Chapter Text
Two shichen now, Liu Qingge thinks grimly. He's been tracking his fellow peak lord for two shichen, and still has no idea what the man is up to.
He's surprisingly slippery, too. Liu Qingge is a skilled tracker, and that is the only reason he hasn't lost the trail, as Shang Qinghua seems to be masking his qi in random bursts as he travels.
Liu Qingge is trying to be understanding; perhaps one builds up a certain paranoia, when living amongst demons. Perhaps his An Ding shixiong isn't up to anything nefarious at all. Yue Qingyuan had accepted him back into the sect, after all. Very little (aside from the man's past behavior around Shen Qingqiu) inspires Liu Qingge to doubt their sect leader's judgment.
Still, it is not normal for the Peak Lord of An Ding to be wandering in the wilderness alone. He should be at the sect, in his office. He already splits his time between Cang Qiong and the demon realm; in Liu Qingge's opinion, if he is going to be on An Ding, he should stay on An Ding!
Even if the man were not too integral to the day-to-day goings-on of Cang Qiong—which Liu Qingge grudgingly admits he is—to travel off-peak for a mission, he has a whole herd of disciples to send in his stead.
If nothing else, Liu Qingge is surprised that demon of his hasn't shown up. Hand drifting to the pommel of Cheng Luan, Liu Qingge forces down his disappointment. He wouldn't say no to a good fight, and Mobei-jun is one of the few things in the world that can meaningfully challenge him.
"Gods, finally," Liu Qingge hears, pulling him from his thoughts. Shang Qinghua has stopped within a little copse of trees, crouched down in a squat, and appears to be examining a patch of flowers. Liu Qingge watches as he removes a pouch from his sleeve, then shakes several glass vials into his hand.
Frowning, Liu Qingge considers the situation. Shang Qinghua appears to be harvesting the liquid from within the flowers' pitcher-shaped petals, filling each vial and carefully sealing it before moving on to the next.
It's confusing. While Liu Qingge does not recognize the plant, it doesn't appear to be harmful, which means this is a mission that does not require the skill of a Peak Lord. And Shang Qinghua, for all his babbling and confusing mannerisms, is still very much a Peak Lord.
Yet another pouch appears, also filled with vials, and Shang Qinghua dutifully fills those as well. Liu Qingge, perched silently in the branches of a tree several bu away, abruptly feels foolish. What had possessed him to follow Shang Qinghua in the first place? He'd assumed the man was up to no good, but…
"Liu-shidi," Shang Qinghua says as he seals his last vial, and Liu Qingge sucks in a startled breath. "You may as well come out."
With no small amount of chagrin, Liu Qingge hops down from the tree and walks over. "How long have you known I was—"
"Ah, maybe a shichen," Shang Qinghua says distractedly, putting all the vials back into their pouches and tucking them into his sleeve. He lifts himself to his feet, patting down and smoothing his robes, then turns to face Liu Qingge. "At first I thought I was being stalked by some sort of beast, but I could feel absolutely nothing from it. No spiritual energy, no demonic qi, not even the threads of natural qi most living things have."
Ah.
"And there are perhaps a handful of demons and cultivators capable of masking themselves so thoroughly." He laughs, short and sharp. "None but you would bother following me for so long without confronting me."
"What are you doing?" Liu Qingge asks, because he cannot argue with Shang Qinghua's conclusion. "This mission could have been handled by a disciple."
Shang Qinghua's expression twists before he turns away, but his tone is back to jovial when he speaks. "Ah, sometimes it's nice to get out and about, right? Surely my Liu-shidi can understand the urge?" He gestures to the flowers, then flashes Liu Qingge a grin. "Beats sitting at a desk all day!"
Strange. Liu Qingge gets the distinct impression Shang Qinghua would have been quite happy to remain at his desk, and there are very few people of sufficient station or rank to order this man to do anything he does not want to do.
"Did Zhangmen-shixiong send you here?" Liu Qingge's lips purse. "Or is this some favor for your demon?"
With a nervous laugh, Shang Qinghua shrugs. "Not exactly."
Liu Qingge crosses his arms over his chest and stares.
Sighing, Shang Qinghua tilts his head back. "Liu-shidi. Perhaps you don't understand what this is like, but I am not a War God. There are people in this world I do not dare to disobey."
Yes, and Liu Qingge named them. What is his shixiong saying? "If not Yue Qingyuan—"
"Look, I pissed Cuc— Shen-shixiong off pretty bad the other night—accidentally, of course!—and his husband didn't take kindly to it."
Oh. Luo Binghe. Liu Qingge scowls, the ever-present, banked anger in his gut kindling. "What right does that beast have to send a Peak Lord to run errands for him?"
"He pretty much does whatever he wants, man," Shang Qinghua says, his voice tired. "I certainly can't tell him 'no'."
"It's not his place," Liu Qingge hisses, because Shang Qinghua isn't wrong, and it makes Liu Qingge even angrier. "What even is that?" He jerks a hand toward the pitcher flowers swaying in the breeze.
Shang Qinghua eyes him, and there is something assessing about his gaze. "It isn't dangerous," Shang Qinghua finally says.
"I gathered that." Stomping closer, Liu Qingge nudges one of the flowers with his boot. "Which is why I cannot imagine needing to send a Peak Lord."
