creature, know that it poses an insignificant risk to the wellbeing of me and you, but some creatures are not like that,” he said, watching a few more of the dormice reveal themselves, to the disciples’ delight. “Some creatures, you’re gonna have to go with your gut, and the knowledge base you’ve built for yourself to figure out your strategy for handling them. Some will be poisonous, venomous, weaponise their cuteness to get the jump on you, release clouds of poison. My job, and the job of all the instructors on this peak, is to ensure that you have as large a knowledge base as you possibly can, so that you can make informed decisions about new creatures you might have to interact with.”

 

One of the braver mice approached Tang An, who was clearly trying very, very hard not to squeal in delight. The boy remained stock-still, even as the dormouse began to climb on him, hardly even daring to breathe.

 

“What do we do, until we reach the point where we can depend on our own knowledge to help protect us?” the oldest of the bunch, Zeng Biyu, asked, her eyes on a pair of dormice a scant few centimetres away.

 

“Ask for help,” Shen Yuan said. The dormice in his palm fluffed its fur and then curled up in a little ball. He had the feeling that he was about to become its bed for the next while. “Odds are, someone else will know what you’re dealing with. And even if they don’t, having a fresh perspective can help make all the difference.”

 

By the end of their class that day, all of the dandelions were well within the clutches of the Bumble Dormice, some of whom seemed reluctant to abandon their temporary guests/mattresses. The baby disciples begrudgingly said their farewells to the creatures, and Shen Yuan considered it a victory that nobody had come away from their excursion with fewer fingers than they’d arrived with.

***

Following the resounding success of the beard petition, a plethora of new petitions were put forth for consideration. For about a week afterwards, Shen Yuan had been hounded by petitioners at all hours of the day, unable to find respite from them until finally, he’d had enough and put his foot down. 

 

Their dogged incursions into his routine had had a negative effect on his ability to get his duties done, and he had been about two seconds away from losing his mind and flying away from the sect at full-speed to live in some damp, isolated cave.

 

Now, he only accepted petitions once a month, and only when he wasn’t busy with his duties as peak lord. Most were rejected, with as gentle a letdown as he could muster, but some went into a pile to be presented to the peak’s staff to be voted upon. Each change the petitions requested was logistically dismantled and examined. A petition as innocent as requesting more meat with meals meant hours spent in discussion with kitchen staff and suppliers, and poring over ledgers to ensure that there was room in the budget.

 

It would be easy, he knew, to just say his word was law and make changes as he saw fit. He could say jump and all the staff would say ‘how high?’, regardless of whether they wanted to or how difficult the changes made their lives. But he didn’t want to do that. Ling Shou’s staff were good people, who’d dedicated their lives to helping raise the next generation of cultivators out of love for their sect. They didn’t deserve to have their hard work spat on, their opinions disregarded, so he listened. Even if a petition sounded good, even if it had support, it wasn’t always feasible.

 

He ensured to read every petition, regardless of the quality, because they sometimes helped give an insight into his disciples’ behaviours and sometimes were laughably awful.

 

One of the petitioners last month had put forth a poorly-received petition demanding everyone should shave their heads bald. The petitioner themself had sported a smooth head after provoking a Razor-Mouth Goose. It had received only three signatures, and was rejected almost instantaneously.

 

The ones this month were not much better. 

 

A lot of petitioners opted to just leave their petitions in his office, along with a page (or several) explaining the changes they wanted to see enacted, and any arguments they had for them. He didn’t mind going through the small pile of them, enjoying the relative quiet of his office while he worked. He didn’t get too much quiet these days, so it was always something to savour. 

 

The first two were rejected without hesitation. The first wanted to make it mandatory for disciples to kiss an animal on the head every time they saw one, which was unhygienic, dangerous, and impractical. The second wanted their peak to declare war on Wan Jian Peak for some ill-explained and petty reason.

 

Shen Yuan was sorely tempted to approve the second petition. At their last peak lord meeting Wei Qingwei had waxed poetic about copper alloys for half a fucking hour. Copper alloys, which Wan Jian didn’t even use to make swords because it was such a shit material in comparison to the other metals they used! 

 

Shen Yuan had never felt such loathing in his life. At least when he went on one of his long rambles (for monetary gain, of course), he made it interesting, dropping a few bits of lore that the other peak lords usually didn’t know. But no one, no one, gave one singular damn about the ideal temperature to shape something made of a beryllium-copper alloy!

 

[Well, that’s hurtful, User!]

 

[This System cares about the ideal temperature to shape something made of a beryllium-copper alloy.]

 

You vex me.

 

[But User still loves me! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)]

 

I have no love for you. This is a hostage situation. Stockholm Syndrome.

 

[User! (っ◞‸◟ c)]

 

[Does our relationship mean nothing to you! Does this System mean nothing to you?!]

 

[Has our love not grown from mutual enmity, been nourished by our passion?!]

 

If you keep talking about ‘our love’ or ‘passion’, then I will vomit.

 

[So cruel! ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡]

 

[This System wants a divorce!]

 

Anything for you, System.

 

Next on the pile was a disturbingly well-argued petition proposing a toad-themed peak holiday. It, most unfortunately, was accompanied with an awful lot of signatures. It was the most he’d seen for any of the petitions, save the one advocating for the retention of his beard. He was in the midst of reading the (aggravatingly) well-conceived arguments for the holiday- massaging his temples all the while- when he heard the door to his office open. He didn’t even glance up, certain that whoever had just arrived came bearing some migraine-inducing clusterfuck of a petition.

 

“One moment,” he sighed.

 

He cursed under his breath as he finished reading the arguments for the toad holiday, which took another twenty minutes, and it was with great reluctance that he smacked it into the pile to present to the staff later. Once that was handled, he pressed his forehead to the wood of his desk and once again considered finding a nice damp cave far, far away from here.

 

So absorbed had he been in the petition that he had forgotten about the intruder, who had been making a slow loop around his office, presumably to admire the contents of his shelves. Their footsteps and soft breathing had become background noise. 

 

Or, at least, he had forgotten them until they spoke.

 

“Shishu?”

 

Luo Binghe’s voice had dropped some in the few months between their meetings, but it was still uniquely recognisable. Shen Yuan knew that voice all too well, had listened to him confess his sins far more than he would’ve liked. He froze like a deer in headlights, forehead still pressed against his desk. 

 

Luo Binghe is out of the Ling Xi Caves early.

 

In Proud Immortal Demon Way, he had remained there until early winter, at least. He’d fought a gruesome battle for control, the radiant Zheng Yang a challenge to attune to with Luo Binghe’s sabotaged cultivation. It had been months of blood, sweat, and tears, only thoughts of Ning Yingying and proving his worth to his master keeping him going. In truth, Shen Yuan had expected him to take just as long here, even with his stronger cultivation and better circumstances.

 

Well, I suppose that’s one of the consequences of my actions.

 

Shen Yuan slowly raised his head, brushing aside the thick locks of hair that fell into his face. Luo Binghe was already gazing back at him, expression warm. His appearance had changed alongside his voice. His jawline was sharper and a touch squarer, his brows thicker. He’d grown taller, and his shoulders had new breadth. Still, he made Shen Yuan think of a puppy yet to grow into its paws.

 

“I trust you did not rush the process, as I advised against?” Shen Yuan queried, with a raised brow. Luo Binghe looked a bit bashful, and Shen Yuan rolled his eyes. Aiya, he has no patience.

 

“This disciple would never disregard Shishu’s sound advice,” Luo Binghe said with a straight face, the little shit. “And if his progress is being measured against his peers, well. It is not this disciple’s fault that they were slower.”

 

“Uh huh,” Shen Yuan said, unimpressed. He crossed his arms. “Luo-shizhi will be very fortunate to retain his life once Ning-shizhi finishes attuning with her sword. Did shizhi have any issues?”

 

A few emotions flitted across Luo Binghe’s face, too quick for Shen Yuan to parse, before the boy shook his head. “No, this disciple had no issues.”

 

Shen Yuan eyed him, but didn’t press the matter. “I am glad to hear it. If shizhi does have any problems, he knows that he can discuss them with me, yes?”

 

Luo Binghe nodded, and took a seat on the other side of the desk. He folded his hands together. “Now that this disciple has bonded with his spiritual sword, can shishu take him on a mission?”

 

“Not immediately,” Shen Yuan sighed, and pulled the next petition off the pile. He made a face at it. There was no way he was banning punishment essays, despite the petition insisting they were ‘cruel and unusual punishment’. “Zhang Min is away right now, you don’t even know how to fly your sword yet, and you’re in desperate need of a wash and a meal.”

 

“I don’t-” Luo Binghe tried to protest.

 

“You do,” Shen Yuan said firmly, leaning back and narrowing his eyes for an extra intimidation factor. That usually worked to get his disciples moving. “You’re covered in dirt, clearly exhausted, and don’t think I can’t hear your stomach from here, Luo Binghe. Plus, it’s protocol. Any one of my disciples comes out of those caves, they’re forced to do the same exact thing. I know you’re not truly my disciple, but you hang around here, and you’re expected to follow the same rules.”

 

Luo Binghe’s shoulders slumped and he looked away, his cheeks a bit pink, probably embarrassed at the chastisement.

 

“Hey,” Shen Yuan said gently, waiting for Luo Binghe’s eyes to return to him before continuing. It did not take long. “You’ll feel a lot better after you get some food in you, trust me. Go to the dining hall, and then you can come back and help me go through some of these petitions, if you want. Some of these are truly awful. Last month, I got one that insisted we should stage a coup and overthrow Qiong Ding Peak and kill Yue Qingyuan. They wanted me as the new sect leader.”

 

Luo Binghe laughed. “I don’t know, Shishu, that sounds like a perfectly rational plan to me.”

 

“Absolutely not.” Shen Yuan shuddered. “That is entirely too much responsibility for me. I’d probably go entirely grey then, were that a possibility.”

 

“Shishu is so vain.”

 

“And you’re incorrigible,” Shen Yuan said, wishing he had one of those little spray bottles people used when their pets were misbehaving.

 

“That doesn’t stop you from allowing me to run amok on your peak,” Luo Binghe pointed out. With that salient point made and a smug look on his face, he scrambled out of the office to go fetch himself a meal. Shen Yuan scowled at him, but made no move to stop and/or throttle him.

 

I fear I’ve created a monster.

 

He scribbled a rejection on the punishment essay petition, and snorted at the next one on the stack. It demanded Zhang Min become supreme leader of the peak.

 

He put it on the pile for review with a grin, eager to show it to her upon her return.

Notes:

Ah, yes, Spiders Qingge, my beloved.

Every time I see a picture of a dormouse I feel like I'm going to explode because they're so goddamn cute. I also pray that nobody ever sees my search history. I thought bumblebees died immediately after mating like some species, but apparently they don't, they die at the end of a mating season. I have clicked on many a Google link trying to figure that out.

Next chapter should be the outing with Binghe- hopefully that won't go as disasterously as everything else Shen Yuan does seems to go.

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

Chapter 19: This Is The Skin Of A Killer, Binghe

Summary:

Shen Yuan learns why Luo Binghe is the ideal camping buddy, contemplates a double homicide, and loses smell privileges.

Notes:

Can't believe I started this over a year ago. It feels both like yesterday and a million years ago that I sat down and scribbled out my first (and in quick succession, second) chapter. I think I've also accomplished my personal goal of making this bad boy longer than Robinson Crusoe, my eternal nemesis.

Thank you all so much for reading! <3

Zhang Min returned to Ling Shou four and a half weeks after she’d departed, her robes torn and dirty, face bruised and scratched, but her expression conveyed nothing but triumph. Not only had she managed to get her hands on a considerable amount of the buds from the Iron Bark Rowans, she also had a whole skein of wool from the Golden-Fleeced Celestial Ram.

 

“You would not believe how much trouble I had to go through to get this,” she grumbled, dropping the skein on his desk. “I had to babysit the most spoiled sheep in perhaps all of existence, which only would drink ‘the finest of mountain springwater’ and refused to walk more than three steps before it demanded to be carried. It was somehow worse than the horde of monsters I fought to get the rowan buds.”

 

Well, for a world that operated on Proud Immortal Demon Way's logic, that tracked.

 

“Any near-fatal injuries to report?” he asked her, and she grinned.

 

“No,” she said proudly. She returned his pages of notes on anchor stone components, now noticeably wrinkled and blood-splattered. “I’ll leave those to you, shizun. Only minimal physical harm to report. Now, psychological harm on the other hand…”

 

He shook his head in fond exasperation. “I'm sure you'll live. You have fun?”

 

“I did, except for that damned ram,” she said, sitting crosslegged. “I did end up having to kill more creatures than I would’ve liked, but I would’ve been in trouble otherwise. I had a whole pack of Ten-Eyed Shadow Wolves and a flock of Bone-Spike Vultures pursuing me at one point.”

 

Shen Yuan winced. Dealing with that could not have been fun.

 

“But, it forced me to push my limits, and use my brain,” Zhang Min said, bringing her arm around to stretch. “It felt really nice. Now, how were the sparring sessions with Liu Qingge?”

 

Shen Yuan groaned. “Mere words cannot express how sore my body is right now. I’ve got to be at least ninety percent bruise at this point. I am sore in places I did not think could be sore.”

 

[Oh ho? ¬‿¬]

 

Oh my god, stop. Not like that.

 

“Close to beating him?” Zhang Min asked hopefully.

 

“Maybe in another fifty years,” Shen Yuan grumbled, flopping forward so his face was pressed against the top of his desk. “We’re still just doing hand-to-hand stuff, and it's not even close. Oh, and he interpreted me saying we could spar ‘any time’ as any time. I’ll be going about my day, minding my business, and then suddenly he’s dropping out of the sky and I have, like, five seconds to prepare to have the absolute shit beat out of me.”

 

Some of those instances were at really inopportune times, too. Once, he had been enjoying his dinner after a long, tedious day, and his food had been a casualty in the ensuing throwdown. Another time, he’d been right in the middle of a lecture about Endless Abyss tributaries when Liu Qingge had kicked down the classroom door and dragged him outside to partake in an embarrassingly brief fight. His disciples had been nice enough not to laugh at him, and Luo Binghe had cast Liu Qingge such a dark look that Shen Yuan became slightly worried for the future of the guy’s limbs.

“Honestly, you should’ve seen that coming,” Zhang Min said, accepting a lapful of Hatsune Miku, who lapped joyfully at her face and demanded pets.

 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I am not looking forward to the day he decides we need to fight in the middle of the night and drags me out of bed for it. Besides that, he’s been pretty decent. He doesn’t make fun of me for being pathetic and gives me good feedback.”

 

“You know, you could clarify by what you meant by ‘any time’, or set boundaries with him,” Zhang Min pointed out, gnawing on a piece of jerky she’d pulled from her qiankun pouch. With her other hand, she pet Hatsune Miku, who was eyeing the jerky with something that looked suspiciously like hunger. 

 

Since her foray into flesh-consumption, she’d started snapping up insects and stealing the occasional bit of fish from his plate. This was not concerning behaviour in the slightest, and Shen Yuan definitely couldn't see this going wrong in any way, shape, or form.

 

“I would rather die,” he said, and laughed when she hurled a chunk of jerky at him. “No, really. It’s not all that bad, it’s just taken some serious adaptation. And I am improving, albeit slowly. I can almost last a full minute against him, now.”

 

Zhang Min rolled her eyes, but let the subject drop. 

 

With the wool and the rowan buds secured, they were down to the final two components. Ren Qingxin said that there were only minor adjustments to be made to the ritual, and she had found a stash of spirit stones to help power it when the time came. 

 

Shen Yuan hoped that all of this effort had not been for nothing, but there was no way to know for certain until they performed the ritual.

 

On his outing with Luo Binghe, he planned to get one of the final two components. 

 

Luo Binghe had wasted no time learning to fly Zheng Yang, approaching it with a single-minded dedication that Shen Yuan had never before seen this version of him exhibit. At meals, the senior disciples would gather around the boy, clamoring to offer him tips and tricks.

 

Luo Binghe was fortunate enough thus far to have avoided crashing into any trees, but he was looking particularly battered and bedraggled these days, a contrast to the fervent glint in his eyes.

 

It did not take long for his labour to bear fruit. One day, he was shakily steering Zheng Yang around a meadow, and the next he was flying laps around the peak, one or two of the Ling Shou disciples shadowing him in case he faltered. Shen Yuan wasn’t certain how long he could sustain flight, and had told him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t take him anywhere if he couldn’t keep going for at least half a shichen, without breaks.

 

For the outing itself, he figured he would have Luo Binghe fly himself half the time and ride with him the other half to regain his energy, switching off every hour.

 

“This disciple has achieved what Shishu wanted,” Luo Binghe told him one late summer morning, windswept and breathless. Shen Yuan had him showcase his ability, and flew alongside him for that full hour. Not only did Luo Binghe manage it, but he was able to do so at a pace not much slower than Shen Yuan’s own preferred speed.

 

Once they landed, Shen Yuan congratulated him, ruffled his hair, and sent him off to get lunch. Luo Binghe had nodded and skittered away, with hardly a backwards glance.

 

He had been different since his attunement with Zheng Yang, more closed-off and quiet. Of course, it could be chalked up to nothing more than normal teenage angst catching up to Luo Binghe, but Shen Yuan could not help but be a touch concerned.

 

With Luo Binghe capable of flight and Zhang Min safely returned to the sect and back to being a menace, all there was left to do was to ask Shen Qingqiu’s permission to take his disciple out of the sect.

