Sometime I wonder : Are you truly human little one ?

by Minipouyce

Summary:

« My ! What an impressive fire little one ! »

Whipping his head around, his body trembling like a leaf caught in the winter breeze. Whoever this amused voice belonged to, he would kill them. With the same ferocity, with the same hatred, with the desperation that haunted his mind every day and every night. He won't be weak. He will never be weak anymore.

« You are nothing but a child… Is that really how humans treat their own ?... »

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Original flavor Luo Binghe conquered everything that had to conquer. He raised himself above everything and anything, leaving him in a dead shell of a world where everyone either blindly loved or feared him. Tired and desperate, he accidentally crossed space and time to deliver one last message : "Save Shen Jiu."

A new life, a new shizun, a new hope to find happiness along the road. But as time slowly unfurled one again, Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu are bound to meet again and again, for the better and the worst.

Maybe this time, the world won't end.

Chapter 1: What remained after the end

Notes:

I don't know if we still do disclaimer, but just in case: SVSSS does not belong to me, neither do the characters. I am just doing the humble job cucumber bro could have done if he was not a hater.

Also, english is not my first langage and I have a weird way of writing (yeah even in my own langage) so buckle up folks! (I did my best but life is to short so yeah)

The end, Luo Binghe never thought he might see it with his own eyes. No… Not exactly. He never thought about it. For some twisted or stupid reason, he had been under the impression for years, for decades now, that the world would just… stop with his death. But now, as he stands in the hall of his palace, alone and colorless, Luo Binghe realized that even the end wasn’t enough to kill him. 

In the end, and beyond the end, Luo Binghe was alone. Even in the strange stillness of this dead world, he was alone. Surrounded by people who loved him and who he forgot to love, he was alone.  Here on his throne, watching strangers laughing and talking and just… living. All happy, with smiles on their faces, they felt so distant, so fake. Dancing shadows, barely conscious, barely aware of the world beyond the palace. They felt… grey. Everything felt… grey. The warmth of his wives, the laugh of his children… Every conquest, every piece of jewelry or wealth. The touch of another being…

It ran from deep within him, this uneasy feeling. He could see the color, feel the warmth. He could taste the blood of his enemies and the skin of a thousand bodies. Every conversation, every victory, every sliver of affection.  Yet all of this, everything was grey and cold and empty. 

Beauty did not move him anymore. Fight no longer made his heart beat, just like intimacy was nothing but a cheap trick he used on his wives. Or maybe they used it on him, for power, for pretty trincklet, or just to convince themselves he loved them just as much as they loved him.

They loved him.

They loved him.

They would die for him. 

Luo Binghe casted a quick glance at yet another flower of his harem. Sweet Ning YingYing, joyful with this dazzling smile on her face. Always there, she had always been there. Since the beginning, his shijie had helped him, had taken care of him. She had held his hand and never let go. 

She made your life ten times harder.

She was a tender morning of spring, not the most beautiful but still delicate and sweet. Healing him in a way he kept forgetting. And when they were kids, while he was nothing but a little sprout, she had been the morning dew, sparkly and fresh. Perfection under the shyness of spring sun. Beautiful in her own special way.

Bearing heavily on your little leaves, sunlight burning you through the prism of her existence.

Now, her hands were bare of this childish clumsiness but still held a dainty shyness when she was alone with him. And she was beautiful. Not the most beautiful of his wives but still pleasing to the eyes. And she was nice ! She was always nice. Not the nicest in his harem but still nice. And she… She was a cultivator ! She was a cultivator. Like many others, she was. 

She used to.

She was. 

She used to.

She was ! Last time she used her qi she…

She…

He wiped his head around, this strange feeling growing bigger every day. Were they even the same day ? Or did he lost himself again in the strangeness of this world ? He swore he did not wear these clothes… maybe he did. Where is he again ? The palace, the throne. Again. It was always the throne, it was always the crowd. Always all those people swirling around him, who felt both familiar and total strangers at the same time. And someone was talking… Right next to him. Someone was talking. Someone was telling him something.

He was… gazing at her. A beauty, a peerless one, yet still covered with this ashy-grey. She was talking and talking and talking but her voice was so distant, choked by the emptiness of his soul. She was pouring her heart out yet failed to notice her words sliding across him since he was nothing but a broken vessel. Unable to hold the tiniest bit of substance anymore, not even his own, he failed to try caring about what she had to say. And he looked at her for so long, so, so long… Yet she still missed to notice the pinch of his eyebrows. To see this dull mist in his eyes, slowly suffocating the light that had kept him alive.

He remembered her.

She used to be your shimei.

She used to be a cultivator.

She was a cultivator.

Used to.

Liu Mingyan.

These days, he barely recognized his wives anymore. He kept forgetting the faces of his children and his allies were nothing but muddled memories and deaf-toned voices. He lived in a world full of puppets while he was nothing but a ghost whose past was slowly disappearing day after day after day. 

Because when he thought about her , there was nothing but the void. No faces, no voice, not even the memory of her warmth. Nothing. No matter how many times he buried himself in his own dreamscape, how he forced himself to sleep just to see her again, there was nothing left of his dead mother. And sometimes, on a cold night watching stars that never changed, he doubted. He wondered if she had ever existed or if she had been yet another feverish dream. 

Just like this nice Shen QingQiu...

Maybe… Maybe he was a beast. It was something that kept turning in his head recently. Lin Mingyan kept talking, her words, he supposed, fair and just like she always was. He was not sure… it was not like he was listening anyway. He might be a beast. Who could forget about his devoted wives ? About his own blood, his own children ? Was he even able to name them ? If he saw them in the middle of the street, would he be able to say ‘ah this child is mine’ or would he just.. pass by ?

Who could forget about his own mother but a beast ? Such an incredible person, a paragon of humanity that had taken a child in when she had nothing and especially not enough to eat for herself. She had died. She had died for him, so he could be happy, so he could have something for himself. So he could be lucky to have a life that was nothing like poverty and pain. And what had he become ? A demon emperor ? Was he even happy ?…

His glance slowly drifted on Liu Mingyan, on Ning YingYing.

Are they even happy ?

“Say… This Emperor is wondering… What does this wife do on her free time ?”

Ning YingYing raised her head, looking at him with big clueless eyes. 

A perfect little marionette.

He squashed this thought and patiently waited for an answer. In anxiousness, actually, for he knew the answer and the answer was the one he expected. 

“Why…” she had such a dazzling smile, like he was her sun and her moon and her everything. “This humble wife waits for this emperor.”

He clenched his jaws but no one noticed. They never noticed anymore. His fingernails slowly digging the inside of his hand, Luo Binghe tried to ignore the uneasiness. The feeling of impending doom that slowly crawled all around his skin, whispering in a sickening voice thoughts he tried to ignore. A voice that belonged to no one but himself. 

“Doesn’t this wife have hobbies ? Things this wife likes to do ?”

And she tilted her head, her smile wilting just a tiny bit. Lost, she was utterly lost. It wasn’t even like she feared to answer him or that she awestruck. No… just lost. 

“Music… You used to… play music.”

Her brows frowned and Luo Binghe felt… scared. He was scared, but in such a different way. She… she did play music, didn’t she ? She used to like it. And she, she had such nice handwriting. Why hadn't she written recently ? When… When was the last time she did ? He can’t…

He can’t remember it.

And… And Liu Mingyan…

He looked at her, silent and perfect and looking just like a statue by his side. Waiting to be talked to, to be seen, to be acknowledged. But she was Liu Mingyan ! She did not need to be acknowledged ! She was the peerless beauty of the human world ! The sister of the prodigy Liu Qingge ! Yet there she was, waiting like just another pretty flower, lifeless and !… And! …

Luo Binghe almost jumped out of his throne and no one even looked. How ?… How could they not ? Their ruler just acted like a maniac and they just continued existing… Why ? 

Why was everything and everyone so lifeless ?

What was this nightmare ?

But it was not a nightmare. No. It was just the end. 

Short of breath, looking at his peerless beauty and his childhood sweetheart, Luo Binghe finally saw it. The end. The most perfect end for a hero like him, a world succumbing to his every whims. People loving and fearing him, no one to try and defy the Demon Emperor anymore. He loved it, he used to love it for so long, enraptured by the most perfect dream anyone could have crafted him. But now ? Now that he saw this other world ? Those other people ? The other him ? 

And he laughed, undisturbed. He choked on a bitter laugh. That was… this is… such a nightmare. This world, this people he maybe once cared about. They would never defy him, would they ? If he killed everyone in this room, brought his own children to their demise, no one would stop him. Not even his dear wives would and worse, they would keep on  loving the beast he had become. 

“A-Luo ?”, he heard Ning YingYing calling, her voice as far as a ghostly echo eternally trapped underwater. 

She looked… worried, but still she had not moved. Waiting for him to tell her what to do next, what to feel next. This was not a person. All of them. They were not people anymore. They truly were marionettes…

He hid his eyes under his hand, the laugh slowly fading in an anguish cry. He was tired. He was so very tired. He just wanted someone, anyone, to truly listen and hold him. Not yet another broken memory parading as his loved one. He wanted Ning YingYing to play guqin again. He wanted Liu Mingyan to tell Sha Hualing to fuck off. He wanted the three nuns sisters to talk quietly about faith and cultivation. 

He was tired of this parade of puppets, of this sterile perfection that had once blinded and lulled him. Tired of those beings that were only to please each of his desires. Oh what would he have given just for someone, anyone, coming to his face and just screaming. Heated hate, awful words. Confrontation, just one last time. But instead, all he had left was this uncaring crowd, just going along with his every whims. A crowd that had no choice but to be uncaring…

He just wanted to live in a world. A real world, not this mockery of his. 

Luo Binghe did not answer Ning YingYing, just as he did not acknowledge any of those strangers. He just turned around and left. Where to ? He wasn’t sure. But he walked for hours, probably days or even maybe years. He crossed the human world, like he used to but without a goal. Without a reason, without a pretty flower to seduce, inevitably ending her dreams and in some way, her life. No more enemies to crafty slay, no more cities to conquer. No more revenge. Just him, and a reality that seemed to keep shifting just for his likes.

Sometimes, he stopped. He felt his memory overlapping the actual landscape but the sensation was nothing but a fleeting feeling. Before he could remember where he saw those mountains, those springs and waterfalls, it was gone. The sense of familiarity kept sliding through his fingers, leaving him trying to grasp for an empty air and emotions he forgot long ago. It was... weird. It was just like he did not belong. Like the world, the universe itself was trying but Luo Binghe could not help but feel like the remnant of a past long gone.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted to rest and needed to go home. But home was never for someone built on hatred and greed. After all, there was no rest for the wicked one. There was no peace  for those who let revenge break free from their soul to wreck their whole world.

Yet, some peace he found in a twisted place he never hoped to visit again. In a darkness he crafted so long ago. He knew this place was filled with nothing but a deafening silence, even before death, but still he swore he could almost hear the screams, screams that were once so sweet to his ears. Yeah, that was probably the silence that he noticed first, then the corpse barely still hanging. Partially mummified, he almost had expected him to be rotten to the core but… Luo Binghe sat, for once not filled with contempt or rage or even happiness. No, just this weird kind of peace. Back to him, yet again.

He had not thought about him for so long but… It was always him, wasn’t it ?

“I can’t… remember what you looked like.”

There still was the long silky black hair, hung on the dry scalp. The skin had turned grey but… a different kind. It was still so much more colorful than anything he set his eyes on recently. It was a corpse. It was nothing but bones and dry skin and at the same time… It was like he was still here. As if his soul, the meek flame of his being, was stuck under his ribcage. Was he hollow inside ? How many times did he want to rip his chest open ? Check if he had a heart ? A man like him could not possibly have one. But now… Sitting on his knees and looking at his remains, all those questions felt so distant.

“I can’t remember the color of your eyes. I just remember that… I… would have done anything.”

He bowed. After each of his words, he bowed lower, until his forehead was barely grazing this dusty old floor.

That was not love, that was not hatred. That was a strange sense of sadness overwhelming him. Even the man he truly hated more than anything in this damned world, who had aroused in him the most violent of passions however obscure, had been eaten by the void. He could not recall, he could not remember. Even with this hollow face hanging pitifully, Luo Binghe could not recall what this scum Shen Qingqiu looked like. He could guess but knew it was probably wrong.

“You never cared, did you ? I was nothing to you, not even your hate was mine. I wish… I wish he had never betrayed you ! I wish he had kept his promise !”

He raised his head, eyes filled with tears as he screamed to what was nothing but an empty corpse. His voice echoed in the silence, as if trying to mock him.

“Maybe then… maybe then you had cared ! Maybe if he had come back ! If he had never left you behind then maybe you had cared ! Would you have cared ? Would you have cared like the other shizun did ?”

He cried. He never cried, not since a long time, but the corpse was blurry now and his cheeks were wet. Eyes wide opened, he could feel heavy tears dropping, running through his face to end on the cold dark floor. How pathetic, how stupid… He should have ran out of tears so long ago… He thought he did, especially for this scum, yet there he was, grasping at his chest. Imploring this dead body. Crying in a darkness he created himself. In a prison where he thought he locked the ugly soul of his nemesis, only to find his own chained to the altar of Shen Qingqiu.

“Would have I been happy ?...” 

There was no answer to his whisper, just the stillness of what once was Shen Qingqiu. Just an empty silence that had been trapped in for decades. He could scream, he could beg, he could promise a thousand things but there would be nothing but stillness. In this doomed place, in the world all around, in his own palaces where people were unmoving, waiting for him to come back. Stillness. 

He couldn't bear it anymore, he couldn't bear the stiffness of this feeling, like he was the one whose soul was stuck in a corpse. A living dead surrounded by deads living. 

It doesn’t have to be like this.

If you could just come back. 

If you could just tell them. 

If only… If only there was a way.

But there was a way…

Slowly, Luo Binghe turned his head to his side. A strand of hair, partially hanging across his face, and trembling hands he had laid since who knew how long on the dusty cobblestones. And in the darkness, in the silence, there indeed was a way. Pulsing just by his side, like a deep chuckling. Xin Mo.

He had already crossed the world. 

But what did it bring him ? He was happy in this broken dream. He was happy before he saw this world. 

He wouldn’t need long, barely a minute. And what is a minute compared to the days of pain and suffering ? Compared to years of humiliation and hatred ? Compared to decades of emptiness. 

Terrible idea… The worst. 

Still on his knees, the demon emperor slowly sat up straight. And just as slow, he took Xin Mo between his hands. How long has it been since it overflowed with this vile yet familiar obscurity? He could feel it, feasting on his fear, on this sensation of doom that haunted his heart. And what a feast must it have been. Fear, terror, pain… Guilt. All of this… All those pesky little feelings. They could all just vanish. All he had to do, the only thing is to find him. 

Him. A beast. The original beast born of good intentions. 

A man, with his qualities and faults.

All you have to do is reach him. Talk to him. Change his heart for a moment only. 

Just a man.

And it was almost as if he could see him. As if the heavy walls and the corpse were nothing but a thing of the past. In those open streets, under dark and stormy clouds that were turning and turning above him. Above them. He and this familiar face. This juvenile face with old eyes, wide open and wary. The light was dull yet blinding as he barely managed to stare at this young man, this teen. 

It was fuzzy, all around him. Not quite reality but neither a dream. Ah… it was the end, wasn’t it ? It finally caught up to him…. Or maybe the world had finally enough of him. He understood, he would be fed up with himself too… He tried to smile, but his own face felt weirdly distant. He tried to get up, but his legs buckled under his weightless body. So he just raised his head and stared at the young man.

The youngster, perhaps seeing a stranger almost collapsing, rushed over him but still when Luo Binghe raised a hand, and with a muffle chuckle, gestured him to stop. Somehow, even in those ratty clothes, he looked so grand and wise and everything Luo Binghe never was. Never truly was, at least.

That’s right, he was Luo Binghe. 

And him , still and silent… he was the original beast, wasn’t he ?

Luo Binghe let his hand drop to the dusty street, tired and hollow and barren. And for once, it all seemed so far, so, so far aways. Distant but in a peaceful way, as the light and the sights and the sounds and everything that made a world was slowly deeming. 

A minute. 

A minute almost done.

“Shen Qingqiu…”

The youngster was slowly dissolving into a blurry silhouette but he stayed. He stared, probably, before his voice reached the Demon Emperor in an echo.

“Who?”

Another chuckle that slowly died in the prelude of a cry. Bitter, desperate, drained… Luo Binghe felt his head turning but he held still.

“Shen Jiu.”

Maybe, if he could distinguish expressions beyond the fog that was his consciousness, maybe then he would have seen a shard of recognition in this youngster’s eyes. Instead, all he had was the blurry outline of those hands, slightly trembling. 

Good.

“Save him. Always save him. if you don’t…” he tried to push his voice beyond the prison of lips but all he got was a husky murmur almost stuck in his throat. “He will die a horrible death. Alone.”

And he needed something more. Something to be sure the youngster will do as he say, will listen to this pained omen. 

“Listen !”, he shouted in a broken cry. “Save him or he will be stripped of his limb! He will be alone in the dark ! He will suffer a thousand times !”

His sight was no more than fuzzy light and bloated figures. He could barely know if it was day or night anymore, how could he have seen the crowd slowly forming around them ? The hushed whispers and the worried face as he was terrorizing a poor street rat. And soon, cultivators will be warned of this howling demon. They will arrive en masse, searching every nook and cranny for the thing that woke such a fear in the heart of poor citizens. They will do exactly what they were taught, in such rigor and seriousness, yet they will never even have sight of the thing. 

For as he faded as the sunlight pierced the cloud, drowning the street in a glorious shine of gold and hope, the emperor whispered the only prayer he ever uttered :

“Please, save him this time…”

---

“My ! What an impressive fire little one !”

He barely had time to catch his breath, barely had time to get the buzzing in his ears to stop. While his heart was beating at an erratic pace, his thoughts were all over the place, he still stood there, frozen. Shivering, even so close to the fire. To the blazing flames howling and screaming and devouring this hell.  His doing… Maybe it was because of this sight, or maybe it was the blood stuck in his ears, but he did not hear him approach. 

Whipping his head around, his body trembling like a leaf caught in the winter breeze, Shen Jiu instantly was in a fighting stance. Whoever this amused voice belonged to, he would kill them. With the same ferocity, with the same hatred, with the desperation that haunted his mind every day and every night. He won't be weak. He will never be weak again. 

Whoever was this stranger, he will rip his disgusting smirk off this stupid face. And he did not care if the man was just a passerby or a grand master of anything, the shaking boy was only driven by his instinct. It was a pure fight response to jump, with bloody and broken nails, on the man. With a scream that sounded like a distant mimicry of wailing demons.

Shen Jiu always fought. He had to, if he wanted to live. He had no choice but to fight and fight dirty just so he could live another day in this shitty unfair world. And how unfair it was, right here, right now, as the man only gripped his blood-soak, teared robes before lifting him like he weighed nothing. It did not matter, neither this stranger caught him or not. It did not matter, for the teen kept fighting. He threw hands around, tried to kick and bite. A fury of inky hair, of pale yet maculate limbs, and a hatred more blazing than the inferno still consuming gluttonously the remains of a dark story.

“Oh… Don’t look at me like that ! What are you ? A feral street cat ? Stop!... Stop fightin- Outch ! DID YOU JUST BITE ME ?!”

His teeth sunk in the meat of the stranger's arm as he held his gaze with untamed, defying eyes. And when the man raised his other hand, he did not even flinch. Not this time . He won’t fear them, this tall stranger with his blazing eyes. He won’t quiver when he approaches his hand to his head, he won’t shake when they will gently pet his hair. He won’t close his eyes tightly as the heat of fingers will seep through his hair. And he certainly won’t fall asleep, in a deep, undisturbed slumber for the first time ever.

“You are nothing but a child…”, he heard distantly. “ Is that really how humans treat their own ?”

Notes:

so yeah. I won't lie, I don't know yet when I will update because work is hell and english is not my first langage.
I really like writing that kind of stuff and SVSSS, especially the original goods, are just perfect for some heavy stuff. I just want them to be destructive and all, while giving them a good ending because that's what they deserved. And also because Luo Binghe pining for a pretty and cold demonic cultivator Shen Jiu.

Anyway, thanks for reading !

Don't hesitate to left a kudo or a comment, i don't bite (contrary to Shen Jiu) ! =)

Chapter 2: When we were carefree teens

Notes:

It took me three day to write the first sentence of that thing.

And it's just three words.

Life was… quiet. Which was not what a youngster with a head filled with dreams of fortune and power would expect out of one of the greatest sects. But here, on this peak of the Cang Qiong Mountain sect, life was alike a tranquil river slowly flowing under a lazy sun. He shouldn't be surprised, he truly shouldn’t ; after all, it was Qing Jing Peak. Filled with scholars, artists and musicians. A peak dedicated to culture and art, to diplomacy and refinement. 

Still, he thought to himself as he hung a wet robe to dry, it often felt just too quiet. Too easy. Like the bamboo forest was missing something behind its tender leaves and refreshing shadow.  Sometimes he stared. He stared for so long, as if between the ruffling of the leaves, he would find it. He would find what is desperately haunting the forest. Fading lines, crossing shadows, but before he could even spot it, it was gone. The bamboos were nothing but bamboos and the forest, another patch of nice greenery in the breath-taking sight of the Cang Qiong Mountains.

Flattening a fold on the bright white cloth, he sighed before glancing at the sky. Another sunny day, warm but just enough not to burn the disciples and their dedicated shizun. No clouds, not even a small one to disrupt the perfection of this immaculate azur canva. Maybe a bird or two, flying by in happy little chirps, high above them. Life must be so nice when you are that free… 

“Disciple Luo Binghe.”

He was free, technically. He thought he was, but at the same time he was intricately bound to this place. To this sect. Taking one last look at his chores, he drew his hands close in slow, cautious movements. With the poise of a perfect disciple of Qing Jing Peak. And ever so leisurely, he turned. Right there, maybe a couple of steps ahead, was his shizun. Beautiful and unmistakable in her bamboo green robes, with careful eyes but the shadow of a ghost on her lips. And while he was still a teen, he could not help but notice that he would soon be as tall as her.

“Shizun…” that was barely a whisper, almost muffled by his long hair when he had bowed respectfully. 

 “May I ask why this disciple is doing laundry when it was his shixiong turn today ?

- Ming Fan-shixiong and this humble disciple have exchanged chores.