"Oh, it could have been anybody," Shang Qinghua agrees easily. "But it makes for a 'humiliating and just punishment', doesn't it?"
Liu Qingge scoffs, spinning on his heel. "He is out of line, punishing a Peak Lord. That isn't his place," he repeats, his voice hard with anger. "What did you do?"
Shang Qinghua drags his hands down his face, then sets off walking back the way they came. "You don't want to know," he mutters. Liu Qingge follows, determined to get some answers. "Gods fucking forbid I say anything Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to hear."
"So that half-demon is angry with you on Shen Qingqiu's behalf? And… punished you?" This makes no sense. "And Shen Qingqiu allowed that?"
Shang Qinghua barks out a laugh, harsh and humorless. "Not everyone enjoys such a privileged place at Shen-shixiong's side as you, Shidi."
"That hardly matters," Liu Qingge snaps, uneasy at his shixiong's implications. "Shen Qingqiu is not an unreasonable man."
Shang Qinghua eyes him sidelong, but says nothing. He draws his sword, directing it to hover just above the ground. "Anyway, Shidi. Shall we head back?"
"No," Liu Qingge says, grabbing Shang Qinghua's arm. "I want you to explain this."
Shang Qinghua slowly turns, then brushes off Liu Qingge's hold. "You really don't."
"I do."
"Trust me. You don't."
Liu Qingge steps closer, reaching again for Shang Qinghua's bracer, but the man dodges him. "I do," Liu Qingge says as they watch each other warily. "I want to understand."
"For fuck's sake," Shang Qinghua mutters under his breath. "Fine. But you're going to wish you hadn't asked."
"I doubt it." Liu Qingge tilts his chin as intimidatingly as he can. "Tell me."
Shang Qinghua's eyes flash with anger, and Liu Qingge blinks, surprised. "Since you wanted to know so badly," Shang Qinghua begins, and his lips curl in an unkind smile. "Shen-shixiong, you see, often complains to me about the… rigors of married life." When Liu Qingge just stares, uncomprehending, Shang Qinghua continues.
"Specifically, Liu-shidi, about the very real physical ramifications of having to tend to Binghe's over-generous, demonic pillar."
Liu Qingge's jaw goes slack. Is Shang Qinghua implying—
"And at the same time, the dumbass is so embarrassed even discussing the matter that he refuses to listen to any advice I give him."
"Advice," Liu Qingge whispers, gritting his teeth at the tell-tale heat in his ears.
"Yes! Because some of us aren't completely inexperienced, fumbling virgins! I could help him! But does he listen?! No!"
Liu Qingge… supposes he can believe that Shen Qingqiu would not be comfortable discussing such things at length. That he might get angry if someone were to push the issue. And if Luo Binghe were nearby…
"I don't see what that has to do with this plant," Liu Qingge says at last, because he isn't touching the rest of that with a two-bu-long spear.
A high-pitched, infuriated sound erupts from Shang Qinghua's chest. "It's lube! The pitcher plant makes a natural lubricant, which you can use during sex. To make things easier. That's all I suggested, and you'd have thought I held the man at swordpoint for how angry he got!"
Lubricant? Abruptly, Liu Qingge understands, and feels his entire face go red.
"I guess Binghe overheard me, because after he dragged me out by my collars for pissing off his shizun, he informed me in no uncertain terms that I was to retrieve this lubricant for him no matter what."
Liu Qingge is so stunned, he's struggling to form thoughts. Binghe? Liu Qingge has only ever heard Shang Qinghua call him 'junshang'.
Liu Qingge thinks of the vials tucked into Shang Qinghua's sleeves. What they are for. The fact that his shixiong and that half-demon sent someone to collect this for them, rather than doing it themselves.
"Give them to me," Liu Qingge hears himself say. Shang Qinghua immediately stiffens, taking a step back.
"Uh, no thanks, Shidi. I'll deliver them myself."
Scoffing, Liu Qingge prowls forward. "I have no intention of 'delivering' them."
"Ha, I bet! It's just, I don't—" Shang Qinghua cuts off to duck Liu Qingge's attempted hold. "I don't particularly feel like being murdered today, you know? Such a lovely day— Liu-shidi, stop!"
Shang Qinghua leaps to an overhead branch, calling his sword to his hand, his eyes wide. "What are you doing?"
"Give me the vials," Liu Qingge repeats. Does this man honestly think he can flee? In all the sect, only Yue Qingyuan is faster on a sword than Liu Qingge. Shang Qinghua doesn't stand a chance.
"He'll kill me if I don't bring them back!"
"I will not let him."
"Ha, Liu-shidi, don't take this the wrong way, but… how?"
If Liu Qingge was angry before, it pales in comparison to the rage and helplessness that rises within him now. He's certainly not forgotten those five years of continuous defeats, with Luo Binghe unwilling to even do him the honor of killing him.
He's on Shang Qinghua before he even realizes he's moved, knocking them both from Shang Qinghua's perch, but the man evades Liu Qingge's hold yet again, twisting them in the air so Liu Qingge is below him when they hit the ground.