 

He did not receive the rejection he’d anticipated. Instead, Shen Qingqiu had flippantly told him, “Do what you wish with the nuisance. He’s more Lian-shidi’s problem than mine these days, and his absence will probably do wonders for the rest of my disciples.”

 

Shen Yuan examined his face for any sign of bitterness or hostility, and found none. Whatever hatred he had once possessed for Luo Binghe had been replaced with apathy. From what Luo Binghe had told him, Shen Qingqiu mostly just ignored him these days, which was a definite step up from physically harming him. 

 

Even once obtaining Shen Qingqiu’s permission, he did not clamour to leave immediately. Instead, he waited a week and a half. The component he was taking Luo Binghe to find was the sap from the heart of a Moonstone Tree.

 

Moonstone Trees were few and far between, many of them kept in monster-filled strongholds. Shen Yuan wouldn’t touch those strongholds with a twenty-metre stick, and there was only one alternative.

 

Thus, they were heading to the Borderlands, to the entrance of the Full Moon Garden. The Full Moon Garden was a garden located in a pocket dimension, created by an acolyte of the Moon Goddess. At its heart was a Moonstone Tree, still defended and tended to by its caretakers, but without the hordes of nasties just itching to murder any trespassers.

 

The garden was accessible only on the full moon, and one could only enter the garden once per lunar cycle. It was home to a host of rare and valuable plants, many of which could not be cultivated elsewhere. Airplane’s egregious naming habits really reared their head here, with half the plants having 'glowing', 'bright', or 'moon' in their names.

 

The Luo Binghe of PIDW had only found the garden after the merging of realms, when its entrance was tucked away amongst an aerial mountain range that spanned thousands of kilometres. 

 

From the sect, it should take roughly a week of travel to reach the garden’s magical portal entrance, but it was always wise to leave oneself an extra day or two, in case of any unforeseen circumstances. Shen Yuan made sure to pack double his usual rations and extra camping supplies- he was unsure what Luo Binghe would have and what he wouldn’t. 

 

Hatsune Miku would be left in the tender care of a few of his disciples who had volunteered to watch her, who Shen Yuan would pay for the trouble. There were a bunch of plants in the garden that he didn’t want anywhere near her, and he wasn’t confident that she wouldn’t run off to feast if given the opportunity.

***

The day they departed was a mild one, heralded in by cicada song. 

 

Shen Yuan wore his lighter summer robes, though he had heavier robes packed in case the temperature at night plunged too low. Luo Binghe met him outside of the dining hall after breakfast, a new qiankun pouch dangling from his belt.

 

“It’s not too late to back out,” Shen Yuan said, with a glance at his dark undereye bags and frizzy hair. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. Shen Yuan hadn’t either, unwillingly forgoing sleep in favour of catastrophizing. His brain hadn’t stopped the deluge of nightmare scenarios that concluded with one or both of them dead. “There’s no shame in it.”

 

“This disciple is not backing out,” Luo Binghe insisted, jaw stubbornly set.

 

“Aiya, no need to look at me like that, I just wanted to be sure,” Shen Yuan said, and ruffled his hair. 

 

Luo Binghe deflated, looking more than a little abashed at his own irascibility. “Sorry, shishu.” 

 

Shen Yuan lightly flicked his forehead. “Hey, you’re alright. I get it, you’re probably nervous. This is much different than the last time you left the sect, when you had your fellow disciples with you. There’s more risk involved.”

 

Luo Binghe nodded, not meeting his eye.

 

“I will do everything in my power to get you through this without major injury, but you’re going to have to listen when I tell you to do something,” Shen Yuan said, leaning against one of the dining hall’s pillars. “I tell you to run, you run. I tell you to hide, you hide. No misguided heroics. Got it?”

 

“Yes, shishu,” Luo Binghe said, and Shen Yuan eyed him sceptically. He had his innocent face on, which Shen Yuan did not trust one iota. “This disciple will follow shishu’s instructions.”

 

Well, that was probably as good as it was going to get. 

 

“Good. Do you remember the rules for the flight there?”

 

“I fly half a shichen on my own, then ride the other half with you. If I need a break, I say something. We stop each day at dusk,” Luo Binghe recited dutifully. 

 

“Good,” Shen Yuan said. He led them a little ways from the dining hall and unsheathed his sword. “You want to ride with me first, to get a feel for things?”

 

Luo Binghe nodded.

 

Shen Yuan mounted his sword with nary a wobble, which he was secretly very pleased about. He left space in front and behind him, so that Luo Binghe could choose where to stand. Luo Binghe stepped up behind him, fighting a little to keep his balance, before cautiously looping his arms around Shen Yuan’s middle. 

 

“Ready?” Shen Yuan checked, and Luo Binghe replied affirmatively. His arms tightened around him as Shen Yuan put on a burst of speed, doing a quick lap around the top of the peak to help him fine tune the amount of qi he needed to use to keep two people airborne, and then they were off.

***

Despite the effort he had put into learning to fly, and to remain in flight, Luo Binghe struggled. Shen Yuan could see it in the obstinate set of his jaw, the sweat dripping down his face, the way his sword began to waver near the end of each hour he carried himself. Shen Yuan kept close, never further than an arm’s length away, ready to grab him at a moment's notice and haul him to safety.

 

That first night, Luo Binghe collapsed facedown in the dirt the instant they landed for the night, and did not stir. Shen Yuan just shook his head, amused, and set about putting together their camp. He’d offered to alter their flight plan, to give Luo Binghe longer rests, but it had been rebuffed, and that had been that.

 

The next day, Luo Binghe was reluctant to wake, only getting up when Shen Yuan resorted to nudging him. He kept up a little better, not wavering nearly as frequently, and ate his share of the rations ravenously (and once those were gone, he stared so mournfully at his empty hands that Shen Yuan just passed his own share over- it wasn’t as if he really needed them).

 

The second night, they camped a few hundred metres from a river, the roar of the water soothingly familiar. If Shen Yuan closed his eyes, it was almost as if he were back in his house on Ling Shou. 

 

He showed Luo Binghe how to build a fire, how to set up the tents, which security arrays one should use. How he should never, ever, use river stones to ring a campfire. Shen Yuan had learned that lesson the hard way, nearly losing an eye in the process.

 

[Well, as far as ways to kill yourself, that is among the most unfortunate.]

 

It sure is. It’s too bad a certain dickhead didn’t warn me about it ahead of time.

 

[This System is a proponent of hands-on learning, and would never deny User the opportunity of an education.]

 

[And the look on your face was so worth it.]

 

Hatsune Miku could’ve been hurt!

 

[This System would never have let that happen.]

 

Good.

 

Luo Binghe was suspiciously well-behaved as he helped Shen Yuan collect kindling, his deceptively innocent face back full-force. Shen Yuan just hoped he wasn't about to be made privy to some villainous plot to set Shen Qingqiu’s house on fire or shave Ming Fan bald.

 

He received his explanation later that night, when Luo Binghe started whipping out pots, pans, a cutting board, a knife, and countless fresh ingredients under stasis talismans from his qiankun pouch. Shen Yuan could only watch in incomprehension as Luo Binghe cooked some overcomplicated dish, happy as a clam and humming to himself all the while.

 

Where the fuck did he procure all this stuff from? Did he rob Ling Shou’s kitchen? Was it an armed robbery?!

 

Shen Yuan accepted the bowl that was pressed into his hands. Luo Binghe settled on a nearby rock, his own bowl of food perched on his thigh.

 

“Should I expect three-course meals every night?” Shen Yuan asked, eying the pile of dirty dishes next to the campfire. He took a bite of his food. Fucking hell. It would probably make the Michelin star people weep with joy. “And who did you have to murder to get your hands on this stuff?”

 

“More people than I’d like to confess,” said Luo Binghe in mock-solemnity, head bowed. He brightened as Shen Yuan ate more of his meal. The meat was perfectly braised, tender and practically melting in his mouth. The sauce was rich and savoury, and the crisp, julienned vegetables brought some brightness and crunch to the dish. “This disciple has enough to cook every night for months, if shishu wishes.”

 

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Shen Yuan mumbled around a mouthful of food, ignoring the System chiding him about manners. “Luo-shizhi should be proud of his culinary prowess.”

 

And, well. Luo Binghe did look very proud.

***

As promised, Luo Binghe cooked every night, and Shen Yuan ensured that an acceptable amount of praise was doled out- he more than deserved it. Shen Yuan always took care of the dishes, waving off any protests. He’d been raised in a ‘I cook, you clean’ household, and he wasn’t going to just laze around after Luo Binghe had been kind enough to feed him something other than dried meat, dried fruit, and fermented black bean bread.

 

Shen Yuan did notice that Luo Binghe became more apprehensive the closer they drew to the Borderlands. He was quieter, more measured, sometimes his eyes would flit towards Shen Yuan and then away again, like he wanted to ask something but couldn’t muster the courage to do so. 

 

The forests grew thinner and the terrain rockier, the air thick with humidity. The heat was almost intolerable. The river beds were almost completely dry, only a thin stream of water running by.

 

The town that had been only ruins by the time Luo Binghe had searched for the entrance to the garden was, in present day, a hub of activity.

 

Its location in the Borderlands meant the inevitable intersection of human and demon culture and activity, and Nuan Guang Town’s proximity to a lake made it one of the most desirable places to settle in the region. 

 

The main street was well lit, lined with homes and businesses, and unbelievably crowded. People, carts, and animals pushed along the streets, shuffling around each other to get to their intended destination. Merchant stalls dotted the square, vendors calling out to passersby and offering samples of their goods, their voices mingling with musicians' songs. Demons and humans interacted without a fight, talking and laughing easily. Shen Yuan spied a rogue cultivator or two amidst the throng, their faces just as relaxed as the townsfolks’. 

 

Luo Binghe was quiet beside him, observing the chaos with an unreadable expression.

 

“Is Luo-shizhi alright?” Shen Yuan asked, and Luo Binghe nodded.

 

“Shishu does not find this detestable?” There was something almost fragile in his voice, his knuckles white where they were wrapped around Zheng Yang’s hilt. 

 

“Not in the slightest,” Shen Yuan said, and gently nudged Luo Binghe with his shoulder. “We’ll probably be here for two or three days, so there will be plenty of time to sightsee and talk to the locals, if you so desire. Do you want to get rooms for the night, or camp just outside of town?”

 

Luo Binghe blinked once, twice. “Shishu wants me to choose?”

 

Shen Yuan shrugged. “Why not? I don’t have any preference either way, and I wasn’t sure whether you wanted to sleep on an actual bed for once, while you had the chance.”

 

“An actual bed would be nice,” Luo Binghe admitted.

 

“Then let’s go find an inn.”

***

If Shen Yuan could go back in time and stop himself from stepping foot in this establishment, he would. Sure, the furnishings were nice and the staff were friendly, but the people in the room next store were so loud and obnoxious that he was unable to sleep.

 

[Haha, suffer! (≖⩊≖)]

 

His eye twitched as another moan drifted through the wall. It was two in the morning, and if he didn’t fall asleep soon, he would take matters into his own hands and commit a homicide, possibly two if he felt like it. The last inn he had stayed at was during his hunt for the Mind Stalker, and the people there had at least been kind enough to keep their coitus to acceptable hours of the night.

 

Why did I never take the time to learn how to make a sound-blocking talisman?

 

[Because User is shortsighted.]

 

You could help me, you know! I would pay you!

 

[How much?]

 

Uh… a hundred B-Points?

 

[Tch. Cheap. User should pay this System at least a thousand.]

 

A thousand?! Fuck you, that’s way too much!

 

[Perhaps, but you’d be depriving this poor, hardworking System of its well-earned entertainment! (╥﹏╥)]

 

Can I get a new System? Seriously. There is something very wrong with you.

 

Another loud moan had Shen Yuan shoving a pillow over his head. He was only half-trying to suffocate himself. Maybe that would help him sleep?

 

[This System thinks that User is just jealous that he isn’t getting any.]

 

Dude. Getting laid has literally been the last thing on my mind, with all the bullshit I have to handle on the daily. Maybe you’re just projecting.

 

[This System has no romantic or sexual inclinations.]

 

[It did notice User ogling Liu Qingge’s abs the other day.]

 

That wasn’t- I wasn’t thinking about him like that!

 

[Uh huh.]

 

I was just appreciating a bro’s physique! Like at the gym!

 

[You were drooling.]

 

I was not! Slander! Lies!

 

[Sure, User.]

 

Don’t take that tone with me!

 

A knock at the door interrupted the very convincing rebuttal he was about to fire back. A very tired-looking and flushed Luo Binghe awaited him, twitching when the noise from the other room kicked up a notch.

 

“Is it too late for this disciple to change his decision?” Luo Binghe asked weakly, and Shen Yuan could’ve wept with relief.

 

“Not at all, give me a moment to get my stuff together and we can leave.”

 

He wasted no time in gathering everything and pulled on his outer robes, not even bothering to do all the ties. The rooms had already been paid for, so there was nothing preventing them from walking straight out the front door.

 

They made camp after a short two-kilometre flight, only bothering to quickly scratch a security array into a nearby tree before they both passed out on top of their bedrolls. 

 

Shen Yuan rose with the sun a few hours later, and worked on his bestiary. He let Luo Binghe sleep- he deserved it after last night and their days of travel. It wasn’t as if they had anywhere to be today.

 

“Are all inns like that?” Luo Binghe asked him later, once he’d shovelled several pieces of dried fruit into his mouth. 

 

“Depends on the place and the patrons,” Shen Yuan said, nibbling his own food more sedately. “I think we just had poor luck. We can try again at a different inn tomorrow night, if you’d prefer.”

 

“This disciple thinks he would prefer to camp,” Luo Binghe said, wrinkling his nose.

 

Shen Yuan snickered at his expression, and was quietly relieved. He did not need the murder charge that a second night of listening to that might earn him. “I’m sure that can be arranged."

 

They lazed around camp for a while, Luo Binghe sketching something and Shen Yuan reading the latest book club book (an entertaining novel about a widow poisoning everyone who inconvenienced her, who bore what he suspected was an uncoincidental resemblance to Shen Qingqiu in temperament). 

 

Closer to noon, they went to check out the site of the garden’s entrance. Shen Yuan wanted to scope it out, see what the security was like. With his luck, there would probably be a gauntlet of traps to get through. 

 

They plodded through a tract of wilderness, passing through valleys and climbing steep hills. At the top of one of the hills, surrounded by scraggly shrubs, was the small pool of water that served as the garden’s entry point.

 

“Is that it?” Luo Binghe asked, rather unimpressed.

 

“Sure is,” Shen Yuan said, eyes scanning the area. He was picking up the faintest buzz of qi, and sure enough, upon closer inspection, he discovered a minor barrier array surrounding the pool. “This shouldn’t take too long to get through, but we might need to set a distraction on the night of the full moon if they post a guard up here.”

 

With that out of the way, they returned to Nuan Guang Town, strolling through the streets at an idle pace. It was a touch less hectic than yesterday, but Shen Yuan still found himself having to jump out of the way of speeding carts once or twice.

 

“It’s so different than I thought it’d be,” Luo Binghe said, when they stopped to admire a fountain. It was finely detailed and incredibly anachronistic, which Shen Yuan did his usual internal griping about. “I thought that demons and humans living in such proximity would cause more strife.”

 

“I’m sure there still is, on occasion,” Shen Yuan said, glancing into the water. As he’d suspected, coins glinted at the bottom. He withdrew two from his coin pouch and passed one to Luo Binghe. “But they’ve probably had a long time to adapt, and work out their issues.”

 

[What’re you gonna wish for, User?]

 

One night of uninterrupted sleep.

 

The System laughed its grating laugh, and he flipped the coin into the water. Luo Binghe did the same, and they went to check out some of the merchant stalls. 

 

A stall selling produce had the most beautiful nectarines he’d ever laid eyes on, and after a few moments of arguing with himself about whether he really needed to blow money on fruit, he caved and bought a few. He tossed some to Luo Binghe, and bit into one of his own. The juice was sweet and sticky, and he tore into the fruit’s tender flesh with relish. They were just as delicious as they appeared. When there was little more than the pit remaining, he tucked it away to plant later, and licked some of the stray droplets of juice from his fingers, dipping his tongue between them to ensure that nothing was missed.

 

When he considered his hands sufficiently clean once more, he turned to Luo Binghe to ask his opinion of the fruit, but strangely, he had not taken a single bite of his own. Instead, he was staring at Shen Yuan slightly bug-eyed. Shen Yuan frowned. Does he not like nectarines? He could always be allergic, but I don’t think PIDW ever mentioned him having any allergies.

 

“If Luo-shizhi does not enjoy nectarines, I would be perfectly happy to purchase something else for him.”

 

Luo Binghe shook his head frantically. “No! This lowly disciple is perfectly content with Shishu’s selection!”

 

He then proceeded to take a bite so large that half of a nectarine came off, pit and all. He put up an unconvincing show of enjoyment, and almost choked on the pit until Shen Yuan slapped him on the back a few times.

 

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” Shen Yuan said, concerned, as Luo Binghe wiped at his streaming eyes. “But please, don’t force yourself to eat something you dislike out of a sense of obligation.”

 

Luo Binghe’s shoulders slumped. “This disciple was not forcing himself.”

 

Sure, and I’m a three-time gold medal Olympic gymnast.

 

“If Luo Binghe insists. I see a stand selling cookware over there. You want to check it out?”

 

They whiled away a good portion of the afternoon going from stall to stall. Luo Binghe was quite enamoured with the cookware stall, lovingly examining the finishes on various pots and crockery and staring at the chef’s knives like he was having a religious experience.

