Chapter Text
There was blood all over his body. His hands were sticky with it, his clothes damp with it, his mouth sour from it, his eyes stinging from it.
Shen Jiu always hated dirtiness. He always hated the grime that had clung to his body as a street rat, the dirt that would cling to the skin beneath his nails, the muck that would cake at his toes, and the stench that would cling to his sickly body.
Such grime was expected from a lowborn slave. Dirty things like Shen Jiu were common in the large streets where he was raised.
Dirty things were less commonly found in the opulent homes of highborn nobles.
When Shen Jiu had become the property of Qiu Jianluo, it made sense for the young master to clean his new toy of all the grime that had stuck to its body.
It hadn't been a gentle procedure, the cleaning.
Shen Jiu had appreciated it all the same.
He remembered the trepidation he felt as he watched the faceless servants fill dingy wooden buckets with water from the well in one of the courtyards. Shen Jiu had been awed; he was now a member of a household that had multiple courtyards and its very own well. How fortuitous.
The cold buckets of water that had been dumped over his body felt like freedom—like liberation.
Like hope.
Shen Jiu was no longer a street urchin; he was now a kept slave. His new master would surely be good to him if he were obedient. The street uchin Shen Jiu wasn't good, nor was he kind. On the streets, he had grown to be callous, to be cruel. Such cruelty was a necessity to survive.
But, he had thought to himself, Shen Jiu, the kept slave, can learn to be good. He can learn to be obedient.
Perhaps, in this new home, in this new clean body, and with this new master, Shen Jiu could be born anew.
A soft Shen Jiu. An obedient Shen Jiu. A good Shen Jiu.
At the time, Shen Jiu hadn't realized that he was trading one type of dirtiness for another.
Now, standing here in the scorched grounds at the Immortal Alliance Conference, Shen Jiu realized with a slow sort of intensity that he would never be rid of the filth that ardently clung to his body.
Shen Jiu wasn't born to be clean. He wasn't born to be good. He wasn't born to be any of those things that he had tried over and over again to mold himself into becoming.
Scum like him would always be dirty, filthy things. In one way or another, he would always be sullied, tainted—nothing more than a stain to anyone with whom he interacted.
The blood-soaked dagger in his trembling palm just proved this.
He would never be clean again. Wu Yanzi's blood would always stain his hands.
Killing Qiu Jianluo had been one thing—it had been an act of revenge, and Shen Jiu didn't feel as if that had dirtied him. He felt the opposite. Killing Qiu Jianluo had almost felt as cleansing and refreshing as that ice-cold bucket of water that had been thrown over his body all of those years ago.
But Wu Yanzi had voluntarily taken him under his wings. The man was an asshole, but he was still Shen Jiu's Shifu.
And Shen Jiu had killed him in cold blood.
For what? For Yue Qi?
The same Yue Qi that stood staring at him stupidly with his mouth spilling useless apologies mixed with sobs. The same Yue Qi who couldn't tell him why he was abandoned. Why was he left in that hell-hole of a manor to grow filthier and filthier?
A strangled sob crawled out of his mouth. No tears mixed with the blood streaming down his face, his eyes remained dry despite the violent cries that left his body. Faintly, he could hear himself sobbing out questions.
"Why Qi'ge? Why? What did Xiao Jiu do wrong? Why Qi'ge?"
The words were hoarse, his vocal cords scratched in their desperation to ask the question. Shen Jiu's hatred coated his throat and burned through his body. He could feel the heat of loathing traveling like a viper throughout his trembling body.
He could hardly hear himself speak; he hardly recognized that he had even spoken at all.
Could he feel rage? Could he feel pain?
Shen Jiu was there. Shen Jiu was not.
There was ringing in his ears. Maybe it was from the blow that Wu Yanzi had delivered to his head after he had stabbed him in the back. Maybe it was the blood that had pooled into the cleft of his ear. Maybe it was the shock of seeing Yue Qi alive.
Maybe it was a sign that his body would finally decompose and become one with the filth of the ground.