It knocks the wind from them both, but Shang Qinghua still manages to pull a talisman from his sleeve before Liu Qingge can react. He crushes it in a qi-infused fist just as Shang Qinghua activates it, but the damned thing explodes, blasting them apart with a dark, swirling mass of ice-cold demonic energy. Liu Qingge's back hits a tree and he falls, unable to move, watching Shang Qinghua bounce and roll across the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
It takes Liu Qingge a moment to realize what has happened; his limbs are frozen stiff. Shang Qinghua, apparently expecting such a thing, is already staggering to his feet, likely circulating his qi to shake off the cold.
With a surge of energy, Liu Qingge burns the demonic magic from his body, his qi leveling a handful of trees around him and causing Shang Qinghua to shriek and throw himself to the ground. "Shidi!" he cries, scrambling up again as Liu Qingge stomps toward him. "Why are you doing this?!"
"Have you no respect for yourself?" Liu Qingge roars, dragging Shang Qinghua in by the collar of his robes. Shang Qinghua flinches, their faces so close Liu Qingge can feel his ragged breath. "You are a Peak Lord of Cang Qiong!"
"Shidi," Shang Qinghua whimpers, going limp in his hold. "Please, just let me—"
"If Shen Qingqiu wishes to let that— that beast into his bed, then they can—" Liu Qingge growls, shaking Shang Qinghua. "They can gather their own supplies!"
Shang Qinghua stares at him, eyes wide, then blinks. "I don't disagree," he says, soft, his gaze falling to the ground.
Liu Qingge pauses, unsettled by his response. Perhaps Shang Qinghua has decided to hand over—
Shang Qinghua slams a hand blazing with qi into Liu Qingge's chest, Liu Qingge grunting with the impact and skidding backward, and gods above, another talisman? This one seems to be all Shang Qinghua's qi, rather than borrowed from his demon, bright yellow strands of energy binding Liu Qingge's arms to his sides and criss-crossing his torso.
Liu Qingge processes this a split-second before Shang Qinghua's shoulder, lowered like a battering ram, connects with his gut and sends him sprawling onto his back. He hisses when his head bounces off the hard ground, trying to struggle upward, but Shang Qinghua is already on him, pinning down his shoulders and legs.
"Stubborn bastard, always ready for a fight," Shang Qinghua mutters, sketching out a quick paralyzing talisman in the air before pressing it to Liu Qingge's sternum. "We're not all as hardy as you, Liu-shidi; you'll have to forgive me."
Liu Qingge knows his mouth is hanging open, but he can hardly help it. Shang Qinghua continues to talk to himself, hurling invectives at Liu Qingge, and Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu, and the gods, and a few other things Liu Qingge does not recognize as intelligible words as he pulls a strange, glowing rope from his sleeve. He removes Cheng Luan from Liu Qingge's belt, binds it within its sheath, and tosses it to the side.
"Shang Qinghua!" Liu Qingge finally manages. "What are you doing?"
"Huh? Oh." Shang Qinghua looks up, offering Liu Qingge an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Shidi. That talisman should wear off in… maybe a ke? Just long enough to give me a head start."
"And the rope?"
Shang Qinghua laughs, high-pitched and nervy. "Just buying myself a little time." He climbs off, Liu Qingge feeling strangely weightless all of a sudden, but the talisman is effective. He cannot move, not even a finger.
"I apologize, seriously, Liu-shidi. I just… While I'd like to think Shen-shixiong would stop his husband from decorating Qing Jing peak with my viscera, I can't risk it." Once more on his feet, Shang Qinghua shrugs. "No, I didn't want to go traipsing through the countryside to collect fucking sex paraphernalia for them, but when a heavenly demon says jump…"
He trails off, settling his sword near the ground. "Anyway. Guess I'll see you back at the sect. Hell, maybe now you'll be the one showing up to murder me!"
Before Liu Qingge can even attempt a response, Shang Qinghua takes off, a streak of yellow light over the trees, and he's gone.
Unbelievable. He hasn't been so thoroughly beaten in a fight since— Well, it doesn't bear thinking about. How did his squirrelly, cowardly An Ding shixiong manage this? Granted, Liu Qingge was holding back, aiming for incapacitation rather than injury, but Shang Qinghua's reflexes were surprisingly quick—and his strategy resourceful, too.
Shang Qinghua has managed to survive his visits to the Demon Realm for decades, now. Clearly, the man does not lack skills in self-defense. He'd been shockingly heavy, too, when he was pinning Liu Qingge down. While Shang Qinghua is not a short man, he is not particularly tall, either.
He must be much… denser than he looks. Liu Qingge's eyebrows lift, some of the only movement granted to him by this foolish talisman. Muscle, then. And quite a lot of it, if Liu Qingge trusts his decades of martial assessment.
How surprising. How curious. While a handful of peaks in the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect teach physical cultivation—Bai Zhan most of all—each peak typically supplements with other practices as well. Liu Qingge has always looked to An Ding for talismans, arrays, and barriers, and assumed their spiritual base was much more along the lines of Qing Jing, with less emphasis on physical strength.