- Oh… Was there a reason for those unruly disciples to do so without asking this master first ?”

Shit… Luo Binghe discreetly clenched his jaws, still bowing. There was a dangerous edge to the usually sweet voice of his shizun. Something that usually meant she was deeply displeased and Qiu Jiantang was not a person to displease. Ever. Still, the teen kept his lips shut, staring silently to a patch of vivid green grass under his feet. 

He could not possibly tell his shixiong left the peak earlier to try and find something to cheer up Ning Yingying. First because they were not supposed to leave Cang Qion Mountain without their shizun’s agreement first and secondly because if leaving without consulting Qiu Jiantang was bad enough, the fact it was solely to bring Ning Yingying a gift was borderline suicide. 

 “Well ? Did this disciple get his tongue ripped-off?”

For some reason, it made him nauseous. Yet, he forced himself to answer slowly :

“Apologies shizun, this disciple was never talkative.

-Hmpf… Just when this master was about to choose her favorite disciples to accompany her on a mission. One is missing, the other is crying and the third…” she glanced at him, clearly irritated, “is now taking vow of silence apparently.”

Luo Binghe hated it. He hated how weak-minded he was sometimes, for as soon the word ‘mission’ left her shizun’s lips, he cocked up his head at her. A puppy, probably, looking at her with big sparkly eyes. The simple hint of action got him almost excited enough to spill the beans.

“Mission ? Shizun is going on a mission ?”

A sly smile crossed his shizun face as he utterly fell in her trap. That’s okay, as cold and powerful she looked, Qiu Jiantang was as dangerous as a cotton-ear-cloudy-frogabbit. Of course, everyone knew what cotton-ear-cloudy-frogabbit looked like and would have told that despite their loud fiery screeches, their bite was nothing more than a cloudy nibbling. And that might have been Qiu Jiantang’s greatest tragedy : a master of the art and the words with the brute force of one of the fluffiest and tiniest creatures that had ever existed…

“So now this disciple can talk ? This master is glad to hear that the cat did not get his tongue.

- What kind of mission does shizun have ? Is it outside of Qing Jing Peak ?

So caught up in the thought of leaving this place, even for a couple of minutes, Luo Binghe did not notice her sly grin melting to some kind  of tender smile. Well, actually, he did but his mind just brushed it off. After all, everyone on Qing Jing Peak knew of Qiu Jiantang’s soft spot for Luo Binghe, even the disciple in question. Hell, probably the whole Cang Qiong mountains knew. At least Qiong Ding Peak master, Yue Qingyuan, mentioned it once and the sect leader was not known to be the best at keeping secrets. Especially not those who made him go all ‘awww’ soft.

“This master is leaving for Zàohuà City.

- Zàohuà City ?

- An influential marchand, Old Master Huà,” The youngster could only stare; Old Master Huà of ZàoHuà City… That was fortunate…”asked for assistance after several bodies were found around the city.

- Can this disciple ask why this mission was given to Qing Jing Peak ?”

When Luo Binghe thought his shizun was not the strongest master around, he meant it. While she was an immortal, Qiu Jiantang was more suited behind a guqin or with a brush between her agile fingers than running around to find a murderer or the cause of a sickness. 

“Demons.”

Oh. Of course.

He should have known.

“Don’t make this face, Xiao-Luo, this master knows what she is doing.”

He wasn’t sure of what kind of face he was making exactly, just that the last time his shizun went on a ‘demon hunt’, four disciples ended up cursed. Clenching his jaws once again, he couldn't help but wonder what demons did to his shizun exactly. How this graceful and noble master turned into an irrational ruthless mess as soon as the word ‘demon’ was uttered. Were those creatures awful ? Yes. Were they the bane of human existence ? Probably… But never the teen had seen such hatred burning in the eyes of his master as when demons were mentioned

Had they burned her family or something ?...

And yet, despite the danger, despite his reckless shizun, Luo Binghe just could not help himself. He was just too bored. 

“Shizun please…”, he started as he bowed once again. “Please, this humble one would give anything to see his shizun hunting a demon.”

Franckly, he would give everything just to see something else than those mountains and the surely haunted bamboo forest, for even one incense time. And he truly wasn’t above purposefully praising his shizun to get what he wanted. 

“What a charming disciple this master has.”

Please let it be a yes.

“Then go and find your shixiong and your shiji. We leave at sunset.”

Luo Binghe swore his shizun had never seen him run so fast before.

He truly had no trouble finding both Ning Yingying and Ming Fan. The first was in the kitchen, alone, quietly cutting vegetables. It was rare for her to be that silent, usually always finding something to babble about. Luo Binghe mostly enjoyed her nonsense, finding some comfort in the bright voice of his shiji. Sometimes, he could swear that it wards off whatever was roaming in the dark of the night. 

It was truly a rare sight, Ning Yingying absentmindedly handling this kitchen knife, her eyes clouded by whatever was turning in her head. Spotting her, Luo Binghe calmed his excitement before even thinking of entering the kitchen. Flattening a crease in his disciple clothes, just like he did with the laundry, he breathed deep and finally dared to approach his shiji. 

When he put his mind to it, Luo Binghe could be quite stealthy. He wasn’t trying though, deliberately taking heavy steps just to be sure he wouldn’t surprise his shiji. She was his friend, after all, and she was still holding a stupidly big knife. Still, the moment his hand landed on her shoulder, she jumped.

“A-Luo !”

She tried to calm herself, a hand on her heart, but he could see clearly how startled she was. Well, one more thing he had to improve. Would he be a good Qing Jing Peak disciple if he kept accidentally scaring his shiji ? This was the gentleman's peak after all, and almost killing Ning Yingying in a heart attack was not the most gentleman-y thing ever…

“Have you finished your chores ?

- Almost. Are you alright ?”, she quickly waved his concerns with a simple gesture and a sweet smile.

“Don’t worry about me A-Luo. The green onions were particularly hard today.”

No amount of green onions would explain the tiredness in her smile and the crease around her eyes. He gazed dropped. Neither the slight shaking in her hand. 

Usually, he probably would have pressed his friend, trying to find the reason for such sadness. Today though ? He just dropped it, partially because he knew how good Ning Yingying was at deviating conversation. Instead, he just settled against the countertop, crossing his arms as his friend continued her chores. There was a big clay pot on the fire, its content slightly bubbling in the quietness of the kitchen.

“Have you seen Ming Fan-shixiong ?

- I recall our shixiong had laundry today.”

So he wasn’t back. Luo Binghe slightly hummed, raising his head as he did so. His eyes on the ceiling, lull by the simmering and the rhythm of the knife on the cutting board, he let his thoughts quietly drift. 

His shixiong shouldn’t be long. At least that’s what he assured him before sneakily disappearing in a bush. Luo Binghe really wanted to tell him that no one would question him if he just took the stairs but Ming Fan was here longer than him. The teen was quite intelligent too, so if he warranted that disappearing in a bush was the best move, it probably was.

Sometimes, Luo Binghe felt like he was an old man stuck in a teen body. Complaining in his mind about bad or weird names and the silly things the other disciples, sometimes even his shizun and his shifus, did while it was not hurting anybody. Just because it was impractical or futile, Luo Binghe was mentally grumbling. 

Lost in his thoughts once again, he suddenly jumped in a poor imitation of his shiji. A small shrike and a boisterous laugh, Luo Binghe glared at the imprudent teen who had the guts to scare him shitless. To scare him with a simple hand on his shoulder but he really did not expect someone to sneak up on him ! At least, he made noise when approaching Ning Yingying !  

“Ming Fan-shixiong, please stop scaring A-Luo. 

- Forgive me Xiao-shimei. This was not this humble one intention.

- You should apologize to A-Luo, not me.

- But this humble one took great risk for Xiao-shimei today !”

She did not even spare him the tiniest glance, continuing her gruesome chores in silence. She must have been in a really bad mood, her curious nature reduced to nothing. Luo Binghe may be only fifteen, but he already knew that the way of a girl’s heart was not nagging or whatever Ming Fan was doing. Listening, his shixiong really needed to listen to their sweet Ning Yingying. Be there for her when she was having a hard time training or just wanted to talk all day long about silly little things she loved. But no, here he was desperately trying to get her attention, slowly leaning toward her as he attempted to maybe make her laugh or anything.

Like this, Ming Fan-shixiong looked like the pesky flies who loved to annoy people in the middle of summer, when the sun was high and the heat turned everything insufferable.

The scene was truly as bad as one could imagine, to the point that for a fleeting second, the younger disciple truly hoped for a rift to the abyss to open and swallow him whole.

“Ming Fan-shixiong should save it for later.”

Luo Binghe received a look both lost and annoyed at the same time. 

“Shizun is going on a mission and wants us to accompany her. 

- What ? Truly ? 

- She wants us to help A-Luo?”

His sweet shiji almost dropped her knife while his shixiong dropped the insupportable act of a sicklove idiot. Heavens above and Abyss under, if Luo Binghe was in love one day, please let him not be as hopeless as his shixiong. 

“It’s a mission in Zàohuà City.

- Oh… That’s not that far from Qiong Cing Mountains. 

- You heard about that place Xiao-shimei ?

- Hm. It is a well-off city but it is quite boring. I passed through it once or twice and there was nothing interesting about it.

- What about Luo-shidi ?”

To the question, he answered with a simple shake of the head and slight sigh. He sometimes wished he had seen the world like his shiji or had a family like Ming Fan-shixiong. But all he got left was the precious jade pendant his mother gifted him and a couple of life lessons from someone he could not recall. It could have been worse…

“Shizun said ‘demons’.”

And just like him maybe one incense time ago, they stopped and stared with blank expressions. 

“Of course.

- Isn’t it admirable how shizun is always so concerned about the whereabouts of common folks ?

- I am not going. 

- Ming Fan-shixiong ! Please !”

Luo Binghe, silent during their whole exchange, looked utterly unimpressed as his shiji had already grabbed his shixiong’s arm, gently dragging him back. Well, at least the silly little crush was useful for once. 

“If shizun asked, then she might trust us !

- As a head-disciple, Ming Fan-shixiong should be delighted.

- Delighted?!”, he hissed between his teeth. “Head disciple ?! At this point Luo-shidi is more of the head disciple than this humble one !

- Shizun truly values Ming Fan-shixiong. Doesn’t shixiong think shizun would have made this disciple her head disciple since a long time had she wanted to ?”

The teen stared and stared, his jaws thighed as he was absolutely fuming. This was a sore spot for both of them, because despite the gentle scolding, they knew Ming Fan was right. Qiu Jiantang indeed favored Luo Binghe and the boy had to bear the consequences of such an unfair blessing. 

“So… demons…”, a small voice whispered.

Ming Fan finally turned, a tired sigh escaping his lips.

“Sorry Xiao-shimei…”

And there was nothing more to say, because while Luo Binghe had to accept the fallout, he could not imagine how it felt for Ming Fan. Slowly casted aside, while he was doing his utter best both for his cultivation and the sect. Such devotion at a young age, only wanting to improve… 

“We are living at sunset.

- Did shizun say how long we will stay ?

- She did not.

- Then we should pack for at least three days.”, Ming Fan ended in the tone of the head-disciple he was. 

Packing was easy, so was riding to the city and reaching the mansion of the Old Master Huà.

The whole trip was made in utter silence, the three disciples pondering about very different things while their shizun was doing… Well, Luo Binghe was not sure what exactly she was doing in the carriage nor he wanted to. She could be reading, sleeping or just staring at the scenery lit by moonlight, it would probably change nothing to the course of his life. 

Truth be told, he did not think of his shizun as much as he should. He heard his shixiongs, several times, talking in nothing but unfilial terms about their shizun. Things about her figure, her graceful fingers. From the shape of her lips to the shine of her hair and… other things, no part of Qiu Jiantang was spared from the vivid imagination of teen and young men filled with hormones. But to him ? Well he guessed his shizun was beautiful. Objectively, she was at least. That being said, Luo Binghe, contrary to most of his shixiongs, had no desire to see nor imagine what was hidden behind her peak master robes.

Maybe the others were right, maybe he was not mature enough. Yet if mature meant slimsly ogling his shizun, then maybe he better stay as he was, thank you very much ! 

The teen had to force himself to concentrate before losing himself once again in his contemplation, especially those involving his shizun unclothing. Ugh… Desperate to think about anything else, he paid attention to everything he could perceive. The road ahead, the lantern both his shixiong and shiji were holding casting a soft orange glow, the sounds all around them and even the earthy scent of the forest. Concentrate, concentrate. Riding a horse in the middle of night was bad enough, he did not need to be distracted on top of it. 

But that was the thing recently ; he was always distracted. No matter if he was training with the other disciples or just doing mindless chores. Be it in the morning or in the middle of the night, Luo Binghe was always in his head, pondering about a thousand things. It was truly starting to be a problem, as he sometimes ignores the others around him or worse, potentially put himself in danger. 

He was doing it again, wasn’t he ? Shaking his head a bit, he tried once again to stay focused.

The road, dusty and worn out. The lanterns, rocking with each step the horses took. The thick forest all around them. The road, almost blinding in the deep of the night. The lanterns, attracting tiny and bigger bugs. The forest, rustling in the breath. The road, snaking in the thick darkness. The lanterns, ghostly lightening the deformed figures of trees. The forest, silent. The road, neverending. The lanterns, blindening. The forest, utterly silent.

He was that close from going crazy when far ahead, the contours of huge gates slowly appearing from the cold darkness. They were shining silver in the moonlight as if a distant, ephemeral apparition; the doors to an heavenly realm. 

Finally ! The teen was that close to sigh. Not that he was afraid, far from it, and neither were the two others disciples. They had a firm grip on their lanterns, their back perfectly straight as they were watching the road. The thing was, traveling by night, that apart from being an easy target, it was boring. It was boring when they left, it was boring when they crossed the empty countryside and it was especially boring in the forest where the moonlight had a hard time reaching them.

Glancing quickly around, the only thing Luo Binghe spotted was two floating green eyes in the forest, quietly watching them pass by. At least by day, he would have been able to tell if it was a cat or fox… And just like that, the quiet friend disappeared, free to roam wherever it wanted. 

That was something he craved, roaming freely. Traveling across the land, helping people in need and visiting every city. Sleeping in the woods, meditating by cascades and wandering in orchards. Discovering news plants, news songs, news people. Being part of the world. He will, one day, but for the moment he was a disciple. A hard working disciple with a predilection for daydreaming.

Let's meet later, friend , he absentmindedly thought as they reached the gates. I hope you are a cat. I love cats. 

As long and boring the trip was, at least the whole greeting part was a quick affair. A respectful bowing and a ‘great immortal master’ before they were led to one of the studies of the manor with Old Master Hua. And his shiji was not lying about the wealthy part. The room was grand, decorated with fine ornaments, trinkets catching the light of countless lamps scattered around, and delicate paintings depicting different scenes. 

The Old Master himself was dressed in rich blue robes, threaded with what seems to be gold. He had a long white beard but not a hair on his head, yet there was something youthful about him. The creases around his eyes, the brightness of his dark iris, quickly noted the disciple while his shizun was taking a seat. The small yet genuine smile that lighted up his face. 

“Like I said”, continued the old man with a gentle voice. “several bodies were found. In a city as wealthy as our, with many people coming and going, petty theft and murder are, unfortunately, quite common.

- I imagine.”

He gave her a compassionate look, slightly cocking his head on the side, like it was Qiu Jiantang who needed his help and not the contrary. 

“The victims had very little in common. Some don’t even share the same death.”

Straight as arrows behind his esteemed shizun, Luo Binghe caught out of the corner of his eyes, his shixiong confusion. Nose scrunched and brows frowned, yet he retained his perfect position with his hands behind his back and his head high. Luo Binghe stared back at the old man, barely noticing his shizun grabbing a cup of tea.

“Different types of death ?”, the old master slowly nodded. 

“Two were apparently poisoned. Three were stabbed in the back and the last three drowned.

- Drowned ? 

- It may not have escaped you, although you came by night, that our city is quite far from large bodies of water.”

He reached out for his own cup with a slightly shaking hand, slow and careful as if not to disturbed them. 

“The closet is a river, two incense time away. More if you get lost in the forest. The victims were found in the streets. Since our city is supplied by underground springs and wells, the drowning are truly confusing. Moreover, they were found right by brothels.”

A moment, as their shizun slightly hummed before taking a sip. That was, indeed, quite confusing but something told them there was more to come. 

“Different people, different deaths, how did you know they were linked?

- It is true that at first, apart from the drowning, we did not think those deaths to be related. That was until we put them side by side.”

Qiu Jiantang stopped, probably one of her thin eyebrows cocked up. 

“You put them side by side ?”, she asked in a veiled suspicion.

“8 bodies, in a couple of days. Like I said, our city is quite frequented and bringing all the bodies in the place seemed the most logical solution. We thought it would greatly help with identification, even more when they looked quite the same.”

She stared for what seemed an eternity, taking in what the old master was saying. Frankly, the man might sound suspicious. Still, despite the weird story he was quietly retelling to them, Luo Binghe was convinced the master had done nothing. Maybe it was his unsteady hands, or perhaps this soft compassionate voice of his, or even the fact that the man seemed frail, but the youngest disciple could not bring himself to suspect him. 

“What do you mean by quite the same ? 

- Young men with long straight black hair. Thins nose and lips. Almost the same height and body type. If you had passed them in the street, you might had have confused them for another.”

That… was the work of someone peculiar, not to say crazy. Someone in the vast world either had an enemy or an admirer. An admirer with murdery tendencies… 

“And the demon part ?

- One of the victims was poisoned by the ten-fiery-death-reed.”

Luo Binghe did his best not to cringe. Of all the poison, the sap of this plant might be one of the worst. It was a fast but horrendous death, the inside of the victim turning into a liquid as hot as lava. It was speculated it was alike swallowing liquid gold or any other metal reaching melting point. However, instead of being restricted to the digestive tract, the poison instead followed the flows of qi within the body. Fortunately, the reed liked extreme weather as a lake of bubbling lava and acrid fogs of sulfur that were only found deep within the demon realm.

It was enough for their shizun, quickly ending the conversation before taking their leave. And finally, finally they were free for the night.

Well, almost.

“This disciple should eat the food that is graciously provided.”

But instead of sitting by his peers, Luo Binghe was bowing to his master like he always did when he wanted something. 

“Apologies, shizun, but this disciple is really concerned for the residents of Zàohuà City.

- The murder usually happens at dawn, Luo Binghe. Don’t force this master to order you to sit and eat.

- But shizun !”, he raised his head with wide pleading eyes. “This disciple is really not hungry and wants to be useful for once ! Maybe if he searches around town, he will help shizun prevent another death !”

The Qing Jing Peak master looked at him, clearly displeased with a tinge of sadness in her eyes. Usually, Luo Binghe was a reasonable kid, never asking for more than he had. Humble and easy to please, hardworking too. Yet, with this promise of freedom so close, he couldn’t help but beg. He longed for crossing the street like he did before but this time without worrying about hunger or security. He wanted to experience the quietness of a sleeping city, once again, when the moon, high in the sky, casted an ethereal glowing on the wide streets frozen in time. 

“Worry not, your disciple won’t be the next body to be found. He may have long hair and a slim figure, but the likenesses stop there.”

All eyes were on the old master, an amused smile playing in his face. Who knows what stories were engraved in his skin, all the tales the scars and creases might have to say. Master Huà was an old man, he probably could already feel the stiffness of his coffin under his hands and the cold embrace of the earth, yet his gaze was still so clear. Clear of any worry, of any dread. When it set on Luo Binghe, a weird sense of peace and melancholy flooded the boy.

“The sun isn’t to rise before at least three incense time…”, softly whispered his shizun. 

Standing with her hands crossed on top of each other, she looked as worried as a mother watching her child slowly drifting away. Distant eyes, pinching brows, straight yet her shoulders seemed ready to slump. The perfect image of grace and dignity slightly putting at the perspective of her younger disciple living the nest. She could not always brood him, he may still be learning but he yearned for the same freedom that was granted to the other disciples. 

“Shizun, this disciple could accompany A-Luo.”

A quick glance, a small sigh. Now Ning Yingying was bowing by his side and their poor shizun had no choice but to agree. She did so as she sat, not to say collapsed, dismissing them in hand gesture and a :

“If these disciples want to leave their master that bad then be it ! May they grab an iron sword or this master might as well die of shame if they were to be found dead by sunrise. Ming Fan will dutifully stay with the master to inspect the corpses.”

Clearly, Ming Fan was not happy. Side eyeing Luo Binghe, he discreetly mouthed a ‘you are dead to me’ that he knew the older teen did not mean. Corpses may sound less fun than roaming freely in the city, but the knowledge he will gather might be far greater than anything the other two could find in the sleepy streets. At least, that was what the youngest hoped for his shixiong as he grabbed a sword and disappeared into the night. 

Notes:

Writing a happy trio Luo Binghe - Ning Yingying - Ming Fan made me tear up a bit. But I also cried three days ago because I dropped my bread so I might just be emotionally exhausted (I was a really nice bread before the fall).

Anyway, no Shen Jiu for the moment =(
Don't worry, he will be here soon. Like, next chapter.
Also Luo Binghe will continue being a teen. Not even a mix of Bingge and Bingmei, just straight up a teen.

I think I will try to post at least once a week, probably on Friday, but since work is still crazy it might take me longer.

Thank you all for reading ! As for the kudos and bookmarks ! It’s really helping the whole writing process (and the author getting through the week)!

Have a nice weekend (or week) everyone and see you later ! =)

Chapter 3: From the shadow to the light

Notes:

This time, it did not take me three days to write 3 words.
...
But I may or may not have written the last two chapters only listening to one Gwen Stefani's song.

“Where should we start A-Luo ?”

The teen looked around in the penumbra of this almost full moon night. Wide deserted streets, asleep in this early hour of morning, opened to them. Empty stalls which will soon be full of pretty trinkets shining in the morning sun, baked goods warm and appetizing and vegetables harvested the day before. This part of the city, a few steps away from the manor, was indeed still in a deep slumber and would probably only start to stir in an incense time or two. They could alway stalk the empty street, silent as ghosts, but from here, between two manors, Luo Binghe could spot an orange tinge of light dying the night sky. Soft and distant, at the opposite side of the city. 

Apparently, Zàohuà City truly was big. Big enough to be bustling with life, even in the middle of the night. 

“Part of the town seemed to be awake…”, he barely whispered, pointing to the light hanging above faraway streets. “If the murders happen at dawn, then starting here might be the best choice we have.”

