Chapter 2

In his past life, Shen Yuan came from a well-off family—a minor rich kid, you could say. With two older brothers destined to inherit the family business and a younger sister doted on by all, he’d never lacked for affection or comfort.

He’d known early on that even if he spent his whole life lazing around, there’d always be a place for him at the table. Growing up in such a relaxed, pressure-free environment, he’d adopted a rather generous view of achievement: as long as there were more than ten people in any competition, finishing in the top ten was perfectly respectable.

Which was why he’d never understood the psychology of scum villains like Shen Qingqiu.

The original Shen Qingqiu wasn’t without talent or cultivation. He had seniority, the veneer of refinement, status, reputation, and the financial backing of the world’s greatest sect. So why did he carry himself less like an immortal and more like a bitter concubine from some old-fashioned manor, with nothing better to do than obsess over tormenting the story’s grassroots protagonist? His every waking thought seemed dedicated to either beating Luo Binghe himself or ordering others to do it.

Sure, Luo Binghe was gifted, insightful, a cheat character through and through… but was that really worth such consuming jealousy?

Then again, maybe the blame lay not with the character, but the author. Proud Immortal Demon Way was littered with such petty, one-dimensional antagonists—Shen Qingqiu was just one of the most prominently featured, and particularly tasteless.

What could you do? The novel’s greatest villain was the protagonist himself. How could the faint light of a firefly hope to rival the sun and moon?

Shen Qingqiu was known throughout the cultivation world as the “Elegant Sword.” Naturally, his appearance wasn’t lacking.

Even now, studying his reflection in the murky, porridge-like surface of the bronze mirror, he had to admit the man wasn’t hard to look at.

His features were sharp and well-defined—dark brows, a straight nose, thin lips—all lending him a scholarly air. Tall and long-limbed, he could reasonably be called handsome. His true age was a mystery, but this was a xianxia novel; with a cultivation at the mid Core Formation stage, Shen Qingqiu maintained the flawless appearance of youth. He was far better-looking than Shen Yuan had ever imagined while reading.

Not that he could hold a candle to Luo Binghe.

The mere thought of Luo Binghe made Shen Qingqiu’s head throb.

He wanted to check on the boy, currently locked in the woodshed, but the moment he took a step, that ear-splitting alarm screeched in his mind.

[WARNING! OOC WARNING! ‘Shen Qingqiu’ would not proactively visit Luo Binghe.]

“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu grumbled. “Then I’ll have him summoned. Surely that’s allowed.”

After a moment’s thought, he called out, “Ming Fan!”

A lanky youth of about sixteen hurried in from outside the door. “Your disciple is here. What are Master’s instructions?”

Shen Qingqiu studied him for a moment. The boy was decent-looking, if a bit sharp-featured and weaselly. Just as I pictured, he mused with an inward sigh. The very face of a cannon-fodder character.

This was Ming Fan, the original Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple and Luo Binghe’s senior brother.

This was the legendarily low-level cannon fodder!

Needless to say, every act of bullying—locking Luo Binghe out at night, handing him a faulty cultivation manual—had involved Ming Fan’s eager planning and participation. Whenever Shen Qingqiu felt a sudden urge to torment the protagonist, this disciple was his most capable assistant and enthusiastic accomplice.

Considering the boy’s eventual fate in the novel was scarcely better than his own, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but look at him with a twinge of fellow feeling. “Bring Binghe here.”

Ming Fan blinked. Master usually calls him ‘that little beast,’ ‘wretched spawn,’ ‘this brat,’ or ‘insignificant whelp.’ He almost never uses his actual name. Since when is ‘Binghe’ so familiar on his tongue?

But he didn’t dare question his master’s orders. He scurried off to the woodshed and kicked the door twice. “Out! The Master summons you!”

As Shen Qingqiu paced the room, his mind was fully occupied with dissecting the System.

[B-Points represent the ‘Style’ of one’s posturing. Higher B-Points indicate a more sophisticated, high-end, and impressive demeanor.]

So, how does one raise these B-Points?

[1. Alter idiotic plot points, raising the IQ of antagonists and supporting characters. 2. Avoid plot landmines. 3. Ensure the protagonist’s satisfaction. 4. Fill in unresolved plot holes.]

Shen Qingqiu analyzed each point carefully.

In short, he not only had to clean up the mess left by the original Shen Qingqiu—a man who’d made enemies left and right—but also prevent other characters from making new messes.

He wasn’t even sure he could save his own neck, yet he had to guarantee the protagonist kept his cheat abilities, his glory, and his harem of beauties.

And those gaping, unresolved plot holes the author never bothered to fill? He’d have to grab a shovel and fill them himself.

Heh.

As the author, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, had famously stated, every single word of Proud Immortal Demon Way served one purpose and one purpose only: to deliver maximum satisfaction.

Especially those arcs where the blackened, cheat-mode protagonist pretended to be innocent, played the fool to devour the tiger, and turned the tables on his tormentors. Pure, unadulterated catharsis. No wonder the novel was wildly popular, growing longer and longer, stretching like an endless bolt of cloth.