Is Shang Qinghua exceptionally strong for An Ding, or does his entire peak cultivate this way? Perhaps as the Peak Lord, Shang Qinghua—
Liu Qingge's left index finger twitches, yanking him from his thoughts. Thank the gods, the paralysis is finally wearing off. He sinks into light meditation, circulating his energy, and focuses on flexing and contracting his muscles. Soon enough, he can curl both hands into fists; not long after, he can flex his toes and ankles. Once movement returns to his hips and torso, it is but the work of a moment to blast the remaining numbness from his body and hop to his feet.
He sweeps out a hand, calling Cheng Luan, prepared to give chase and tackle Shang Qinghua from the very sky, if necessary.
Nothing happens.
Liu Qingge glances down, then scowls. Right. Whatever nonsense Shang Qinghua pulled with his sword is keeping it unresponsive in the grass. Growling, he bends down to scoop it up, then hisses as a painful shock lances through his body. Cheng Luan clatters back to the ground.
Gods above! What was that?! Liu Qingge squats down, reaching out with a finger, and pokes his sword. The same bright pain races along his arm, and Liu Qingge chokes down a curse. What on earth has Shang Qinghua done? How is he supposed to remove the rope if he can't fucking touch it?
Grimly, he stands and nudges Cheng Luan with his boot. The effect is the same, and nearly takes out Liu Qingge's knees. Well then. Clearly the spell does not require contact with his skin to work.
A quarter of a shichen later, Liu Qingge lies starfished on the ground, eyes closed and breath rapid, having shocked himself so thoroughly and repeatedly even his prodigious tolerance for pain isn't enough.
"Damn it!" he shouts, furious—and ashamed. How is it that Shang Qinghua, of all people, has laid the Bai Zhan War God so low? He rolls to his side, glowering at his sword. A less stubborn man might have sent up a flare by now, to call for assistance, but the thought of someone finding him this way goes beyond humiliation. He cannot. He will not.
For lack of a better idea, he flops out a hand, snagging a small stick, and jabs the end of it at the knot Shang Qinghua tied. To his relief and horror, the stupid rope immediately unravels.
"You can't be serious," he whispers. Apprehensive, he stretches out a cautious fingertip, brushing Cheng Luan's decorative sheath. There is no pain.
"UNBELIEVABLE!" he roars, exploding to his feet. "Shang Qinghua, you—" He doesn't even wait for himself to finish, leaping upon his sword and firing off toward the sect as fast as his sword will carry him.
*
Liu Qingge is a hunter. A tracker. His training, on top of his natural aptitude for such things, means he is exceptionally skilled at pursuing prey.
This, unfortunately, helps him not at all in the hustle and bustle of An Ding Peak. He'd arrived perhaps a ke ago, intending to do some reconnaissance, but apparently the sudden appearance of the Bai Zhan War God on their busy peak is cause for much staring and shrieking and running face-first into trees, buildings, and, once, even a decorative pond.
"Shut up," he mutters at the third child to fall on his ass in surprise directly in Liu Qingge's path. The kid's mouth snaps closed, cutting off his wail. "Get on with your work."
"Y-yes, Shishu!" the boy cries, scrambling to his feet and taking off at a run. He glances over his shoulder, once, shrieks again, and keeps running.
"Ridiculous." Disciples swarm out of his way as he strides toward Shang Qinghua's Leisure House. No sense in attempting stealth; it is likely the entire peak knows of his presence by now.
And just how many damned disciples does Shang Qinghua have? Everywhere Liu Qingge looks, there are at least two or three brats running with scrolls or sweeping stairways or hauling crates.
Liu Qingge's eyes narrow. He stomps up to the girl, perhaps in her late teens, stacking wooden boxes onto a cart. She turns back, reaching for another crate, when she catches sight of him and abruptly straightens.
"Liu-shishu," she says, bowing. His eyebrow lifts in surprised respect; her voice doesn't even waver.
"What are you transporting?" he asks, eyeing the cart.
She blinks, then bows again. "Talisman paper, Liu-shishu. This cart is scheduled for drop-off at Ku Xing and Qing Jing peaks."
Startled, he glances down at the crate at their feet. That much paper would be… incredibly heavy. Curious, he bends down and picks it up.
It is not beyond his ability, not even close. But he is the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan, where disciples train their bodies from the moment they are accepted into the sect. He frowns down at the girl's arms. It's difficult to tell in robes, but he can see the musculature there, as well as along her back and shoulders.
Suddenly, Shang Qinghua's strength is beginning to make more sense. "I am surprised you do not use talismans to move these," he says, placing it carefully with the others already loaded up.
"Oh!" She grins, bright and open, then flexes. How absurd! "Some of the newer shidimei do, but Shizun always complains about the waste of paper, so as soon as we're able, we just…" She waves a hand at the stacked cart. "Do it the old-fashioned way!"
Waste of paper. How absolutely foolish. "I see," he replies. "Well. Back to it, then."
"Yes, Shishu! Thank you, Shishu!" He spins on his heel, leaving her in her bow, and resumes his path to Shang Qinghua's residence.
"Ah, Liu-shishu?" he hears. He halts, glancing over his shoulder. The girl gives him a sheepish smile. "Are you looking for Shizun?"
"I am."
Nodding, she points down the peak, where a cluster of large buildings sits along a wide pave-stone road. "I believe he is in the warehouses, Shishu."
He inclines his head, then heads in that direction.
"Bye, Liu-shishu!" the girl cries at his back. "Come back and visit anytime!"