Ning Yingying’s pensive eyes slowly raised to the sky, pondering what he just said. Night life in a big commercial city… they might be still young but they both knew what to expect. She was probably starting to consider waiting for her shizun, the corner of her lips dropping in a small pout. While she was a talented disciple, lively, energetic and far from shy, she was not that comfortable around drunkard and lecherous men. The exact kind they might find in this lightened up street. 

“If shijie prefers, she can wait for shizun. This Luo Binghe won’t be reckless.”

In a new sigh, she dropped her shoulder this time as she gently shook her head. That was courageous of her, Luo Binghe would not deny it, but at the same time was it a good idea ? His shijie was clearly already uncomfortable, she should not force herself. 

“If I am to become a great cultivator like shizun, I have to start being more independent !”

He did not have the heart to tell her that he could see right through her forced smile. She was trying her best, all the time, be it day or night, and he thought that maybe he shouldn’t undermine all her efforts. He nodded in a tiny acknowledgement sign before hurriedly crossing the street, Ning Yingying right behind him. 

There was a slight breath, running betweens the manors and shops and whatever building they were passing by. It was cold, dry, but full of scents. Powdery, sugary, remembering him of rich tasting honey. It was floating powerfully around them in an invisible veil, heady and strong, but sometimes barely present as he had to concentrate to just perceive it. And when the arteries of the city opened to a small, forgotten street, a whiff of scents would crash over him, overpowering for a second the sweet smell they uncounsly followed.

The more they strayed from Huà Manor, the more it stenched. Honey was slowly mixing with a foul smell, something heavy that coated their tongue and the back of their throat. Not irony, like blood, but not pungent as the fish a cat had stolen once, back at their peak, before leaving it to rot in the burning heat of summer. Still, it was growing more intense with every step as it was directly leading them to the only street still awake in this big city. 

They were almost there, the warm lights right ahead of them, when he felt Ning Yingying reaching for him. A hand on his shoulder, she dragged him to stop and before he had time to turn, he heard her retching. It was… it was really bad. Luo Binghe can’t even recall when he put his hand on his nose, trying his best to ward off the powerful stench, but here was.

“Are you alright ?”, he quickly whispered, dropping all formalities as his shijie was holding onto him.

She only answered with a slight hum before retching again. Yeah, he was close too… Truthfully, the smell was turning his stomach, an acrid feeling creeping up his throat with each breath he took. Concentrate, concentrate… Biting firmly in the meat of his cheeks, the teen tried his best to distract himself not to end up in the same predicament as his shijie. Concentrate, concentrate…

He gazed at the light ahead, the warm glow giving back colors to a world of silver and darkness, almost blindening to someone who walked for who knew how long in the night. And even from there, he could hear echoes of breathy laugh and hushed conversation. The buzzing of a busy crowd, uncaring the moon was high in the sky and the sun set for so long now. It was weird, being there in the quiet darkness, almost vulnerable. Cast aside, like Luo Binghe was not to step a foot in their world, just allowed to watch from afar. Unwelcomed. Forgotten…

The strange feeling digged sharply in him and he found it to be unbearable. Snapping his head away, he forced his eyes to set in the darkness surrounding, he willed himself to ignore the echoes of voices and presences. And his poor shijie was still trying her best not to throw up, breathing deeply by his side despite the stench as powerful as ever. Unfortunately, the more he stared at the door of a random shop, covered in this silvery light, the more the foul smell was suffocating him. It was either the weird irritating feeling or throwing up what was left in his stomach.

Until he spotted green orbs glowing in the darkness. Right there, in one of those small hidden streets, so narrow the moonlight couldn’t reach inside, were two glowing eyes. They were casted on them, as if watching their every move, neither frightened nor curious. The animal, probably a cat sitting on crates, seemed to gauge the two strange beings that had the effrontery to step on his territory during his hunting hours. That was at least how Luo Binghe’s vivid imagination interpreted it.

“Hello cat”, his voice was soft yet respectful as he bowed a little. “These humble disciplines are truly sorry for disturbing your peace and perhaps your hunt.” 

He glanced under his eyelashes, the eyes softly blinking before moving a tiny bit as if their hidden friend, settling, was telling him to go on. Looking down once again, the younger disciple of Qing Jing Peak continued : 

“This city is plagued with a… being.”

It was hard to speak, the acrid smell invading his mouth with each of his words, but also because, just like he couldn’t explain the strange feeling he had watching the lively street from afar, the unwavering gaze felt… important. As if this simple street cat was the grand master of ZàoHuà City, watching him with unforgiving eyes as he decided what to do with the two youngsters. Such an imminent presence, grating them some of its precious time.

“They like to hunt too. Perhaps this master has seen them ?”

He could feel it, heavy on his head and shoulder. ‘Cats couldn’t talk you idiot shidi’, often teased him Ming Fan, yet he continued. Wherever he spotted one of his furry friends back at the peak, he would always take time to play with them, even giving them a bite of his food if he had any. He would chat mindlessly, doing his chores as the cats napped under the warm and fuzzy sun, pretending they understood and listened. Like they cared about whatever silly things this disciple had to say. And if talking to a street cat could make him forget about the stench for a second, waiting for his shijie to feel better, then so be it. It was not hurting anybody. 

So much for judging the others for their illogical actions when he was actually having a talk with a cat like a lunatic though…

“This disciple feared they might disturbed your territory and would love nothing more than helping this master.”

His voice was almost unhearable, drowned in sudden commotion. Just as he raised his head, he spotted the green orbs on him before snapping to the noise. Broken glass and shouts, sudden agitation in the already noisy street. The eyes disappeared, his new friend probably afraid by the sudden outburst, leaving the two disciples in the stench and growing roaring. 

Ning Yingying grabbed his hand, suddenly dragging him, running, to the street as if she was not about to throw up a second ago. Their shizun might frown at such skinship but she wasn’t there and the screaming were only growing more urgent. 

For the first time in his life, Luo Binghe felt the power of being a sect disciple entailed as the crowd part before them. They might have never set foot in ZàoHuà City before, well Ning Yingying did but not as a sect disciple, but the habitants recognized their robes. After all, the Qiong Cing sect might have been the most powerful and no doubt countless marchands could easily identify them with only one look. 

The sea of people opened, not questioning the legitimacy of the two teens. Wherever he gazed, Luo Binghe could spotted anguished faces and eyes brimming with tears. Women scantily clad, hiding in fear in the arms of their sisters, men hushing them away with big quivering hands and foggy, heavy gazes. Lips and cheeks painted in red were soon a mess of color, identical to ink diluted by raindrops running along the paper. And there were so many people, so much movement and light. Sights and sounds surrounding them as the scents of delicate perfumes were soon blended with the nauseous metallic smell of fresh, warm blood. 

There, right in front of what could only be a brothel, were three figures. A man clad in humble clothes, dark and simple, kneeled, barking orders to others around him. Right by his side, what could have only been described as a delicate flower, her heavy and rich robes dragging in the dirt. Her naked shoulder neither quivered or trembled as she was leaning above something. She was beautiful, Luo Binghe could not deny it, even as she frowned, concentrating on whatever was lying down. And what was lying down was a man, with long silky black hair and jade like skin. 

For some reason, Luo Binghe was stunned. Falling inside himself; he felt like he fell deep within him before dread slowly brought him back. The man was still shouting orders to others, the woman was holding a pale hand and the victim was pitifully whining. And the blood… he could now see the blood gently trying to flood all around before the dry and dusty ground soaked it up greedily.  

“Please, immortal masters ! He needs assistance !”

The pleading voice snapped him back to the present. Her dark eyes were locked on him, strong yet the preludes of tears were already marking her delicate features. She was calm, she had to, because screaming and crying would have done nothing if panicking the poor victim more than he probably was. But the thing was, no matter how she pleaded, how she looked at him as he was her savior, Luo Binghe could not move. Yes, he was back to reality and yes, he knew how urgent the situation was, yet the simple sight woke a terror hidden for years in the deepest part of his heart. 

The sigh of an heavenly corpse, serenely sleeping as the tender sun of a spring morning gently caressed his jade face.   

Only when Ning Yingying sprung into action, accidentally bumping him on her way, that Luo Binghe was truly back. His shijie was quick to answer, kneeling next to the other two before giving instructions. They may not be from the Qian Cao Peak, the peak of medicine and healing, nevertheless they knew the basics. Ning Yingying took charge, just like they were instructed, allowing her shidi to catch his breath and calm his rapid-beating heart.

He was alive. He was traveling somewhere in this vast world, like he always did, and he was alive. It was not him, lying in a puddle of his own blood, barely hanging on a thread.

He was alive, Luo Binghe was sure, yet he could not bring himself to look any longer. It was… too close. Too similar. When Old Master Huà said young men with long black hair and pale complexion, the teen did not make any connection. After all, all that was left of him were life lessons he barely recalled and the warmth of his hand as he brushed his hair. The moment before, he was nothing but a blurry figure of the past, and now Luo Binghe was sure he had long silky hair and jade hands. Yet his face still remained a mess of fuzzy darkness, just as his voice was deaf-toned and distorted.

The man he almost forgot. 

Refusing to set his eyes again on the victim, the Qing Jing Peak disciple looked around. The crowd had not dispersed, quite the opposite. More and more people were pressing around the poor man, slowly suffocating him as they could not help but try to see his wound in their morbid curiosity. Luckily for the victim, the man above him got up when Ning Yingying joined, now warding off as much as he could the noisy crowd. Still, there was too many people, all pressing, and despite his snarling and snapping, they just kept getting closer. One on his right was leaning, a concerned crease forming between his eyebrows as he looked deeply saddened. Another on his left was taking tormented looks again and again, each time sinking his teeth harder in his lips

“A-Chen… A-Chen, please hang on…”

Small soft whispers, lost in the commotion, as the beauty was now petting his hair with trembling hands. Sincerely, Luo Binghe might have felt sad for her as it was evident this man was more than a client. Yet he did not have the time because as soon as she uttered the man’s name, one of the curious onlookers' faces turned soured. The previously leaning man, suddenly discreetly looking around as to escape in the convoluted crowd.

Oh the little...

The man turned, his heavy coat almost eaten up by the people around him. He left, and Luo Binghe let him at first, before quickly passing by Ning Yingying. With just a glance, she knew what her shidi was silently telling her, only nodding before continuing pressing on the man's wounds. And just like that, the younger disciple of Qing Jing Peak started his own hunt in the saturated street. He was tailing him, easily finding the man despite the movements all around him and the masses growing bigger and bigger. 

Going against the flow made the man's movements slow yet almost unperceivable. After all, who would be paying attention to a poor foul trying to escape when there was a tragedy nearby ? And seeing how they reacted, this Chen probably was beloved by his pairs. Unfortunately for the suspect, Luo Binghe was an expert in tailing folks in big, crowded cities. He had learnt from the best after all, even if he can’t recall his name. 

Quickly, as they got away from the commotion, the crowd got scarser. Fewer and fewer people, as they all rushed to the victim, desperately wanted to know and probably be a part of this new tragedy. And as the road was getting empty, the suspect grew agitated. Glancing around, fidgeting as if he was ready to break in a full run. If he was not the killer then he probably was a lunatic scared by the sight of body. Binghe continued steadily, matching his pace while making sure he would not be discovered. Hiding in huge shadows, blending in an innocuous group of people for an instant, playing with the glaring light of a lantern, the teen managed to easily tail him. Until the man suddenly stopped at the beginning of a new street. A street filled with darkness, leaving behind the warm illuminations and their promises of security.

Luo Binghe stopped, half-hidden in the shadow of a crate and observed as the man casted a glance behind him. Right there, on the frontier between light and darkness, the disciple could perceive an orangey tinge to his skin and unusual patterns going from his eyes to his quite short dark hair. Patterns that he swore looked like tiny scales shining in rich, deep colors as light played on his face. 

Old Master Huà was apparently right in his suspicion…

But before he could truly pounder on it, the demon broke in a full sprint, disappearing the darkness. Oh no ! No, he won’t just let him leave like this ! Binghe did not truly think before running right behind him, blinded by the darkness for a second or two before his eyes adjusted to the penumbra around them.

The once clear and quiet streets were passing in a blur as the teen sprinted after him. He wasn’t sure if the demon spotted him or not, all he knew was that if he lost him, then they would probably never catch him. He would just go on his merry way, butchering his way through a new city just like he did in ZàoHuà. After all, he killed 8 men, probably 9, just because they shared physical similarities, and the world was not short of young men with pale skin and long dark hair. ZàoHuà City might be big, but there were bigger cities. Who knew what kind of massacre he would do then…

Turning in a narrow street, Luo Binghe unconsciously noticed presences hidden in the darkness. Tiny eyes carefully watching the chase, silent and cautious. He had an audience, yet all he could see was the figure of the killer slowly getting farther away. He was quick, way too quick for a human being, giving a hard time to someone who was used to running around. And resilient too as his pace only increased. Usually, fast meant getting tired quicker yet the killer seemed to only get faster and faster.

And unfortunately, it wasn’t long before Luo Binghe lost him around a corner. Looking around, almost short of breath, the teen did his best to try and find where he might have disappeared. The street had opened to a crossroad with no trace of the killer, not even in the dusty road. It was as if the demon or whatever he was had truly disappeared in thin air. That wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. He needed to focus and think. Maybe the killer had escaped by the roofs ? 

Just as he was about to jump on the roof by his right, the cling of a sword followed by a ‘Please no ! PLEASE !’ and the soft glow of a lantern. Binghe rushed on the path to his left.

The street ended in a tiny square stuck behind some habitations. A small place, crossed by multiple narrow paths, the widest being the one Luo Binghe was currently accidentally blocking. Stunned, he stared as the demon was now on the ground, lying with his chest raised as he was leaning on his elbows. Not far from his foot laid a fine sword the teen did not notice before. And he almost oversaw it as his attention was mostly on the demon, now yellow eyes, wide and terrified, anchored on the darkness.

“PLEASE ! MERCY ! MERCY !”

He seemed like a lunatic, begging to the narrow pathway. Truthfully, Luo Binghe almost believed he was haunted by the ghost of his victims, before a figure emerged from the shadow. 

A man. No, a god, clad in fine ornamented black and deep purple robes, appeared. The fabric was gently fluttering in the cold of the night, dancing along his black-jet hair in a high ponytail adorned with a finely worked silver crown. The being might as well have been carved from the purest block of jade as never Luo Binghe gazed at such an immaculate complexion. Even covered in the soothing glow of the lantern he was holding, his skin remained fair alike the freshly fallen snow. And his hands were equally graceful as each of his movements, one holding the light while the other slowly raised to point at the killer.

Slim body and long legs, with a pure complexion and long dark hair. While Binghe could say the being had thin lips - beautifully so-, he could not tell for the nose or the eyes for they were hidden behind a mask. A strange mask, unlike any he had seen before. Black as his hair, yet with a slight tinge of purple mixed in it, it hide only the top half of his face in the shape of a cat face. Soft nose and pointy ears, covering those of the being. It was impossible to see or guess what was hidden beneath, not even his eyes concealed behind the slits of the closed eyes carved on the mask.

 “Mercy?”, he snarkily repeated. 

Such a cold voice yet something fluttered deep within the disciple. 

“You deserve neither my mercy nor my time.”

The demon visibly paled before scrambling to him on his feet and hands, trying to grab at the being’s robes.

“My Lord ! My Lord please ! This humble one did not mean it ! THIS HUMBLE ONE WAS FORCED MY LORD !”

In a shift gesture, the being ripped his robes off the demon’s hands. While it was cold and harsh, the lord’s face stayed distant and lofty, like a terrified demon was not begging him on his knees for his life. Pitifully pleading in the dirt, the demon seemed so miserable it almost made Luo Binghe forget he probably killed a man. An innocent man, whose only sin was to look like another. And this other might as well be the divine being gracing them with his presence. 

“Forced ? Do you think this master is this stupid ?

- No ! O-of course not !”, whipping his head left to right he started to praise the being in a desperate abandon. “You are the most intelligent my lord ! The most of all in the demon realm and and even in the human realm ! Please !”

His words ended in a sharp whine as the lord took a step forward and Luo Binghe was transfixed, unable to look away. It was clear as day, what was about to happen. The demon fell heavily backward, right on his ass, trying to scramble off however his feet kept slipping on the dusty ground. Shaking, he could only watch as the lord kept creeping closer, his eyes getting wetter while he frantically whined ‘no… please no… please…’. It sounded like a prayer, a broken prayer. And when the lord bent, grabbing the fine sword, the terrified demon’s eyes widened impossibly. 

“No. No no no ! “

Luo Binghe watched as the lord’s fingers grazed the handle, slowly closing around it.

“No please ! PLEASE !”

The lord unhurriedly straightened up, the warm glow of the lantern reflecting on the cold, darkly coated metal. The teen's mouth was suddenly dry as he recognized without doubt the reddish tinge on the blade. Blood. Dry blood. 

The sword was raised, ever as slowly, and the demon somehow managed to move backward. Unfortunately, his back hit a wall with a sharp ‘thump’ and the terror froze him. He just kept crying, his face deformed by fear and desperation. It was over. The one who hunted through the night, killing mimicries of a lofty lord, was now meeting his own death. And in a delightful twist of fate, his life would end by the hand of the one he chased. The hunter became the hunted. 

That was at least what Luo Binghe thought, ignoring the twisted little thing curling deep inside him, pleased. But when he thought the lord would strike the fool, when the demon surely saw the end in his own reflection on the blade, the lord thought otherwise. He threw the sword at the killer, the demon barely catching it as his chest was lifting and dropping at a rapid pace. 

He stared, just like the demon was. He stared, failing to grasp what exactly the lord was thinking. Was he… was he setting him free ? No ! No he could not ! That was what the demon seemed to think, wrapping his arms around the sword as he cried in a relieved smile : 

“Thank you my lord ! This lowly one promise he will never-

- Fight.”

They froze. The demon. Luo Binghe. The dozens of eyes silently watching them, invisible under the veil of the night. 

“Wh… what ?”, whispered the pitiful, broken voice. 

“If you want to live, you will have… to fight.”

The face of the demon fell, anguish deeply set on his features as he heard the cold words articulated by the lord.

“My lord please ! This humble one is nothing compared to your greatness !

- How humble is he, to think for even a second, he would fight against this master ? 

- Then who ?! Please my lord please !”

But instead of absolution, all the demon got was a finger raised, pointing straight at a path where the soft light was bleeding. To the figure of a youngster clad in white and green disciple robes. 

Luo Binghe could not help but widen his eyes, flabbergasted. Since… since when was he discovered ?... Well, he was not exactly hidden however nothing seemed to indicate that any of them had seen him just standing there. Yet the being noticed, probably since the beginning, and let him watch the pathetic scene of wailing and pleading. 

“This disciple is not allo-”

But before he could finish his sentence, the demon was jumping on him. Barely blocking his sword with his own blade, Luo Binghe cringed under the pressure before deflecting the blow to the right. His assailant staggered, tears clinging to his eyelashes probably blurring his sight. He was sobbing, as he threw himself again to the young human. 

He hit him, at least he tried. Frantically raising and striking his sword in muddled movements, his breathing pace was equally erratic. The demon was panicking, flailing his arm around trying to reach the teen yet Luo Binghe was holding his ground. At first he did at least, but the demon was, without a doubt, older and more experienced than him. In the midst of his panic, he still was able to graze the disciple's arm and then his cheek. Moreover, he had a strength that, compared to the precision he lost in his hysteria, seemed to feed on desperation.

“What are you doing?!”

The teen almost missed the clearly displeased hissing, his assailant sword clashing on his blade in a sharp sound.

“Your balance is off ! Do you ever pay attention to your shizun ?!”

Luo Binghe cringed, trying his best not to get his hand slew off because some mighty lord decided to throw him in a fight. And he was listening ! That was what he was always doing, all day long. Listening. Listening. Listening. To his shizun, to his shixiongs and shijies. To everyone on Qing Jing Peak and probably Cang Qiong Mountains. And his balance was perfect, his shizun said so, thank you very much ! 

But as perfect as it was, he could help the slight shaking in his left leg as the demon hit him at full strength.

“Straighten your back.”

He did, and he found it easier to withstand the blow.

“Put more weight on your right foot and lean slightly on your left hip.”

The demon was crying hysterically while the master was guiding the disciple. In a weird dance, circling slowly around them as if it wasn’t a deadly fight. When, between the demon and the human, it was a storm of desperation, a flurry of hits, the lord seemed a ghostly mist surrounding them. Watching for a mistake, for something to improve.

“Your shoulders are too stiff.”, so he did his best to release tension. “Stop just dodging ! Don’t you see he is trying to kill you ? Your death is his survival ! ” and he started hitting back.

With each instruction, Luo Binghe felt knots in his body and mind slowly coming undone. Listening to the cold and distant voice, he heard a familiar melody bringing him to life. Left, then right, then strike. Repeat. Dodge, then crouch, hit, then raise. Repeat. Block, spin and strike.

And strike.

And strike until it slashed their flesh.

There were no more words, no more tips. No more blows when the demon fell in a gurgling sound, his sword clinking still on the soft ground. Lying there, covered by the warm light of the lantern, the demon stared at the emptiness of the sky, the same emptiness that his eyes now bore. Blood once again ran all around, soaking in the dry ground while the stench slowly raised to heaven. Dead, his chest open. Dead, and he killed him.

And Luo Binghe was sure the first time he would end a life would stir something inside him. Disgust. Fear. Terror. An all encompassing awareness of death as anyone, including him, could suddenly pass. The fragility of life. Yet, the only reason the Qing Jing Peak disciple felt disturbed was because of the lack of feeling. He just killed a being, a demon yeah, but still a breathing, thinking being. Someone with a name and a story. A family. Yet he found nothing neither in soul nor his heart, as if death was an old friend he met countless times before.

So desensitized he only truly cared for the lord, crouching ever so gracefully next to the body. 

“How old are you?’, he asked as he examined the body.

“Fif- This disciple is fifteen.”

The being raised his head and Luo Binghe swore he could see shiny eyes through the narrow slits. The only visible part of the master stayed as inexpressive than the mask, lips pressed in a thin line the disciple did not know how to read. Feeling some kind of shyness, he barely moved, letting the being silently watch him. 