 

It was nearly dusk when Shen Yuan spied a painting of a creature that looked suspiciously like Hatsune Miku, and he ventured closer to investigate. They hadn’t made it to this part of the square yet. 

 

He squinted at the details- the colouring was exactly right, though the creature’s snout was tad long, and its legs shorter than hers. And then he glanced over at what else the merchant was selling, taking in the army of tchotchkes and overabundance of knives. On the other side of the cart from him was a familiar face, already beaming at him. Shen Yuan’s eyes widened in shock as Big Horns, the travelling merchant he’d helped last winter, leaned across the counter.

 

“Long time no see, wild man.”

 

Shen Yuan stared dumbly back at him. What were the odds that they’d run into each other again? “Nice painting.”

 

Big Horns laughed and pulled the picture from its display. “Thanks, I had ample inspiration. I shared a part of my dinner with her, after all.” He seemed to notice her absence then. “Is she alright?”

 

“Hatsune Miku is fine,” Shen Yuan assured him. “She’s just back home, probably being spoiled to death.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Big Horns said earnestly. “So, what brings you to this corner of the world? And who’s your companion?”

 

Shen Yuan glanced behind him. Sure enough, there was Luo Binghe, who was glaring at Big Horns like he wanted him to be chained to a rock so an eagle could tear out his liver. Wow, what’s his problem?

 

When Luo Binghe did not do the polite thing and introduce himself, Shen Yuan sighed and gestured at him. “This is Luo Binghe, my martial nephew. We’re here to access the Full Moon Garden. Are you just here to sell your wares?”

 

He ignored Luo Binghe’s noise of protest at divulging their plans. Big Horns had been nice enough to give him some necessary information the last time they saw each other, and he didn’t think he was going to do anything nefarious with the knowledge. 

 

“Not entirely,” Big Horns said cheerfully, seeming more amused by Luo Binghe’s blatant dislike of him than offended. He pointed to a tall, pale demon woman chatting with a human man nearby. “That’s my sister, Sharp Teeth. She’s one of this town's physicians, and I like to visit a few times a year. The guy she’s speaking to is one of the people who patrol the area around the entrance to the Full Moon Garden. The townsfolk instated a guard when a group of adolescents didn’t return from it a few years back, and they don’t let anybody go in there anymore.”

 

“That’s a good reason,” Shen Yuan admitted reluctantly. “Any chance they’d be willing to make an exception?”

 

“Not likely,” Big Horns said apologetically, pillowing his cheek on his palm. “And I don’t think any of them would accept a bribe either, so I don’t recommend attempting it. Now, if you need anyone to stage a distraction while you sneak into the garden, I am definitely susceptible to bribery.”

 

Luo Binghe’s face darkened, as unfriendly as Shen Yuan had ever seen him. “How can we be sure you won’t sell us out?”

 

Shen Yuan gave him a look, and he quailed, his conviction faltering. “You’re being rude, Luo Binghe.”

 

“I won’t sell you out,” Big Horns assured them, “Even if you decide not to bribe me.”

 

Shen Yuan snorted. “What would you want in return for your assistance?”

 

If he can avoid having to conceive some half-baked scheme to get them both inside the garden undetected, he would. 

 

“There’s a plant in the garden that supposedly makes an incredible blue pigment,” Big Horns said, sighing wistfully. Shen Yuan still could recall his ramblings about painting techniques, all these months later.

 

“Night’s Eye Orchid?” he guessed. He only remembered that because the Luo Binghe of PIDW had gone to the garden once for that plant specifically, as a gift for one of his wives.

 

“One of its cultivars, the Midnight’s Eye Orchid,” Big Horns corrected. “It makes a blue pigment whose shade and richness is irreplicable. The emperor would gladly give his right arm for even a minute quantity of it!”

 

“Does this orchid have any special defenses?” Luo Binghe asked, arms crossed. “Would we drop dead just from touching it?”

 

Geez, paranoid much?

 

“No,” Shen Yuan answered, “But as I told you, there are many things to be wary of in the garden.” To Big Horns, he said, “I accept your deal.”

 

He pointedly ignored Luo Binghe’s outraged squawk.

 

“I am pleased to hear it,” Big Horns said, and handed him the painting of off-brand Hatsune Miku with a wink. “Shall we discuss the specifics of my distraction over dinner? I’m about done for the day.”

 

“If you want,” Shen Yuan said, taking a step back to allow Big Horns to pack up his cart. “It would probably be a good idea. I normally just throw myself at any obstacles and pray for the best.”

 

Thank god one of them had some degree of forethought.

 

[Yeah, he totally cares about this plan going off smoothly. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧]

 

Why wouldn’t he? And why are you saying it like that?

 

[...]

 

[This System isn’t even going to bother explaining. User is hopeless.]

***

Luo Binghe was quiet and obviously seething during dinner, only speaking once or twice, and only when he had to. Shen Yuan was half-convinced that he would run Big Horns through with Zheng Yang at one point, when the demon reached out and plucked something from Shen Yuan’s hair.

 

“I don’t trust him,” Luo Binghe spat sourly, afterwards. It was dark already, but both of them could see well enough in what little light lingered that they traversed the path to the previous night’s campsite without trouble.

 

“I trust him,” Shen Yuan said, pushing a thin branch out of his path. “He helped me before, and has no reason to betray his word. Has he done something to make you distrust him?”

 

“No,” Luo Binghe mumbled, stumbling over a root. Shen Yuan reached out and steadied him. “But he looks at you like he wants to eat you.”

 

“I seriously doubt he wants to eat me,” Shen Yuan said, and ahead of him, Luo Binghe yelped when some of hair got tangled in another low-hanging branch. Shen Yuan stopped him from ripping out the pieces of his hair that were caught. “Stop yanking, I can get it out. Look, his help is beneficial. It makes getting into the garden a thousand times less complicated. On a mission, you have limited resources at your disposal, and having someone to help you along the way can sometimes make or break things. 

 

“You won't always necessarily like your allies, but if you have a common goal, then that's all that really matters, to a point. In this case, I have the benefit of a previous encounter with Big Horns, and I have a positive opinion of him. Some cultivators might refuse to work with him because he’s a demon, but I think that that is a very shortsighted way to go about things.”

 

“He’s only helping us because he wants that plant, Shishu,” Luo Binghe said.

 

“Little in this world comes for free,” Shen Yuan said, untangling some of the less-caught strands. “And there’s nothing wrong with him wanting something in return for his aid. Of course, there are situations where demanding compensation for help is scummy, but this isn’t one of them. This is a mutually-beneficial arrangement.”

 

“If Shishu says so,” Luo Binghe said, still obviously displeased. “How can you tell who to trust?”

 

Shen Yuan hummed thoughtfully. “Well, sometimes your instincts can help you figure that out, but they can be wrong. I think it’s good to watch how someone interacts with the people around them and the way they move through the world. Figure out what motivates any prospective allies, and whether they’d betray their principles with the right encouragement.”

 

He freed the last few strands of hair from the clutches of the wicked branch. “Though sometimes, blind trust is your only option. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and hope for the best.”

 

“And if this disciple says that his instincts distrust Big Horns?”

 

“Then I would say that Luo-shizhi is biased. Now come on, we need to get camp set up.”

 

Luo Binghe cracked a reluctant smile, and they resumed their trek.

***

Shen Yuan kept low, peering around the shrub he was concealed behind. Luo Binghe was hidden behind the next shrub over, crouched down.

 

The full moon burned silver overhead, looking oddly large, and the chorus of nature played out around them, the soft rush of wings overhead and the stir of insects amongst the brittle grass especially loud.

 

Just as Big Horns had said, there was someone patrolling the area surrounding the pool- a woman with an axe in hand. She had been there when they’d arrived, her head snapping towards any loud noises.

 

They only had to wait about twenty minutes before an unfamiliar man came crashing towards them, almost frantic. The man nearly collided with the woman in his haste, and he spoke to her with urgency, making large gestures with his hands. It didn’t take long before she followed him away, both at a sprint.

 

“Ready?” Shen Yuan checked, and Luo Binghe nodded. “If anyone approaches or something happens, tell me immediately.”

 

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and set to work picking apart the flimsy barrier array. It took half the time that he’d anticipated, and as soon as the hole was made, he emerged from his hiding place, Luo Binghe slinking a few steps behind him.

 

Shen Yuan dove into the pool without a lick of hesitation, only suspended in the water for a moment before it felt like hands were reaching for him, wrapping around his limbs and tugging him down smoothly. He forced himself to remain calm, even as his ears ached with the change in pressure and the moon’s light dimmed.

 

His lungs were just beginning to burn when gravity seemed to flip on its head, and the hands were pulling him up now. He was thrown from the garden dimension's pool, landing in a heap in soft, loose dirt. He’d only just caught his breath when Luo Binghe was flung beside him, shivering, his wet hair plastered to his head.

 

Shen Yuan sat up, looked at the sky. The moon loomed overhead, but everything else that was a part of the night sky on the other side- the stars, the glow of distant planets- was gone, leaving only a depthless black void.

 

“Must we exit the same way?” Luo Binghe asked, eying the pool unhappily.

 

“Unfortunately,” Shen Yuan sighed, getting to his feet and offering Luo Binghe a hand up. “On the bright side, we’re not in any kind of hurry. It’s always a full moon here, so the way out will not be lost to us.”

 

“How does Shishu know of this place?”

 

“I read a lot,” Shen Yuan said sardonically. “Now, we’re not in the main portion of the garden yet, but I need you to stay close and try to avoid touching anything. The garden’s caretakers might be prowling around, they might not be. If we’re lucky, we’ll just be in and out without any trouble.” Though I doubt that will be the case.

 

Luo Binghe nodded his assent, and together they followed the winding dirt path through a forest that was almost lightless. A wrought silver gate stood open at the end of the path, flowering vines woven around the top. Beside it was a plaque that read: ‘One should only draw their weapon within if they desire a painful and instantaneous demise.’

 

Well, that's inconvenient. 

 

The garden sprawled for what had to be kilometres, an endless sea of glowing plants and rivers of shimmering water. Otherworldly insects supped eagerly on nectar, the strange patterns decorating their bodies stark against their darker exoskeletons and setae. Pale birds swooped overhead, singing, and where they flew a gentle shower of rain followed, watering the earth beneath.

 

Shen Yuan glanced behind them, at the forest. A glowing pattern of a face regarded him, then after a few moments, it disappeared into the forest. He exchanged a look with Luo Binghe, who had spied it as well, the boy’s hand on Zheng Yang’s hilt.

 

“I think we’re okay for now,” he said, and together they passed into the garden and down a narrow path lined by blue, bell-shaped flowers whose glow pulsed to some silent rhythm. 

 

Though the Moonstone Tree sat at the garden’s heart, its vast roots stretched to the very outskirts of the garden, disrupting the uniform shapes of the plant beds. The main paths followed the roots, with smaller paths branching off every now and again.

 

A sweet smell that he’d first noticed when he’d entered the garden had intensified, making his brain almost itch. A part of him wanted, more than anything, to follow it to its source. Surely collecting the Moonstone Tree’s sap could wait a little longer, right? He just had to find it…

 

[Yeah, I don’t think so.]

 

And suddenly, Shen Yuan couldn’t smell anything. He froze, clarity washing over him like a tidal wave. Oh.

 

[Yeah. You were just about to wander off and get yourself turned into compost. You can have smell privileges back once you leave.]

 

“Shishu?” Luo Binghe asked quietly, concerned.

 

“I’m okay, I just got caught up in my own thoughts.”

 

What about him? Is he affected at all?

 

[Not with his Heavenly Demon blood, no.]

 

Good. Anyways, it's nice to have confirmation that you like me enough not to let me be turned into compost.

 

[(¬`‸´¬)]

 

[This System merely does not want User to die in such a humiliating manner. The other Systems would never let this System hear the end of it!]

 

Yeah, I’m sure they’d relish in making fun of you during their water cooler talks.

 

[User may scoff, but you have no idea what it’s like!]

 

[They’re always going on and on about how great they are at their jobs! It’s insufferable! ‘Oh, my User just tamed a thousand-year-old dragon!’ ‘Well, my User just raised an army of the dead!’ ‘Well, clearly I’m better than all of you, my User just threw the One Ring into the fiery depths of Mount Doom, and made out with Samwise Gamgee afterwards!’.]

 

[Pah!]

 

Wow, that last one was awfully specific. You’ve been holding onto that one a long time, huh?

 

[Yes. (╥﹏╥)]

 

I’ll try not to get turned into compost, then. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll be the Supreme Ruler of Water Cooler Talk.

 

[This System would like that very much.]

 

About halfway up the path was an orchard of flowering crabapple trees, which the bizarre insects here especially seemed to like. A fuzzy-looking moth landed on Luo Binghe’s head, and he went still. It had a round silver spot on its thorax and a whorling pattern on its wings, which fluttered slightly.

 

Shen Yuan reached out and carefully detached it from Luo Binghe’s hair, the insect resting sedately in his palm. “Huh, I hadn’t expected to see one of these here. This is a Moon Cycle Moth, which hatches and dies within one lunar cycle.”

 

Shen Yuan proffered the moth to Luo Binghe, who cupped it gently in his hands. He stoked a finger reverently over its body, and when the moth took flight once more, he watched it go.

 

The full moon that adorned the moth’s back had him curious. Were the life cycles of the moths tied directly to the moon, or were they set in stone? If the former were the case, would living in the Full Moon Garden render them effectively immortal? Could it impact a moth’s development speed? If it entered the garden as a caterpillar, would it continue on to the next stage of its life, or would it be trapped as a caterpillar until it got eaten by something?

 

[Overthinking things again, are we?]

 

It’s not overthinking! It’s asking perfectly logical questions about the impact of an environment upon an organism! Very peak-lordy stuff.

 

Past the crabapple grove, Shen Yuan thought he spied one of the face-patterns again, but it was gone so quickly that he was unsure whether it was real or an illusion.

 

The Moonstone Tree was as tall as a skyscraper, towering over all else. Its canopy enshadowed hundreds of metres of earth surrounding its trunk. Roundish, acorn-shaped leaves rained down from above and collected in piles. The decaying leaves crunched under their boots. Silver, orb-like fruit dotted the branches, their glow brightening as they ripened. 

 

About fifteen metres up the trunk of the tree was a break in the bark, just big enough for a person to walk through standing upright. Shen Yuan suspected that the tunnel beyond would deliver one to the tree’s heart, where he needed to go. And probably bring Luo Binghe with him- he did not even want to begin to imagine the horrors the boy would probably unearth if left to his own devices. Shen Yuan was in the mentor role, and he was sure that if there was any threat too big for Luo Binghe to win against, it would be his ass on the chopping block instead.

 

“We need to get up there,” Shen Yuan said. “And we can’t use our weapons to get there, unless you fancy being smited.”

 

“So we use our qi?” Luo Binghe asked.

 

“So we use our qi,” Shen Yuan said grimly. He could probably jump the distance, the only problem was using the correct amount of qi. Too little and he’d miss the mark, too much and he’d probably slam his head into one of the branches, and the last thing he needed was another TBI.

 

“Does shishu want this disciple to go first?”

 

“I’m not going to risk something biting your head off if there are traps within,” Shen Yuan said dryly. “If I manage to get inside, wait until I check that neither of us are going to be murdered first, alright?”

 

Luo Binghe nodded, but didn’t look especially pleased. 

 

“And absolutely no wandering off in the meantime,” Shen Yuan tacked on, then set about trying to get into the tree. It took a few tries- he underpowered the first jump, went too far the other way on the second, and only just missed on the next attempt.. On his fourth go, he aimed true, and passed through the break in the bark. He landed in a smooth roll that ended with him on his feet.

 

[Damn.]

 

[Points for style.]

 

[+2 B-Points]

 

Shen Yuan smirked at it and summoned a small mote of light, just bright enough to illuminate the area in front of him. The hollowed-out tunnel was a few metres long, and after some poking around, seemingly free of any deadly traps. He poked his head out of the tree and called down to Luo Binghe, who was pacing circles at the base of the trunk, “I didn’t find anything, you’re good to come up.”

 

Luo Binghe took a running start, but didn’t put enough power into his jump, just falling short of the mark. He would’ve slid straight back down the tree had Shen Yuan not reached out and grabbed him by the front of his robes one-armed, the smooth fabric bunched in his fist. He dragged Luo Binghe up, using his other arm and legs to help brace himself. 

 

Luo Binghe spilled inside, and Shen Yuan pulled him to his feet before releasing his hold. 

 

“Sorry about wrinkling your robes,” Shen Yuan said, when Luo Binghe just kind of… stood there, face flushed. Damn, I think I embarrassed him. Would it have been better to let him try again? Oh well, it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it at this point. “I still recommend watching your step, just in case I missed anything.”

 

Luo Binghe nodded mutely, still rather pink, and followed Shen Yuan, mirroring his steps.

 

At the tree’s heart, the tunnel gave way to a larger chamber. Glowing sap poured down the walls and collected in a small pool in the chamber’s center. Shen Yuan knelt beside it and pulled out an empty jar about the size of his head from one of his qiankun pouches. He unstoppered the jar and dipped it in the sap, the viscous fluid slow to seep into the vessel.

 

“What is this used for?” Luo Binghe asked over his shoulder, facing the way they had come as if he anticipated something to try and sneak up on them.

 

“It was traditionally used medicinally, either as a base for other medicines or as an antiinflammatory,” Shen Yuan said, wracking his brain for any relevant details. He knew more about the uses of the fruit outside, if he were being honest. “I think it can also be applied to an open wound to prevent infection and encourage faster healing. It has been used ritualistically, though those instances were rare.”