What a strange child. Liu Qingge doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about his disciples beyond their training—and even that, only sporadically—but he is fairly certain his kids get that kind of good-natured cheer beaten out of them within weeks of joining his peak.
At least the path to the warehouses winds along the side of the mountain—which means it is narrow, and there are fewer An Ding brats to stare or make a ruckus over his presence. The dozen or so he meets are certainly wide-eyed, but they bow as best they are able with their arms full—of what, Liu Qingge cannot guess—and pass him by without trouble.
Liu Qingge pauses once he reaches the stone road; it's a trick of perspective he is used to at Cang Qiong, but the road—and the area with the warehouses—is much larger than he'd assumed when he was looking down at it. How is he meant to find one human being in this absolute sprawl?
At least he can hear voices; he heads toward the nearest conversation, planning to ask one of the kids about their shizun, when Shang Qinghua himself speaks. Well, shouts.
"I swear to the gods, children, do I not look busy to you? Why do I bother to train you if you can't handle a measly little explosion on Wan Jian without me?!"
Liu Qingge halts, looking toward Wan Jian Peak. Sure enough, a small plume of smoke is rising.
"But Shizun!" several voices cry at once. How noisy! Liu Qingge has no idea how his martial brother stands it; Liu Qingge already has a headache, and he's been on this peak for less than a shichen. He rounds the corner of the closest warehouse, looking inside, and sees several disciples in An Ding robes running here and there, loading a large, four-wheeled cart, while another group… replaces a wheel?
"Wei-shibo asked for you specifically!" another disciple says, standing off to the side and wringing his hands.
"He always does," Liu Qingge hears Shang Qinghua mutter, and realizes Shang Qinghua is crouched down at the front of the cart, holding it off the ground one-handed while he stares at paperwork he's spread on the ground, making occasional markings with the brush in his other hand.
"A little higher, Shizun," a boy says from underneath the cart, and Shang Qinghua obliges while turning a glare on the kid asking about Wan Jian.
"You can tell your Wei-shibo that he is welcome to come here and do my job if he would like to trade. Take your Hong-shijie back with you; she's good at dealing with him."
"Yes, Shizun," the little crew responds in unison, grumbling, and starts toward the door, only to see Liu Qingge and—ah, there's the shrieking.
"Liu-shishu!" several disciples cry at once, and Shang Qinghua startles, only just keeping himself from dropping the—fully loaded, as far as Liu Qingge can tell—cart on his poor disciple beneath. His eyes are wild when he meets Liu Qingge's gaze.
"Ah, Shidi! What brings the venerable War God to our humble peak?" Unlike the disciple up the mountain, Shang Qinghua is unable to keep his voice from shaking. Liu Qingge ignores him, striding forward until he can lift the cart himself. He grunts as he takes the weight, augmenting his strength with a stream of qi, and Shang Qinghua scuttles backward, gathering his papers, until he can stand properly.
"How were you holding this?" Liu Qingge demands, and whether it's his tone of voice or some secret signal Shang Qinghua gives out, all the disciples scatter like cockroaches before a lantern. At least the one beneath the cart is polite enough to offer an 'if you'll excuse this disciple, Liu-shishu' before scrambling away.
Shang Qinghua blinks, his jaw slack. "What?" he finally says, then jolts and rushes forward. "Ah, Liu-shidi! You can put it down, now."
"What about the broken wheel?"
Shang Qinghua pauses, then crouches down, squinting. "Nah, it'll be fine. They were nearly done."
The cart creaks worryingly when he sets it down, but Shang Qinghua doesn't seem concerned, so Liu Qingge ignores it and turns to face his fellow peak lord. Shang Qinghua takes a step backward, eyes darting as if looking for an escape.
"Has Shidi finally arrived to enact his vengeance?" Shang Qinghua says, voice soft. "I'd deserve it if you're here to kick my ass."
"Vengeance?" Liu Qingge considers it. "Wouldn't I have to actually best you, first?"
Shang Qinghua laughs, harsh and sharp. "You could kill me without breaking a sweat."
Liu Qingge frowns. "I do not wish to kill you." He wouldn't mind a spar, actually, but that isn't what he came for today. "I was curious."
Shang Qinghua still looks seconds from bolting, but his eyes narrow. "Curious. About the ins and outs of An Ding?"
Liu Qingge supposes that is not entirely wrong. "Our… spar. In the woods."
Grimacing, Shang Qinghua backs up another step. "You have my humblest apologies," he says, and even bows. "It occurred to me after I left that it was irresponsible of me to leave you there, incapacitated. What if some beast had come by while you were unable to defend yourself?"
Liu Qingge pushes down his instinctive anger at being assumed helpless; Shang Qinghua is simply telling the truth. "Forgiven," he grunts, and considers his words. Shang Qinghua's eyebrows lift, but he stays silent, waiting.
"I had not realized An Ding practiced physical cultivation," he says at last. Shang Qinghua's head tilts. "You were stronger than I expected."
"Ah," Shang Qinghua says. "To be fair to you, Shidi, I only bested you because I had the element of surprise." He pauses. "As far as An Ding Peak… We aren't physical cultivators the way you all are on Bai Zhan. We just…" He waves a hand around the warehouse. "We use what tools we have to get the job done."