He managed to kill a demon, at such a young age ! Maybe the master was impressed ? And the boy did not turn his eyes as he saw the blood he splitted. Not even a second. How remarkable ! Yet the seconds passed and the master, the lord as the demon called him, kept just looking at him. But maybe he shouldn’t be proud… Luo Binghe could sense anxiety slowly crawling inside him as doubt slowly took over his mind. He just killed someone. He had no choice but it did change the outcome. He should probably feel sick as the metallic smell of blood was so thick he could feel it in his throat. 

And he had splatters of this blood on his face, on his clothes. How did he not notice sooner ? The warm wetness, drying in scabs on his own untouched skin. 

What kind of beast?

“You are from Qing Jing Peak.”

That was not a question, still he answered in a tiny nod while his mind was processing all of this.

“Why did this disciple not use cultivation then ?

- I forgot.

- This disciple forgot ?”

Judgment, thick and strong in such a dangerous voice. It felt like a knife, as the being asked in a barely concealed accusation. But there was no lie for he truly had forgotten. As if waving his sword around was easier than just using a tiny bit of cultivation. Like the tips, the directions the master gave were so much more than anything his shizun had ever taught him. Precise, accurate. Honest. 

“I forgot.”

In this small place, the master turned his head, resuming his inspection as he set the lantern on the dusty ground. Under its warm glow, tiny scales shone and shifted from deep red to burnt gold. Quite a feast for the eyes, if it was not part of a cadaver’s skin. A demon dressed in simple traveling robes now torn in his torso. Slashed from his neck to his belly, yet the fabric still concealed the extent of the wound. It was deep, deep enough it kept gushing and gushing with no sign of stopping. Or maybe demons were just infinitely bleeding when their skin was cut.

“No wonder demons go on a killing spree in the human realm, if the disciples of the greatest sect forget about their own cultivation.”, he mocked.

Shame and anger arose like heavy dark smoke deep inside the disciple. How dare he ? Wasn’t it Luo Binghe who killed the demon ? And didn’t this lofty master throw him in a fight that barely concerned the teen in the first time ?! He killed him ! The killer was gone yet this being was all high and mighty ? He hadn’t even raised a finger ! 

Yet, as easy it was to resent the strange master for his words, the disciple felt something else beside anger. There was shame, not to say humiliation, for he truly did forget about cultivation. About years of work, under the careful watch of his shizun and by his peers’ sides. And when time had come to finally use all this knowledge, he just dodged, his balance off and his moves all wrong.  

“Who taught you to hold a sword ? 

- This disciple's shizun did.

- I hope this shizun of yours is better with words than swords, otherwise Qing Jing Peak is truly doomed.”

There was something close to a mockful laugh hidden in this flat voice. Something that should get a rise out of him but somehow, the more he watched the master carefully inspecting the dead body, the more he felt… at peace. 

This is where I am supposed to be.

Such a cruel person, hidden behind the vacancy of a wooden mask. Aloof, critical, discontent. Beautiful yet with a voice full of thorns, with a heart filled with ice. But still… Hadn’t he helped Luo Binghe ? Hadn’t he guided him through his first fight to death. Yes, he was the one to throw him in and he was also probably only interested in the demon’s death, yet he helped . 

He watched, carefully, and spotted the faults in the teen guard. He addressed his balance, he judged his moves and he criticized his fighting-stance. The aloof master questioned Luo Binghe when no one had since almost a decade now… The disciple who knew nothing but praises felt for once a strange sense of care in the rough criticism he just endured. And better yet, he truly felt progressing as the master corrected years of teaching.

This is where I want to be.

“Does this great master… have… disciples ?

- This master does not, nor does he want any.”

Luo Binghe’s shoulders deflated ; that was as cold as ever… The master did not even raise his head, instead leaning above the demon’s face, clearly understanding what the teen was asking, barely veiled in his question. He had yet to touch it, the disciple truly wondered if he would instead of just floating next to the cooling corpse. In the cold, empty air, the master reached and the disciple finally understood why such hesitation. 

The graceful hand only grazed the body when a hidden array shone like thousand suns. Luo Binghe only had time to cover his eyes before the small place was filled in a blinding white light, almost missing how the being quickly withdrew his arm. But even with his eyes tightly closed, his own arm above them, the disciple still spotted some light through his eyelids. And the clear sound of fabric tearing off.

“This little ! …”

It took him a second to get used to the darkness surrounding them again, blinking away some remaining spots of lights dancing in his vision. Soon, it was the soft glow of the lantern, warm and comforting in this dark alley. Luo Binghe choked on his own breath. That and the smoothness of the most perfect skin he had ever seen. 

Less than ten steps away from him was the master, probably furious as he held what remained of the top part of his robes. Layers upon layers of fabric, shredded to pieces, revealing a chiseled chest that might have been of pure jade. Silky shoulders, pales even under the warm light that covered the place, long arms and delicate wrists. Shreds of textiles, black or deep purple maybe, were barely clinging around the elegant column of his neck, and partially hiding the shadows of elegant collarbones. 

“This disciple should know better than to stare.”

The icy voice brought him back, snapping his head as he felt his heart pace accelerating. Oh . 

He did not mean to, he truly did not mean to stare, but… Yeah.  That… was something apparently. 

Trying to calm his heart and the warmth spreading through his face, Luo Binghe stared at the floor, burning holes in it. There was almost nothing left of the master’s robes, at least not on his chest. And what a chest it was. Truthfully, the disciple had seen his fair share of torsos in his life, a couple even were women’s, yet they never made him squirm like the master right next to him. 

No. Stop. You are just embarrassed because the man got his clothes ripped…

He would hate it if he was almost naked in the middle of the night, in a dark corner of a big city. Probably. What he was feeling, this twisting in his own chest, was nothing more than secondhand embarrassment. Luo Binghe was a straight man, at least straight in his boots, so of course he would not stand the sight of a poor man stripped of his dignity because of some weird array on a corpse. 

Without a word, the disciple quietly stripped of his own outer robe, his eyes still stuck on the ground. And as slowly as he had untied it, he held out the piece of cloth to the general direction of the master. First a long silence, then came some kind of repressed snort. 

“What does any of this mean ?”, the being almost snapped at him, emphasizing on the ‘what’.

“This disciple has plenty of layers, he could spare one to the master as a thanks for his valuable teaching.”

It was as respectful as ever, maybe even more. Something told him the being was not one to accept random acts of kindness, that the master would need some coaxing for him to accept his help. For a second he even was faltering as he felt neither a movement nor a step toward him. His hand almost shook but still he kept holding it out for the master to take. 

Eventually, he did. 

Just like that, when the fabric left his hand, Luo Binghe felt like he could move again. 

“What does this disciple know of this demon ?

- Not much, unfortunately. Only that he tried to kill someone tonight.”

A slight hum, and he turned to see the master’s silhouette now hugged by his own outer robe. And what a sight, the white fabric reflecting on his fair skin, illuminating him under the glow of the lantern and the soft distant light of the moon. White and green suited him so well, Luo Binghe thought distantly. Yet, something twisted again inside him as he could not help but stare at the red splatters running across the white fabrics. 

“May this disciple come and assist this master ?

- Why ?

- The demon had the bad taste to cover himself in arrays that prevent this master from touching it.

- This disciple already took great risk tonight by fighting a demon alone.

- I see.”

Luo Binghe tried to hold his ground, yet he knew it was almost useless. It may sound silly but there was a little voice inside of him that begged for the being’s attention. The lofty master, maybe two meters away, had a power over him the teen had yet to understand. So he tried, he truly tried, but the cold, dry voice and the slight tilt upward of this probably perfect face were so hard to resist.

“Would this disciple take another risk if there was a reward ?

- If the reward greatly exceeds the risk, then yes.

- And what is the risk exactly?

- Getting banned from the sect.”

Once again with the slight head tilt, like he acknowledged the younger’s answer. How can one be this gracious ? This regal ?...

“I see. If this disciple helps this master, then this master may rethink his decision not to have any disciple.”

Sorry Shizun!

As soon as the words left the thin, pretty lips, Luo Binghe was already scrambling to the being’s feet. Forget about the last afternoon, never the disciple was as quick as he was right now. The master silently invited him to kneel in a simple gesture of hand, before himself joining the disciple. There, he showed the general area around the corpse, in yet another lithe and elegant movement. 

“This master needs the necklace.”

Above the acrid smell of blood, he could discern a fresh yet discreet scent. Bamboo. Bamboo and jasmine oil. A blend he smelt so many times in his life, especially since he joined the sect, however this time it felt so different. The disciple tried to concentrate as he approached the corpse’s neck. With a careful hand, he pushed the edge of the robes. Still, no matter how he attempted to focus, all he could think was the closeness to this being. To his lithe hands and his warmth, hidden under layers of clothes. 

The necklace was easy to find, laying there on the already cold skin. It was simple ; a red thread and a jade-like pendant that resemble a huge drop. It was not particularly pretty, nor did it look valuable… On the noble master, it would probably look out of place. Gaudy and tacky even. It did not stop him from slipping it out of the demon’s before holding it out to the master, just like he did with his robe. 

“This master is thankful.”

His voice was neither cold nor particularly warm, but Luo Binghe still felt blessed. As the master accepted the necklace, he could not help but let his sight wander once again on the immaculate skin. 

“What is this disciple name ?

- Luo Binghe.”

He gazed carefully as the master put the necklace away, watching each and every movement as to engrave it in his thoughts. Why for ? He wasn’t sure himself. What he was sure of, thought, was that he would practice everyday, all day, the position this being showed him. His balance, the weight in his foot… Everything that he learnt that night would stay with him forever and ever after. A cherished memory, something he had always yearned for. 

When the hand reappeared from the inside of his sleeve, the master was holding something else. A tiny piece of paper, covered in inks and an array of characters blending in with each other. A paper talisman, he recognized, as the being approached it, however he was unable to tell what kind. Not until the master quite literally stamped it on his hand. Just like that, the talisman sucked all the dry blood before vanishing in tiny specks of reddish light, dying the darkness. 

“The body will vanish in three days, such is the way of ardent-ash demons.” he started as he got up.  “In three days, this master will find you.”

Luo Binghe had barely lifted his head that the being was already turning away. He attempted to stand up, he almost tried to grab the master’s robes. Well, actually his outer robe, yet he couldn’t. For some reason, he froze. He was totally unable to move, powerless while he watched the graceful figure slowly being eaten by the darkness. 

“A-Luo ?”

The distant voice pierced the veil of night however he still did not move.

“A-Luo ?”

It was reaching closer, echoes of footsteps quickly coming to them. Ning Yingying appeared, out of breath, standing just where he was minutes ago.

“A-Lu…”

And her voice still hung in the soft darkness as her gaze fell upon a silhouette. She seemed surprised. Not scared or confused, just surprised, as she witnessed this strange, distant master disappearing in the darkness of a random alley.

Notes:

This was a big chapter so I may not post next week (I probably will anyway).

I have a lot of fun writing this fanfic so don't hesitate to tell me what you think of it !

Anyway, thanks fo reading and have a nice week everyone ! =)

Chapter 4: A perfect happiness

Notes:

This chapter was supposed to be longer but then life happened. And life not good right now.

Until a day ago, life was quiet. It still was, in a sense. Back in the study they were earlier that night, Luo Binghe contemplated everything that had happened since they arrived.

Not much at first, greeting and a quick explanation. Then the disciple begged his shizun only to wander in the darkness for who knew how long until his shijie and him stumbled on the murder. It was almost fortunate, how things turned out… Yet, had he not annoyed his shizun until she agreed to let him go, Ning Yingying would have never saved this Chen fellow’s life. He would never have chased the demon in the streets filled with the obscurity of night. 

He would have never met this great master hidden behind a cat mask. 

Strange how life could suddenly take such a different direction, just because of a tiny choice. 

“Is this disciple sure he hasn’t seen the demon’s killer ?”

In a perfectly crafted innocence, Luo Binghe shook his head before adding heartfeltly :

“Sorry shizun, this humble one is truly hopeless.”

Her eyes instantly softened as she reached out for his cheek. He could feel the tip of her sharp nails grazing his skin as she tucked a lock of hair behind his ear before slowly drawing back. Such a lovely gesture, if it was not someone he had to see as a figure of authority. Her kindness sometimes felt misplaced and, like many things in his life, Luo Binghe could not explain why. It was just… weird. An invisible limit his shizun never stopped crossing when they were alone. 

“This shizun never said you were hopeless, A-Luo.”

There were times when she gazed at him, glazed eyes and melancholic smile, and she was not seeing him. There was someone else, where Luo Binghe stood. Someone his shizun loved dearly and missed just as much, someone who knew of her soft side and the sound of her laugh. Someone who stopped being before Qiu Jiantang, Peak Master of Qing Jing, ever was. 

She stared, smiling to the memory of the person she seeked through Luo Binghe, and opened her mouth yet before she could utter anything, Old Master Huà, Ming Fan and Ning Yingying appeared. The two disciples politely bowed to their shizun as if they had not seen her almost one incense time ago and she dismissed it by a quick flick of her wrist. Missing was the grief and fondness in her eyes, replaced by the air of a great master while she turned to take a seat. 

“Those disciples of yours, immortal master, are greatly educated in arts and music, but they have yet to know about demons and their whereabouts.

- Qing Jing is the peak of artists, musicians and scholars. Demons only are only a fraction of their learning.“

The old man slighted hummed as he sat before the immortal master, her careful gaze following his every move. While Old Master Huà was clearly nothing but a frail elderly and no threat whatsoever, his remarks seemed to bother their esteemed shizun. 

“But a valuable one, nonetheless.”

From the corner of his eyes, the youngest disciple caught his shijie’s eyes. She looked… nervous. Almost jittery as she kept glancing again and again at him. And he knew exactly why. Seeing his shizun’s attention on their host, Luo Binghe attempted a quick yet reassuring smile to Nin Yingying. A smile the girl barely saw before the Old Master started talking again : 

“Ardent-ash demon, quite a young one.

- Compared to the master of the manor, everyone can be considered young.”

All the smiling could never hide the fact their shizun just straight up insulted the Old Master right in front of her disciples. Okay, maybe there was more than the remarks. At least, that was what he thought as their shizun was usually way more polite. Still, despite the audacious jab at his age, Old Master Huà just smiled in the uttermost sincerity, amused by the antics. 

“True. True. Ardent-ash demons are quite rare and this one seemed to be particularly important. 

- This master doubts the importance of a demon. 

- Yet some have, in their realm. This one was, once his outer robe removed, finely dressed. This humble one may be old but with years came experiences. Countless demons to fight before they kill each and every inhabitant of this town. Yet, this one is the first to be dressed in silk and adorned with countless jewelries. An undeniable sign of power and wealth in the demon realm. Not to talk about his sword. 

- What about his sword ? 

- It was coated in poison.”

Luo Binghe almost choked on his breath. Poison ? Was it the ten-fiery-death-reed ? And he fought against it ?! How lucky, not to have any single cut, or he would be as good as dead… 

“This demon was important in the demon realm, yet he left and came to this quiet town to kill eight men and injure a ninth one. Isn’t this immortal master curious ?”

Their shizun slightly raised her head as she squinted her eyes. It was clear as day the Old Master had an idea or more of a theory, just as their shizun, and it deeply displeased her. The disciples, however, could not interfere. They were here to watch, to learn and what a valuable learning it was…

“Since this immortal master said demons are only a fraction of Qing Jing Peak learning, did she know that ardent-ash demons have terrible eyesight in light ? To him, all these young men, sharing vague features, would look exactly the same…”

The Old Man slightly dropped his head, as if taking their shizun in his confidence. 

“Aren’t they familiar, Xiao-Huaitang ?”

She snapped. Qiu Jiantang stood up in a fury of sleeves and dark hairs, the lilies hanging from her hairpin whipping around. Clinging against one another, the tiny white flowers seemed ready to break free and fly around the room. Fierce and desperate, just as their bearer. Just as this woman, ardent fire burning in her eyes, rage deforming her delicate, beautiful features. 

“Don’t.”, she whispered through her teeth.

He did not, silently sitting here, receiving the ire of the Qing Jing Peak master. Her eyes land on her disciples, the three teens almost jumping.

“You ! Back to your rooms !” 

That was the first time Ning Yingying and Ming Fan heard such a harsh tone, as if they were nothing but tiny kids with empty heads. Yet what could they do, if not standing there confused ? Their sweet and considerate shizun, looking at them without any tenderness, only the same resentment she usually reserved for demons. The calm, serene and, perhaps, a bit too motherly peak master suddenly turned into a broken reflection of whatever nasty emotions she kept hiding. 

Luo Binghe did not sigh. He did not freeze like his peers, instead politely bowing before passing by the other two, snapping them out of their trance. That was okay, he was used to it. The screams, the pain twisting familiar faces into ugly messes. And he wondered, deep in his thoughts, if maybe forgetting wasn’t a hidden blessing. A distorted voice, tone-deaf and faraway. The supposition of a smile in a blurry mess that once was a face, that once was a human. Exiting the study, he truly wondered how it felt, sometimes, to have more than a tiny unaware ghost by your side. 

He had so little of them, ghosts... He kept his mother’s warmth by his heart, in the tiny pendant she gifted him. The feeling of her soft hands on his cheek, with all the love she could ever give him. And her singing, imperfect yet enough to put his mind to peace… that, he kept for the darknest winter night. When the wind hurled as armies of demons, coming for the shards of his soul. When the cold was as vicious as each beating he suffered, each strike he survived. Tiny musical notes hanging in his mind, of mild pink and gentle green, he unconsciously hummed when the obscurity was creeping slowly around him. 

Just as he was right now, in the silence of his assigned room on the second floor. Sitting by a window, watching absent-mindely the deep blue of a cloudless night diluting into a soft peach. Scattered stars, shining shyly, lost in the golden of dawn and chirping birds already passing by, free as they could be. Who could have known, gazing at this peaceful sight that was the city gently waking up, the violence, the brutality, that took place that night. Did the inhabitants have any idea ? That death stalked their quiet streets as they were peacefully sleeping ? 

“A-Luo ?”

He turned his head but in an automatic movement. Even when his eyes landed on his sweet and quiet shijie, he barely registered it at first. 

Here she was, standing apologetic. Hands on top of one another, head dropping slightly, she was mindlessly bending her fingers in a nervous ticks.  

“Ning-shijie ?

-This Ning Yingying is sorry to disturbed you, A-Luo, but she needs to know…”

He could hear her words before she even had time to utter them, stuck behind the barrier of her lips. 

‘Have you said anything about him ?’ 

He turned his gaze back to the city, almost missing how immaculate his shijie’s robes were. Like she never held a man at death’s door, his blood dripping on her laps as she directed strangers around them. While she wrapped his wounds, helping the shaking hands of a woman barely hanging on. Golden light stumbled in the quiet streets, flooding the alley in a promise of a beautiful day and Luo Binghe wondered if she felt fear. Clumsy and boisterous, sweet and radiant… When she looked into those glassy eyes, did she feel cold terror ? Was she suddenly aware of their fragile condition, always a breath away from death ? Or did she find, while facing the end of another being, nothing ? Just like he did ? 

“This Luo Binghe said nothing about the unfamiliar master.

- Good…”

Just a whisper, lost in the morning breath that rushed through the window. It played with hair, caressing his cheeks just as his mother did so many times. 

“Who is he ?”

Slowly, the streets began to fill. Only a man, at first, ignorant of the sad tragedy that took place that night. Ready to start his day, as he walked away. Then another, with a woman. Workers, probably servants, bringing heavy baskets full of things that did not really matter. Whispers and footsteps filled the silence as the city started to live again. And above the hushed whispers of the street, the disciple heard the rustle of clothes before seeing his shijie sitting by his side. 

“Does this shidi promise not to say a word ?”

Strange, she never called him like this, save for a couple of times when he just entered the sect. Yet, there was something grave in her voice, almost strict. Ning Yingying was not known to be good at keeping secrets, carefree as she was. 

Was she truly ? 

She looked so… sad recently. Always lost in her thoughts yet in such a different way than her shidi. Right at this moment, while she gazed at the street with empty eyes, she was miles away from the bright and cheerful girl he met years ago. Just like the sun hidden behind heavy clouds, her light seemed to dim day after day. 

“This shidi swears he won’t.”

Yet Ning Yingying kept gazing at nothing. Her delicate eyebrows frowned, lines he never witnessed on such a pretty face creasing her forehead. Lost in contemplation, perhaps weighting the pros and the cons as people kept rushing by. 

“The master you met is a rogue cultivator. This Ning Yingying met him, years before joining the Qing Jing Peak, and she kept meeting him after. 

- Why ?”

She glanced at him, his question maybe a tad harsh as he felt something burning inside him. Her simple words woke a fiery feeling the disciple was not quite sure how to place.

“Why ?...”, he asked again, gently this time, as he coughed in his fist.

His shijie returned once again to the city or at least to whatever her eyes laid on. In a tiny sigh, her shoulders dropped.

“The master taught Ning Yingying the base of cultivation but he couldn’t keep teaching her. He was the one to guide her to Qing Jing Peak.

- Was there a reason ? For him to stop teaching this shijie ?”

A shrug, as she slowly laid her arms on the windowsill. Her head on her hands, the bright and lively Ning Yingying was now as grey as a rainy winter day. 

“I guess…”, the words almost did not leave her mouth. “He is a rogue cultivator after all.”

There was a child below, a toddler taking hesitant steps. Giggling happily as he discovered the world around him. Laugh so bright, unaware of the pain of existing. Just… happy. And he had his tiny hands in front of him, reaching for the world while wobbling around. A big smile on such a small face… 

“Does the master have a name ?

- Shen-Jun.

- Jun ?...

- Hm.”

Jun... That was strange, but demon did called him "my Lord"...

The small kid paused, looking with big dark eyes to a stray cat, as to ponder what to think about such a strange creature. Black coat, tiny dark nose; even that far Luo Binghe could count each and every vertebrae under the thin yet shiny fur. What a beautiful creature it would be if the poor thing wasn’t stalking the streets to find something to nimble. If it did not have to fight just to have the right to live, treated like a pest by everyone but the little human tumbling toward it. 

Silly… You are gonna scare him…

The child yelped in glee and the cat instantly tensed. His tail whipping around in irritated movements, ears flattened up, the feline kept looking at the tiny human. It would have been clear, for anyone who knew where to look, what was bound to happen. The animal was defensive and scared, more than probably hungry too. It was easy, too easy, to imagine what kind of abuse he suffered in the streets of ZoàHuà City. But the toddler, all he saw, was the fluffy, shiny fur and the big green eyes. He did not know better, could not even imagine the horrors of those stuck in the streets…

“Why did shijie never talk about the master ?