 

Luo Binghe met his eyes. “And what is Shishu using it for?”

 

“A joint research project of mine,” Shen Yuan said, checking how much the jar had in it. It was about three-quarters of the way full, which was good enough. Probably. He scooped it out of the pool of sap, all his fingers except his thumb fully submerging past the knuckles in the process. He wrinkled his nose at the sensation of the sap clinging to him, and vowed to wash his hands thoroughly later. “Something to make my disciples’ lives easier, should it prove successful.”

 

He recorked the jar and stowed it away, then tried to shake the remaining sap off of his fingers. It felt like most of it was gone, but large swathes of his hands were still glowing. Shen Yuan stared dumbfounded at the offending skin, the realisation that he should probably not have stuck his hands in a pool of magic glowy tree sap unprotected striking him.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and resisted the very strong urge to scream. 

 

System. Please tell me this isn’t permanent.

 

[Don’t worry, User. It isn’t permanent!]

 

[It’s a very convenient effect that will only linger for a month!]

 

A month?!

 

[Enjoy!  ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧]

 

Shen Yuan briefly contemplated drowning himself in the sap pool and leaving behind a very bright corpse.

 

“Shishu?” Luo Binghe knelt beside him. “Are you alright?”

 

“I'm a moron. You should disregard everything I’ve ever taught you,” Shen Yuan croaked. “I should go live the rest of my life in a dark hole and never again emerge to save myself the shame.”

 

Luo Binghe glanced down, and seemed to notice his dilemma. “Ah, that is… not ideal. Is it permanent?”

 

“Thankfully, no,” Shen Yuan said, and laughed a bit hysterically. “This is fucking ridiculous, I’m all, ‘this is the skin of a killer, Bella’ now.”

 

Luo Binghe seemed confused by this, but was kind enough not to voice how absolutely batty Shen Yuan was acting right now. “We should leave, now that we’ve gotten what we came for.”

 

“Yes, yeah, we should do that,” Shen Yuan said, and glowered at his hands one last time before pulling himself together. He could freak out about all this later, at a safer location.

 

Shen Yuan slipped down the hollowed out tunnel and sat on the edge of the break in the bark. He pushed off, sliding most of the way down the trunk and tucking into another roll before he hit the ground to save his ankles from being broken. Luo Binghe landed with a grunt, having gone with the ankle-breaking method.

 

And then there came the cackle. Terrible, high-pitched, entirely too close. Shen Yuan stiffened. “We need to run, right now. No stopping. Even if I fall behind, no matter what you hear or see, you keep going until you're out of here. Do you remember the way out?”

 

“Yes,” Luo Binghe said, and together they began to run back down the path. “But I'm not-”

 

“You will,” Shen Yuan said seriously, with as much authority as he could muster. Luo Binghe opened his mouth again, clearly gearing up to argue, but Shen Yuan cut him off. “No. I am responsible for your health and well-being so long as you are a member of this sect, and that is especially true when we are facing a threat. You gave me your word, Luo Binghe. You promised you would do what I said, especially when there was danger. Please do not go back on your word.”

 

“Fine,” Luo Binghe gritted out, and they leapt one of the Moonstone Tree's roots. 

 

They had little warning- just a mad cackle to their left- before a beast crashed straight into Luo Binghe, sending him sprawling. It was as tall at the hump of its back as Shen Yuan was. Its fur was coarse, its body patterned with the same glowing face that had been in the forest outside. Its ears were long and slightly floppy and its legs were thick with muscle. Its eyes were as dark as the sky above, teeth almost too big for its jaw. Kaleidoscopic Eye Hyena-Rabbits were the garden’s caretakers, and if one of them was here already, it meant that the rest of its pack couldn't be far behind.

 

The beast dug its claws into Luo Binghe’s arms, saliva dripping from its maw as it laughed in the boy's face. Echoes of its cackle sounded around them, members of its pack responding in kind, but Shen Yuan paid them no heed as he launched himself at the Hyena-Rabbit. He knocked it clean off Luo Binghe and its feet, wincing as claws raked across his chest in the ensuing struggle. He pinned it down, shifting so that it couldn't scratch him again. Grappling wasn't his forte, mostly because he hadn't had too many chances to partake in it with the larger animals, but he was just skilled enough that he could maintain his hold whilst Luo Binghe reorientated himself.

 

“Are you good to keep going?” he asked through gritted teeth, forgetting himself and turning his attention away from the struggling Hyena-Rabbit. In his distraction, he didn't notice the way the beast angled its head, only realizing his error when he received a face full of poison.

 

If there was one thing you wanted to avoid when dealing with Kaleidoscopic Eye Hyena-Rabbits, it was hands down their poison. It was a serious hallucinogen, and part of what allowed them to be such successful hunters. It slowed their prey down, the change in their perception inhibiting their escape. The only bright side was that it took a few minutes to really kick in.

 

Fuck, he thought furiously. He picked up the struggling Hyena-Rabbit and hurled it as far as he could muster. He stumbled over to Luo Binghe, who took a step and winced.

 

“My ankle,” he said weakly, and hissed with pain when he tried to take another step. It must have been wounded when the Hyena-Rabbit tackled him.

 

“Okay. Okay. I'm gonna carry you,” Shen Yuan said, mind racing, and he scooped Luo Binghe up in a fireman's carry. He adjusted his grip on him so that he was less liable to slip off, and once he was secure, he resumed their race to the garden's entrance. 

 

He tore down the paths, skidding around corners, hopping the glowing rivers and leaping over full plant beds as needed.

 

Another of the Hyena-Rabbits leapt at them, and Shen Yuan dropped to his knees, his momentum carrying them right under it. His knees hated him for it, but all he was concerned with was the fact that it had worked, and he had avoided another impromptu wrestling match with another of the damn things.

 

He transitioned smoothly back to his feet, cutting over a bed of semiaquilegia, whose petals resembled living flame.

 

The laughs, the yips, they weren't far behind, and Shen Yuan could hardly tell whether the snap of teeth just behind them was real or not. The edges of his vision were beginning to warp, and he knew that he did not have long before his perception was truly altered.

 

They reached the garden gates, where the Hyena-Rabbits halted, but he did not slow, did not relax even a little until they were left far behind.

 

“You would be surprised how often I end up running away from things that want to kill me,” he said cheerfully to Luo Binghe, who still clung to him for dear life. “There's nothing wrong with running, especially when you know that you're outclassed, or that fighting will be ineffective.”

 

“Thanking Shishu for his wisdom,” Luo Binghe groaned. He was looking a little green around the gills from all the jostling, and appeared very relieved when their exit came back into view. Shen Yuan hoped the guard on the other side was still absent. Big Horns hadn't said he could guarantee-

 

Oh shit. I forgot the Midnight's Eye Orchid.

 

“I need to go back.”

 

“What?!” Luo Binghe cried, twisting out of his hold and landing unsteadily, body shifting to keep most of his weight off of his bad foot. 

 

“I should've grabbed the plant Big Horns asked for on the way in, but I forgot to. I need to go back and get it.”

 

“No!” Luo Binghe protested, looking about two seconds from finding something to fistfight. “He doesn't need it that badly! And you're injured!”

 

Shen Yuan honestly wasn't too bothered by the wounds across his front. They didn't hurt all that badly, even if the amount of blood seeping out was a touch concerning.

 

“I made him a promise,” Shen Yuan said solemnly. “One that I have absolutely no intention of breaking. He put his ass on the line for us.”

 

“Then I'm going with you!”

 

Shen Yuan could see the obstinance in his eyes, and knew Luo Binghe wouldn't leave his side without a fight. Still, he had to try things the easy way first.

 

“Luo Binghe, you can barely walk. Please, go back and wait for me on the other side.”

 

“This disciple won't let you go back alone!”

 

Shen Yuan sighed and massaged his temples. Looks like we're doing this the hard way, then.

 

It was almost laughably easy to knock Luo Binghe off of his feet (while avoiding injuring his injured ankle further). Shen Yuan held him at arm's length over the exit pool, the mirror-still water mere centimetres beneath tips of the boy's boots. Luo Binghe snarled and clawed at his arms, but Shen Yuan didn't even flinch.

 

“You won't be able to get back here tonight, so I don't recommend trying,” he said, trying to ignore the ache in his chest as tears welled in Luo Binghe’s eyes. “If I'm not back by dawn, assume that I'm dead.”

 

“Shishu, please, you can't-”

 

“Keep yourself safe.”

 

He cut off any further protests by dropping Luo Binghe into the water, and watched as his struggling form disappeared from view.

 

[Yeesh, User.]

 

[You just caused him, like, actual trauma.]

 

He would've just gotten himself killed. At least this way, it won't be the both of us.

***

The whispers had begun by the time he was back at the garden gates, familiar voices he knew better than to pay any attention to.

 

He had a good idea of where the Midnight’s Eye Orchids might be, but he wasn't too confident in his ability to find his way once the Hyena-Rabbit’s poison was really working.

 

[This System will guide you.]

 

Man, you must really want to be the Supreme Ruler of Water Cooler Talk.

 

[It would be the highest of honours.]

 

The Hyena-Rabbits were gracious enough to have fucked off elsewhere in the garden, but it wasn't long before he was hearing their laughs again. The noise rippled through his brain, and he shivered.

 

He followed the System's directions, only having to double back once. It led him into a portion of the garden that had more trees, their canopies ensuring that it was almost dark as midnight in a grove of them. What seemed easily traversable quickly became daunting as the world seemed to swim, and then it was fracturing right before his eyes.

 

Break into fractals, then reform.

 

Soft swirls of colors, bright and dark, encircled at him, dodging away from his hands when he grabbed at them, all the while the voices were trying to talk to him and the laughter was growing louder. It was enough to make him laugh too. He felt good, the burning on his torso practically numb now.

 

[User, focus!]

 

Right, right. The way the world half-seemed to be dissolving was of no consequence. He had to get the orchid. He could see it, night-dark petals edged in white, unfurling like a raven's wings, seeping like an oil slick, he reached out and it slipped through his fingers.

 

He fell to his knees, crawled over to it. It was growing out of a tree, and the roots gave way without much effort. Roots which trailed over his arms, laced together like a net, and they were moving, slithering like serpents, and he snatched his hand away, unwilling to be bitten.

 

[It's not going to bite you. Put it in your damned pouch and get the hell out of here.]

 

He put the plant away clumsily, still wary of being bitten despite the System's assurances otherwise. The roots gave a final, insidious hiss as they disappeared.

 

And then the laughter was all around him, loud, louder than it had ever been. With it came the faces, circling him in the dark, as if he were at the centre of some disturbing carousel. The faces were hungry, lips curled back to reveal their teeth, unnatural in a manner he couldn't quite put into words. Something in the way their eyes bulged, the angles of their cheeks, a violent contrast between softness and severity.

 

They spiraled nearer, the outside of a great maw, the darkness a beast of its own, prepared to swallow him whole. What was it like inside such a creature? With time, would eyes be rendered vestigial? Would one find themself crushed to nothing, in a mirror of the most inaccessible reaches of the ocean?

 

Would the faces follow him there too, ever his tormentors?

 

Yes, they must be, he decided, more than a little nauseated by all the damned spinning, and then a face broke the ranks, came at him and raked fire across his back.

 

He whimpered like a wounded dog, but when the next face tried its luck, he planted his feet and swung at it, fist impacting flesh. 

 

He needed to escape this carousel, to leave this place. The faces were far too near, and if they came any closer he knew they'd break him down to nothing.

 

More faces hurled themselves at him, leaving gaps in their ranks, and he charged the opening, not allowing himself to waver, even as sound bled into colour, further transitioning his world into incomprehensibility. 

 

The promise of a different kind of light beckoned to him, and a voice in his ear, one different from the rest, one he knew he could trust, told him to go for it, so he did. 

 

It told him to turn, he turned, it told him to clamber over a barrier, he clambered. 

 

“One foot in front of the other”, it said, and he chanted as he did so he wouldn't lose track and end up falling on his face.

 

Left, right, left, right, left, right.

 

“Duck down, avoid that rock, if you fall into that flower bed you'll sorely regret it later.”

 

Left, right, left, right, left, right.

 

“Under that low-hanging branch, oh, mind the next one.”

 

Left, right, left, right, left, right.

 

“I'm going to be Supreme Ruler, damn it! You can go suck an egg, Mordor. Straight ahead now, you can do it, you're almost there.”

 

Nothing made sense, he felt so heavy and he was granted no reprieve from the constant noise, but he could not help but cheer when the mechanical voice did. It had guided him true, and the faces were gone now, and even though the pain was creeping back in he knew that it would make sure that he was safe.

 

So, when it told him to hold his breath and fall forward, he did, and when the hands wrapped around him, almost tender as they curled around his middle and brushed over his cheek, he let them have him.

***

There were two voices- no, three- above him, bickering. Shen Yuan cracked a heavy eye open, and a demon woman smiled down at him for the few moments he could keep it open. When it fell shut once more, he heard her chuckle softly.

 

His body ached all over, and his face rested atop something soft. He nuzzled into it with a soft huff of breath.

 

“-didn't expect him to almost get himself killed-”

 

“-has honour, unlike you-”

 

“-made a deal-”

 

“-both of you, I've had quite enough of-”

 

[Returned to the land of the lucid, have we?]

 

[Welcome back.]

 

Shen Yuan groaned and weakly raised an arm to make a rude gesture at it. The voices paused, as if waiting for something. After a minute, they resumed, and Shen Yuan decided to just tune them out.

 

I feel like Truck-kun just ran me over. Did I get the flower?

 

[User did.]

 

And you helped me escape.

 

[...]

 

[Yes.]

 

Thank you. I would've definitely been dead without you. That would've been embarrassing. To survive a giant meat monster intent on subsuming me, just to kick the bucket to a bunch of overgrown mutts? Inconceivable.

 

[As this System said, it would rather not suffer humiliation for the rest of eternity.]

 

Awww, love you too.

 

[(,,>﹏<,,)]

 

“-and why are his hands glowing?”

 

“-none of your business, you-”

 

“-need to check his pupillary reflexes.”

 

“You guys are so loud,” he grumbled, and cracked his eye open again. It was a little easier this time. Next to the woman were Big Horns and Luo Binghe, chief noisemakers. “I'm going back to sleep, if you don't mind.”

***

Big Horns’ sister, Sharp Teeth, had frigid hands, but he made no protests because she had been nice enough to stop him from bleeding out. He just shivered a little when she had to change his bandages.

 

The wounds on his back were far more severe than the ones on his front, so she ended up spending more time working on them. 

 

“They've been driving me insane,” she confided to him, examining his stitches with a critical eye. “My brother is worried, of course, and the boy… he was nearly inconsolable, but the prospect of strangling them is becoming more enticing by the shichen.”

 

“I'll help you dispose of their bodies,” he said, trying to quash the guilt that had been plaguing him since he had woken up after the garden and his unplanned drug trip. Her laugh helped ease things, a little bit. “Just give me the word.”

 

“I'll keep you apprised of the situation,” she said with a wink. “Now turn towards me, I need to check that your intestines aren't about to spill out all over my floor. It's a pain to keep clean on a good day.”

***

“You needn't have risked your life for this,” Big Horns said quietly, Midnight's Eye Orchid cupped in his hands. Its roots looked rough, but the stem, leaves, and blossoms were all perfectly intact.

 

Big Horns was perched at his bedside, and had been telling Shen Yuan tales of his travels since their last meeting.

 

“I didn't intend to,” Shen Yuan said, sketching what he could recollect of the Kaleidoscopic Eye Hyena-Rabbits. He could draw the patterns in their fur without even needing to look. He didn't think he'd ever forget. The faces had followed him into his nightmares. “But I wasn't going to break my promise to you. You seemed so enamoured by the possibility of having the orchid, and I have not forgotten your high standards for paint.”

 

Big Horns’ cheeks darkened, and he softly thumped the back of his head against the wall. “I can't believe you sat through all my nattering on about painting without complaint.”

 

“I didn't mind,” Shen Yuan said. It had actually helped him understand some of the things Shen Qingqiu talked about. “I thought your rant about paper quality was particularly inspired.”

 

Big Horns groaned, and swatted at him when he laughed. “You're the worst.”

 

“So I've been told.”

 

“I would've been perfectly alright had you told me it was too dangerous to retrieve,” Big Horns said, absent-mindedly messing with one of the orchid's leaves. “I would've been happy just having another meal together, as payment for my assistance.”

 

“I'm sure we'll have our fair share of opportunities to eat together,” Shen Yuan said. “Considering your sister hasn't given me the ‘all clear’ yet. She might actually hunt me down and kill me if I tried to leave against medical advice.”

 

“She would,” Big Horns said, with a grin. “Alright, next time we dine together, I'll let you do the talking. Any subject you want, and I will listen as raptly as you apparently did.”

 

“I do have strong opinions on literature.”

 

“Well, then, I can't wait to hear them.”

***

Shen Yuan glared at his hands. 

 

It had been three days since he'd awoken, and per the System, they would not cease their incessant glowing any time soon.

 

It had been three days since he'd awoken, and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Luo Binghe.

***

His absent companion finally revealed himself in the wee hours of the fourth morning, startling Shen Yuan.

 

He'd been in the middle of securing his outer robes when Luo Binghe had opened the door, freezing in place upon noticing him awake. Shen Yuan had woken from a nightmare a half hour prior, and had been unable to fall back asleep.

 

“Why is Shishu awake?” Luo Binghe asked. He didn't look too good, unusually pale and sweaty, his eyes all puffy. 

 

“Couldn't sleep. I was going to go sit just outside, if you'd care to join me.” 