Liu Qingge thinks of Shang Qinghua's talismans, and of the sheer mass of him pressing Liu Qingge down. He suspects An Ding has not always operated this way. He certainly doesn't remember this kind of thing from his own disciple days, raiding other peaks to test their skills.
"So, um, Shidi? Was there something you needed?" Shang Qinghua's eyes dart back to the cart. "There's quite a bit of work to be done…"
Right. Liu Qingge inclines his head. "This evening. Come to Bai Zhan; we'll spar."
Shang Qinghua laughs and takes several steps back, now completely outside the warehouse. "Ha, Shidi, I don't think I will."
"You will. We will spar, and then have dinner."
Liu Qingge suppresses a smirk when Shang Qinghua's eyes light up. "The Bai Zhan dining hall?"
"Mn." Shang Qinghua's entire body tenses. Liu Qingge nearly laughs. Everyone on Cang Qiong's twelve peaks knows how well Bai Zhan eats. "A spar, then dinner."
Liu Qingge hears a voice outside yell 'Shizun', and Shang Qinghua turns, lifting a hand in acknowledgement. "Ah, duty calls, Liu-shidi. I'll… If I can find the time, we'll see about tonight. I'm a very busy man, as you well know!"
"Xu shi," Liu Qingge says, striding back to the road. "If you are late, I will collect you myself."
"Not necessary, Shidi! I'll do my best, but I have so much paperwork—"
"Xu shi," Liu Qingge repeats, drawing his sword. "I will see you then." He takes off, Cheng Luan a streak in the sky, before Shang Qinghua can respond.
*
Liu Qingge fully expects to have to drag Shang Qinghua from his office, so the man's arrival, slinking along the edges of the training ground where Liu Qingge is busy pummeling the younger disciples, startles him enough that one of the littlest shidi manages to land a kick to Liu Qingge's knee.
It doesn't hurt, but Liu Qingge offers the kid a nod of acknowledgement and waves everyone off. "Tend to your own training," he snaps, dismissing them, then gestures for Shang Qinghua to follow him.
"I didn't expect you to come," Liu Qingge says once Shang Qinghua catches up.
"Neither did I," Shang Qinghua mutters under his breath, but he laughs, soft and open. "It seems Bai Zhan's barbecued lamb skewers are enough to tempt even the greatest of cowards!"
Liu Qingge hums, leading them to his private training yard near his home.
"I figure, I let you beat the shit out of me for a ke, and then we eat!"
Frowning, Liu Qingge shoots Shang Qinghua a sideways glance. "You do not intend to fight back?"
Another laugh. "I'll do my best, Shidi, but they do not call you a War God without reason."
Liu Qingge scoffs, heading up the path to the top of the peak. "A martial cultivator must always be learning. You and I have not had much opportunity to spar. I believe there is much we could teach each other."
When Liu Qingge looks to Shang Qinghua again, his expression is horrified. "Me? Teach you? Shidi, I was expecting a physical beat-down, not taunting."
Clenching his jaw, Liu Qingge tamps down his frustration. "You clearly bested me. There is plenty to learn."
"You just didn't expect me to fight back!" Shang Qinghua cries, falling a few steps behind. "Shidi, I do all my best work when I am being underestimated!"
Underestimated? The word lands like a blow. Shang Qinghua is not wrong, and Liu Qingge feels ashamed all over again, cheeks warming at the memory of watching helplessly in the dust as Shang Qinghua flew away.
"It was a needed lesson," Liu Qingge forces himself to say. "If you had been a beast or a demon, and I had underestimated you in the same way, I would be dead."
"Beasts and demons don't typically carry around binding talismans," Shang Qinghua grumbles, but pulls alongside Liu Qingge again. "Aren't you being kinda hard on yourself?"
It's a foolish question, so Liu Qingge ignores it. "The demonic talisman you used. Was that a gift from your demon?"
"Oh!" Snickering, Shang Qinghua grins. "Sort of. My king and I worked on it together." His eyes sparkle with mirth. "It isn't really intended to work the way it did."
Liu Qingge looks away, strangely flustered, focusing on the approaching training arena instead of the warm, mischievous expression on Shang Qinghua's face. "How so?"
"It's basically just supposed to radiate, like, terrifying demonic energy when activated." Shang Qinghua speeds up to match Liu Qingge's increased stride. "It works surprisingly well if I find myself in the demon realm without any other protection. Most creatures and demons stay the hell away from that kind of overpowering demonic qi."
Liu Qingge scowls, whipping his head back to Shang Qinghua. The man is still smiling; it is infuriating. "You thought something like that could intimidate me?"
Shang Qinghua laughs, then elbows Liu Qingge in the ribs. "My Liu-shidi? Never!" He looks down, grinning. "I was banking on you destroying it, which I knew, from our experiments, would make it explode."
Liu Qingge's jaw goes slack, his feet stopping without his permission. "You thought of all that? So quickly?"
Coming to a halt himself, Shang Qinghua turns, eyeing Liu Qingge with… Honestly, Liu Qingge isn't sure what kind of expression that is. "I'm not a brand new disciple," Shang Qinghua says eventually, his voice quiet. "I've fought more frightening things than you. Things that actually wanted me dead."