His hand unconsciously tightened around the blade in his hand, grasping at the only thing that was grounding him—the only thing that felt real.
He had stabbed Wu Yanzi more times than he could count. That was real.
That was real.
Was it real?
The ringing intensified in his ears. Yue Qi's figure wobbled around dangerously in his vision.
A hand lifted to reach for his figure, but Shen Jiu slapped it away with a snarl.
"Don't touch me!" The words were fiercer than they had been a moment ago, when he was begging for an answer.
He took an unsteady step backwards.
I need to get out of here, Shen Jiu thought. Despite the haze of derealization that had settled over his mind, Shen Jiu knew that he was in danger.
He had just killed a man in front of the strongest, most righteous cultivators of Jianghu. For that transgression, they would surely slaughter him where he stood.
He had no time for self-pity, for hate. Shen Jiu roughly shook his head, attempting to shake himself out of the fog of despair his mind had fallen into.
A heavy palm landed on his shoulder before he could attempt to flee, startling him into action.
Without thinking, Shen Jiu underhandedly swung his arm behind him in a fast arc; the glint of the blade shone under the moon as it swiped through the air. The person who had touched his shoulder swiftly leaped back, and, using the momentum of their landing, pushed back up into a bounce to lunge at Shen Jiu's now pivoting figure.
Shen Jiu brought his palms together towards the middle of his chest to hold the blade between his two hands, the sharp metal pointed upwards, ready to impale the person who was on his way to tackling Shen Jiu. Before the other landed on Shen Jiu's body, he reached a palm to strike at Shen Jiu's wrist, causing his palm to spasm and open.
The blade dropped to the floor in the same moment the man landed on Shen Jiu's body and closed a large fist around Shen Jiu's small wrists, disarming and restraining him in one go.
But not defanging him.
Shen Jiu brought his head forward and violently clamped his jaw on the muscled shoulder that was holding him down. The shoulder jerked harshly in an attempt to dislodge his incisors, but Shen Jiu didn't let go.
If Shen Jiu let go, then he was as good as dead. If Shen Jiu let go, he was forfeiting his life.
He wouldn't let go.
He couldn't.
Shen Jiu tightened his jaw around the shoulder; the others' blood rapidly filled his mouth, threatening to choke him. He clamped down even harder and began to swallow the blood that was beginning to restrict his airway.
Even if he had nothing, he would fight. Kicking and screaming, he would fight to live.
The shoulder lurched forward again, harsher this time, causing his head to bounce off the blood-soaked dirt. Black spots filled his vision. It became hard to breathe through his blood-congested nose and his shut mouth. He only clamped his teeth down harder.
It would be a fitting end, Shen Jiu thought, to die here on this filthy floor.
Shen Jiu kicked a leg out from where it had been trapped under the large man, bringing it back up to knee strike at the man's side. Before he could make contact with the man's exposed abdomen, a quick hand reached out to grab at his ankle, pulling his leg taut against the ground.
No! Shen Jiu thought, his body writhing on the ground, but he couldn't gain purchase again.
Pinned to the ground with his teeth occupied, his hands wrapped in a large fist, one leg being held securely, and the other confined beneath the large body that was holding him down, Shen Jiu was well and truly trapped.
His attention narrowed to every point in his body where someone was touching him. Along his torso, his wrists, his leg, his ankle—too much. It was too much.
He couldn't think. His mind grew blank, and his body grew weaker as blood continued to fill his mouth and as his lungs struggled to fill with air.
"-iao Jiu. Calm down! Xiao Jiu!"
Shen Jiu's eyes snapped up and made contact with Yue Qi's anguish-filled face.
His body jump-started like a live wire as adrenaline and anger flooded through his body.
Who was Yue Qi to look at me at my lowest? To watch as I'm smeared into the dirt?
Suddenly, Shen Jiu's body grew responsive and alert. He felt stronger than he had ever remembered being.
Fuck if I'll die such a pathetic death in front of my traitor of a brother!