 

They treaded quietly through the house, and Shen Yuan shut the door behind them before he settled cross-legged in the grass.

 

Luo Binghe sat beside him, and stared off into the distance. Shen Yuan didn't push him to talk, and for a while they sat in silence.

 

“Shishu almost died,” Luo Binghe said eventually, his voice rough. “You came out of the garden- there was so much blood, and you weren't responding to anything. I- I had to drag you here, I didn't know what else to do. If Sharp Teeth wasn't here, you would have died.”

 

He was trembling, his breath hitching as he fought off tears. “And I was so angry after those first few hours, when we knew for sure that you'd be alright. And if my ankle hadn't been hurt, then maybe you wouldn't have been hurt so badly-”

 

“Don't blame yourself for my actions,” Shen Yuan said thickly, his own eyes a bit damp (it was a dusty night). “You did good, and if I had died then, it wouldn't have been your fault.” He tentatively reached out, and placed a hand on Luo Binghe’s head, ruffling his hair a little. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back- I know now that Big Horns would've been perfectly okay if I hadn't gotten the orchid. My main priority should've been seeing us both through the garden, minimally traumatized, and I made the wrong choices. You're well within your rights to be angry with me.”

 

“This disciple is not angry anymore,” Luo Binghe said, futilely wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Shen Yuan offered him a handkerchief. Luo Binghe stared at it, then at Shen Yuan's face, and then Shen Yuan had an armful of sobbing disciple, who was clinging to him like he still might drop dead at any moment. 

 

He gently rubbed Luo Binghe’s back and let him cry, ignoring all the tears and snot being rubbed into his robes. It would wash out, after all. He didn't bother with platitudes, didn't think Luo Binghe would appreciate them. He just did his best to be present, and didn't complain when it half felt like he was being squeezed to death.

 

Eventually, once his breathing had evened out and the tears had cessated, Luo Binghe drew away, returning to his previous spot beside Shen Yuan. He accepted the handkerchief, wiping his face and then clutching it in like it was something precious.

 

“Besides Shishu almost dying, this disciple has enjoyed the mission.”

 

Shen Yuan smiled at him. “I've enjoyed it too.”

 

Together, they watched the sun rise.

***

By the end of the fourth day, Sharp Teeth declared them both recovered enough to travel- so long as they took it easy. They made plans to leave the next morning.

 

That night, they had dinner in the market, all four of them, balancing their food in their hands and praying they wouldn't end up dropping it in the chaos.

 

As promised, Shen Yuan went on a long rant about his literary opinions while Big Horns listened, half-impressed and half-horrified.

 

When all that remained of their meals were crumbs, they walked idly around Nuan Guang Town, and Shen Yuan listened to the others speak, only really chiming in if someone asked him a question or for his opinion directly. He was content to watch things play out around him for a little while. It was nice, comfortable. A musician serenaded a delighted old woman in the square, the rest of her old lady posse cheering her on. Two drunks fought, the crowd quickly taking sides and cheering like they were watching professional boxing (according to one of the locals, the drunks fought almost daily, and refused to fight anybody but each other). A vendor selling jian dui gave out the last few for free, claiming they didn't want them to go to waste.

 

Their little group was mostly ignored, though Shen Yuan's hands did attract a few curious glances. He was not looking forward to explaining their fun new glow to Zhang Min, who was undoubtedly going to make fun of him.

 

The next morning, after extensive farewells (and Big Horns joking that he’d see Shen Yuan next spring), they readied themselves to depart.

 

Luo Binghe climbed onto Zheng Yang, and crowed triumphantly when he only wobbled a little bit.

 

“You ready?” Shen Yuan asked, reaching out to lightly flick Luo Binghe's forehead.

 

Luo Binghe huffed, but was unable to suppress his grin. “This disciple is ready.”

 

Together, they set off towards home.

Notes:

The Golden-Fleeced Celestial Ram was what chapter 17 was originally supposed to be about, with Shen Yuan jumping through a bunch of hoops trying to keep it satisfied. It was scrapped when my brain refused to make the chapter.

Fun fact! You shouldn't use river rocks for campfires because their pores are saturated with water, and when that water heats up and creates steam, the rock will explode! City boy Shen Yuan had to learn this lesson the painful way >:3

Orchids are epiphytes, which are plants that grow on other plants. Otherwise I would've had him clawing at the dirt miserably whilst he tripped balls.

I read Lord of the Flies for the first time while I was writing the rough draft for this chapter. Upon reflection, I think that this might show in a spot or two.

Poor Bingbing, guy had a lot of ups and downs this chapter. Nothing that happened here will affect his decision-making in the future at all...

The anchor stone stuff is almost done, with the ritual itself next chapter. I think I might be a bit burned out on monster/adventure type chapters at the moment, which are always long and take a ton of brainpower, so there probably won't be another one until after all the IAC stuff happens. Time to return to my usual method of chapter construction: picking plot points from my """"""outline"""""""", pure unfettered derangement, and listening to music so loudly that my eardrums will simply give up by the time that I am forty.

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

Chapter 20: Cooking By The Book

Summary:

Shen Yuan does a ritual, finishes a side project, and fends off a home intruder

Notes:

From here, there will be less than ten chapters until the IAC.

Thank you all for reading! <3333

The caterwauling of the System's alarm shattered the deep, pervasive silence of the Ling Xi Caves. The stillness, the quiet, had enveloped Shen Yuan for the past month like a shroud, and he startled upon its interruption. 

 

He cracked open one eye reluctantly, squinting slightly at the brightness of the System's display. Could you not rouse me in a more humane and less migraine-inducing manner, you leech?

 

[Such a cruel and thoroughly undeserved moniker! Why must User bully this poor System so? ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡]

 

Undeserved?! Pah! You're the one who demanded an exorbitant amount in exchange for a fucking alarm!

 

[The cost of the alarm was perfectly proportional to its duration, and the complete boredom that this System had to contend with whilst User sat here and did nothing of interest for an entire month.]

 

I’m sure it was horrible, not having the opportunity to see me mauled or in emotional distress for so long.

 

[User has no idea!(｡>﹏<)]

 

Shen Yuan slowly cracked open his other eye, once the first had adjusted, and tested his limbs. They were a bit stiff from being held in one position for so long, so he did a few light stretches before he tried to stand, his legs wobbling slightly. Despite this, he felt good- light and sturdy and settled in his body in a manner he had not been before.

 

Most crucially, he could feel the qi welling in his dantians, crashing along his meridians- a surplus begging to be utilised. He had achieved his purpose, and the barest temptation to retain this excess power was easily banished.

 

Acquiring the final component had been no hardship. He had gone to the place that an obscure demon tribe called home and demonstrated his familiarity with their customs. This, of course, had intrigued them- this stranger, and a cultivator to boot, possessing knowledge of things he had no business knowing. 

 

He was delivered to their matriarch, whom he plied with tea (the good stuff, a blend that Shen Qingqiu had given him recently) and snacks, and she grilled him about his presence there, his knowledge. He answered as honestly as he could (his instincts told him that she would whether he spoke mistruths), and then, they had sat quietly for a while as she ruminated and drank cup after cup of tea. 

 

Finally, she had given him the small jar of the honey that he needed, and told him that he was welcome to visit anytime, so long as he brought more of his fancy teas with him.

 

When he’d made it back to the sect, he’d gone instantly to Ren Qingxin’s office, who seemed surprised at his sudden appearance. When he told her that they had everything they needed now, she’d given him this long, slightly disbelieving stare.

 

“You have them all?” she’d asked, the steadiness of her voice contrary to the gamut of emotions running across her features. “Shidi has been industrious.” 

 

“I said I would get them, and I did,” he said simply, moving a pile of papers aside so that he could sit, and he laid out each of the components one by one for her to examine. She did so without comment, raising each to her face to examine more closely, turning them to and fro. When she had finished, she shook her head slowly, as if she could scarcely believe that it all was real.

 

“I won’t ask you how exactly you knew where to find some of these,” she said, brushing a hand over the skein of golden wool, “In truth, a part of me doubted that you would succeed.” Her mouth quirked into a slightly crooked smile. “I suppose I should’ve known better.”

 

One of the paper birds landed on Ren Qingxin’s shoulder and began to squawk insistantly. She grimaced slightly at the noise, and plucked it off of her, unfolding it with a few deft movements. She adjusted her pince-nez on her nose, her palpable displeasure only growing as she read the message’s contents.

 

“It seems that something pressing has come up, and, regrettably, I must cut our conversation short.” She glanced up at Shen Yuan. “We can have the ritual ready to go in exactly a month’s time, at sunset. Dusk is a period of transition, ideal for the transformation of something mundane to something exalted.”

 

She stood, and Shen Yuan copied her. He swept the components back into his pouches, where they would be kept safe.

 

“Anything I should do in the interim?” he asked.

 

“I would suggest accumulating as much qi as you are capable of,” she said. Wryly, she added, “After all, it’s not everyday that one attempts an obscure ritual, which has gone unused and untested for centuries.”

 

He nodded, begrudgingly, already dreaded the prospect of returning to the Ling Xi Caves after the circumstances of his previous visit there.

 

“Will I need to send someone to fetch you, when the time comes?”

 

“No,” he sighed, already anticipating the System’s glee at the opportunity to squeeze as many of his hard-earned B-Points from him. “I’m great at keeping track of time. I’ll see you in a month, Ren-shijie.”

***

The sunlight spilled like liquid gold over Cang Qiong’s peaks, and upon its touch he could feel the banishment of the lingering chill of the caves, which felt like it had settled into the very marrow of his bones. Brilliant swirls of warmly-hued leaves adorned the branches of the deciduous trees speckling the landscape, and Shen Yuan spared a sympathetic thought to the stair-sweepers.

 

Based on the position of the sun, he estimated that they had roughly an hour, give or take a few minutes, before the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. He didn’t have time to dawdle, to really soak in the warmth that had been stolen from him, so reluctantly he tore himself from his slight stupor and forced himself to move.

 

The flight back to his peak was satisfying, the qi that buzzed eagerly within him granting him a new swiftness, the runes on his sword glowing brighter than he’d yet seen them. A few people waved at him as he passed, and he returned the gesture with a smile.

 

He navigated over to the corner of the peak where the chunk of basalt sat, relieved to see the members of the ritual team dotted around it. Some of them were bent over, working on a half-completed array. They were armed with tools that appeared to be a hybrid of paintbrush and hot glue gun, their writing (in his fresh, blessedly uncoagulated blood) steady and somehow undisturbed by the short grass beneath.

 

“Shizun!” Zhang Min called when she spied him, hurrying to greet him. She had a wide grin on her face, practically vibrating with anticipation. Her sleeves were tied up, nearly to the shoulder, runes inscribed in a dark, red-hued ink spiralling around her arms and hands. A quick glance around revealed that nearly everyone else possessed the same on their arms. Xu Haoyu, the non-cultivating academic, was the sole exception. “Are you ready?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, voice a little less steady than he would’ve preferred. It was finally hitting him that this was it- the culmination of months of effort and injury. If this didn’t work, he wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself. Probably cry and shake his fists at the sky. Maybe shell out some money for the special cultivator booze that Zui Xian Peak made and get absolutely sozzled. “What’s on your arms?”

 

“From what I could translate from Shao Lixin’s near-incomprehensible ramblings, they’re supposed to prevent us from donating our qi past the point it’s safe, so that none of us damage our cultivation or qi-deviate,” she explained, making a face at the mention of her eternal nemesis. “Lu-qianbei and Xu-xiansheng worked it out, and I think they have something slightly more complicated for you.”

 

“Have you been out here long?” he asked, nodding at the growing array. 

 

“Perhaps half a shichen,” she said, grabbing his arm and gently pulling him towards Xu Haoyu and old Lu Zhi, who were speaking in low voices off to the side. “Lei Chang has been showing Ke Long how to set up some complicated array that will keep people from noticing anything going on here or getting too close, and Ren-shibo has been overseeing the array’s construction.”

 

Shen Yuan hadn’t considered the possibility of interlopers, and was once more grateful to have people on his side to make up for his own deficiencies (lack of foresight being one of them).

 

Lu Zhi noticed their approach first, and elbowed Xu Haoyu a little less gently than she likely meant to, earning herself a kicked-puppy look from the academic. “You’re looking radiant today, Lian Qingliu.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, patiently allowing her to check the flow of qi in his body. 

 

She hummed in approval. “Good. This should provide a good final push to the stone, once our reserves are dried up.” She clapped her hands together loudly, making them jump. “Since you’re serving as conduit, the runes we’re going to paint on you will be a little more complicated. Now, robes off.”

 

Shen Yuan gaped at her, and Zhang Min spluttered in disbelief, her face going bright red.

 

“Just the parts covering your upper body,” Xu Haoyu clarified quickly, shooting Lu Zhi a long-suffering look. Lu Zhi merely grinned, unrepentant.

 

Relieved that he only had to undress partially, Shen Yuan hurried to comply, working the top portions of his robes off without too much trouble. 

 

He had adapted pretty well to the modesty standards of this world, so intentionally bearing so much skin felt decidedly odd, and made him more than a little self-conscious. 

 

“You might need to tie your hair up,” Zhang Min chimed in, and passed him a hair ribbon. He gathered the thick mass of his hair and secured it atop his head in a neat bun, taking care to get the rebellious strands at his nape tucked away.

 

The rasp of brush bristles against his bare back made him shiver.

 

“Hold still, and fix your posture,” Lu Zhi scolded, and Shen Yuan murmured an apology and sat up straighter. She resumed her work when she deemed his spine sufficiently straightened.

 

At his front, Xu Haoyu dipped his own brush in a pot of the reddish ink and started on Shen Yuan’s chest, right over his sternum. The brunt of the runes were applied over the area his core sat, which Shen Yuan supposed made sense.

 

“These should hopefully help you bear the flow of qi with less pain,” Xu Haoyu explained calmly. “But it will probably be unlike anything you’ve felt before. It will be difficult, but your main focus, when it hits, should be to get it to flow cleanly through you. Don’t worry about adding your own qi to the mix until the current begins to wane. Do you have the interior portion of the array memorised?”

 

Shen Yuan nodded. The innermost portion of the array- the one that both he and the basalt would be contained within, would have to be drawn by him, using the combined material components that he’d been collecting. It was the portion of the array that would transmute the basalt into an anchor stone. “I think I could likely do it in my sleep, with how much practice I’ve put in.”

 

The mountains of papers with half-drawn portions of arrays littering his house could attest to that.

 

Behind him, Lu Zhi finished with his back and moved onto his arms, drawing a pattern almost identical to the ones everyone else wore. 

 

Xu Haoyu nodded, satisfied, and drew a few more runes over his ribs. “Have faith that this will work, Lian Qingliu.”

 

“And if it doesn’t, we can always try again,” Lu Zhi chimed in, with a light pinch to his cheek. “Now, go mix the components together. We’re done painting you.”

 

Shen Yuan bowed to them, careful to hold his arms slightly away from his torso to keep from smearing the drying ink. “Thank you both for your help, it has been invaluable. Without your aid, I never would’ve gotten this far.”

 

Xu Haoyu returned his bow. “It is my pleasure. This has been an incredible research opportunity, one that I never could’ve dreamed of.”

 

Lu Zhi prodded them both. “You can be thankful for each other later. We’re short on time.” She shooed Shen Yuan off, and with one final glance back at Zhang Min (who mouthed ‘good luck’), he approached the vacant centre of the array and sat beside the basalt. 

 

A jade bowl, a mortar, a pestle, a glass stirring rod, and one of the hot glue gun/paintbrush abominations awaited him, and he wasted no time pulling out the components. Alright, how long do I have?

 

[Approximately twenty-five minutes.]

 

Shit.

 

The only component that had an amount specified were the Iron-Bark Rowan Buds. The rest were a matter of guesswork. Or perhaps, as more than a few hosts of cooking shows would say, were something to be ‘measured with your heart’.

 

He decided to approach this as if he were baking something, though he would be blatantly disregarding the necessity of exact measurements. He would combine the wet and dry ingredients separately, before mixing them all together. 

 

He uncorked the jar of Moonstone Tree sap, then paused. I shouldn’t expect one of those shitty slider bars to appear, like in some of those cooking games, right? You know, the ones where you have to hit dead centre or you’ve fucked up the whole recipe?

 

[This System may be, on occasion, mildly evil and sadistic, but it is not a monster.]

 

Shen Yuan let out a sigh of relief, and poured the sap into the jade bowl, stopping whenever it felt right. He spooned some of the Orange Blossom Bee honey into the bowl, hesitated. Added another spoonful. Once it had sunk into the sap, he pulled out his bootknife and pricked the pad of his finger with the blade. Blood welled up at the site of the injury, and he squeezed a few drops into the bowl. As that was the last of the wet ingredients, he grabbed the stirring rod and mixed the wet ingredients until they were well-combined. Then, he set the bowl aside for later.

 

He threw the four rowan buds and two of the Spiny Eel spines into the mortar together, and with the pestle he ground them down until they made a sort of thick paste.

 

He dithered over whether to add the wool now or later, but decided since he was approaching this like he was baking, it would be added to the dry-ish ingredients whilst they were seperate. He used his knife to cut off chunks of the wool, and worked it into the paste until the contents of the mortar bore an unfortunate resemblance to a hairball. 

 

[Mmm, that looks so appetising.]

 

[Did you remember to preheat your oven to 175 degrees?]

 

I totally did, and immediately afterwards I greased my pans with cooking spray.

 

He lifted the mortar and shook the hairball into the wet ingredients, unwilling to touch it with his bare hands. It plopped into the bowl with a wet squelch, and Shen Yuan cringed at the sound.