Well. Liu Qingge supposes that is true, though he has no idea how to respond. "We will spar there," he deflects, pointing to the arena ahead.
Shang Qinghua's face twists up. "Ah, right, I'd almost forgotten." He pats his own cheeks, hard. "Lamb skewers! I can do this for lamb skewers!"
An unintentional laugh rolls from Liu Qingge's chest. What a ridiculous man! "No weapons, no qi," he says, and when Shang Qinghua frowns, Liu Qingge raises his eyebrows in challenge.
"I'm going to have bruises for days," Shang Qinghua breathes, but trudges forward. "The shit I'm willing to put up with for a decent meal…"
"Do they not feed you on An Ding?"
"Not like they do on Bai Zhan." Shang Qinghua flashes him another of those easy grins. Does this man just smile constantly? "I would know; I handle the procurement and budget for your kitchens."
"I presume you do the same for your own peak; why not have better food brought in?"
Shang Qinghua gasps, performative. "Liu-shidi, are you encouraging me to embezzle?"
"What? No! I just—"
Shang Qinghua reaches out, patting Liu Qingge's shoulder. "No, I know, Shidi. I was teasing." His features relax, thoughtful. "To be honest, I have improved the fare on my peak quite a bit. My predecessor seemed to think it was character-building, to be hungry. Personally, I would rather have disciples that are healthy and well-fed." He shoots Liu Qingge a wink. "I can work 'em harder, that way."
"True," Liu Qingge agrees. He remembers little of the previous An Ding Peak Lord, but it does not seem unreasonable that Shang Qinghua has found ways to do things better. "Have you also changed the way your disciples cultivate?" Shang Qinghua lifts an eyebrow in question, and they come to stop in the middle of the cleared arena. "During my days as a disciple, I do not recall encountering any physical cultivators on An Ding."
"Ah," Shang Qinghua says, his eyes going hazy and unfocused. "I did what I could with the knowledge I've been given, I suppose." He shrugs, shaking his head, and his gaze rests yet again on Liu Qingge. "If there is a better way, why not do it? I'm all about efficiency!"
Liu Qingge cannot argue with that, so instead he turns and settles Cheng Luan to the ground, then removes his bracers and outer robe. "Oh," he hears Shang Qinghua say, and the man sets aside his own weapon and strips off his dachang.
Soon enough, they are ready, and they face each other, bowing. "I look forward to your instruction," Shang Qinghua says, polite.
"Mn," Liu Qingge replies, then ducks as Shang Qinghua immediately throws a punch, following up with a kick that Liu Qingge blocks with his forearm. Shang Qinghua dances backwards, a wry smile tilting his lips.
"Ah, it was worth a shot," he says, sinking into a defensive stance. Liu Qingge circles him, slowly, evaluating his posture. It's adequate, certainly. He has no obvious openings, and his footwork is smooth as he turns to keep Liu Qingge in his line of sight. If half his disciples were as well-trained in the basics, they wouldn't be getting their asses handed to them constantly.
"Who do you spar with?" Liu Qingge asks, realizing he has no idea where Shang Qinghua would even find time to practice.
"Don't distract me," Shang Qinghua says, laughing. "Maybe you can kick ass and hold a conversation at the same time, but I can't!"
You seemed to do just fine the last time we fought, Liu Qingge thinks, and darts in, slapping Shang Qinghua's fist to the side and aiming a punch at his gut. Shang Qinghua doesn't even attempt to block it, absorbing it with a grunt, and Liu Qingge is startled enough he doesn't register the hand in his hair, unyielding, until Shang Qinghua's knee connects with his crotch.
A wheezing breath bursts from his throat, but he blocks the foot aiming for his ankle and shoves Shang Qinghua backward. He stumbles but doesn't fall, once more settling into defense.
"Have some honor," Liu Qingge spits, voice strained.
"Shidi was the one that insisted we spar," Shang Qinghua retorts. "If you are looking for an 'honorable' fight, pester our Zhangmen-shixiong."
It has been a while since Liu Qingge sparred with Yue Qingyuan, now that he thinks about it. Perhaps tomorrow, he'll—
Shang Qinghua rushes forward, his legs bent and center of gravity low. Liu Qingge has a split-second flashback to Shang Qinghua bowling into him like a wild boar during their fight in the woods and leaps into the air, aiming an elbow at Shang Qinghua's shoulder as he descends. Shang Qinghua twists out of the way, but Liu Qingge manages to snag a handful of his collar before he can retreat, and then they are grappling, too close for outright blows. He's strong, for sure, stronger than Liu Qingge expected even after their last clash, but Liu Qingge is faster. He twists Shang Qinghua's arm up behind his back, trapping Shang Qinghua's legs with his own to topple him to the ground.
Shang Qinghua rears back, his skull connecting with Liu Qingge's chin, and they both go down in a heap. Liu Qingge can feel his busted lip bleeding, and Shang Qinghua groans beneath him, flexing the hand Liu Qingge has trapped behind his shoulders. "I yield," he says, squirming.
Liu Qingge ignores the disappointment swirling in his gut and climbs to his feet, offering Shang Qinghua a hand. "Again," Liu Qingge says once Shang Qinghua is upright.