His mouth clamped down fully on the shoulder he was biting at, his teeth clanking harshly as they made contact. Shen Jiu's face contorted into a wild grin at the sound of agony that left the man on top of him. At the same moment that his face twisted into a smile, a sharp pinprick was felt at his calf. The feeling of numbness rapidly traveled up his leg and through his weak body.
A gurgled noise sounded through his body as Shen Jiu laughed around the chunk of flesh between his teeth, the sound breaking through the grunts of pain from the man on top of him.
A thought floated through his mind as darkness encroached on his consciousness.
Eat shit, asshole!
Shen Jiu's eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body slumped to the ground.
Then, there was nothing.
The sound of boots rapidly shuffling forward broke the silence that had befallen the suddenly still grounds.
Yue Qi's knees slammed to the ground beside Shen Jiu's blood-streaked face. His hands fluttered uselessly around his prone body before he reached out to touch the other's face, but he stopped himself when he saw droplets of blood streak down Shen Jiu's lax mouth.
His head snapped up to where the blood was dripping from, and he winced at the missing flesh of what used to be the other's shoulder.
"Shi-Shishu! Are you alright?!"
Yue Qi redirected his hands to flutter uselessly around his Shishu's shoulders, only to be harshly slapped away by the others' hands.
The man stood up, towering over the still body of Shen Jiu.
Yue Qi made a strangled, cut-off sound low in his throat, his body tensing as if preparing to lunge over the body he was kneeling over.
"Shi-Shishu…?"
The usually calm and collected Yue Qi had been reduced to a trembling leaf under the dark-eyed gaze of his Shishu. In all of his panic, he could not discern what the other man was thinking.
Yue Qi has always prided himself on his ability to appeal to others. When he was only known as Xiao Jiu's "Qi-ge", this ability had saved their skin more times than he could count. Whether he had used his skill to earn them a warm bed for the night or to fill their bellies with fresh food, he had always been useful to Xiao Jiu because of his uncanny ability to implicitly know what others wanted to hear.
But here, in this quiet forest in front of this quiet man, Yue Qi could not, for the life of himself, discern what the other was thinking, was feeling—what the other needed to hear to calm down.
Useless! Yue Qi thought to himself, Xiao Jiu is right, this Qi'ge is useless!
His mouth opened and closed rapidly, his face contorting to look like that of a fish on land.
He felt that way, too.
In this moment, Yue Qi felt like nothing more than a small creature out of his element and gasping for a chance of survival—hoping, praying, begging that a divine interference would occur that would somehow rain water down onto his heaving body.
In his struggle for understanding, dark thoughts began to invade the corners of his mind.
Did Shishu want to punish Xiao Jiu? Did he want to take an eye for an eye and rip Xiao Jiu's arm off his body? Did he want to kill Xiao Jiu for his transgression?
Yue Qi's mind spiralled into the worst scenarios, his breath growing shakier and his body growing taut with each second of silence that passed.
A low sound of leaves shuffling broke through his wandering thoughts.
Mu Huisheng had moved forward from where he had been holding Shen Jiu's leg down, removing the needle that he had inserted into the other's limb. He crawled towards Shen Jiu's face and moved his palm towards the other's slack lips. His hands were intercepted before they could touch his face.
Yue Qi's palm harshly closed down on Mu Huisheng's hand. Despite his grip on the other, he continued looking up at his shishu in fear of what the other would do to Shen Jiu if he looked away.
"Mu-shidi, please refrain from touching Xiao Jiu at this moment."
The words were stiff and strained under the weight of Yue Qi's anxiety.
Mu Huisheng paused. He glanced down at the tight grip on his hand, then glanced back up at the tense face of Yue Qi.
"Yue-Shixiong, please allow this one to—"
Mu Huisheng's voice was cut off by the booming sound of his Shishu speaking.
"Let your Mu-shidi administer aid to the boy."
Yue Qi hesitated, "Shishu—"
"I will not repeat myself. Or would you prefer that this rogue cultivator choke on blood and die on this forest floor?" The words were harsh and unforgiving, and brutally honest in their intensity.