Just the task of roughly memorizing the plot was pressure enough. And with landmines scattered everywhere, how could he possibly avoid them all?

“What exactly qualifies as an ‘idiotic’ plot point?” Shen Qingqiu asked.

[No concrete standard exists. It depends on the subjective perception of the reader.]

“And how many points do I need to accumulate before the system issues the next stage of missions?”

[It depends on the specific circumstances. System notifications will be automatically released when requirements are met.]

‘It depends’—the universal cure-all. Shen Qingqiu gave a cold snort just as the door creaked open. He turned to see a boy limping slowly into the room.

Though unsteady, the youth forced himself to stand straight and bowed respectfully. “Master.”

The faint smile that had been forming on Shen Qingqiu’s lips froze solid.

Oh, hell. Beating up a face destined to enchant women from eighty-year-old grannies to babes in arms—the male equivalent of a Mary Sue—is a guaranteed death sentence!

And yet, even bruised and battered, the protagonist was still the protagonist.

Luo Binghe’s eyes shone as bright as morning stars. Here was the fresh, tender bud of a future heartthrob.

That resolute yet humble expression revealed a noble and unyielding spirit.

That straight back and proud posture spoke of an indomitable will!

For a moment, a torrent of parallel sentences and mixed rhetorical devices surged in Shen Qingqiu’s mind, nearly spilling from his lips in a flood of lavish praise.

He reeled himself back just in time. Too close! The protagonist’s aura is too damn potent. I almost lost my composure!

Watching Luo Binghe hobble forward and struggle to kneel, Shen Qingqiu’s mouth twitched. Old man like me doesn’t deserve your bow. You bow to me today, and tomorrow you might dig out my kneecaps. He immediately waved a hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed out a small vial. “Medicine.” Then, adopting a sarcastic tone, he added, “Don’t let others see. They might think Qing Jing Peak abuses its disciples.”

Shen Qingqiu was adapting to his role with surprising speed. Bold enough to offer medicine, he’d couched the act in hostility, perfectly matching the original’s hypocritical nature—the kind of man who did evil but feared being discovered.

As expected, no OOC warning sounded. Shen Qingqiu breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Luo Binghe had assumed his master summoned him for another “lesson.” The offer of medicine left him stunned for a second before he accepted the vial with both hands, bowing deeply. “This disciple thanks Master for the medicine.”

His face still held a childlike softness, and his smile was as genuine and warm as a rising sun. Shen Qingqiu stared for a moment longer before looking away.

Before his corruption, the protagonist’s character was truly that of a righteous, promising youth—the kind who blossomed with a little kindness, who repaid a single favor tenfold. A little lamb, for all intents and purposes.

“This disciple will redouble his efforts,” Luo Binghe added happily. “I will not disappoint Master.”

Ah, no… if you redouble your efforts, your original master would probably be deeply disappointed…

If Shen Qingqiu hadn’t read Proud Immortal Demon Way, this scene might have moved him to shed a sympathetic tear for Luo Binghe.

But he’d witnessed, from a god’s-eye view, the rich and varied psychological landscape of Luo Binghe after his fall. In his estimation, the more pitiable Luo Binghe was now, the more savage and unrestrained his smile would be later, when he had his foot on someone’s head. Outwardly, a gentle, modest gentleman; inwardly, plotting how to tear out tendons, pull bones, strip skin, and leave them to bake in the sun.

[Luo Binghe smiled. “The humiliations I suffered in the past, I have come today to repay a hundredfold. Those who harmed my brothers, I will sever their limbs, crush their bones, and scatter their ashes.”]

↑ Selected passage from Proud Immortal Demon Way, Part Two.

He really did reduce Shen Qingqiu to a human stick later on.

Shen Qingqiu settled into the rosewood chair and adopted a tone that was neither overly friendly nor cold. “Binghe, how is your progress with the introductory cultivation method?”

Hearing himself say “Binghe” sent a shiver down his own spine. Luo Binghe visibly stiffened as well, but he managed a slightly shy smile. “This disciple is slow. I still… cannot grasp the essentials.”

Of course not. With a fake manual, it was a miracle he hadn’t suffered a qi deviation, thanks only to his thick-skinned protagonist halo. Grasping the essentials was impossible. Shen Qingqiu screamed internally: Kid, stick with me! Let this master give you the real deal!

The demonic alarm blared incessantly. I’m just thinking about it! Shen Qingqiu retorted to the System. I know it’s against the rules!

Shen Qingqiu spoke again, his tone deliberately casual. "The punishment I gave you today came from a place of impatience. Time, after all, waits for no man. You've been under my tutelage for a while now. How old are you?"

"Fourteen, Master," Luo Binghe answered dutifully.

Fourteen.

So, by this point, the illustrious history between Master Shen Qingqiu and his disciple Luo Binghe had already been written. The kneeling punishment at the mountain gate. The beating from his fellow disciples on Qing Jing Peak. The 'insolence' that earned him a flogging. The broken artifact and the endless manual labor as penance.

Shen Qingqiu raised a hand to his forehead, gesturing vaguely toward the door. "...I need a moment."