 

He wielded the stirring rod once more, and thankfully the hairball began to dissolve. Idly, he wondered whether mixing techniques played a significant role in ritual outcomes.

 

When the components were only just combined, he stopped, not wanting to overmix his ritual goop. A thick, lustrous golden fluid had formed- a blessedly homogeneous one, at that- which he chose to interpret as a sign that he had not catastrophically ruined something.

 

Right on cue, Ren Qingxin called from the outer edge of the array, “Is the mixture ready? We don’t have much time left.”

 

“It’s finished, I’ll start on my portion of the array,” he replied, hefting the paintbrush abomination and dipping it in the jade bowl. From there, he let muscle memory take over, innumerable hours of practice ensuring that his lines were steady and positioned exactly where they were supposed to be. In his periphery, he saw Han Ai lay down the final few runes of the outer array. 

 

He worked from the outside in, paranoid about stepping somewhere he ought not to, until finally he was at the base of the rock itself, painting around his own feet and up its dark face. According to Ren Qingxin, they had most heavily modified the part of the array that adorned the rock itself, substituting runes and modifying phrases to amplify its power and improve its ability to absorb qi. Shen Yuan very much hoped that this did not lead to it exploding in his face- he’d had enough of that for one lifetime.

 

When his section of the array was completed, he tossed the jade bowl and all of the tools to Tao Huiying, who caught them smoothly and set them aside to be collected later. 

 

And then, at long last, everything was ready.

 

Shen Yuan planted his feet (there was not much room to do so), considering the rock before him. It was mere centimetres from him, a string of runes connecting it to the point he stood at, where multiple branches of the array converged. His heart hammered in his chest, so loud and frantic that he could practically hear it. 

 

On the outer edge of the array, the other cultivators stood equidistant, Xu Haoyu positioned nearby to watch the fruits of their collective labour. The sun burned on the horizon, mere minutes from slipping out of sight and abandoning them to the darkness.

 

“Let us begin,” Ren Qingxin called, and as one, the cultivators circled the outer edge of the array anticlockwise. They were careful to maintain the distance between them, completing the circuit thrice, and as they went, Shen Yuan felt the beginnings of something new, some stir in the air around him. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end, the faint scent of ozone tickling his nose.

 

He watched as they knelt, as they pressed their hands to the outermost portion of the array, their skin shimmering with qi. The runes on their arms transitioned slowly from reddish to silver, bleeding slowly along the spiralling patterns.

 

The power built steadily, a hum that raised in volume, and the scent of ozone sharpened, intensified. Even from twenty metres’ distance, Shen Yuan could feel their qi, the way it buzzed against his skin. The grass surrounding them danced wildly, as if blown by heavy gales.

 

Shen Yuan prayed like he never had before, hoping that this would work. And then, as if something had heard his prayer, there was another change, and the runes on the outer edge of the array ignited, light erupting and throwing every feature of their small island into stark relief. The light rippled with colours, parts consolidating into a whole, rapidly intensifying until it was near-blinding, like he was in the heart of a star at its conception.

 

Like a dam bursting, the qi spilled over the reservoir and surged down the branches of the array, howling in his ears, and he had only a split-second to brace himself before a wave of raw energy slammed into him, nearly knocking him off of his feet.

 

He could feel the moment it hit his meridians, tore without pause through his dantians, so much qi coursing through him that he felt like he’d been struck with lightning. He could not breathe, could scarcely think, could only wonder at the sheer force coursing through him. It felt as if every part of him was being burned, like his every cell was vibrating, like he was to be hollowed from the inside out to hold the sheer quantity of energy pouring into him.

 

His world narrowed to mere sensation, to the pain, to the torrent within, but somehow, by some miracle, he found the wherewithal to reach out. He pressed his hands to cool stone, found his outlet for the flood of qi so desperate to escape the confines of his body.

 

No longer simply a vessel, but a conduit, the pain ebbed slowly away and coherence returned to him. It wasn’t difficult to channel the flow of energy once he could focus, could concentrate on feeding the changing rock beneath his fingers, and it was not long before he could feel it abandon its inertness and reach for more, eager for all that he had to give.

 

He could feel the way the basalt suddenly anchored itself into the earth, grew roots deep, into the very fibre of the mountain. Could feel as it reached out, past the bounds of the sect, as it took mountains and forests and fields within its grasp, as it ran its fingers along the shoreline and dipped into the sea.

 

When the current began to weaken, he surrendered more of his own qi to the stone, the excess that he had gathered solely to sacrifice, and it readily accepted his offering.

 

Around him, the light dimmed, and just as he reached the point where he could not possibly give any more qi, the flow of energy stopped. Exhaustion hit him like a freight train, and his legs gave out beneath him.

 

The inner array had been burned into the earth itself, and a web of pale runes was splashed across the anchor stone’s face. Shen Yuan reached out, brushed flecks of ash from it. The stone hummed beneath his touch, almost friendly, almost a greeting. He found himself leaning subconsciously towards it, as if it possessed its own gravity.

                            

A glint at the base of the stone caught his eye, and in partial disbelief, he scooped a small amber and black gemstone from the dirt. The master key was shaped like a teardrop, and no larger than his thumbnail. It felt warm within his grasp, and it was then that it hit him that the ritual had worked, that all this effort had not been for naught.

 

 He laughed then, a bit disbelieving, and jubilant tears gathered in his eyes. Happily, he flopped down beside the anchor stone, turning the key around and around in his hands. He would have to figure out how he wanted to carry it around, whether it be attached to his belt or worn as a piece of jewelry, and whether it was possible to put some sort of tracker on it.

 

But all of that would come later. 

 

For now, he could finally rest.

***

The next order of business was establishing the exact bounds of the anchor stone’s reach, which he did as soon as he’d recovered enough qi to not feel ill every time he had to use it.

 

Everyone who had donated their qi to the ritual was a bit sluggish in the ensuing week, a few begging off to the Ling Xi Caves to speed things along. Liu Qingge seemed mildly concerned by Shen Yuan’s condition, his blows not nearly as forceful as usual, and Shen Qingqiu insisted on plying him with cup after cup of medicinal tea. His disciples had been uncharacteristically somber as well, looking between his and Zhang Min’s pale faces with visible trepidation. Shen Yuan felt bad for worrying them, and tried to ease their concerns as best he could with lighthearted jokes and the like.

 

He was a bit nervous those first few days following the ritual, half-expecting Yue Qingyuan to swoop in out of nowhere and demand an explanation for the strange, qi-dense stone that had appeared on his peak, but no such inquiries came.

 

The master key, after much deliberation, had been added to a pendant and attached to his belt. He’d considered making it into an earring, but the possibility of one of the creatures on his peak ripping it from his ear dimmed its appeal, so he went the safer route. Also adorning the length of the pendant were a few wooden beads and one of Hatsune Miku’s shed scales, which had been polished and cut down a little, for a better fit.

 

After he found the edge of the anchor stone’s reach, he would test it for the first time. 

 

If all went well with the test, he would start producing keys. All the materials needed for them could be sourced within the sect, but the most difficult to obtain would be blood from each individual who he made one for. He had no clue how he was going to convince his disciples to hand over their blood en masse. Ren Qingxin had already given him samples from every single one of her disciples, and he was too scared to ask her how she’d managed it.

 

He spent several days flying full-speed, occasionally checking to ensure that the measurement tool that Ren Qingxin had given him hadn’t spontaneously disappeared. It was in the shape of a little metal kestrel, and as soon as he reached the edge of the stone’s reach, he was to activate it. It would fly straight towards the stone, no dithering or changing direction as Shen Yuan was wont to do, and they would know precisely how much range the stone had.

 

All Shen Yuan cared about was whether they’d given it enough juice to reach the Jue Di Gorge.

 

He wasn’t sure how exactly he’d know when he was out of the stone’s range, but Ren Qingxin seemed confident he’d been able to tell, especially after he’d confided that since the ritual, he’d had this quiet awareness of it in the back of his mind. No one else had reported feeling anything, but that didn’t exactly surprise him. The stone had been birthed and shaped by his own blood, and all the qi that had gone into awakening it had passed through him first.

 

As predicted, he could feel the moment he left the stone’s range. There was a ripple over his skin, an instantaneous bereftness that grasped him. The connection that had tied them together was muted, and he found that he desperately wanted it back.

 

He turned quickly, and wasted no time in backtracking, the return to the stone’s reach a heavy relief. He hovered on the precipice between within and without, and activated the kestrel. It opened its eyes, cocked its small head this way and that. Then, it hopped to the edge of his palm and took off, swift and steady, back towards the sect. He watched it disappear into the distance, which did not take long, considering it was no taller than his pinky finger.

 

Now that that was addressed, he made for the ground far below, spiraling towards it at full speed and pulling up at the last possible moment.

 

[Adrenaline junkie.]

 

Yeah, yeah, whatever. 

 

Once his feet were back on solid ground and his sword sheathed, he took the key in hand. It flared with sudden warmth, and he could feel a brush of curiosity from it.

 

Hello, he thought at it, feeling slightly stupid for greeting a rock. But then again, it was a rock that apparently held some degree of sentience. 

 

Shen Yuan took a deep breath in, envisioning the anchor stone in his head. He thought of the remains of the array surrounding it, of the water that flowed around its island, of the toad cave nearby. He thought of his peak’s meadows, its trees, its buildings. He thought of the river that roared by his house, of his disciples running along the paths from class to class, of Hatsune Miku curled comfortably in the middle of his bed. Please, take me there.

 

The key hummed in his hand, and between one moment and the next, the ground disappeared from beneath him and he was falling, that familiar sense of gravity that the anchor stone held grabbing him and pulling him towards it. Light and dark swirled indistinctly around him, and then he was standing back before the stone, precisely at the point where he had stood during the ritual.

 

His breath whooshed out of him in relief, at this final confirmation that the ritual truly had worked. He reached out and patted the stone appreciatively.

 

When the kestrel arrived a few days later, it only confirmed what he had suspected- that Jue Di Gorge was well within the anchor stone’s grasp. That meant that he had a little less than a year and a half to figure out who from his peak was participating in the Immortal Alliance Conference and make them each keys.

 

Yue Qingyuan said the lists of participating disciples had to be finalised by this spring so that the event’s coordinators could accommodate everyone. Shen Yuan hadn’t yet made his selections- he’d been toying with the idea of a multi-stage exam to determine who to send.

 

[You’re evil, User.]

 

[Making your poor disciples take big exams? What’s next, waterboarding?]

 

Yes, that’s exactly what I was planning to do to them next. You caught me.

 

[...]

 

[This System has decided to support you on your path to evil.]

 

I’m glad to hear it. Quick question, would it be evil to use the anchor stone to escape Wei Qingwei’s intimate recollections of the swordmaking process?

 

[That’s not evil, User. That’s just self-preservation.]

***

After months of editing, the manuscript that he’d received from his book club peers was more ink than paper, the margins crammed with his miniscule script. Beside the drawings, he’d left helpful notes such as: ‘Legs do not bend that far,’ ‘Anatomically impossible,’ ‘He’s going to suffocate if he remains in that position,’ and, of course, ‘Why?!’.

 

Despite the occasional torment this manuscript had inflicted upon him, he had finished, and hopefully whoever had written this (and especially whoever had done the illustrations) would heed his advice and make any necessary changes.

 

Shen Yuan went to drop it off during lunch one day, his entry token allowing him onto Xian Shu Peak without issue. The Xian Shu disciples didn’t even bat an eye at his presence, having seen him around often enough for his book club meetings that his being here was nothing notable.

 

He entered the book club building, expecting it to be empty, but a cloaked figure awaited him. A dim light glowed in one hand, the other was outstretched towards him. 

 

“Have you completed the task that you were set?” the cloaked figure who was totally not Liu Mingyan asked. He passed her the manuscript, and she thumbed eagerly through the marked-up pages.

 

“I did,” he said, wondering whether she’d just been standing down here in the dark on the off chance that he showed up. Of course, he wouldn’t put it past her that she was chilling down here simply because she enjoyed it. She seemed to enjoy all the creepy building ambience it had going for it.

 

“Good,” not-Liu-Mingyan said, and tucked the manuscript into her robes. “We will keep you apprised of its progress. If you receive any more manuscripts from us, feel free to accept or deny them at your leisure.” She bowed. “The Cang Qiong Literary Society thanks you for your service, Member Lian Qingliu.”

 

And then with a swish of her cloak, she left, probably to deliver the manuscript to its author.

 

Shen Yuan stood alone in the dark for a little while afterwards, trying to figure out what evil he’d done in his past life to be made the official editor of the book club members’ personal manuscripts.

 

[It was probably the lingerie.]

 

Shen Yuan flipped it off.

***

The thing he’d been dreading since his spars with Liu Qingge began finally came to pass in mid-autumn.

 

He was awoken by Hatsune Miku, who was nibbling frantically at his ear, something she only really did when she was agitated. He groaned and pulled her off of him.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” he grumbled, squinting at the dark world beyond his windows. “I am not taking you outside or feeding you right now. It would only reinforce bad habits.”

 

She squeaked frustratedly, and they both froze when the roof creaked above them. It sounded almost as if something was walking up there, and the footfalls slowly approached the roof’s edge.

 

Shen Yuan held his breath, hoping that whoever had the gall to be stomping around on his roof at ass o’clock in the morning had the decency to fuck off and let him get back to sleep.

 

A thump just outside one of the windows suggested that whatever had been on the roof had jumped.

 

Shen Yuan slipped out of his bed, the slight rustle of his sheets the only sound besides his and Hatsune Miku’s breathing. The lizard herself remained planted atop the pile of blankets, her petals all puffed up (ostensibly to make herself more threatening, though Shen Yuan was of the opinion that it made her more cute) and her fangs bared.

 

Neither of them were prepared for the wall surrounding the window to smash apart as someone hurled themself inside, and Shen Yuan wasted no time in lunging at them, irritable that his sleep had been disrupted. They wanted to be beat up so badly? He was more than happy to accommodate them.

 

His attacker side stepped him smoothly, the way they moved awfully familiar.

 

Liu Qingge, Shen Yuan realised incredulously. Liu Qingge just destroyed my window.

 

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!” Shen Yuan cried, swinging at him, and dancing out of the way of a leg sweep. He hurled one of his nice pillows at Liu Qingge, who punched it with such force that it exploded in a cloud of feathers.

 

“Sparring.”

 

“It’s the middle of the night!” Shen Yuan howled, weaving between Liu Qingge’s attacks with a skill honed by months of training together. He aimed a kick at the back of Liu Qingge’s knees. To both of their surprise, it connected, and Liu Qingge was sent toppling to the floor.

 

“Good,” Liu Qingge said, and kicked Shen Yuan’s feet out from under him. He wasted no time in clambering atop Shen Yuan, aiming hits at his head, which Shen Yuan deflected, using the momentum of Liu Qingge’s body to flip them. “You said we could fight any time.”

 

“Not when I’m trying to sleep!” Shen Yuan said, doing his best to pin Liu Qingge, who was unfortunately very good at getting out of his half-remembered wrestling holds. Soon, Shen Yuan was the one in a headlock, trapped between Liu Qingge’s body and the floor. He yearned for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

 

“You’re not trying to sleep right now,” Liu Qingge pointed out astutely, and Shen Yuan glowered, wanting nothing more than to land a hit on him again. Through some miracle, he was able to get his legs under him again, and he pushed up and back. Liu Qingge was slammed against the floor with a grunt, and from there things devolved into poorly-aimed punches at each other and each trying and failing to pin the other down.

 

Hatsune Miku was gracious enough to occasionally sweep in for the assist, biting Liu Qingge’s fingers, his nose, his cheek right over his stupid beauty mark.

 

Eventually, the both of them had lost their steam, and they just laid there, limbs sprawled out with some slight overlap. Hatsune Miku assumed her rightful place atop Shen Yuan’s chest, and glared at Liu Qingge with blatant dislike. It seemed that she too did not appreciate a disrupted sleep schedule.

 

“She is a good companion,” Liu Qingge said. “Loyal.”

 

“She saved my life,” Shen Yuan said, scratching her under her chin. Hatsune Miku preened, and tucked her face into its preferred spot beneath his chin. “I’m lucky to have her.” He smiled reluctantly. “She actually woke me up a little before you came crashing through the window. You need to cool it with the property damage, man.”

 

Liu Qingge frowned. “How else would I enter?”

 

Shen Yuan rolled his eyes. “Through the door. Like a normal, well-adjusted human being. And not in a way that breaks it.”

 

Liu Qingge nodded, albeit reluctantly. “I will respect your wishes. I went through the window for the element of surprise.”

 

“Once again, it’s the middle of the night. I was plenty surprised,” Shen Yuan sighed.

 

“You do not want to fight in the middle of the night?” Liu Qingge asked, brow furrowed.

 

“Not particularly,” Shen Yuan said, rubbing at his bruised side and considering the carnage around them. He took a moment to mourn one of his good pillows. “I should’ve specified before now, but any time does not truly mean any time.

 

Liu Qingge nodded. “I will not wake you up again.”

 

“Thanks, Liu-shixiong,” Shen Yuan said, and sat up with a groan. “I’m gonna go get a treat for Hatsune Miku. You want anything to eat?”

 

Liu Qingge tilted his head consideringly. “I could eat.”

 

So Shen Yuan prepared a simple dish with the ingredients he had in his cupboards, and they dined together. Hatsune Miku stole a piece of chicken from Shen Yuan, and he once again found himself praying that she wouldn’t start eating anybody soon (or if she did, it was someone annoying).