Yue Qi flinched back as if struck, breaking eye contact with his shishu and hurriedly glancing down at Xiao Jiu.
His breath hitched in his throat, and burning tears edged the corners of his eyes. In all of Yue Qi's panic, he had let Xiao Jiu suffer for longer than he must. To let Xiao Jiu suffer at all was a sin in and of itself, but to let him suffer after the hell that he must have endured in the Qiu manor?
Yue Qi should repent by piercing his heart with Xuan Su.
Xiao Jiu, he thought mournfully. Stupid Qi'ge has only ever hurt you, hasn't he?
Yue Qi recognized Mu-shidi's hands as they reached up to touch Shen Jiu's face. This time, he wasn't as stupid to stop aid from reaching the injured boy.
"Of course, Shishu." Yue Qi heard himself respond, distantly.
"Go find your Shizun. Fulfill your duties as the sect leader's head disciple. What use are you dawdling here?" With a sneer in his voice, the Bai Zhan peak lord looked down his nose at Yue Qi and commanded, "Scram!"
Yue Qi stood up, his legs feeling stiff and his heart feeling stiffer. He bowed his head down and took one last look at Xiao Jiu getting tended to by Mu-shidi.
"Of course, Shishu," Yue Qi repeated, before turning and striding away from the fallen boy.
Walking away, Yue Qi felt as if he had left a piece of his heart behind him.
Zhan Zhigang watched the Qiong Ding head disciple scramble away in derision. What his shixiong saw in that boy, he will never know.
Though this boy, on the other hand…
The Bai Zhan peak lord hummed softly to himself in contemplation. Looking at the figure below him, he couldn't conceptualize that this small, delicate-looking thing had bitten a piece of his shoulder off.
The Qian Cao disciple had moved to hover over Shen Jiu's form, gently prying his mouth open to remove chunks of Zhigang's shoulder.
When was the last time an enemy harmed this master so severely? When was the last time an enemy was even able to get close enough to touch this master?
Zhigang couldn't find an answer to the questions that had populated his mind.
It hadn't mattered if he thought this injured boy would be too subdued from shock to attack him; Zhigang's reflexes demanded that he be ready for any attack, at any time. For this bird-like boy to be able to move past his defences—it spoke of his careful calculations and quick-thinking. It spoke of the training of a warrior, a strong warrior, a strong cultivator.
A fighter.
Zhan Zhigang let out a loud, shout-like laugh, drawing the attention of the cultivators that had slowly begun to fill the bloodied area.
Really, this master has known this little bird for less than a sichen, and he's already brought me much entertainment!
Another Qian Cao hesitantly came up to him, offering to bandage his injured shoulder. Zhigang just shrugged the disciple off.
This injury… this injury is one that I will allow to scar.
A wild smile grew on his face as he stared down at the disheveled form of the unconscious boy.
It was with that wild smile on his face that his shixiong, Zhao Zhihe, walked into the clearing. He was followed closely by his useless head disciple, who had pathetically cried out for "Xiao Jiu".
Zhao-shixiong approached him hesitantly, likely due to the savage grin that had taken over his face. His shixiong knew better than most that a grin like that only meant trouble.
Zhan Zhigang threw his hands into the air to pull his sect leader into a side hug. The peak lord was uncaring of the blood that spurted from the wound or the lack of respect that his action most likely came across as.
The people who mattered knew that Zhigang was just an exuberant person, who was very direct in his words and his actions. The Bai Zhan peak lord didn't have a deceptive bone in his body. For all his martial prowess, his honest nature made it difficult for him to cheat or trick anyone.
"Shixiong! Your shidi has very great news!" Zhigang tugged his sect leader over to where the so-called "Xiao Jiu" was being treated. "This one has found his newest disciple!"
The moment those words left his mouth, many things happened at once.
Zhao Zhihe's usually composed face dropped into a surprised gasp, Yue Qi choked on his spit, and "Xiao Jiu's" eyes snapped open.
Really, Zhan Zhigang thought, This is too fun!