- The help this master has given was so great, this Ning Yingying could not refuse the only demand he had.”, she whispered like they were in a crowded room and her words alone could start a war.

But they weren’t, still sitting by the window to look at a world so close yet so far. They could jump, they could reach out to anyone below, yet there was this feeling. This impression of being locked behind open windows, nagged by a realm of possibilities that would and will always be out of reach. Here in this room, waiting for their master, for their shizun, as if they were nothing more but puppets witnessing life going on by their glassy eyes.

The toddler reached out, the cat striked, and now tiny drops of blood stained the streets. 

Once again. 

Always blood…

Wailing and cries, vexed screams of a tiny human reached them as quickly as the rest of the street. Already, big angry figures appeared, men and women. Cajoling the toddler, screeching at the pest that stalked their street. How ridiculous ! How stupid ! The cat was barely alive and only trying to survive ! The child invaded his space when the feline clearly showed how uncomfortable it was, and now he had to pay for the toddler's stupidity ? How sickening…

How sickening, yet Luo Binghe made no move. None when they screamed at the cornered creature, neither when an apathetic looking man raised his hand to hit the poor thing. He barely averted his eyes, waiting for a ‘thump’ and the awful howling that will surely follow. 

“Nuh !”

A small chuckle, right by his side, and Luo Binghe turned to see his shijie covering her mouth. Sadness had creeped on her features yet some kind of joy managed to bloom on her face. A genuine happiness, as she pointed something to the younger disciple. Here was the toddler, scratches on his hand, standing proudly with arms wide open before the small cat. Hidden in the child’s shadow, Luo Binghe almost missed the feline, yet here it was. And how fierce was the little boy, defending his furry friend despite blood still dropping from his skin and clearly having a hard time standing.

“How wise ! Such a little hero !”managed Ning Yingying behind two laughs. “Defending what hurt him !”

The angry man towered the toddler however the child refused to move, proudly standing up, facing the man with more conviction than most adults. And around him, people were now amused. Touched, perhaps, by such a paragon of humanity. Defending a poor, scared little thing.

Doing what the disciple of the greatest sect should have done…

“Is he human ?

- Who ? The little boy ? This Yingying did not know A-Luo to be blind.”

She had turned, as amused by the toddler than by her shidi apparently. Now leaning on her elbow on the windowsill, she rested her chin in the palm of her hand. For a second, forgotten was the sadness, forgotten was the heavy mist clouding her eyes. She even seemed to strive on his embarrassment, as she giggled when he turned, feeling his cheeks burning up.

Another silly laugh, when in confessed in a small, almost shy, voice :

“He looked like a divinity…

- Silly A-Luo…”

A tender smile, as she passed a hand through his hair like she used to do years ago.  In the soft light of morning, far away from the peak, from the rules, the restrictions and the expectations, Ning Yingying was a soft flower bud once again. Not delicate, not like people tend to perceive her anyway. Thriving for the sun, for the spring to bring the world back to life. Impatient to show her talent, to show her power. To show herself. Still, standing side by side, watching this strangers’ life intertwining with each other, Luo Binghe could feel the distance. 

The distance between those people, this city living a thousand lives. The distance between his shijie, close yet so far. The distance between the world and himself. 

Even here… Even where the people were, there was nothing but…

Luo Binghe closed his eyes. No. He was happy. Life was quiet and he was happy.

“Closeness might not be forbidden on Qing Jing Peak, but promiscuity…”

The cold, clearly displeased voice of their shizun brought him back to reality. Ning Yingying jumped to her feet, bowing to Qiu Jiantang, but the woman seemed hardly moved. Worst, she gazed at his shijie with disgust in her eyes, a look she usually reserved to people she considered of lesser virtue. 

“Shizun…”, her eyes instantly fell on a bowing Luo Binghe, yet they retained their hardness. “Ning-shijie was comforting this humble disciple.”

While he wasn’t able to see if there was now the shadow of an expression on their shizun’s face, the teen could still feel the tension and the heavy gaze on his shoulder. What exactly happened between their esteemed shizun and the Old Master Huà, for her to be that angry ? 

“This disciple can’t… can’t get the sight of blood out of his head…”

He squeezed his eyes shut and had a slight shake to his shoulder, appearing deeply troubled by what he witnessed that fateful night. A small, fragile child, facing the cruelty of reality. There was no way their shizun wouldn’t fall for that. And she did, as she sighed, forgetting apparently all the offenses of her previous meeting with the Old Master.  

“Ming Fan is waiting outside. We are leaving.”

No thank you, no sorry. Just a bitter smile before she turned. No questions asked; they knew they would get no answers anyway. 

“So much for leaving Qing Jing Peak…”

And a last look at the window, his eyes falling upon a child. The small boy, with a now grumpy yet calm kitty in his arms.

As uneventful was the trip to the city, it was even worse going back. Apparently, daylight was not going to make it interesting, not when the most exciting part was crossing a tiny stream of water that was maybe three inches deep. Even the dark, mysterious woods were now empty and ordinary. A fluffy bird chirping on a branch, a rabbit hiding by a tree hunk. Some critters jumped and flew around as they slowly crossed the forest. 

Sometimes Luo Binghe caught the sight of a pretty flower, gently swaying in the spring breath, or a funny looking herb, almost turquoise in an emerald bed. He wondered what they were, what they were named. Were they edible ? The herb with the big fuzzy leaves seemed kinda poisonous if you had asked him but at the same time, the fuzziness looked so tempting. As always, the youngest disciple of Qing Jing Peak got lost in his contemplation. Yet this time, it was a bit different. 

This flower kept shifting, from the purest white to a pearly, shimmering purple. 

He might know about it. 

He seemed to be the kind to know everything.

He could ask the Qian Cao Peak master, or even a fellow disciple, but… Some childish part of him could not help but yearn for the mysterious master’s voice. For him to sit next to the flower, black robes flooded by a sea of green soft grass, as he instructs Luo Binghe on the benefits and the danger of such a beautiful plant. He would probably snap a couple of times, almost insulting the disciple on his lack of knowledge and common sense, while discreetly protecting the soft petals behind his lithe hands. 

“A-Luo ?”

Long grass bowing in the quiet murmur of wind, dancing under a perfect blue sky. The spring sun drowning the quiet meadow in soft, fuzzy rays of light. Peaceful nature, undisturbed by the brutality of humans and demons, untouched by violence or greed. All the ugliness of life distant, so distant from this perfect place. 

“A-Luo?...”

In a field, surrounded by nothing but nature, there he would be. Soft light stumbling upon jade skin, kissing thin lips tenderly. And grass would bend toward him, flowers and trees too, as he would kneel in the meadow. A dark figure, dressed in black and purple robe, willowy yet with the presence of an ancestral pinetree. Tall and proud, demure and solemn. Sitting in the ever dancing grass, the master’s figure would be akin to the peerless three-petals-ethereal-moon-orchid. 

“A-Luo !”

The teen almost jumped out of his skin, only to whip his head straight to his right. Here was sweet Ning Yingying, right by her horse, holding the reins while looking at him both annoyed and amused. 

“We are here A-Luo.”

Well…, the younger disciple noted in his head as he got off the horse, they indeed were… Right at the foot of the Qing Jing Peak stairs too… Apologetically bowing his head to his shijie, he scraped off quickly as soon as a random An Ding Peak disciple retrieved the horse.  

His daydreaming was getting worse and worse, apparently. It was just like the tiny taste of freedom unleashed something deep inside of him, feasting on desires and whims. Even there, staring in the darkness of the communal sleeping quarter, with nothing but the deep breathing of his peers to keep him company. Everything was quiet, everything was still, but not in the same, strange way as in the city. 

The first night, he kept playing the same scene over and over again. The silent walk through the streets, with nothing but a distance light and a stink guiding their steps. From the commotion, with cries and shouts and tears, to the chase. The distinct moment when the hunter became the hunted. And then, the strange master concealed behind a black cat mask. 

Shen-Jun.

He kept repeating the name, just as he repeated the stance the rogue cultivator accidentally taught him. As if he was scared to forget. No, not as if. He was scared. Terrified that the strange master would become nothing but another ghost mindlessly following him. A distorted vision, lost in the sea of his memory. Always at an arm length yet unreachable, watching powerlessly the voice and the face dissolving into nothingness. 

The second night, Luo Binghe spent it looking at the outline of the ceiling. Details almost invisible in the growing darkness. But it was in the darkness that he found the image of the man. A perfect canva of obscurity, to imagine the lithe and the graceful master’s silhouette. To remember the golden light reflecting on his own sword as he dodge and fight, as he listened to each and every precious words the master hissed. 

Straightening his back, leaning slightly on his left hip. Stop dodging. 

The clashing of swords were still loud in his ears, just like the gibberish the demon kept wiping while they fought. Each time he revisited that fresh memory, Luo Binghe felt more and more of the crushing desperation of his enemy. Throwing himself in the battle with messy, chaotic movements, wiping his blade all around in a sad attempt to hit the human. His face had been ruined by tears… Had he been able to see through the heavy veil of cry ? Had the demon even had a slight idea of what his murderer looked like ?...

And behind this heart wrenching desperation was the master. Calm and distant, snapping at the disciple like that was nothing but a training, some kind of play fight between two younglings. As if the ineluctable conclusion was not written in blood and ashes. 

Here he was now, the third sleepless night, laying in his bed while contemplating the same ceiling. But there was nothing this time, neither blood and screams nor a black figure guiding him. Just him, the sleepy forms of his peers, and the darkness filling the communal sleeping quarter. 

Tomorrow…

Tomorrow, the master would find him, but how ? Was Luo Binghe supposed to sneak out ? To the closest town maybe ? While the Cang Qiong Mountain was not closed off like some other sects were, the younger disciple of Qing Jing Peak had yet to see a rogue cultivator walking through any of the rainbow bridges. And once the master would find him, then what ? Would he need to follow him ? To leave Qing Jing Peak and everyone behind ? 

Sweet Ning Yingying, that he loved as she was truly his big sister… Ming Fan, the annoying yet dependable and hardworking head disciple that the teen came to consider as a friend…

His shizun. 

In the obscurity and the quietness, Luo Binghe took a deep breath. 

Could he truly abandon his shizun, after everything she did for him ?

But had she ? Had she truly ?

His distant thoughts echo through the emptiness, bouncing on the thick darkness surrounding him. ‘Had they truly ?’, he kept asking as he started to walk mindlessly; lost in a bleak and bare reality, with nothing but himself. Gone was his bed, gone was the communal quarter and each of his peers. Barefoot and bare hands, the teen kept walking in this strange fever dream.

Clouds upon clouds of black mist, thickening his vision but it was not as if there was anything interesting to gaze at. Above him, cold empty obscurity. Under, a dusty floor that he could not even spot though the darkness. Even his footsteps were muffled by this foggy blanket. If he had outstretched an arm, maybe the teen could have noticed how it disappeared, engulfed by the haze. Instead, Luo Binghe just walked through the nothingness, compelled by something just as cold growing in his heart. Barely making out the distant sound of running water through his thoughts…

Soon, from the fuzzy darkness emerged the outlines of a crowded street and with it the distant sounds of life. The light creeped slowly toward him, hardly warding off the thick mist of its golden veil. And with light came visions, came a place Luo Binghe wished to never see again. Yet, as he longed for the darkness and the weird security it brought, it just… disappeared. Like anyone in his life, the heavy, thick clouds just left him, lonely.  

This might be the most realistic nightmare he ever had. Everything was there, from the vendors’ stalls he often longingly stared at to the abandoned residence he sometimes hid in before it caved in. Fragile leaves, still bright and tender, roaming through the streets like abandoned children. He used to try and grab them, playing this stupid game to forget the hunger that twisted his stomach. He kept playing this silly game, later in life. Pretending that they were precious flowers he could have gifted his mother but when he managed to catch them, they were nothing more than young leaves shaded by a nearby tree. And his mother was no more than a cold corpse he buried. 

The vendors’ stale and the residences, the wide streets and the beggars. People rushing around, not paying attention, not even sparing a glance to poor, desolate children. Faceless… Luo Binghe almost choked on his own breath. There was nothing on those people's faces but blurry and messy outlines, shadows of features diluted in fleshy colours.  They kept rushing by, moving like they were truly humans, like they truly had important affairs to attend to and he ? He could only stand there, watching. 

This mimicry of life, it felt so… so… familiar ? Two ‘men’ were talking, barely ten feet away. They moved their arms, their hands, as if their conversation was heated or perhaps passionate, still they made no sound. No shout, no whisper, no voices carried by the breath running through the street. Just idle gestures, bare faces and hollow vessels impersonating as living. 

Alone in this city of spectres. Alone as he spotted a face, with a nose and eyes and lips and every feature a human should have. Alone when ran, when tailed the child with a face, when he found his own tiny self whimpering on the ground. Small and weak, trying to cover his face as the beating went on. As they hit him violently, snarling and snarking, like they were nothing but a pack of wild dogs tearing viciously apart a poor unfortunate cat. 

And he did not move. He did not scream, nor did he shout for them to stop. All he did was watch his past self trembling, bones breaking, snapping in loud crunching noises. Why ? Why did he not even try ? Why did he just stay there, frozen, as the child he once was was begging for his life ? Why ? He was big now, he had cultivation now. With a snap of his hands, those cruel kids could be gone for good. Yet… It felt so far, so distant.

Calm, he was so calm, but not because he chose to. Rather because as pitiful as the child was, as hard as it was to witness such a vicious abuse, Luo Binghe just… couldn’t find the strength in him.

“Mother ?”

Oh no…

No…  

He did try to look away, to tear his gaze off the awful scene the city dissolved into, but he was tired. So tired… Standing right behind his younger self as the boy begged the frail woman to lay down. 

“These days, I have less and less appetite.”

Little Luo Binghe smiled, tried to at least, for his mother's sake. Teen Luo Binghe just stared, glassy eyes, not even the shadow of an expression on his face. This conversation, he could almost recite it word for word. In fact, just as his mother opened her lips, he did too, whispering in an empty voice the exact same thing she said in a terrifying precision.

“The last time our house’s young master threw out his white congee, I did wish for a bit of a taste. I wonder if the kitchens have any left.”

He shut his mouth, just as she did, when his younger self answered ever so vigorously. Nodding furiously, ready to do anything his mother would ask. Anything. 

In the dim light of the hut, he could see now all he unconsciously missed. The sickly paleness of her skin, sweat clinging on her tempts. Rustling coughs, just like the dead leaves he used to chase after. Her frail hands were slightly shaking, even when they laid on her legs, and her eyes were glassy now. Foggy, even, as she tried to stare at the young boy, giving him a fragile smile. Exhausted, the poor woman was just exhausted. 

Soon, the child left. Soon, the woman now sitting, doing needlework, would be dead. He silently watched her, Luo Binghe wondered why the guilt. The pain, still fresh, he could understand, but the guilt ? And it was not because he left, he would have stayed had he known what would happen. No, no it ran deeper. Rooted in the darkest part of his being, doubt and shame creeping through him. And a tiny flick of hate. 

He knew how this story ended, he did not need to see it again. After all, he revisited his old ghosts enough night after night. But for a strange, twisted reason, that time the ghosts were the one visiting him tonight. Imposing themselves, bringing him in the middle of their delirium, as the small hut disappeared in yet another painful memory. Another vision that used to appear sometimes in fleeting thoughts and uneasy feelings, now clearer than reality itself. And Luo Binghe only stared, watching with sad eyes what used to be his life. 

He was angry, of course he was, but the hopelessness that filled him while being the silent witness of yet another tragic event of his life, was much stronger. Overwhelming even. Numbing, it blanketed the hatred, the anger. Even the sadness was lost on him. Everything. All the feelings, all the emotions, smothered and silenced, as he gazed at that poor boy he was once, unable to help. 

Giving up on helping. 

What was there to help ? The boy had been beaten up ten thousand times, still he stood and went on living. So many strikes, on such a tiny body. So many bruises, peeking through ratty clothes, colouring an otherwise pale skin in an array of blue, purple, red and sickening black. Truly, it was a wonder he ever survived in the street, at his master's, on the mission… As if death itself despite the young boy. Ignoring the silent plea of his heart, as he curled once again on frozen mud and tried to sleep. 

Luo Binghe did not find the strength in him to fight, to sigh. Not even when the vision displayed a scene of happiness and innocence, here on the Qing Jing Peak. When his shizun spoke with a soft voice. When her warm hands graze on his cheek as she assured him he would do just fine, here, by their side. And what a dazzling beauty ! What a charming flower ! Still, the poor boy, hands covered in dirt, looked equally dazed and lost. She kept smiling though, perhaps sure it was only the shock, for the little street rat to be accepted in such a prestigious sect, on such an illustrious peak. 

The disciple knew, remembered, the distinct thought he had. A terror he could not explain, under the big blue sky. Ming Fan by the Qing Jing peak master, his arms crossed, looking somewhat annoyed. Ning Yingying, a step behind, humble and quiet, a mere shadow eclipsed by the grace and beauty of the noble peak lord. Farther away, the silent yet benevolent smile the boy came to know as the sect master, Yue Qingyuan. Wise eyes gazing at him, proud and pleased. 

This moment, as perfect and wonderful it seemed, was the exact one Luo Binghe perceived for the first time. The existential dread, dazzlingly standing there while panic slowly creeped inside him. It was just as if the reality did not seem… real. Far away, they all were so far away, and the distance kept growing as the boy felt his soul falling inside of him. At this instant, his body was nothing but a dark pit getting deeper and deeper with each breath. A place he endlessly fell, trying to reach for something, for someone yet, but their faces reflected nothing but happiness. No concern, no fear, nothing that indicated they noticed the young disciple drowning inside his own contemplation. 

Where is he ? , he could still clearly hear in his mind.

He did not know where ‘he’ was, he did not even know who ‘he’ was. All he knew was the violent anger, the disgust that threatened to overthrow him. A maelstrom of feelings, of emotions, twisting and turning as he had desperately tried to surface. His body frozen, his mind running havoc, young Luo Binghe would eventually learn to smother his emotions. No more would he look at the noble Yue Qingyuan and sense the itching in his finger to close his hands around his strong neck. No more he would dream of clawing his wise eyes or ripping each of his limbs. With time, the youngest disciple of Qing Jing Peak, would think of the sect master with no ill feelings or bad attention, and he would even come to appreciate his presence. 

Luo Binghe closed his eyes, tired.

With time, he would forget. 

The ruckus of Cang  Qiong Mountains faded in the distant sound of running water. The same one followed him since the beginning of this nightmare, yet this time he could feel the dampness in the air and the cold clinging to his skin. 

Eyes wide open, Luo Binghe felt lost at first. Alone on some kind of platform, apparently underground, all he could spot were rusted chains. Innocently lying there, forgotten by this cruel world. He did not know of this place, he never saw such a strange prison, still he knew. He knew it was underground, he knew it was a prison. He knew of this icy sensation crawling from the darkest part of his heart, of this scary chuckling bordering insanity echoing his head. Even the mockery he could barely make out, he knew of it. He knew they would morphed into scream, and the screams into cry.

This demented voice, howlering and snickering and pleading, soon drowned the running water out. It darkened his sight, the chains becoming nothing but twisted shadows, and covered this strange world. Yet, the familiar voice did not nothing for this feeling, the one Luo Binghe feared the most. 

He was falling.

Again. 

He was falling deep inside himself, infinitely. 

And he did nothing to help. Nothing to save himself. 

Because after all, the world would be such a better place if he-

“What are you doing ?!”

A pale lithe hand tore through the darkness, grabbing his wrist before pulling him up with a strength he would have never suspected. Forcing him to surface, as he hissed again : 

“Does this disciple want to die that bad ?!”

Luo Binghe widened his eyes, still staring at the hand pulling him up and up and up. He did not- that wasn’t.. The disciple was happy ! How could he not ?! He had a place to stay, in the most important sect. He had nice shixiong and shijie and his shizun was wonderful to him. He was not trying to!...

“Is this what you want ?! To give up now ?!”

As strong as the hand was, whatever was feeding inside him seemed determined to pull him under. This void was calling him and Luo Binghe almost answered, letting himself be consumed by a guilt that should not be. He could see it now, the dark twisted world, a reflection of his emotions but he had yet to understand it. And he could never understand if he was dead. 

“I won’t give up !”, he shouted through the darkness. 

I won’t give up again.

The hand tugged him, once again, and bright light drowned him. An empty street, akin to ZàoHuà yet different. Luo Binghe was now on his knees, panting and gasping, as a single figure stared at him.

I won’t give up on you.

Notes:

I am sorry, I am really really sorry guys to live you on a cliffhanger but life is bad.
So I am currently suffering from the curse of fanfictions author (also known as 'major life event - bad edition') and I don't think I will have access to a computer until I don't know. And writing on my phone is hard.

So once again: sorry. I don't know when I will post the next chapter. If things get better, in two week, but it probably won't be until December.

If you want to support the author through their shitty life event, don't hesitate to kudos or leave a comment. Trust me, it would mean the world to me.

Anyway, thank you all for reading it and for the kudos and see you next time !

Chapter 5: Into the dreamscape

Notes:

Hey I am back ! But also, I will be gone again because still no computer :(
Also, more Shen Jiu in this chapter. And I love trees.

He woke with a start, his heart beating at an impossible rhythm. The chirping of birds, far away, and a gentle breath playing with his hair, Luo Binghe stared at the wooden beam above him. A view he knows by heart, for once illuminated by the day rather than drown by the night. Slightly shaking, soaked in his own sweat, the disciple slowly sat in his bed. The communal sleeping quarter was empty, all his shixiongs beds perfectly neat and tidy.

Hands on his sheets, he unconsciously scrunched them up under his hands. A dream… It was just a dream. Or rather a nightmare.   

“After all the trouble this master went through to keep his promise, it would be quite distasteful to die on him. Doesn’t this disciple agree ?”

Luo Binghe whipped his head to the voice dripping with exasperation and a tiny bit of tiredness. There, by the doors, was the mysterious master. All dressed in black and purple, long hair still pulled in a high ponytail and decorated. Thin lips pinched in a quite annoyed expression and eyes… The disciple straightened up. Dark phoenix eyes, devoid of the heavy cat mask the master wore at their last meeting, layered with mystery and secrecy. 