 

When morning arrived, he said farewell to his sparring partner and thought longingly of espresso, missing it as he never had missed it before.

 

Liu Qingge did not disrupt his sleep schedule again.

Notes:

I listened to exactly two songs on repeat the entire time I was writing the ritual sections. I had a whole playlist, but the muse demanded only those two.

I wanted to give Shen Yuan an earring so badly, but alas, it would be a hazard with his career. Maybe someday...

All the book that he read before the actual list of components is the blog part of every recipe you find online. I regret to say that in most cases, I do not read the blog part. Forgive me, chocolate bread recipe person.

Have a good day! <333333

Chapter 21: Geneva Conventions? More Like Geneva Suggestions

Summary:

Shen Yuan settles a friend in for a long nap, goes to war, and finds out that he's a married man.

Notes:

Blockquoted text in the fourth section is all from Sun Tzus' The Art of War.

A thousand thanks to Stormy, who let me borrow their copy!

Thank you all for reading!!!!!!

In the few weeks preceding winter's arrival, Shen Yuan found himself busier than ever. Between crafting the anchor stone keys, his usual peak lord duties, dreaming up an extensive exam for his poor, unsuspecting disciples, and making preparations for the frigid months ahead, he scarcely felt he had time to breathe.

 

The keys were not as complicated to make as the anchor stone itself. Everything he needed to make them could be sourced within the sect, in vast enough quantities that he needn't fear his supply of them being depleted. However, he did encounter some issues making them.

 

The first problem was that they could only be made one at a time, and that he was the only one who seemed capable of crafting them. Despite extensive efforts by members of the anchor stone research team, they were unable to successfully produce even one. 

 

This discovery had sent Ren Qingxin into a research frenzy that she didn't emerge from for six whole days, and at its conclusion, she had informed him- after a convoluted yet sympathetic explanation- that he alone bore the burden of making all of the keys.

 

The second problem was that keys weren't a one-size-fits-all deal. Each one demanded a different proportion of each ingredient, and it could take him days to crack the ratio for a single key. 

 

The System hypothesized that it might be down to the blood- variations in each individual's cultivation, genetics, and environment could alter blood chemistry, therefore affecting what was needed for a viable key. Shen Yuan supposed it had a point, but maintained that the universe was merely jumping at the opportunity to enact its sadistic whims upon him.

 

All in all, it had taken nearly an entire month to make keys for everyone involved in the anchor stone project.

 

Zhang Min had strung hers onto a necklace, which she tucked beneath the collar of her robes when she had to do any sparring or beast-wrangling.

 

His peak lord duties hadn't been especially taxing- in fact, they had become less strenuous since Liu Qingge had ceased his one-man crusade against Ling Shou's assorted doors, walls, and windows. On an unrelated note, the An Ding disciples who were dispatched to repair any damages on his peak seemed in far better spirits as of late.

 

The brunt of his time was occupied by preparations for the coldest part of the year. Most of the requests for animal products went to the Agriculture Peak, but he still received his own fair share.

 

Most notable of the bunch were the forms that An Ding had sent, estimating the amount of fleece that needed to be harvested from the Kicking Wooly Deer to make enough winterwear for everyone, which had increased twenty-five percent from the previous year. It was doable, as the herd had welcomed about a dozen new fawns last spring, but he'd worried whether they'd have enough people to tackle the task.

 

He needn't have worried.

 

His second annual Wooly-Deer shearing event had had an even bigger turnout than the previous year, and Zhang Min was generous enough not to make him shear one of the creatures himself. Just in case, he'd worn a set of robes he wasn't especially fond of.

 

Upon reflection, it probably wouldn't have bothered him if he'd had to go steal the wool of one of the foul-tempered creatures. The pants-shitting terror that they'd once evoked had dulled to mere wariness. Honestly, he'd take a fight with a hundred of those bosom-exposing terrors over facing another meat monster in a heartbeat.

 

Much to the chagrin of the deers’ handlers, droves of Bai Zhan disciples had turned up, headed by the ballsy disciple that had insisted upon tackling the task solo the year prior. They had required close supervision- some of them had never heard the word ‘moderation' in their lives- and afterwards, had incited a brawl that resulted in no less than twenty-two broken bones.

 

Twenty-two broken bones was somehow easier to deal with than having to soothe some of the baby disciples after some of their favourite animals on the peak disappeared or reached the end of their natural lives. They didn't quite grasp the concept of migration (and a handful required a talking-to about the permanence of death), and all they knew was that many of the animals they loved simply weren't around any more.

 

A few weeks later, Hatsune Miku began to grow sluggish.

 

It began innocently enough- she took an extra nap here and there, her immense appetite reduced to a manageable degree. For a while, he mistook her sustained lethargy for indolence. And then, she began to eat even less, her appetite abandoning her almost entirely.

 

It was around that time that he remembered her fatigue last winter, how often she had snoozed over the course of their travels and in the few weeks following their return.

 

He was well-acquainted with the concepts of hibernation and brumation by this point, but a part of him still balked at the idea of Hatsune Miku being pretty much dead to the world for months. 

 

So, he made a makeshift baby carrier for her, designed after the one he'd used to tow the basalt stone back to the sect, and kept her strapped safely to his chest for a few days. She seemed to enjoy this well enough, but a part of him knew it would only work for so long.

***

[What's the big deal about letting her brumate? She'll be out a month and a half, two months, and then she'll be back to demanding food and disregarding User's personal space.]

 

Shen Yuan marked the final few corrections on a paper from his abyssal biota class. “Look, I know it's stupid, but it just feels wrong to leave her alone for so long.”

 

[This System did say that you both were codependent.]

 

[She'll be perfectly safe in the lizard cave, which is the best place for her to brumate. The temperature has been adjusted to be within the range of ideal brumating temperatures, the entrance is pretty much impossible to find by anybody not in the know, and she'll have ample plants and company once she's done.]

 

“What if she wakes up without me and thinks I've abandoned her?” he asked, eyes darting to the lizard in question, who was curled up in a ball on his lap. A few more months and she might not fit anymore. He petted along her spine; scratched gently with his blunt nails. “What if she hates me for it?”

 

[Ugh, User is so needlessly depressing and stupid sometimes.]

 

[This System thinks you could kill her brethren and she wouldn't adore you any less.]

 

“Because I feed her regularly.”

 

[...Well, partially.]

 

Shen Yuan sighed, his hand drawing to a stop. Hatsune Miku made a sleepy sound of protest, and he immediately resumed his ministrations. “I know what I have to do. I know all this waffling around probably isn’t good for her. I’ll- I’ll take her to the cave in the morning.”

 

And so he did, after a long, sleepless night spent watching her. Midway through the night, he reached across the narrow space separating them, and laid a hand on her chest. Beneath his fingers, her pulse was slow and steady, her chest hardly rising with each breath.

 

When morning came, he scooped her up alongside his bedding, swaddling her in it. He hugged the bundle to his chest, positioning Hatsune Miku’s long neck so that it wouldn’t hang at an uncomfortable angle. 

 

He walked a circuit around the peak, trying to muster the will to do the right thing. It was an hour before he finally set course for the lizard cave. 

 

A gust of air assailed him the instant he entered the tunnel, a scant few degrees warmer than the frozen world outside, and it was almost pleasant. The cave's usual humidity was far more tolerable with the lower temperatures, and he loosened his thick outer robe slightly, one-handed.

 

Inside the cave, countless lizards were curled up, their bodies cushioned by ferns and soft-leaved shrubs. One was awfully close to one of the pools, in danger of toppling in should it roll over, and he paused to move it further away from the edge.

 

Shen Yuan waded through the thick sea of plants, mindful of where he was placing his feet. The last thing he needed was to trample some poor, unsuspecting reptile. It took him a few minutes to find a spot that he thought Hatsune Miku would appreciate, in the cradle of a ginkgo tree’s roots. He set the blanket bundle down, and shifted the blankets around her so that she rested at the centre of the soft nest.

 

He adjusted her limbs carefully, so that she would be more comfortable.

 

“You’ll be perfectly within your rights to bite me once you're awake,” he said, ignoring the thick lump in his throat. 

 

It was with a soft kiss to her head and a final scratch of her ruff that he left her.

 

He had trouble sleeping that night as well- his house was too quiet and bed too empty. He had grown too accustomed to Hatsune Miku trying to lay on top of him in her sleep, and adaptation took time.

***

A proper menace on the battlefield even before Shen Yuan began using Liu Qingge’s tactics against her, Zhang Min was fast approaching a whole new degree of terrifying.

 

The Bai Zhan fighting style emphasized speed and agility, a strong contrast to Ling Shou’s more grounded, defensive combat tactics. Liu Qingge had Shen Yuan doing all sorts of agonizing new stretches to make him more limber, and when he and Zhang Min did them together, they both took great pleasure in complaining about the strain that they caused.

 

They had a silent accord to never admit that the stretches did actually help, and Shen Yuan found himself savouring a memory of a recent spar where he had bent backwards Matrix-style to avoid a blow to the face. Liu Qingge’s attacks were growing in power and ferocity as Shen Yuan adapted to fighting with him, and receiving a kick to the head once was more than enough for him. 

 

Even though he and Liu Qingge had not yet crossed swords for their own spars, he did see an improvement in his own swordsmanship. He was growing faster and more accurate, able to put more power behind each strike. It took some trial and error, but he’d figured out how to combine a few of Liu Qingge’s hand-to-hand combat moves with his own bladed combat tactics to devastating effect. The look on Zhang Min’s face when he’d successfully executed one of the moves mid-fight had made all of the faceplants he took whilst practicing worth it.

 

Since the first few snowstorms had passed, their training sessions took on a more relaxed edge. After half an hour, their sparring tended to devolve into hurling snow and trying to shove handfuls of the stuff down each others’ robes. 

 

Zhang Min claimed it was a diversionary tactic, flinging it at Shen Yuan’s face with gay abandon. It was highly undignified.

 

Today, she had already done it three separate times.

 

[You say that as if you don’t do the exact same thing, User.]

 

Shen Yuan dropped the incriminating handful of snow that he had totally not just scooped up to retaliate with, and clumsily dodged a poorly-shaped snowball, which exploded against the ground several metres behind him.

 

“I thought you wanted to work on your kicks,” he complained when the next shot nailed the top of his head.

 

He shivered as the snow slowly melted and the icy water seeped along his scalp. 

 

“I’m merely allowing my overtaxed muscles some time to recover,” Zhang Min said primly, with an unconvincing flutter of her lashes. To further emphasize how restful she was being, she charged at him. He somersaulted out of her path, and hastily crab walked around the empty field they were using as training grounds, dodging her attempts to shove more snow down his clothes. When he saw an opening, he darted for his own fistful of snow.

 

Thus began their war of attrition, neither of them gaining any ground. Their clothing only grew more sodden, but their spirits remained unextinguished.

 

Just when it seemed like they would need to put their war aside and broker peace, the clamour of nearby voices grabbed their attention. A group of red-nosed disciples crested a nearby hill, their enthusiastic jabbering coming to a halt when they spied the pair of them.

 

Though some of his disciples admittedly weren’t always the quickest on the uptake, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what they’d been up to. Zhang Min still had an incriminating snowball clasped in her hand.

 

It was Ning Yingying who stepped forward, with the authoritative air of a general. Luo Binghe was a few steps behind her, eyes flicking between Shen Yuan and Zhang Min.

 

It was Ning Yingying who raised her arm, who pointed at the trodden field that they had been ‘training’ in, who shouted, “To battle!”

 

The Ling Shou disciples didn’t hesitate for even an instant; they echoed her cry and charged, quickly dividing into two groups, pulling Zhang Min and Shen Yuan to opposite sides of the field.

 

Ning Yingying allied with Zhang Min. Luo Binghe looked torn for a moment, until Ning Yingying whispered something in his ear that made his face flush crimson.

 

Ah, young love, Shen Yuan thought. He wondered if he should let Ning Yingying have more time in the horse pen once Luo Binghe plummeted into the Endless Abyss. It might not heal her inevitably broken heart, but it might help distract her from it.

 

He’d have to think about it some more, later. For now, he had a war to win.

***

The art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin.

 

Icy wind blew across the battlefield, a chill seizing every soldier in its path. The legion standards fluttered in the wind opposite each other. Each army was eager to claim victory, to claim this patch of earth of their own, though they knew that countless casualties stood in the path of their victory.

 

Shen Yuan conferred with his generals, who disseminated information to their underlings. They were good men and women- they had fought countless campaigns alongside him, and were always up to a fight. Their brutality and efficiency was rarely matched, but today, he sensed, they were facing an army of equal calibre.

 

They erected several walls of snow, shallow trenches dug behind each in a winding network. His army worked tirelessly, heaving the building materials into place and fortifying their defences, whilst the armsmaster took stock of their weapons. She had two soldiers under her command stockpiling snowballs, a grim set to her mouth.

 

All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when we are far away, we must make him believe we are near.

 

Once the specifics of the plan had reached every ear, a volley of poorly-shaped, poorly-aimed snowballs was launched towards their enemy’s encampment. None fell to the attack, and sounds of ridicule rose from the opposite end of the battlefield.

 

In their rudimentary infirmary, their field medic was going through their medical kit (where the hell had he gotten that from?), clucking their tongue. He glanced up at Shen Yuan’s approach. “I won’t be able to save them all.”

 

“I know,” Shen Yuan said, not without grief. His loyal forces had carried him this far, nearly to victory. Not all of them would live to see it, to see the better world he sought to build. “All I ask is that you do your best, and don’t blame yourself for those you can’t save.”

 

He returned to his position behind the second row of walls, where his general awaited him. Across the battlefield, behind hastily constructed walls (which looked nowhere as good as theirs and were already beginning to crumble), a howl went up- a collective bay for blood.

 

Shen Yuan’s army was taciturn and unintimidated, their expressions hardening at the cry. They would shout their strength to the world only after they had proven it through victory in battle.

 

Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him.

 

From nearby, one of Shen Yuan’s soldiers shouted, “Pathetic!”

 

Another chimed in, “My jiejie’s chinchilla-rabbit is more threatening!”

 

“You take that back!” one of the enemy soldiers blustered, leaping to his feet and shaking a fist at them. 

 

It took approximately two seconds for the soldier to be nailed in the face by a projectile, and he fell down, dead. There was a moment of absolute quiet on the battlefield, then the fearsome general Ning Yingying (purported conqueror of thousands) cried, “They killed Deng Yuze! Vengeance!"

 

Now, the general who wins a battle makes many calculations in his temple ere the battle is fought. The general who loses a battle makes but few calculations beforehand.

 

Members of Zhang Min’s army spilled over the walls, each wielding a weapon in each hand. A scant few members remained behind in their fortress, each scraping more snow together.

 

A cry of fear rose from some of Shen Yuan’s soldiers, and they fled into the trees that marked the edge of the battlefield. One of the unfleeing soldiers furiously shouted, “Traitors!” after them. The majority of those who remained did not bat an eye at their fleeing countrymen, dedicated to the fight until their last breath.

 

A second volley was launched over his encampment’s walls, far different from the weak, directionless attack from before. These projectiles were carefully crafted, thrown true by the best marksman in the legion. With them came the tide of death, and countless bodies soon littered the battlefield, sightless eyes fixed on the grey sky above. A handful of soldiers hobbled on wounded limbs or dragged themselves back towards camp.

 

A sizable force still remained, though, and at Shen Yuan’s command, the second line of marksmen stepped up to the walls, the first line allowed a quick reprieve to refocus and for their next round of projectiles to be distributed amongst them.

 

The second line launched their volley, and more fell. A few of the enemy’s own projectiles struck members of the second line, one of them near Shen Yuan taking a blow to the abdomen.

 

The soldier fell, clutching his stomach, whilst his first line partner was quick to examine the wound. The first line soldier’s head bowed when he realised it would be a fatal injury, countless organs punctured. If the soldier did not die of internal bleeding, then sepsis would surely take him soon.

 

“Get him to the infirmary, if you can,” Shen Yuan ordered, when they both turned beseeching eyes upon him. “Make sure he’s… comfortable.” He turned his attention to the wounded soldier, and softened his voice. “You did well.”

 

“Thank you, my liege,” said the wounded soldier, in that moment seeming hardly more than a boy. His hands trembled, his breaths uneven. Tears welled in his eyes, spilled down his cheeks. “I am not long for this world. Do not weep for me, brother. I will embrace death knowing that I gave my life for a righteous cause. I only wish that I could have tasted the fruits of our victories, that I could have witnessed the dawn of our unified kingdom.”

 

“You shall see in your next life, brother,” wept the first line soldier. At Shen Yuan’s general’s behest, the first line fired their next attack. “And the world will know of your sacrifice- and of your nobility, your loyalty, your bravery. Never was there anyone so deserving.”

 

The wounded soldier took a few final, tremulous breaths, and lay still. Shen Yuan squeezed his eyes shut. “His sacrifice will not be in vain. I will see to it that when this is over, he receives the highest of honours.”

 

He turned his gaze back to the battlefield. The few advancing members of Zhang Min’s army were near enough that they had only moments before their walls were breached. He let out a long whistle, pitched high and loud.

 

The onrush of a conquering force is like the bursting of pent-up waters into a chasm a thousand fathoms deep.

 

His army abandoned their strategy of long-ranged attacks, a considerable force abandoning the relative safety of the wall and charging what remained of the oncoming army, slaughtering them when they refused to retreat. Shen Yuan followed the main force, bracing himself for that which was to come. 

 

Engaging with an enemy on their home turf was generally inadvisable, but fortunately, Shen Yuan had planned for this stage.