"Shidi." Shang Qinghua's eyes flash, angry. "You said we'd spar and eat dinner. My gut hurts and you damn near dislocated my shoulder. Isn't that enough?"
"You could have blocked the punch."
"Not if I wanted to return the blow."
Liu Qingge scowls, face heating. His balls still ache. He brushes blood from his chin with the back of a fist. "You fight like a cornered animal."
"Imagine that!" Shang Qinghua laughs, sharp.
"Tell me who you spar with."
Shang Qinghua sighs, shoulders slumping. "Shidi. I spend half my time in the demon realm. It isn't sparring." His mouth twists into a sneer. "There are plenty of demons in my king's palace that enjoy poking at the little human cultivator just to see if he squeaks."
Liu Qingge feels his eyebrows lower. "Your demon king allows that?"
"He can't be everywhere at once," Shang Qinghua mutters, then straightens. "Fine. One more round, and then I want food."
"We'll fight as many times as needed."
Shang Qinghua's mouth falls open. "Needed? What are you— Shidi, none of this is necessary!"
Sweeping forward, Liu Qingge throws two punches Shang Qinghua easily blocks, distracting him from the kick he delivers to Shang Qinghua's side. Shang Qinghua's breath shocks from his chest, but then his hand clamps around Liu Qingge's ankle and yanks upward, Liu Qingge stuck trying to balance on one foot with his other above his head. Shang Qinghua barrels forward, knocking them both to the ground again.
"Shidi is flexible," Shang Qinghua says, his chest heaving. He has Liu Qingge's leg pinned up and to the side, his knees braced on Liu Qingge's other leg. He does his best to fend off Liu Qingge's hands, but, at a disadvantage, it only takes a couple of seconds before Liu Qingge grabs his robes and heaves him sideways, rolling over to pin him with his body.
Shang Qinghua's head snaps up, almost catching Liu Qingge's chin again. Rearing back, Liu Qingge avoids the blow, but Shang Qinghua uses the shift in weight to push up and twist his hips, toppling Liu Qingge to the side.
Scrambling, Shang Qinghua throws himself onto Liu Qingge before he can get up. Shang Qinghua catches his first punch, then his second, and with his hands enveloping Liu Qingge's fists, he slams Liu Qingge's arms to the ground above his head.
It's a solid hold, Liu Qingge admits, Shang Qinghua straddling his thighs with his ankles hooked over Liu Qingge's shins. He's just so damned heavy. Liu Qingge strains and twists, attempting to dislodge him, but Shang Qinghua is like a boulder.
"Does Shidi yield?" Shang Qinghua asks, a little breathless. Is he tired after only this? Liu Qingge scowls, bucking up with his hips, but Shang Qinghua remains unmoved. He yanks his arms down, but other than dragging the skin of his own hands along the gravel, he accomplishes nothing.
Shang Qinghua is staring at his face, intense, and there is something almost awe-struck in his expression. Perhaps he is pleased with himself, that he managed to pin the War God once again. It makes a foreign, uncomfortable warmth swell in Liu Qingge's gut.
"What are you staring at?" he snaps, clenching his abs and lifting his thighs, attempting to tip Shang Qinghua forward. All it serves to do is scoot Shang Qinghua up his body, and Liu Qingge has to hold in a horrified gasp when Shang Qinghua's weight settles over his hips and his hard cock.
It's nothing, he knows. Bai Zhan fighters are all well acquainted with how the body reacts when a man's blood is up during a fight. Shang Qinghua, to his credit, either doesn't notice or doesn't react, instead squeezing tighter around Liu Qingge's fists. "Do you yield?" he asks again. Impossibly, Shang Qinghua seems to settle more weight on Liu Qingge's pelvis, and Liu Qingge bites back a groan. Oh gods. Oh no.
"I yield," he spits out, panicking. "Get off, get off!"
Shang Qinghua startles, his eyes flying wide, and he scrambles away, his hands held in front of him like a plea. "Shidi, my apologies! Did I hurt you?"
"It's not—" Liu Qingge leaps to his feet, whirling to face the opposite direction. "You didn't. It's fine. That was your win."
"Are you sure? You looked really—"
"Enough," Liu Qingge growls, circulating his qi to deal with the heat he feels in his face and body. "I thought you were hungry."
"Uh." He hears Shang Qinghua shuffle to his feet behind him. "Right. Dinner sounds good." He makes no move to gather his things, and Liu Qingge sighs.
"Come on," he says, striding over to Cheng Luan, and is working on his second bracer by the time Shang Qinghua joins him.
"We're… We're good, right?" Shang Qinghua finally asks, slipping into his dachang. His knuckles are white where he grips his sword. "Did I do something wrong?"
Liu Qingge lets out a slow breath; now that he's had a moment to compose himself, he feels foolish for having reacted the way he did. "You did well. I was… surprised." Liu Qingge's teeth grit; he's never been a particularly good liar.
"If you're sure," Shang Qinghua replies, clearly unconvinced.
Rolling his eyes, Liu Qingge turns and slaps Shang Qinghua on the shoulder. "It's fine. Let's eat."
Shang Qinghua stares at him for a moment, assessing, then huffs out a short laugh. "All right, Shidi. Lead the way."