The master was beyond handsome, his youthful features etched with grace, sternness and nobility. He was the perfect picture of a lofty immortal master, exceeding everything Luo Binghe once imagined as his mother had told him yet another tale of cultivation. 

The younger Qing Jing Peak disciple was so enraptured, he missed the master crossing the communal sleeping quarter. What he noticed though was the sharp pain as said master hit him. Luo Binghe did not dare to make a noise, barely laying his hand on the top of his head, right where he was struck. Was it painful ? No, not at all. And for good reasons, he thought when he spotted the dark fan between lithe hands. 

“This disciple does not want to die.

-Then this disciple should study with the same assiduousness as when he acts, for this master truly thought he wanted to.”

Luo Binghe slightly winced, sheets still trapped between his hands. Well… ouch. 

Yeah, the youngest disciple was not the most educated or the best fighter of Qing Jing Peak but he was the youngest . Plus, most of his shijie and shixiong started cultivation at an appropriate age. Luo Binghe did not have this chance, learning how to wash clothes before knowing how to hold a sword or write his name. For someone with such a poor background, he was actually doing good and holding up ! That’s what his shizun told him at least…

Still, as much as he wanted to defend himself, he already knew the cold master standing here, a closed fan between his hands, would not listen. His face was closed, silently warning him with his eyes to even try and go against him. Scrutinising him even, as if to try and find a sliver of defiance in the teen. The master was standing right here by his side but still he could feel the impassable chiasm between them. An abyss of the immortal himself, searching for something in the disciple to justify breaking his promise, to just leave him behind. 

And Luo Binghe wondered for a second why he was so desperate to be taught by such a character. 

It was clear as day that the man was trying to find a way to escape, only half-heartedly standing there. He did not want to teach the teen, he did not want to burden himself with him. Still, here he was. And maybe he was distrustful. Maybe he was cold and disinterested, but still. He was here. 

That was enough.

“Does this disciple know where are we ?”

For a second, he thought he misheard. The master had suddenly dropped the whole ‘you want to die’ ordeal and the ‘gauging each and every move you make’, opening his fan himself before looking impassively to his side. 

“Qi-Qing Jing peak. In the communal sleeping quarter.”

The master whipped his head back to him, squinting his eyes while the bottom part of his face was hidden behind the fan. Such a pretty one too, he couldn’t help but noticed. Pure white lotus blooming on a canva of a deep purple, almost black. Drawn with such a precision, the flowers seemed to softly glow in the dying light of day. 

“Is this disciple simple of mind or is the education on Qing Jing Peak that bad ?”

It was said with a hint of annoyance, even anger, but before Luo Binghe could even frown his brows or decide that this temperamental master was no good, the man closed his eyes. Slowly, the frustration etched on delicate features slowly dissipated. It reminded him of the icy snow gradually melting under the gentle sun of spring, erasing the remnants of a harsh and unforgivable winter. 

“Listen.”

Lost yet again in his contemplation, he almost missed the severe voice of the master. Still, he tried to regain his composure, quickly, and waited.  

And waited.

And waited again. But the man remained silent, his eyes locked in his. Surely, he expected something out of the disciple, but Luo Binghe had no idea what it could be. 

It was silent, so silent. The soft breath of spring, running through open doors and playing in nearby branches. Soft murmurs of leaves, alike the voice of forest spirits excitedly chatting the day away. Birds, sometimes, as they probably passed in the vast, blue sky. It was quiet, peaceful even. Nature was speaking, as it always was, simply living each day while tolerating their presences, here on Cang Qiong Mountains. 

Not hushed, for once… 

He barely noticed the smirk in the master’s eyes when he widened his. Here, on Qing Jing Peak, it was quiet. Not that it usually wasn’t, but not like this ! No distance approximative melodies played on guqin. No frustrated poem whispered again and again. No voice resonating between rocks and bamboos, calling for yet another fellow disciples or trying to stop ruckus. None. Just his breathing, the master’s fluttering fan, and the never ending song of nature. 

“This disciple seems to finally be aware of his surroundings. 

-Where is everyone ?”

The man raised an eyebrow, stopping his fan for a second before closing his eyes and chuckling lightly behind the secrecy of white lotus and dark purple. The hushed snicker woke something up in Luo Binghe, goosebumps rushing down his arms. 

“Shouldn’t this disciple wonder where he is… ” the master opened his eyes, a dark sparkle shimmering in his pupils. “Before wondering where the others are ?”

The teen kept his mouth close, not quite sure what to do with the weird sensation. It made him feel on the edge, quite unsure if he should run or keep getting closer to the mysterious master. It was quite clear he was at the man's mercy, and whoever he was, a rogue cultivator or a powerful lord, he was probably dangerous. He might. After all, hadn’t he had a demon begging on his knees to be spared ? Did he not manage to disappear in the dark of the night without even being detected by the master of one of the greatest sects ? Was he not standing here, unbothered, as they apparently were in a deserted version of Qing Jing Peak ?

This master was dangerous, and Luo Binghe should know better than to just stay quietly by his side. 

He should fear him. Some part of him feared him.

Yet, as the master resumed the slow flutter of his fan, his face now as severe and serious as ever. Strangely, seeing this cold expression, the disciple’s fear still dimmed in this  mysterious yet undying fascination he had for the man.

“Come alongside this master.”

The man gave him little time, already leaving the communal sleeping quarter as he commanded him to follow. And maybe it was for the best, Luo Binghe almost face planting on the floor as he fought the bedsheets in his rush. The master apparently thought of him as an idiot, he did not need to prove him right by not being able to exit a bed without making a fool of himself… 

Trying to flattened some creases in his disciple robes as he approached, a pitiful attempt at being somewhat presentable, he almost missed the change of light the closer he got to the door. Where the spring sun illuminated the communal sleeping quarter, it was night engulfing the master silhouette by the opening. Luo Binghe stopped, right by the rogue cultivator’s side, gazing at the blanket of snow glowing under the gentle gleam of a full moon. 

The master crossed the door and so did the disciple, walking into the quietness of the night, into an icy desolate paysage. Remains of a forest, thought Luo Binghe as he passed yet another bare tree, his arms around him as he tried to ward off the cold. The bark was strangely fragmented, pieces shrivelled up, dark and brittle. And the branches were thin, with no ramifications whatsoever. No trace of leaves or twigs, just narrow, desperate shadows trying to reach for a starless sky. In this silence, with nothing but the crunching yet hushed sound of their footsteps, they walked. 

“What happened ?...”

The master did not stop, neither did he cast a glance to the young disciple a step or two behind him. Yet, he strangely raised his head a bit, acknowledging his question. Fan still opened, covering the lower part of his face, Luo Binghe could barely spot his thin lips slightly pinched. Dark phoenix eyes wandered around slightly, as if he was taking in the silent snowy forest, yet he already seemed to know this place. When his sight came to rest on a distant point, looking far beyond the tortured shapes of trees and the stillness of snow, he finally stopped. 

“It burnt.”

A breath, barely grazing the remains of the trees, dancing with the strange master hair. 

“Then it froze.”

For a second, a strand slid across his lips, caught on his nose before slipping through his cheek, and he remained unbothered. Eyes filled with a blurry haze, captured in a sight beyond the icy forest, beyond the perpetual night. Somewhere the disciple could not reach. 

“Now it’s just a bare wasteland.”, he concluded before resuming his walk. 

Luo Binghe threw another glance around, to the ashen trees and the blanket of snow. 

Was it ? 

Was it truly a bare wasteland ?

Because as desolate as the sight seemed, Luo Binghe could not help but notice the trees that kept reaching for the sky. The snow, as cold as it was, glimmered under the silver moonlight. It shimmered constantly, with each step they took, with each breath they exhaled. Jade and spirit stones were nothing but bleak compared to this blanket of pure white snow, illuminated by each star the sky shed in this eerie, lonely forest. And the masters of the greatest sect were nothing compared to the resilience of these trees, amputated of their branches by a raging fire, yet still gracefully elevating to a distant moon. 

“Maybe the trees will bloom…"

The master glanced at him, his face closed, before looking back forward. 

“They won’t.”

Luo Binghe closed his mouth in a resonating ‘clink’. Was he angry ? He sounded angry, or at least displeased. 

“Does this disciple know of dreamscapes?

-This disciple does not."

In this never ending forest, Luo Binghe followed the flicker of light that was the master voice. 

“Dreamscapes are creations of demons, some consider it as a spiritual attack. 

- Demons ?...

- Dreamscapes were not always created to hurt. Some used them to gather information on someone else's past. Others, to run some sort of trial on their person of interest. They could also be a great help to relieve pain. 

- So demons can use… dreams ?...”

The master finally gazed at him, stopping as he did. 

“Not all.”, he snickered. “Those fools can barely shape their own dreams. They lack both the power and the creativity to build such sophisticated traps.  No, to create an intricate dreamscape is a difficult craft that only one demon has the ability to do nowadays.”

For a second, Luo Binghe just stared at the man, tense. Ning Yingying already confirmed he was human but how could she be sure ? Thinking about it, she never truly did actually. She did not look at him and said ‘the strange quite possibly extremely powerful being we met in this street, the same that poofed away in darkness and that you thought as a divinity, A-Luo, is totally human and truly not some demon in disguise!’. She only joked about the little boy and the great ability her shidi displayed at holding a conversation.

 “Is… this master… 

- No. This master only knows a great deal about demons. Now hush, or this disciple won’t hear how to escape.”

Luo Binghe straightened up, looking like the most eager disciple a master could dream of. After all, he did not really have the choice but to believe the man’s words. Still, it was getting tiring to vacillate between admiration and suspicion every breathing moment he was next to the rogue cultivator. 

“If used as a trial or as a trap, there is almost no difference. The victim is trapped in a nightmare, reliving the most challenging experiences of onelife. But being in a dream, if the victim tries to fight back the illusions, they are only fighting against themselves. And though, that is how a demon can defeat another without risking their physical integrity. 

- If this disciple had fought against the illusion…

- He would have slowly shattered his mind. 

- What happens when one’s mind is totally shattered ?"

The master shot him an unimpressed look before arching one delicate eyebrow. 

“What do you think happens ?”

‘Death’, he heard in those words. 

“I did not fight back !”

This time, the master titled his head up slightly, raising his other brow. Under this critical gaze, Luo Binghe dropped his own, finding it unbearable to look at the man. Grimacing slightly, he repeated in a hushed voice :

“This disciple did not fight back the illusions.

- This disciple did not fight but neither did he try to escape. He let the dreamscape drown him.”

He would have loved to counter the man’s words, to rebuff his mockery, yet he could not. He could not because the master was right. Luo Binghe had watched as the child he once had been abused, hit, struck and left for dead. Starved, ignored and chased. He had witnessed the loneliness, the solitude that was his own yet had felt nothing but a distant rage drowned in a sea of numbness. He had given up, on both himself and his past. And almost on his future.

Saddened by his realisation, he almost jumped when something cold pressed under his chin. The closed fan. Forcing him to raise his head, his gaze fell on the master figure. On fiery eyes, burning with a passionate yet dark fire. And he was close, so close he could almost spot his reflection in his iris. 

“Listen, Luo Binghe. You have to fight. Back in the dreamscape, you were alone, weren’t you ? You had no one by your side, no one to share the pain and the suffering. You have to fight because no one will fight for you.”

As his words still clung to the air, the master withdrew his fan before slowly turning. Luo Binghe did not really notice though, as he felt something shimmering within him. Was… was there supposed to be someone ? Someone to see the nightmare he went through ? But he had been alone, just like the master said, he had. Wandering through the streets of his childhood, facing the tragedy that was his mother’s life. Losing the last pieces of hope he held in his heart as he became a Qing Jing disciple. 

Lonely, on this underground platform, surrounded by rusty chains and regrets. 

“You saved me.

- Don’t be fooled, this master was bored and this disciple seemed willing.

- You saved me.”

The master glanced at him and this time, he held his gaze. He stood his ground, just like the trees around him. Still, akin to the snow softly shimmering. There was no fear, not even a sliver, in his heart and in his mind. No anger or disgust. The master needed him, probably for the same kind of demand he had back at ZàoHuà City, still he needed him. And the man was proud, cynical ; he would never truly accept he needed help, nor would he ever admit to saving his life except out of pure selfishness. 

Narrowing his eyes, the master opened his fan in a snap of the wrist, before hiding once again behind it. The conversation was over, except maybe if Luo Binghe wanted to anger him. Something told him he better not. And he would not, anyway, for a strange joy was slowly overwhelming him. A gladness he never felt before, not even when he was chosen by his shizun to join Qing Jing Peak or when for once, numerous people happily welcomed him instead of chasing him away like a rat. 

The trees were still bare and the snow as cold as before, yet Luo Binghe felt as if the icy night was not as dark, not as starless as before.  

“It is quite distasteful for a disciple to address an immortal master with such crude terms. 

- This disciple is truly sorry.”, he apologised as he bowed under criticising eyes.

“Now, this disciple should listen carefully ; this master does not enjoy repeating himself. Since the disciple is so fond of Qing Jing Peak, despite subpar teaching, this master will find him the dreamscape.”

He almost interjected, this close to asking about the whole demon deal again. After all, hasn’t the master told him less than an incense stick ago that dreamscapes were the creation of a demon ? And would he have to live through the whole ‘most traumatising moment in your life more real than reality itself’ again ?! 

“This disciple should breathe as dying in the dreamscape means also dying in the real world.”

He breathed in, almost breaking the quietness surrounding them, under careful phoenix eyes. 

“This disciple should be aware : this master is uncompromising. Cultivation requires both seriousness and assiduity, as well as diligent training each and every day. As such, while this master won’t be physically by this disciple’s side, he still asks for commitment to his teaching.”

Luo Binghe stood straight, like he was listening to yet another lesson. He displayed the same earnestness as with his shizun, carefully paying attention to each and every word the master uttered. 

As young and beautiful the master looked, with delicate gestures and a graceful figure, his voice held the wisdom of age. It was hidden behind pricks and thorns, like an ancestral pine concealing secrets under his thick coat of evergreen needles. Firm and strong, stern and severe…

“This disciple should study and work hard, for this master may test him in not another dreamscape but in reality itself.”

He really needed his help, didn’t he ? 

“Wouldn't it be easier for this disciple to be by this master's side ?”

Once again, dark fiery eyes narrowed to two displeased slits. 

“This disciple should know not to disregard any learning, no matter from who. To be educated by different masters will broaden one’s knowledge, technique and skill.

-Shouldn’t this one show loyalty to no one but this master ?”

Another snicker, hidden behind hand-painted lotus. But as hidden his sarcastic smile may be, as carefully crafted was this impression of smugness, there was something else in the deep of his eyes. Some hazy glow, similar to embers weakly glowing under cold ashes. Gone was the strength and the wisdom of the pine tree when he quietly whispered, replaced by the impression of a ghostly breath rustling bamboo, murmur of leaves in a haunted forest Luo Binghe knew by heart. 

“Loyalty?” he mocked. “Loyalty is a bind, Luo Binghe. To survive in this world, one should only be loyal to oneself.”

He could huff and puff, laugh to this disciple’s face and sneer behind his fan, yet it would not do much to smothered the eeriness in his tone. 

What happened ?

The teen showed nothing, as straight as ever, doing his best impression of a perfect disciple. Even when this infamous feeling he hated so much filled his lungs and his heart, he stayed perfectly still. Numbness. Again. Falling inside himself. Again. But in such a different way… Staring at the master trying to fool himself, seeing nothing but the pain hidden behind a mask of indifferent mockery. 

I think I know you. 

I think I start to understand now

And that was… sad ? 

He was sad. 

“May this disciple ask when the teaching will begin ?”

His own voice felt so distant... A drop of water in the sea of silence surrounding them; desperately useless, diluted in everything that existed around him. But a drop, sometimes, was all it took to make a jar overflow. A drop could change a puddle into a lake and a lake into a sea. It could drown a man or bloom a flower. A drop, to break the surface tension. 

The master slightly raised his chin, in his impression of a lofty immortal master, and gone was the repressed misery. Forbidden melancholy and smothered anger, all of it was gone, replaced instead by the seriousness that intrigued Luo Binghe.  

“For the teaching to begin, this disciple has yet to meet someone.”

And gone was the numbness, almost immediately forgotten by the youngest of Qing Jing Peak. He earnestly looked at the master, clueless but impatient. Perhaps, maybe, it was a possibility, a bit disappointed and probably even sulking at the idea of not being alone with the man two steps ahead. But whatever ! The rogue cultivator was, without a doubt, a prodigy and just like he said, Luo Binghe should not sleep on teaching, no matter who it came from. 

“Ming Mo.”

As soon as the master called, a power but warm gust of wind wrapped around them. Filled with a reddish dust, with no trace whatsoever of the beautiful shimmering snow. And it was thick, so thick as it twirled, whirled and swirled restlessly around them, that soon the disciple could not spot any ashen trees behind this maddening wall of ochrish red. Nothing, nothing but this lofty master gently fluttering his fan.

“What is going on ?!”, he could not help but yelp, trying his best to cover his eyes from the dust.

Dark eyes laid on him, quiet and disinterested, as if a micro-tornado was something he witnessed at least three times a day. Positively unimpressed, while the teen was almost choking on whatever was trying to swallow them. And after three painful seconds, the rogue master even frowned his brow, not in anger but in what probably was annoyance. 

“Old fool… as dramatic as ever…”

This time, Luo Binghe truly choked on a handful of what tasted like soil. Did… Did he hear right ? Did the lofty master just whisper that?... But before he could question his sanity or the childish tone of such a noble being, the rogue cultivator started again, his mask of a perfect immortal master counselling once again his emotions : 

“This disciple seeked this master’s knowledge but he had yet to know the nature of this knowledge. This master, Luo Binghe, is an expert in the domain your shizun hates and loathes.”

Hand on his mouth and nose to try and wear off the dust flying around, concentrating to hear the quiet voice in the ruckus of this sandstorm, Luo Binghe felt both excitement and terror fill him. Demons. He was talking about demons, wasn’t he ? He shouldn’t be surprised, having met this rogue cultivator when chasing a demon. Being in a strange dream apparently crafted by another one.

Wait ! Hadn’t the master said earlier that only a demon could make such elaborate dreams ?... Does this mean… that this ‘Meng Mo’, or whatever, actually is…

“That’s enough now. Show yourself.”

Listening to the commanding voice, the wind vanished, all the dust settling to the ground. A reddish ground, of empty streets and deserted houses. The city, the same one he stole a glimpse of the same night. Kneeling in the dust, just for a moment, to this strange master and all he embodied, before his world disappeared. Before he lost consciousness as he finally caught his breath in the weirdly comforting presence of such a cold being. 

The disciple glanced around, not daring to step away from the master. Wide streets, frozen in time. Stalls filled with fruits and pastries and children's toys. Wonderful residences, nicely arranged, filled with decorations and ornaments. Some place, similar to this town he stalked like an unfortunate ghost, yet so different. A pretense of Zàohuà City, a blend of probably each and every cities, those the teen visited and those he had yet to know of. Such a strange place, filled with  the light of a lazy sun on a beautiful late winter afternoon. Warm and familiar, eerily nostalgic.

“Luo Binghe.”

The disciple snapped his head around, spotting a figure drowned in the sunlight. An old man, dressed as a lord, quietly looked at him. Fuzzy, strangely fuzzy, as if he had yet to decide what form to take, if he truly wanted to be physical. Still, Luo Binghe could make out shapes and features, grave eyes filled with nothing but obstination. Here he was, Meng Mo. But who he was… a demon, probably, and possibly a truly powerful one. Master of a realm Luo Binghe quite did not understand yet. And someone he had to meet in order to stay by the rogue cultivator. 

But what was he expected to do ? The master said nothing, nothing more than meeting the figure steps ahead of him. Was he supposed to fight ? But he had quite a hard time with the previous demon, so one who could shape dreams ? 

No. You slashed him like he was dead meat…

He shook his head, eyes closed, as he tried to chase this voice away. No, no he had a hard time. Was it not for the master, he would probably be dead, his blood saturated by the poison that was the ten-fiery-death-reed sap. And he tried to glance around, to catch the cold phoenix eyes behind him, only to see that there was no one anymore. Luo Binghe fully turned, forgetting instantly about the possible demon, to hesitantly reach out where the master was just a second ago. 

Nothing. Nothing more than another handful of dust, running in the street as a breath carried it away. 

“Don’t fret, the master is fine.”

There was some kind of mockery in the deep, husky voice. Something that, for some reason, angered the younger. 

“Come boy. Hadn’t this nice shizun of yours taught you about respecting your elders ?”

She mostly taught him how to play gupin and write poetry, not how to rebuff creepy old men. Unfortunately.

 “Where is he ?

- Shen-jun left. This annoying lord can come and leave as he wants.  

- Lord ?... Isn’t the master a rogue cultivator ?”

A roaring laugh, but Luo Binghe stood his ground as he turned to the probably-Meng Mo. His form was even more hazy, his figure blurry and diluted. His face, still old but now full of hilarity, seemed to be floating in a ball of black smoke or a mist that was the outline of his body. And when he managed to calm down, eyes full of delight, his body grew more precise, more real. He wore black and gold, and his eyes were those of hawks, absent-mindedly noticed the teen while tightening his fists. 

“You are quite curious, my boy. This elder has plenty of answers, but they come with a price.”

Luo Binghe repressed a groan; of course they did. It was something he was slowly learning, encounter after encounter : everything comes with a price. 

“I have seen your memories, my boy. Such a nice and kind shizun, and what wonderful friends you have ! The little energetic flower and the grumpy but trusty boy.”

With each of his words, Luo Binghe felt as if he was seeing them, right there in front of him. His shizun, sitting in her bamboo house, lost in her thoughts as she was copying yet again a scroll she might have known by heart. Sweet Ning Yingying, grabbing his wrist before pulling him along on a new adventure around their peak. Ming Fan, whining and complaining about rules and whatever, but still following them, his careful gaze on their shoulders. Where there was an empty street and the shadow of a silhouette, he could now see their smiles and their faces and everything that makes these beings real and precious. He could hear their laughs, their whispers and voices in ghostly echoes around him. 

And he felt…

He felt like a stranger, watching them from the other side of a chiasm. Witnessing their lives while they failed to notice his presence. 

“With such a beautiful life ahead of you on Qing Jing Peak, my boy, this elder can not help but wonder why you seek the presence of such a poor character.”