 

In all fighting, the direct method may be used for joining battle, but indirect methods will be needed in order to secure victory.

 

He whistled again, and spilling out of the trees behind Zhang Min’s encampment came all of the soldiers who had ‘fled’ at the beginning of the battle. Zhang Min’s army didn’t see them until it was too late. Shen Yuan’s army fanned out, completely surrounding them. Most of those who remained in Zhang Min’s camp were wounded or unarmed, and those that could still fight were all-too aware that to try now would spell their own deaths.

 

Sun Tzu said: In the practical art of war, the best thing of all is to take the enemy's country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not so good. So, too, it is better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it, to capture a regiment, a detachment or a company entire than to destroy them.

 

Slowly, the remaining members of Zhang Min’s army were herded into a few short rows, kneeling on the frozen earth. Their general glowered mutinously at him, her fingers painstakingly clawing furrows in the dirt beside her.

 

His own general and one of his commanders dragged Zhang Min to the front of the throng, and she barely put up a fight. She seemed to know what fate awaited her, and had accepted it.

 

“You have all fought courageously,” he said, projecting his voice so that all gathered here could hear his words. “I do not begrudge you your loyalties, your flawed ideals. In fact, I admire your dedication to your cause and the strength of your bonds.”

 

He smiled, sharp and cold. “And, as my own army can attest, I am a merciful lord. You may retain your lives, go home to your families, live in peace.” Fragile hope warred on the faces of Zhang Min’s army. “But first, you must swear fealty to me, and prove your loyalty.”

 

“How?” Luo Binghe asked, from where he knelt beside Ning Yingying. She shot him a betrayed look, which he paid no heed to, eyes fixed solely on Shen Yuan.

 

“Easily,” he said, gesturing at Zhang Min. “Slay the one who you so readily followed, and all transgressions will be forgiven.”

 

Instead of the storm of protests he anticipated, only Ning Yingying had anything to say about it.

 

“Never!” she cried, practically seething. “We cannot give into this tyranny, we cannot allow him to walk away victorious! Remember what we fought for! Remember what our brothers and sister gave their lives for!”

 

“What other choice do we have?” one of the wounded asked, clutching their bandaged arm. “Regardless of our decisions, our lord will die. Why must we die with her?”

 

“You would betray your principles so easily?” Ning Yingying asked, eyes narrowed at them. She turned back to Shen Yuan, met his eye hatefully. “I will die with my lord. I will never abandon my principles!”

 

“And I will not force you to,” Shen Yuan said, and with only a slight tilt of his head, one of his army soldiers nailed her in the chest with a projectile, directly over her heart, and the brave, outspoken general fell down dead. “Such a shame. Any other dissenters?”

 

As the ensuing silence stretched on, his smile grew. “Excellent. Now, tell me, who wants to do the deed?”

***

Zhang Min spent about three minutes shaking snow out of her robes, stopping only to shoot Shen Yuan a baleful look. “You’re evil, shizun.”

 

“I have a lot of pent-up malice,” he said cheerfully, shaking some snow out of his own hair. He had allowed her a few retaliatory snowballs as an apology for orchestrating her execution.

 

Ahead of them, the herd of disciples cheerfully trailed towards the dining hall, enthusiastic at the prospect of food and warmth. Ning Yingying was as popular as ever, especially after her own execution, Shen Yuan’s disciples happily chattering with her. Luo Binghe trailed in her wake, looking thoughtful.

 

“We should do this again,” Zhang Min said, rubbing her hands together to coax warmth back into them. “Not the ganging up to execute me bit, but battle tactics and the implementation of combat strategy.”

 

Shen Yuan shuddered. “I don’t know. They’re bad enough already, imagine the chaos these hellions could unleash if they had some semblance of organisation.”

 

Zhang Min looked vaguely ill at the prospect. “Maybe if they become less committed to committing acts of evil in the future, doubtful as it is. Oh, I was wondering, has Liu Qingge given any indication when you’ll be sparring with swords?”

 

“No,” Shen Yuan said. “I think he’s waiting for me to beat him at hand-to-hand combat at least once. That’ll probably happen in twenty years or so.”

 

Not that I have twenty years.

 

“I think he still feels bad about impaling me with Cheng Luan,” he continued. “So, for now, no swordfighting.”

 

“More stretches,” Zhang Min said grimly.

 

“More stretches,” he agreed, with appropriate dread.

***

On rare occasions, once they had drank their tea and exchanged some gossip, Shen Qingqiu dragged Shen Yuan on an idle stroll around Qing Jing Peak.

 

They stuck strictly to the most scenic paths, past various water features, fine gardens, and attractively designed buildings. It was a setting that pleased the eye, regardless of the season. Say what you would about his worldbuilding (and Shen Yuan had plenty to say), but Airplane could conceive of some truly beautiful places.

 

Their walks became more infrequent in the winter, even though cold didn’t touch golden-core cultivators the way it did everyone else. It still wasn’t especially pleasant when the temperatures plummeted past a certain point, but he wasn’t at risk of hypothermia or losing any extremities. 

 

Shen Qingqiu especially seemed to dislike the change in weather, his mood sourer as of late. He wore heavy layers and left his house less, glaring at any snowdrifts as if they had personally insulted his entire bloodline.

 

Shen Yuan knew that they would likely be taking one of their walks today, and had dressed accordingly. The sky was a pale, mostly-clear blue for the first time in weeks, and the weak winter sun shed a slight warmth across the land. 

 

Many of the Qing Jing disciples had emerged from their warmer haunts to enjoy the weather, venturing to their preferred spots in waterside pavilions to capture in paint the frozen ponds or construct a poem about a wintery landscape. A rare few were rolling around in the snow, a contrast to the warzone that Ling Shou had become. There were six separate factions fighting for dominance over his peak, several of whom were using tactics that Shen Yuan had taught them in the great snow battle (he sorely regretted teaching them about guerilla warfare). 

 

Those who were engaged in the time-honoured tradition of snow flinging paused at the sight of their shizun, hastily straightening their robes and bowing to the two peak lords as they passed. Once they were out of sight, Shen Yuan heard the sounds of a struggle resume, and beside him, Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes.

 

“It seems to slip their mind that the remainder of their master’s senses are perfectly intact,” he said, though not unfondly. “At least those brats have learned some respect.”

 

Shen Yuan privately thought that if he’d grown up looking at Shen Qingqiu’s RBF, he’d behave in precisely the same manner. It practically demanded one comport themself with the utmost dignity. “Shixiong has struck fear into their hearts, with his harshly-graded punishment essays and scathing remarks.”

 

Shen Qingqiu smacked him with today’s insult fan (which contained a cutting poem about overestimating one's knowledge), and then snapped it open and fanned himself daintily. “Why should this shixiong relax his standards, especially towards those who have behaved boorishly enough to warrant behavioural correction? The last thing I want is Qing Jing's disciples emulating Lian-shidi's, or, gods forbid, Liu Qingge’s.”

 

 “I would take great offence if I weren’t horrified at the prospect of your disciples behaving more like the Bai Zhan ones,” Shen Yuan said, reminded once more of the post-deer shearing brawl. He’d caught an elbow to the face from one of the Bai Zhan disciples whilst trying to break it up, which just served to make his own disciples angrier. 

 

“Liu Qingge is still searching for the one who thought his house needed updated decor,” Shen Qingqiu said, appearing inordinately pleased by this. “He’s accused me several times more, but tragically, he possesses no evidence to support his accusations.”

 

“Just imagine if I admitted to it during one of our spars. I think he’d actually kill me for it,” Shen Yuan said, unable to stifle a grin at the reminder of his redecorating.

 

“This shixiong would ensure that shidi received the lavish funeral he would deserve,” Shen Qingqiu said, raising a dramatic hand to his forehead and feigning anguish. “No one would dare argue with a grieving widower’s wishes.”

 

“They're saying we're married now?!” Shen Yuan asked. Aiya, I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. “When do they think our apparent wedding was?”

 

“When shidi was away from the sect a few months ago, this shixiong had some business of his own to take care of down the mountain,” Shen Qingqiu said. “I hear our secret wedding was the height of romance.”

 

“I still don’t understand where these rumours are coming from,” Shen Yuan grumbled.

 

[This System does.]

 

If you’re going to claim I’ve been ogling Shen Qingqiu, I don’t want to hear it.

 

[(－ˋ⩊ˊ－)]

 

“It is rare for this shixiong to tolerate the consistent company of someone so… uncouth. This shixiong is more lenient with Lian-shidi than he is with almost anybody,” Shen Qingqiu admitted. Shen Yuan made a face at him, and received another smack with the fan for his trouble. “Additionally, our disciples seem to have overactive imaginations, and allowed them to run wild when they noticed our closeness,” He scowled, narrow-eyed at Shen Yuan, who probably looked happier than he should be at being friends with a guy that would probably end up in a pickle pot. “Admittedly, this shixiong has made no efforts to dissuade anybody otherwise, as it has proved convenient.”

 

“In what way?” Shen Yuan asked, migrating to the side of the path when a group of An Ding disciples passed by, lugging a disturbing amount of lumber. Shen Qingqiu had mentioned someone blowing a hole in the side of one of the classrooms earlier, so this repair team was probably on their way to address it.

 

“The rumours have proved helpful against a certain breed of pest,” Shen Qingqiu said, watching on as Shen Yuan reached out to steady an An Ding disciple who nearly lost their footing on a rogue patch of ice. The disciple looked startled, gave them a hasty bow, and ran after their peers without a backwards glance. “Though if Lian-shidi is truly so offended, we can repudiate them.”

 

He didn’t look pleased at the notion, but the fact that he was offering at all when he’d apparently been benefitting from it made something soften inside Shen Yuan. He could pretend to be gay if it helped a martial brother- he was perfectly comfortable in his heterosexuality, thank you very much!

 

[‘Pretend to be gay.’ Yeah, right.]

 

Oh, I see you’re making baseless accusations again.

 

[Baseless? Baseless?! Says the man who owned-]

 

Do not. Mention it.

 

[Fine.]

 

[But just know that one day, this System will be the one laughing, and it will savour knowing that it was right.]

 

Aiya, you’re insufferable.

 

“I’m not offended, and if it makes things easier for you, then I suppose there’s no point in explicitly denying them,” Shen Yuan said. “I had been wondering why you hadn't.” He gently bumped Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder with his own. “Thank you for offering to clarify things, Shen Qingqiu.”

 

Shen Qingqiu sniffed imperiously, and returned the shoulder bump. “One must make concessions when they spend a great amount of time with another. Heavens forbid this shixiong lose one of the few tolerable people he has found.”

 

Shen Yuan grinned and batted his eyelashes. “Awwww, I love you too, shixiong!”

 

Shen Qingqiu’s face flushed furiously, the colour spreading to his neck and ears. Shen Yuan didn’t even flinch when he received another smack with the fan. “You impertinent-”

 

“Not too impertinent to marry, apparently!” Shen Yuan sing-songed, dancing out of the way of another attack.

 

“Stand still, you insufferable lout!”

***

Two people awaited them upon their return to the bamboo house, silhouetted by the setting sun behind them.

 

When they grew near enough to discern their features, any lightness that Shen Qingqiu had gained during their stroll abandoned him. His posture stiffened, and the easiness in his face disappeared.

 

Ming Fan looked deeply uncomfortable, as if he’d rather be literally anywhere else, eyes flitting between his master and Yue Qingyuan, who watched their approach, expression inscrutable.

 

On his shoulder, Ming Fan’s parakeet squawked a few expletives, which they collectively decided to ignore. The first time they had met each other, Ming Fan had been nervous about Shen Yuan confiscating the bird, which he had already named (Xiao Huoyan) and bonded with, but Shen Yuan had assured him that as long as the bird was happy, there was no need to. 

 

Despite his past bullying of Luo Binghe and the two’s current, occasionally contentious relationship, Shen Yuan wasn’t cruel to him. He was a grown ass man, and Ming Fan was only seventeen or eighteen. As far as Ming Fan knew, he’d done nothing to offend Shen Yuan, so Shen Yuan treated him with the same patience and courtesy he did anyone else.

 

“Qingqiu-shidi, Lian-shidi, good evening,” Yue Qingyuan said, hands clasped behind his back. 

 

“Zhangmen-shixiong,” Shen Yuan greeted uncertainly, already wracking his brain for an excuse to leave. 

 

“What brings you to my peak, Zhangmen-shixiong?” Shen Qingqiu asked through gritted teeth. He oozed hostility, and standing next to him was about as pleasant as standing directly beside a vat of radioactive waste.

 

Ming Fan silently edged off of the porch, and disappeared between clusters of bamboo before anybody could stop him. Probably the most intelligent thing he had done in his life, and Shen Yuan envied him for his freedom.

 

“This shixiong merely wished to impart his well-wishes in person,” Yue Qingyuan said, unfazed by Shen Qingqiu’s hostility. He’d been on the receiving end of it often enough that it had lost its efficacy. “It is not every day that two of our peak lords become romantically entangled. I… truly am happy for you, Qingqiu-shidi. Lian-shidi has always been thoughtful and dependable.”

 

Something in Shen Qingqiu’s face closed off further, and in his hand, the wooden guard of his fan cracked. Klaxons immediately started going off in Shen Yuan’s head, and he wondered if he was about to bear witness to Yue Qingyuan’s murder. Get me out of here, System!

 

[Are you kidding me? This is the most entertained this System has been since the drug hyenas!]

 

And then there came a lot of annoying crunching sounds, and Shen Yuan was left with the perturbing question about whether the System was capable of eating.

 

“Thanking Zhangmen-shixiong for his… thoughtfulness,” Shen Qingqiu ground out. Faux-sweetly, he added, “I must ask him to excuse us, as Lian-shidi and I have private business to attend to.”

 

Yue Qingyuan’s placid expression faltered, and Shen Yuan quickly looked away, not willing to witness the sect leader looking like a kicked puppy. When he cautiously glanced back, Yue Qingyuan had collected himself, and bowed to Shen Qingqiu. “As Qingqiu-shidi wishes.” He swallowed with an audible click. “I will see you both at our next meeting.”

 

Shen Yuan watched him go, conflicted. He didn’t protest when Shen Qingqiu grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the bamboo house. Shen Qingqiu’s face was as pale as a ghost’s, his chest heaving. He was angrier than Shen Yuan had ever seen him, and quietly, he shut the door behind them.

 

“How dare he,” Shen Qingqiu hissed, and flung his fan at the far wall. It bounced off, and clattered to the floor. His hands clenched and unclenched, his knuckles white. A moment later, he tugged his hair out of the metal guan he wore, the long strands falling across his shoulders and back as he flung that too. “How dare he look at me like that, how dare he congratulate me.”

 

His voice broke, and he just stared at the fallen objects. “He thinks he has the right to barge into my life any time he pleases. He openly shows me favour, showers me with gifts, asks after my well-being. He has no right to do any of that. He gave that up a long time ago.”

 

Shen Yuan did not move, did not dare to even breathe. Shen Qingqiu turned to him then, still angry, yes, but something in his expression was so unspeakably bitter. 

 

“We knew each other when we were children,” he said, not meeting Shen Yuan's eye. “He was my brother in every way that mattered, and then we were separated.”

 

Was my brother.

 

“For a long time, I thought he was dead. I mourned him.” He laughed. It was not a happy sound. “And then one day, I discovered that he lived, and that he never even attempted to find me.”

 

This explains… so much.

 

“And he thinks that showing you favour will absolve him of his guilt?” Shen Yuan guessed.

 

“All I've ever wanted was the truth,” Shen Qingqiu said. The house's darkening shadows played dramatically across his face, giving him an inhuman cast. “And it is the one thing he refuses to give me.”

 

After debating whether levity would help the situation or make things worse, Shen Yuan just decided to go for it. “If he's going to continue to be an asshole, we could always redecorate his house.”

 

A sharp laugh was startled out of Shen Qingqiu, and he shook his head. “Shidi is ridiculous.”

 

“I know,” Shen Yuan said. “You tell me all the time.”

 

He stooped down to collect the fan and guan off of the floor. He made a face at how heavy the guan was. “How can you tolerate wearing this so frequently? This is heavier than mine, which is already exceedingly heavy.”

 

“If Lian-shidi deigned to wear his regularly, then perhaps it wouldn't feel so cumbersome,” Shen Qingqiu said, taking it from him. 

 

“I would rather skip all of the neck pain that would cause me,” Shen Yuan said. “Are you certain that Yue Qingyuan doesn't need a home makeover?”

 

“As tempting as that would be, it wouldn't achieve anything,” Shen Qingqiu said, setting the guan on a nearby table. He examined his fan with a frown, and brushed his fingers along its wooden ribs. Two of them were broken. 

 

“I think it would achieve quite a lot, but I'll defer to shixiong’s wishes,” Shen Yuan said. “Do you want me to put on another pot of tea?”

 

Shen Qingqiu considered his offer, then nodded. He just looked tired now. “If you must. I won't object to shidi's continued company, so long as he doesn't try and talk with his mouth open once again.”

 

“That was one time!” Shen Yuan protested, gently clapping him on the shoulder as he went past.

 

[It was totally not one time.]

 

You don't have a mouth, so you don't get an opinion.

 

[(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭]

Notes:

Back at uni again, which might affect my schedule (though hopefully it won't).

Ginkgo biloba is a deciduous tree native to Eastern Asia, and is the last species in the order Ginkgoales. They're gymnosperms (naked seeded plants), and the other kinds of gymnosperms include cycads, gnetophytes, and conifers (the most numerous of the bunch).

Hope you all have a nice day!