Luo Binghe frowned, still lost in the invisible image of his closed ones. 

“Are you Meng Mo ?

- I am. 

- Are you a demon ?

- I am.”

Well, Luo Binghe had yet to see a human whose body was mostly made of haze and black smoke… 

“Is the master a demon ? 

- Ah !” he mocked. “It may be hard to believe but he is human indeed. But you, whose shizun taught to hate and loathe demons, should know how closely this ‘master’ is affiliated to the demon realm.”

Luo Binghe furrowed his brows as the face of his shizun imposed itself in his mind. Her angry scold, her voice dripping with poison reverberating in the small study at the Old Master Huà. Qiu Jiantang, the precious gem of Qing Jing Peak, filled with both strength and grace, lost in the anger of a story that had been yet to be heard. Hate and loathe were weak compared to what his shizun felt. To what he was taught to feel.

You are vanishing.

“You are vanishing.”

The elder dropped his smug smirk for a scold, not as terrifying as his shizun though. Still, he looked quite irritated as the teen whispered those words out of nowhere. To be fair, Luo Binghe himself was not sure why he said that, but as soon as it left his mouth, he knew he was right. 

“This elder is a powerful, centuries old demon ! I am not vanishing.

- You are.

- Boy, if I was I would be nothing but a ball of black smoke.”

Taking in what the demon just said, Luo Binghe slightly tilted his head on the side, carefully studying the demon. 

“How do you know ?”

The floating face displayed surprise, as Meng Mo opened his eyes wide, but just a moment though before the demon closed off. He was already grumbling something, watching around with a grumpiness the teen is used to seeing on Ming Fan. 

“You almost vanished once. 

- Listen, my boy. This elder is… old. My body will soon turn into dust. And what a shame would it be for my knowledge to vanish with me ! I know this ‘master’ of yours told you already, but I am the only one left who can shape dreamscapes. And what was once a powerful and esteemed skill might be soon lost.”

So you are vanishing.

“You live off others’ dreams, don’t you ?”

The elder ‘tsk’, looking to his side before gazing back at him and Luo Binghe could almost hear him thinking ‘what a pest’. To be fair, the younger disciple of Qing Jing Peak always had this sixth sense, a weirdly accurate ability to guess everything about everyone around him. 'So precisely it is creepy', told him once or twice Ming Fan. And once again, it seemed like his sixth sense did not fail him. 

“You need a host to survive, don’t you ? You already have one, though, someone strong enough to save you in the past but…”

Why offer to a random human, a teen who struggled to reach the basis of cultivation nonetheless, his knowledge? Demonic knowledge ? Shouldn’t he ask fellow demons ? After all, their kind was filled with immortal masters, great lords and unbeatable fighters. Even the strange master would have made a better candidate that Luo Binghe… Then why ?

He is human.

But so was he. 

So was he…

Luo Binghe snapped his head back to Meng Mo, eyes wide as a single thought formed in his head. A conclusion he had never reached until now.

“Am I human ?”

Gone was the scold and the smirk, replaced with a genuine seriousness that almost felt weird even though the disciple could not tell why. 

“You are, but there is something inside you. Something related to demons.”

He felt his mouth drying as his throat seemed to close. Of course… Of course there was. He is different, isn’t he ? He always felt as if there was something misplaced about him ; a stranger in a familiar land, someone who does not belong. On the other side of chiasm… 

Of course, of course he should have a link to what his nice shizun hated the most. Of course he should have some unknown relations with demons! Why shouldn’t he, after all ?!

Of course I am a beast.

“I can feel it, and so can Shen-Jun.

- He can ?...”

His voice was frailed, almost breaking on his words. So he knew too, that the younger disciple of Qing Jing Peak had a relation to the demons ?... How pitiful…

“I can.”

A beam of light in a perfectly lit street. The master, Shen-Jun, was back as if he never disappeared. Luo Binghe blinked, twice, as if blindsided by his mere presence. He was back. He was here. And Luo Binghe was not alone. 

He was not alone…

“This thing within this disciple, while sealed, still exudes a demonic nature. And while this master is an expert on demons, he should not be the one to teach demonic cultivation. 

-Demonic cultivation ?...”

There might be a hint of fear in his voice, but to be fair, Luo Binghe felt like he was a step away from an abyss. A step from falling in place both unknown and terrifying. After all, demons were scum. Their kind were ruthless and cruel and despicable. There was nothing good about them, nothing redeemable in the poor excuse that was their existence. That was at least what he had been taught for years. 

But still…

Looking in those dark phoenix eyes, in the quietness and serenity concealing a fierce fire, Luo Binghe felt… almost peaceful. And as long as this gaze would stay on him, he felt like there was nothing to fear. 

“This demonic thing inside, my boy, won’t be sealed forever. The sooner you learn, the better it will be.”

Still, he kept on looking at the strange master, as if searching for the truth in this noble face. 

“This honourable one is speaking the truth to this disciple. 

- Can it be removed ?

- Is this what this disciple truly wants ?”

Yes of course ! Who would want to live with something related to demons inside him ?! 

Those were the words he was supposed to scream, but as the master asked, he found himself unable to even think them. Instead, his hands were slightly trembling as his gaze fell on the dusty ground. He should want it to be removed, to never ever be linked in any way to demons. Talking to one probably already was a grave mistake, bad enough to be banished from Qing Jing Peak or any sects. But being related in some way to the demonic realm ? That would be the end of any human being.

“So be it.”

The master passed by him and Luo Binghe still did not raise his head, nor did he track the man with his sight. He just stood there, feeling the dread creeping inside him. 

What was he doing ?! What was he doing ?! He should fight ! He should fight the demon ! He should try and kill him ! But instead what was he doing ?! Talking ?! 

“If Luo Binghe accepts Meng Mo teaching, then this master vows to take him as his disciple.”

A frown, then he slowly, slowly raised his head before turning as carefully to the master now by the demon’s side. Drown in the same golden light, he looked as a deity gracing humans with his presence. An apparition, an omen dressed in black and purple. A celestial being, lost in the mortal realm. 

A ghost.

“This… this master would?..."

And he could feel his gaze. Cold but warm. Disinterested yet curious. Aloof nevertheless drawn to.  

“Shizun would ?...”

With the sight of a single nod, Luo Binghe woke up with a start.

No more master, no more demon, only the darkness and the soft snore that always filled the communal sleeping quarter at night. 

He looked around, silently, taking in the image of his fellow disciples in their dreamless sleep. Their bodies still, their breathing steady, Luo Binghe should have enjoyed the peacefulness of the early hours yet here he was, quietly panting as he willed his panicked heart to calm down. It beat so fast, as if it was trying to escape the comfort of his chest, perfectly nest behind flesh and bones. 

Does he have a heart ?

I should open his chest.

Luo Binghe turned, chasing away those empty words. The maddening whispers that sometimes accompanied the demented chuckles and the desperate cries. He did not want to hear, he did not want to hear it anymore. He just wanted it gone. Why should he think about such morbid things ? Wrenched and demon-like ? Why was he like this ?! 

In the quietness, the teen turned and turned in his bed, facing a struggle he would forget as soon as the sun would rise. He always forgot about it, about the whispers and the questions and the visions, only to remember it when they plagued him once again. He would forget, like he always did, and would be fine, but light could not fill the quarter soon enough. The darkness could not be ward off soon enough before the youngest disciple would once again drown in those awful thoughts. He could not. He did not want to. Not again. He was not strong enough. Not strong enough to survive. Not this time. Not this time. 

Let me die already !

But then, bumped on something with his forehead. Cold and hard. It did not hurt, still it managed to snap him out of whatever was haunting him at night, for something was laid by his head. Long and dark, yet slightly cool to the touch as the teen reached for it. Bringing it to his eyes, he felt his heart missing a beat. 

There, between his shaking hands, was a fan. Of black wood, dark purple paper and beautifully hand-painted white lotus.

 

-------------------------------------

 

“I did not know this ‘master’ to be such a benevolent soul.”

He glanced at the demon clearly mocking him, insisting furiously on the ‘master’. Had it not been for their Emperor, Shen-Jun probably would have told the elderly to find some of those ‘great immortal demonic masters’ he always talked about and forgot him already since yers already. Instead, the dream demon was still stuck in his head, being nothing but a nuisance. 

Shen-Jun slightly coughed in his closed fist before answering in a steady voice. 

“Whatever is sealed in this disciple, it is powerful and of demonic nature. Without proper training, it might become a pain to deal with later. 

- Oh so you had motivation all along, didn’t you my Lord ?

- Doesn’t this elder live in this humble immortal master mind ?”

A boisterous laugh, right by his side and not in his thoughts for once. 

“True ! True ! 

- If everything goes well, this elder will soon have a new host to bother.”

He coughed, once again. True, he was not benevolent. He was not nice or good or righteous. If he had described himself, Shen-Jun was rotten to the core, his being sully by each of his decisions. His hands were dirty and so was his soul.

“Show it.”

And before his eyes, the deserted city vanished into a beautiful sight. A meadow, with a great vigorous tree covered in tender leaves and blooming flowers. It was so big, so high, that it almost seemed to reach the blue sky above it. A perfect sky, with no clouds whatsoever.  A bit farther away behind the tree was a glistering lake whose quiet waves lazy rolled on the banks. A pastoral scene, nice and peaceful. A beautiful dream. 

“It is awful.

-Does this lord care to elaborate?"

Shen-Jun threw him another glance, perfectly aware the dream demon could spot the wrongness in such a wonderful dreamscape better than he ever would. 

For there was nothing here, except for plants. No birds in the sky, no fishes in the lake, no insects buzzing around. And the tree, as beautiful as it was, was rotting. One might be easily fooled by the lushious foliage and the never ending sea of petals, but he could see right through it. He could hear it in the rustling of the leaves, in each crack of the branches. The tree was on the brink of death and where anyone would have seen in the thousands of flowers a beautiful sight, Shen-Jun could only notice it was nothing but a last desperate cry. 

The place reeked of death and misery ; it was everywhere, craftily hidden under the pretense of plentiful and joyfulness. The lake was deadly still and the waves followed an excruciating pattern as they never dared to reach higher on the banks. And the white stones the water never touched were nothing but shards of bones, degrading in tiny peebles that filled and filled and filled the place. Tree and lake aside, the meadow itself was bare. True, there were flowers growing around in an array of colors and shapes, but each of them were yet another deadly omen.

‘Delicate-night-lighted-rose’

A flower often used by maidens seeking a sliver of happiness, before the plant almost became extinct. 

‘Kissing-petals-of-the-three-realms’

Red as blood, used centuries ago to accompany beloved ones into whatever realm their soul belonged to. 

‘Whisper-of-the-soul’

Shen-jun started for the longest time at the flower, watching as it kept shifting from the purest white to a pearly, shimmering purple. A shiver rushed down his spin, an image of the flower still too recent in his mind. A memory that was kept in the darkest part of his mind.

“This lord does not.”, he finally whispered before sweeping the dreamscape away in a harsh gesture of the hand.

Back to the city Meng Mo enjoyed so much. To the late afternoon sun and the quietness of the empty streets. Far, far away from the nightmare, disguised as a lost paradise, and its cursed flowers.

Whatever…

Shen-Jun had a plan, he had a goal, and he would do whatever it took to reach it, even if he had to lose the little was left of him. As long as he could keep his promise, he would do anything and everything. 

I will save you.

 

Notes:

Hi everyone! Life is getting worse but at the same time better. I finally managed to get my hand on a computer for one evening, and like any responsible adult, I decided to dedicate this time to write this chapter (I have a problem). As soon as I get my stuff back, I will get back to the usual schedule of posting every Friday.
I am sorry if there are more grammatical error than usually, I really had to rush... :(
But I will try to correct them as quick as possible!

Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter and thank for reading!
Special thanks for the comments, subscriptions and kudos, they truly keep me alive in this trying times! :D

Chapter 6: The flames in these eyes

Notes:

Well, I'm back, somehow.
Also, a really important message before starting the chapter (kinda a spoiler, but trust me, you will need it) :
THE CATS ARE ALIVE AND UNHARMED !
(can't say the same about the rest of the characters, but...)

Anyway, thanks for reading!

“Shen-jun…”, a quiet voice whispered right behind him.

He was standing in the darkness, a soft glow gently warming pale cheeks and bland irises. His sight fixated on a desperate flame, the immortal master stayed mute at first.  

There, in a vast room always filled with shadows, was an altar and on this altar, three palace lanterns. Beautiful, crafted in dark zitan and ornate with precious metals and shiny stones. Carefully carved, landscapes and mythical beasts rising from the precious wood. Smooth, ever reflecting the light of the flames they protected.

A step, the murmur of clothes and fabrics, and alone he was no more.

One would have squinted, would have blinked, for the flames were almost blinding in this velvety darkness, yet Shen-Jun kept staring. His face as blank as ever, the man stood straight. Frozen in his silent contemplation, distantly watching the heart-wrenching dance of a red flame. Flickering, crackling and quivering, a fiery red wisp that kept on moving as if trying to escape its lantern. Desperate, rolling on itself before throwing all its weight against the nothingness. Hopelessness…

What a poor thing… Hurting, while the green and the yellow flames surrounding it quietly burnt in the safeness of their lantern. Almost as still as the great master, as if guarding the red one. As if witnessing its pain, powerless, trapped in their own tiny world.

“How is he ?”

Rustling of clothes, again, while the red wisp threw itself viciously. Then a tiny sigh.

“He was singing.

-Again ?

-Again.”

Shen-jun fell silent, neither surprised nor startled by those answers. Instead, he stared. He stared for so long now that if he were to close his eyes, the image of the red flame would probably keep on dancing in his mind. Burnt in his eyelids. And sometimes, lost in this sea of light, distant images seemed to appear: shapes of beings engulfed in fire, frantically trying to evade the burning embrace of death, echoes of screams, impressions of a roaring monster, and heavy smoke reaching for the heavens. In this cold room, when the tiny wisp was fighting a useless battle, Shen-jun reminisced about all the fights that brought him here.

All the lives, all the death, eternally trapped behind his eyelids. Burnt, just like the flame, deep within his soul.

“They have arrived.”

Before, when the pain was still new, he had often closed his eyes. In the silence, in the cold emptiness of the room, with no one but the flames for companions, he had tried to decipher this emotion. This stone that kept on rolling in his chest, heavy and bitter. Standing silently in the darkness, who knew how many times the distant master had let himself drown in anger and hatred. Things he had known since he was born, yet so different. A bruise, another cut in the flesh of his mind. A gaping wound he had yet to figure out how to heal. But that was the thing…

The flame gathered, withdrawing its reddish glow. So little, a soft ball of light but only for a moment. A breath, a short instant, before it throws itself viciously once again. Desperately. It tried so hard, crawling and thrashing. Fierce, bursting in sparks. Crackling, screaming, begging as it collapsed on itself.

That was the thing: he never healed. Each bruise, cut, and wound were still haunting his being. A feast of suffering he learnt to know, he learnt to ignore. He learnt to feed. A familiar feeling, to keep him company when existence seemed futile. Shen-Jun was a being of pain and sins, but not a victim. Never a victim.

Never again.

Finally turning, he met a pair of eyes he knew by heart. A face he grew familiar with, filled with regrets like every time he set foot in the room. Still somewhat shy, still somewhat young. A simple deception, for the being by his side was older than him. Yet he somehow kept this innocence, the one that was robbed from Shen-Jun. This demon, that inspired neither fear nor hatred in his heart, managed to preserve everything that was robbed from him long before them.

“You are so ugly,” the immortal master still spat.

The demon was not, not in this form at least, but it was instinctive. Some reflex, instilled in him after years and years and years of familiarity. And the demon did not seem to be sad, angry, or vexed. He was used to it, probably. After all, this weird snarling was some kind of greeting that Shen-Jun reserved for him and him only. An unfortunate way of acknowledging him, by repeating yet again how horrific he was. But instead of snapping at Shen-Jun, just like any other being would have, he stayed. Hand upon another, he stayed, in the perfect image of a young and graceful Lord. And most would have thought him to be educated and good with a sword, probably. A scholar that came from nobility, most certainly.

Someone he would probably have hated

"Why are you always so ugly ?..."

But this time, Shen-Jun dropped his eyes, his whisper barely making out of his thin lips.

Zhuzhi-Lang raised his chin, just a bit. At least he guessed, by the soft murmur of his clothes and this innate understanding of this demon he had. Zhuzhi-Lang was always quiet, listening attentively when others would have shouted and screamed. He waited, he could have waited for centuries, patiently, asking for nothing. Not even acknowledgement. Just as he waited for him, right by his side. Not saying a word, not making a face, just being... there.

“You know how they get when they wait.”

He was right… demon lords were insufferable by nature and none of them had patience as a vertu. A bunch of meatheads, sometimes graced by a sliver of intelligence. Proud and belligerent, ready to fight on the mere suspicion of an effrontery. And while the Emperor would have found some kind of amusement in the show of several, Shen-Jun dreaded those pesky meetings. Nothing but an act he had to get through, surrounded by beings fed with violence and empty thoughts.

Not so different from humans…

As the red wisp collapsed once again, Shen-jun smothered the outline of a memory trying to form in his mind. Wise eyes and an adoring smile. Promises that distantly echoed in his mind, once so sweet, hanging in the crisp air of an autumn evening. But the taste of carefully sipped tea and sugary treats had been replaced by cold ashes and earthy dirt. Still, the memory would spoil, once again. In the light of the lies, the wise eyes were drowned in obscurity. And what was once a precious smile was nothing more than one of the many wounds festering in his heart.

“Come, Shen-Jun, it is time to go…”

Gone was the autumn evening, gone was the innocence.

Shen-Jun finally turned, leaving the red flame to fight alone, surrounded by its quiet peers.

Gone was his redemption.

It was not long before they reached the throne. Empty as ever, despite the growing numbers of demons coveting it. Scanning the quite crowded room, Shen-jun spotted a couple of them already. Though faces, tougher manners, yet none of them had tried anything for so long now. It was almost… quiet. As quiet as demons can be.

“Lord Shen-Jun,” said one with a voice dripping with false respect.

In the sea of faces all looking at him, Shen-Jun easily spotted the offender. One familiar but too insignificant for him to bother remembering his name. All he recalled was the honeyed voice and the false pretense. Truth be told, the demon was brave. Brave in a way the master always despised; using not swords but words, shaping reality with a couple of whispers. Too bad he was, just like any others in this hall, blinded by his own vanity. So sure of his capacities, he always failed to notice the coldness in Shen-Jun's eyes when he addressed him. This day, apparently, was like any other.

Shen-Jun stopped, glaring at the approaching demon who kept this easy smile on his lips. Bowing perfectly as if he truly had any respect for the immortal master, he then cocked his head to the side, bluish iris now on the other. It had been so kind of a reflex for Shen-Jun to just reach for his fan to carefully hide the bottom of his face, putting yet another barrier between him and the despicable thing. The demon noticed, the demon knew, frowning for a second before the quiet anger vanished from his face again. Still, a second too long, for Shen-Jun internally feasted on the hatred the vile creature accidentally showed.

“Lord Shen-Jun, this humble one pleads for your infinite wisdom."

He slightly raised his chin, pinning the demon under his cold gaze. Such a lovely appearance, one of the most human-looking demons in this room. In fact, if it were not for the unnatural glowing of his eyes, the sharpness of his teeth, and the grey tinge of his skin, the other could easily pass as a graceful young master from an esteemed clan. Maybe even an immortal master, lost in the abyss to bring justice, peace, and any other virtues the greatest sects loved to shove down their disciples’ throats.

No words, no answers, only the slight fluttering of his fan that the demon somehow took as an invitation to explain himself.

“Lord Shen-Jun, this humble one faces quite a…” the demon drew a sharp breath, as if searching for the best word. “...tricky issue.”

Tricky ? Everything was tricky when dealing with demons. Or humans. Or any creature capable of thoughts and words. Still, Shen-Jun did not show the slightest sliver of emotion, continuing the slow flutter of his fan.

“The master is quite busy, may this humble one stop speaking in riddles ?

-Of course, this humble one did not mean to waste this great lord’s time.”

Tight mouth, sharp voice, the demon was displeased by Zhuzhi-Lang's interruption. And Shen-Jun was displeased by the way he addressed Zhuzhi-Lang, like he was not the nephew of the Emperor but a mere nuisance. A pest, a rat, something that was not worthy of this stupid demon’s precious, precious time.

Shen-Jun resumed his silent walk, passing right by the small lordly whose head was still filled with grandeur. He might yell, he might whine, he might even throw a little tantrum, but Shen-Jun would not give him anything. Nor his help, nor his words, and not even another glance as he marched through the great hall. The crowd parted with each of his steps, carefully watching a man whose presence alone could calm even the most belligerent demon, carefully plotting in their little head a way to reach him or to overthrow this strange presence. He knew it, he could feel it on his shoulder as he kept on marching in this solemn silence. The hatred, the envy. All the little pesky emotions they felt when he appeared from nowhere, those they kept in the deepest part of their thoughts when he was around, and those they proclaimed when they believed he would never hear them.

He knew how much they despised his presence, his mere existence. The fact a human like him had once been the trusted second of their Emperor. How, once the Emperor disappeared, Shen-Jun managed to crush their hope of power and greatness, guarding the throne as if the Emperor was just gone for a couple of days and would surely be back soon. How, more than a decade after, the human kept on strolling through the Abyss, bringing to their knees anyone who had the guts to even doubt the Emperor for even a second. For a mere fleeting second. And they especially hated how, no matter how many times they tried, no matter how many they were, Shen-Jun kept on being unreachable.

He knew.

Still, he wondered sometimes. Without the rage, without the disgust, without this never-ending hostility and resentment, what exactly would he be ?

Him .

He stopped, abruptly, and so did the crowd around him.

No.

Not him.

Never him.

Face still empty of any emotions, eyes as cold as ever, Shen-Jun forced his way through whatever was trying to worm its way through his soul again. He ignored it, leaving it in the shadows just as he did with the stupid demons and empty promises and every small gesture he wished he could just forget about already.

“Xiao-Jun!”

The desperate scream snapped him out of his thoughts, turning his head to the voice before he even truly thought about it. There, tearing her way through the thick assembly of demons, was someone he knew for a long time. A small being with a great presence, uncaring of the powerful demons around her, uncaring of their heated glances and their growing frustration. Shen-Jun turned, watching as she emerged in a flurry of claws and pretty fabric swirling around.

“Chūn Huī…

-Xiao-Jun!”

She grabbed his arm, slowly burying her claws in the black fabric. How strange, to feel his heart slowly quicken, racing at a frenetic speed. Fear, he distantly recognized, but not the one he used to feel as a child. And how could he not feel fear ? There were no pearls nor jewelry in her auburn hair, nor on her cat-like ears. No rouge on her pale velvety cheeks and around her whiskers. Her usually slitted pupils now dark and round, with just a sliver of emerald green circling them. And before he could even notice how shallow each of her breaths was, he felt her tail wagging around widely.

“Xiao-Jun, I beg you, please!”

She collapsed on her knees, her hands still around his arms and her eyes keeping on pleading.

And he knew, how powerful she was. How strong, how imminent. How desperate. He also knew how displeased the demons were  getting, how they would probably use it against him. He should not help; he should just rip his arms from her fearful grip and let the woman drown in her desperation. Yet, all he could see was his own reflection deep within the darkness of her pupils. All he could hear was a child's silent prayer in each of her cries.

Loyalty…

“This master is listening.”

---

Sighing slightly, Luo Binghe removed yet another robe from the line it was hanging on. Soft and dry, the white blinding him as he set the clothes in a basket as his feet. And the gentle sun of spring was shining, so high above him. Drowned in a sea of blue, disturbed only by some passing birds happily chirping. Free, flying without any care in the world while he was stuck on the ground, listening to the rustling of tender leaves, of the breath running through the bamboo forest. Barely caressing his cheek before disappearing somewhere the young disciple could not reach. Alone, and utterly bored.

Quiet days, once again. Almost a year had passed and here he was again, taking care of the laundry while his shixiong was classifying scrolls and books. Chasing empty wishes and desires while the days idly passed by. Here on Qing Jing Peak, things had hardly changed, he distantly thought before grabbing yet another robe. Ming Fan and he kept exchanging their chores behind everyone's back, Ning Yingying continued to drag them around the peak and Qiu Jiantang turned a blind eye on whatever trouble the trio stirred.

"I guess I should be thankful... Don't you agree?"

The little white cat raised her head, blinking softly as she was roused from her nap by a restless disciple. Soft little pink nose, lazy golden eyes, the cat had a grey spot on her right ear and a splash of apricot on her tail. And she was so small ! So tiny ! An adult yet he could grab her with a single hand. Small but even smaller in the bundle of dry robes, happily sleeping her day away. She was looking at him, flicking her ear slightly before a rumbling sound started rising from the tiny creature.

Luo Binghe could not help but kneel, a small smile grazing his lips as he gently ran his fingers through her fur.

"This little Xìng seems really happy on Qing Jing Peak. Would she be kind enough to tell this humble disciple her secret?"

She chirped happily, her little eyes still closed. Oh, how he enjoyed their company, Xìng and the countless cats of Cang Qiong Mountains he carefully took care of. Such nice companions, as wary as they were at first. But patience and time could do wonders and Luo Binghe was not short on both. Days after days, be it the middle of summer or the depth of winter, the younger disciple of Qing Jing Peak kept watching out for his furry friends.

Just to be sure.

Checking them each week, careful not to forget anyone. Keeping a watchful eye for wounds or any signs of distress. Making sure they always had something to nibble on... Luo Binghe was as dedicated to the small clan of cats he gathered as he was to cultivation. And sometimes, when one brought him tiny, delicate kittens or another appeared out of a bush to brush against his ankles, the disciple almost felt the warmth he once knew with his mother.

Just to be sure... I have to be sure...

One more pet on Xìng's soft head and Luo Binghe got up, still lost in his thoughts. Doing laundry since he was a kid, he barely paid attention to what he was doing. It was always the same gestures, the same movements. Shaking the clothes in the crisp air of Spring before carefully folding them. Chasing away any pesky crease with his hand before reaching out to another piece of clothing. And doing it all again. There was something almost peaceful, to this strange dance he had been doing since his childhood. It was comforting, familiar with every step of the process. And when he was especially tired, it was almost like she was still here. Warm hands and soft eyes, calling him as she put the last robes to dry. Just the breath that passed by, he could almost feel the ghost of her touch on his cold cheeks.

Slowly, so as not to disturb the sleeping cat by his feet, or the ever-quiet bamboo forest, the disciple hummed. It had been so long since he last did, days passing idly while nights were filled with arduous training. The strange master, Shen-Jun as Luo Binghe came to understand, had not lied. He was a rigorous teacher, expecting nothing but the best out of a disciple who barely had the basis at 15 years old.

It was so strange… He contemplated unconsciously, barely noticing Xìng stretching before almost burying herself in the dry robes. Where Qiu Jiantang was nothing but understanding and patient, Shen-Jun was cold and harsh. Still, in the sharpness of his words, Luo Binghe found something. Something he could not quite describe, not quite understand, but something that he knew the Qing Jing Peak Master lacked.

Almost each night now, these stern eyes were watching each of his every move. Careful, seeing the tiniest misstep, noticing the slightest tremor in the disciple’s hand, perceiving even his fleeting hesitation, before correcting him with acrid words and a flick of yet another fan. In his lithe hands, Luo Binghe felt like nothing but a lump of clay, taking form slowly, night after night. As if his body, the qi that flowed within him, was awakening under harsh lessons and ever-gazing phoenix eyes. An icy flow of constant lectures, gradually eroding years and years of spiritual comatose, unearthing a strength unknown to all and especially the disciple himself. Drowned, for so long, in a sea of numbness and fake politeness.

As the tenderness of spring dissolved in the unbearable heat of summer, the youngest disciple of Qing Jing Peak could finally spot a distant surface shimmering above him. By the time the leaves bled shiny gold, deep orange and fiery red, and a crispy wind whispered in the bamboo forest, he finally could make sense of his mess of limbs. And when winter finally set, lulling autumn to sleep with soft frost and bright snow, Luo Binghe felt so close. So close to breaching the surface, to break free from the profound ocean that once drowned his heart. Under this strange master's care, obscure gleams of light slowly illuminated his soul.

He found him, deep within his  abyss.

“Loyalty…”, he whispered as his humming came to an end.

He shouldn’t cling to loyalty. He shouldn’t frown upon any teaching, especially not from someone as imminent as Qiu Jiantang.

Yet…

Carefully folding the last robe, the disciple quickly squashed a thought that had yet to form.

Being here, on Qing Jing Peak, was nothing short of a miracle. Being educated by Qiu Jiantang was a blessing that almost flew through his hands. Hands that had been so tiny back then, yet furious as he dug in the earth. Fought, he had fought for a chance to be something more than an unwanted kid. He had proved he was more than a street rat, than a scoundrel. More than an unfortunate thing that had the poor taste to be abandoned at birth and later lose the only sliver of warmth and love he had known.

Now, grabbing the basket full of clean robes, Luo Binghe could not help but feel something coiling deep inside him—doubt, confusion, maybe even skepticism. Dark, heavy, brewing deep within his heart. Contemptment ? Probably not. He was still a teen, the disciple forced himself to remember as he walked by the bamboo forest. He heard tales of people his age and had seen the other disciples going through their teenage years—moody, broody, sometimes even whiny. Crooked as if their bones did not fit their bodies anymore, as if their spine had bowed down under the weight of their ever-changing temper. Luo Binghe, only 16 now, still had a couple of years before his mood would settle, if he was to believe his shixiongs.

 Ming Fan-shixiong is still moody and irritable…

Still, he kept thinking as he walked to the communal sleeping quarters. Still…The master, cold and harsh, his words sharper than any swords he wielded… His shizun, always listening, always giving him time. One the discipline kept seeking night after night, even when both his mind and body hurt. The other he desperately tried to cling onto but was gradually failing. Why ? In this world, since he was a lonely, poor boy stalking the street like a ghost, Luo Binghe had wanted nothing more than to belong. To somewhere, to someone, it did not matter as long as he was not alone anymore. Yet, he thought as he stepped into the quarters, the more he stayed by his shizun's side, the more he felt like…

“Luo-shidi, shizun is asking for you.”

The younger disciple jumped, laying his hand on his poor heart as he threw a glance around. There, a step ahead in the dimmed room, was the miserable being who tried to apparently kill him. A hand on his hips, in a familiar position, he immediately recognized Ming Fan. Just… Ming Fan, with wide-opened eyes, before they melted into a somewhat amused yet furious gaze.

“Luo-shidi, it has been years ! This disciple should be able to sense someone coming by now !

-This disciple would if Ming Fan-shixiong stopped sneaking up on him.”, the youngest answered immediately, setting the basket down next to the entrance.

He knew his shixiong was physically doing his best not to roll his eyes. The head disciple always had this stupid expression when he was trying not to be condescending, as if he was somewhat indisposed. A funny picture, had it not betrayed the disciple's thoughts and emotions. Luo Binghe did not care, his shixiong could roll his eyes as much as he wanted for all he cared. After all, the younger disciple was always the one getting startled, once almost breaking one of their shizun’s favorite vases. Had it not been for the master's assiduous training, the vase might have become nothing but a distant memory and their punishment a fresh one they would have probably borne for days.

“Sneaking ? Has this shidi become hard of hearing ? Or has the sun melted his ears ?

- This disciple was lost in his thoughts.

- Then Luo-shidi better find his way to shizun's bamboo house quickly !”ended Ming Fan by grabbing Luo Binghe’s arm.

The younger disciple could have easily shaken off his shixiong, yet he just quietly followed him around, his arm still trapped in the other’s hands. After all, his shixiong let go of him quickly enough, leaving the youngest to dumbly stare at the bamboo house. Maybe a bit too much, though, as Ming Fan nudged him toward the door. Luo Binghe glanced at his shixiong, slightly displeased, and who could fault him ? Last time he had been summoned by their esteemed shizun, he had to endure a three-hour-long lecture on how reckless he could get from time to time. About how he should learn to step back and observe, maybe even not engage in useless fights. After all, Luo Binghe was the youngest; he still had so much to learn.

That night, after two long hours of painfully messy movements and failed attempts, the rogue master lightly smacked his head with yet another fan. Luo Binghe had raised his furious eyes to the master’s, only to meet the coldness of his gaze and one perfect eyebrow delicately raised.

“Is Luo-shidi afraid of doors now ?”

This time, Luo Binghe did not even give the pleasure of another glare. Instead, he drew a deep breath before daring to disturb his shizun.

That was at last the last thing he clearly remembered, the closed door of the bamboo house. The endless blue sky above him, the fresh breath of spring, and the heated gaze of his shixiong on his shoulder. So how and when exactly had he arrived at this manor, in a room he saw twice for less than an incense time ? And more importantly, was he dreaming of the jade figure before him ? This graceful being, dressed in rich black and vibrant purple, a fan in his right hand, a book in his left one. Luo Binghe was frozen under those phoenix eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. He was dreaming, right ?

“Is the education on Qing Jing Peak that deplorable ? Or has this disciple forgotten about proper greetings ?”

Luo Binghe snapped out of his reveries, already bowing to the master sitting before him. It couldn’t be, could it ? How could the master be here, with him, in the mortal realm ? Had he accidentally fallen asleep while riding his horse ? If so, that would be terrible… He once fell off his horse and while he was barely injured, the humiliation he felt was a thousand times worse. At least this time Ming Fan wasn’t here to laugh at his demise.

“Good…”

Goosebumps ran across his skin as he heard the master uttering this simple word.

It was him, wasn’t it ?

The sun had set, long before they arrived, and the study was lit by only a couple of candles warding off the darkness around them. It was nice being engulfed in the golden light, far, so far from the Cang Qiong Mountains. One might have found it stuffy, the smell of incense heavy, and the elongated shadows dancing in the same rhythm as the flickering flames of the candles. The study itself, from what he had seen before, was quite vast and empty. In this darkness, though, it felt almost intimate. A meeting that was lost, ignored by the flow of time.

Luo Binghe had yet to raise his head. Still, through the shadows and the curtain of his bang, he could still spot the outline of his master, glowing in darkness.

He truly was here this time, wasn’t he ?

“If this disciple has any questions, then he should ask.”

Still bowing, he stared at his foot for a moment or two, gathering his thoughts.

“Is this disciple asleep ?

-This disciple is awake.

He slightly dipped his head further, taking in the answer. Not asleep, awake. Great, at least he wouldn’t have to go through another nasty fall from a horse. Yet, the answer did nothing to alleviate his heart. Quite the contrary, it only seemed his heartbeat grew quicker and quicker. Eyes on his shoes, he distantly noticed the speck of dirt on the tip of one of his boots.

“May this disciple ask why this esteemed master is here ?

-This disciple should ask himself why he is here.”

A beat, while Luo Binghe desperately tried his best to think straight, which apparently was a great challenge when his master was physically in the same room.

How was it different from the dreamscape ?

Utterly, he found out as he felt he was starting to get lightheaded.

“Raise your head.”

He immediately did, meeting those phoenix eyes. Clear yet velvety in the warmth of the candle, like the first time they met almost a year ago, in this very city. The lofty master had not changed, he noticed, and why would he ? He was, after all, an immortal master. A rogue one, who apparently had close bounds with demons, but still very capable. Of course, his appearance wouldn’t change, be it in the dreamscape or reality. Long silky black hair, delicate face with thin lips and sharp eyes. He was sitting with his back straight, the very picture of grace and poise. A picture who was looking at him, displeased, but by now Luo Binghe was used to it. The lofty master seemed to thrive on feeling furious or disappointed…

“This disciple is here because this master has a mission.

-This… this master has ?!”

A frown and Luo Binghe instantly calmed. That is right, his master despite loud noises and even louder emotions.

“Master Shen-Jun and this old master indeed have a mission for this young disciple.”

The disciple almost jumped out of his skin before snapping his head to his left. There, chuckling quietly as he appeared from the darkness, was Old Master Huà. While the immortal master did not change, the old man slowly sitting in front of him was not as lucky. New wrinkles had appeared on his forehead and by his eyes, dark spots almost covered his hands, and his shoulders were crooked in a way only old people were capable of. As if the weight of the world itself was pressing down on them until they had no choice but to bend.

Yet, something had not changed. There still was this smile, the exact same the Qing Jing disciples had been met with a year ago. Something peaceful, quiet in a way Luo Binghe did not have the words to explain.

Or the experience…

“Master Huà,” he finally greeted with a bow.

The Old Master nodded once before gesturing quickly for the disciple to sit. Under the watchful gaze of the immortal master, as if he truly was his shizun carefully looking for any mistake his disciple would make, Luo Binghe sat slowly. Straight as his master, he imitated his posture perfectly without even trying. Without even thinking to be fair. Hands on his knees, just like his master now was, chin slightly tilted up, the disciple truly was ready to listen to anything the Old Master had to say.

“This disciple might wonder what this old master’s business with Master Shen-Jun might be.

- This disciple is indeed quite curious.”

Another easy smile from the old man, as if he expected nothing but this answer.

“Right, right. Truthfully, Master Shen-Jun and this Old Master share an old acquaintance. Now, did this disciple notice the cats last time he visited ?”

Luo Binghe frowned, not quite sure why the sudden change of subject. Well, actually, he had a slight idea, but he preferred to answer, partially because of the instant gaze of his master.

“Indeed. This disciple met some.

-How many ?

-Three ?

-Three ?

-Maybe more.”

The Old Master slightly hummed as he tilted his head upward, as if taking in the disciple's answers. Stray cats were quite prevalent, especially in such a big city, still there was something about this conversation Luo Binghe was slowly grasping. Something in the Old Master reactions, in each of his questions, that was shaping into an answer he did not like. An answer he knew long before asking :

“Did something happen ?”

In the silence of the study, within the security of the light embracing them, the Old Master finally dropped his head. He was not smiling, not anymore, his eyes resting on one of the candles, just by the disciple’s right. Lost in distant thoughts, memories maybe. He had clear eyes now, clearer than a year ago, a white mist slowly covering his sight.

Luo Binghe turned to his master and how surprised he was to spot something in his eyes, something beside disgust, contentment, or coldness. There was the reflection of a flame gently dancing, glowing softly in a sea of darkness. The speck of light floated effortlessly across the canvas of his iris with such fragility yet the master failed to notice, for his eyes were filled with an emotion. Distant, almost perfectly hidden behind this lofty mask he perfectly crafted. Rage. Blazing fire. An inferno concealed under this picture of perfection.

It was tragic. It was terrifying. It was breathtaking. And while his soul was slowly frozen by fear, Luo Binghe could not find the strength to look away. Not even when, deep within, he could hear the screams of a thousand souls.

I know you.

I know these eyes.

He knew those eyes, lost in things that happened so long ago it might have been a lifetime. He knew the hatred, the one burning deep within, leaving nothing but a wasteland in one heart. He knew he could reach for the master.

Not yet.

Never.

Not yet.

“This master is old. There is nothing he asks for but a chance to uncover the troublesome fates of these cats.”

A breath.

A respite.

The disciple still following each and every move of the flame in his master's eyes.

“A life, as small and insignificant, is still a life. One should not be overlooked, one should not be ignored, no matter the circumstance of its birth. Both the grand master and the street cat were born to feel the sun and breathe the air, and both are to rest. This is the way of living beings,” Old Master Huà sighed before resuming in a soft, shaky voice, “Before this body is to rest, this old master wishes for the countless souls that once filled the streets to find peace once more. This old master wishes for the cats to be at peace.”

---

“May this disciple ask a question ?

-This disciple may.”

His master did not even raise his head, pushing another wooden plank with the handle of his lantern. He had this strange cat mask on again, the one that took Luo Binghe back to this small alley. Back to when he met the strange master for the first time, in a twist of fate.

When he first killed.

Ignoring his own thoughts, he instead watched as the master bent a bit, trying to find any trace of cats in the darkness. It was an old mansion, left since who knew how long to rot and collapse on itself. Some place, apparently, that had been reclaimed by the strays, and what could have been the sad ruins of a past long gone had become the home to unfortunate souls. Somewhere they could rest, somewhere they were safe, at least that was what the Old Master had hoped.

“Why would one target cats ?”

The master turned abruptly toward him, startling the disciple. Thanks to his harsh but useful lessons, Luo Binghe managed to catch the lantern he almost dropped.

“How would this master know ?”, he hissed between clenched teeth before turning back to the pile of broken planks.

That was… fair. His master was as frustrated as ever, which was soothing in such a strange way. As if in the grand scheme of things, some things never changed : the sun kept rising each morning, the Luo River kept flowing, and Immortal Master Shen-Jun was deeply annoyed by everything and anything. Constant. Unchanging. Immutable.

‘How could one find comfort in such a character ?’

Meng Mo had asked him a thousand times already, yet Luo Binghe still had to give him a satisfying answer.

It simply was, he guessed.

Just as it was comforting to know the pile of dusty old fabrics he was carefully removing used to be some stray's favorite napping spot. A bundle of once colorful curtains that decorated a sumptuous manor before housing soft paws and little noses.

Small things.

Now they were empty and cold, yet Luo Binghe put the shredded curtains back as delicately as possible, going as far as forming a small nest. In the darkness, with only their lantern to light the deserted room, he could not help but imagine the joy small critters could feel stumbling upon the soft fabrics. To finally be able to rest, even for an incense time.

It is the small things in life…

“Some find twisted pleasure in others’ demise.

-Cruelty is an easy path, Luo Binghe.

-If one knew cruelty, would they still ?...

-None is above cruelty, especially not one who suffered before.”

The disciple only hummed slightly, looking quietly around for another spot the strays could have hidden. There was one by a half-broken wall, and another right in front of his master. An old wooden crate, partially splintered on one side yet still standing, which was, frankly, quite impressive seeing the state it was in. Naturally, Luo Binghe walked carefully to the wall, pushing the pieces of said wall with his foot. There was a small hole, big enough for an adult cat to squeeze in.

“Broken beings are sometimes the worst.”

The disciple furrowed his brows, his hands slowly tracing the cracks leading to the broken section. His master had whispered in such a soft voice, he almost missed the words. Luo Binghe carefully raised his lantern, breaching the heavy darkness behind the broken wall. Another room they would probably search, even if they already knew they wouldn’t find the slightest trace of cats in here.

“May this disciple ask a question ?

-This disciple may.

-Does this master think the cats are alive ?”

He passed his lantern once above the broken section, but the light was weak, weaker than he expected. He could see nothing but the velvety darkness that almost engulfed the tips of the handle.

“The cats are alive.”

Luo Binghe slightly tilted his head up, staring at the emptiness of the room, before slowly turning to his master.

“They are ?

-They are.

-Then why?...

-They are in danger, Luo Binghe.” the master answered as he slowly rose before looking back at the disciple.

And his heart did a funny thing, a flutter of some sort. The master was staring right at him, which, after a year of training almost every night with him, he should be used to. Yet, even behind the thick mask concealing his eyes, Luo Binghe could feel the heaviness of his gaze. A sight that always got under his skin, in a way he strangely craved, as if the master could read everything in him. Past, present and future.

Standing there by the wall, his arm stretched to the unknown, Luo Binghe wasn’t sure how long he had stayed like this. Caring about nothing but the master before him, whose lips were now moving.

“Huh?”, was the only intelligible thing the disciple was able to say.

The master sighed, irritated.

“This master said : they are in danger, just like this disciple.”

Huh?...

The master stared.

Luo Binghe stared back.

The master tilted his chin to the outstretched arm.

Luo Binghe frowned, then looked at his arm. And finally, the spell broke just as he noticed the nasty dark matter thingy curling around his biceps.

Well, maybe his shizun was right, he distantly thought as the thing yanked him into the heavy darkness.

Should truly learn to step back and observe sometimes…

Notes:

Thank you for reading this chapter !

So, first and foremost, I would like to apologize.
I won't lie, life has been a roller coaster these last months and still is, except it keeps going down and the wagons are on fire.
I did not mean to disappear for 8 months, but the computer I was lent last time basically died in my hands, and it took me months to get another one. I tried to write on my phone, but strangely, it was bad. Really bad.
I'm also sorry if the writing is weird or just bad; I haven't really written in 8 months, especially not in English, so it's kind of like learning it all again. That being said, this chapter may be rewritten later, but a note will be written at the beginning if it is.

Anyway, I am glad to finally be able to write this fanfiction again and to post this chapter !
It is kinda slow and has a lot of exposition, but it is only a small respite. Also, Zhuzhi-Lang finally appeared ! :)

As always, a special thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments. Believe it, those truly help me during these trying times.

Hope you enjoy and have a nice day ! :)