Chapter 63

The Dream Realm.

The Bamboo Lodge.

Outside, a thin wind whispered through the forest, rustling the bamboo leaves. Shen Qingqiu sat by the low table, hands tucked into his sleeves, staring into space.

In short, he was sitting there, spacing out.

It wasn't long before a flurry of hurried footsteps approached, and Luo Binghe appeared at the doorway of the lodge, his voice urgent. "Shizun!"

He rushed inside, and Shen Qingqiu finally let loose the complaint he'd been holding in for ages.

"Did you really have to give it to him?!" Shen Qingqiu demanded.

Luo Binghe replied, "If I hadn't, who knows how that fiend would have tormented you."

You call him a fiend, but you're a fiend yourself! A big fiend and a little fiend, the pair of you are going to be the death of me!

Shen Qingqiu forced patience into his tone. "I didn't cry out or call for help. What was there to worry about? I… your master isn't someone who can't endure a little hardship."

It had been years since he'd referred to himself as 'master' in front of Luo Binghe. The feeling was inexplicably… poignant.

Luo Binghe looked at him, a flicker of something agonized and indignant moving in his gaze. "Shizun, you passed out from the pain. How can you say it wasn't worth worrying about?"

They'd finally managed to meet again after so long, finally cleared the air, only to be forced apart once more, watching helplessly as he was taken away.

If not for the threat of Tianlang-jun's blood gu, Luo Binghe wouldn't have been so restrained. Shen Qingqiu hated feeling like a liability, a weakness to be exploited. Frustration simmered in his chest. "It's not that you were useless. I was careless. I fell for his trick."

"You drank that blood to help me," Luo Binghe said, his voice low. "Even if Shizun can endure it, I cannot. So he wanted the sword? Let him have it. It's not such a great treasure."

Shen Qingqiu felt like kneeling right there.

'Not such a great treasure'?! That's your golden finger! Your ultimate cheat item!!!

He bit back the words and swiftly changed tack. "Have you considered the consequences of the Heart Devil Sword falling into another's hands? The Demon Realm, the Northern Borders, the Human Realm, Cang Qiong Mountain… they would all become his targets."

He was laying out the stakes, but Luo Binghe only grew more somber. "...Is Shizun angry that I gave him Xin Mo… only because he fears for Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?"

...

Why can't this child understand?

He said he didn't want your body, only your sword, and you believed him?

Are you that naive? What if he takes the sword and betrays you?

Worrying for Cang Qiong Mountain and worrying for Luo Binghe aren't mutually exclusive!

That sentence from Luo Binghe gave Shen Qingqiu the distinct impression of a young girl constantly pestering her beau: 'Do you love me? Do you love your career more, or me?' What kind of mental circuitry produced that?

Talking to this kid was like talking to a wall. They'd barely exchanged three sentences before they were tangled up again. Just as Shen Qingqiu was internally scrambling, Luo Binghe beat him to the punch. "I can never make myself clear to Shizun."

Shen Qingqiu stood, hands clasped behind his back, and took a deep breath.

Both sides felt they couldn't communicate with the other. Could this even be salvaged? A generation gap. This was a textbook generation gap!

Luo Binghe suddenly said, "Shizun knows how I feel, doesn't he?"

The shift in topic made Shen Qingqiu stiffen. His headache intensified by several degrees.

He was worst at handling these kinds of situations.

"This bamboo lodge," Luo Binghe began, "it's a beautiful scene from my dreams. Whenever my heart is troubled and in chaos, coming here… allows me to find peace quickly."

Wasn't this the place he secretly came to wipe his tears and cry…

Luo Binghe continued slowly, "The days of learning on Qing Jing Peak… were the happiest of my life."

As he spoke, his expression and the cadence of his voice softened to an extreme degree. Seeing it, Shen Qingqiu felt a peculiar pang in his heart, too sharp to even muster an internal snarky comment.

Because this… this was the ultimate expression of someone regarding something as a priceless treasure, loving it as dearly as life itself.

No one with a heart could lightly dismiss it.

Luo Binghe's fingers lightly brushed over the polished surface of the green bamboo table. "When I first entered Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, I was happy, but also terrified. I thought from that day on, I must be diligent and work hard. After being accepted into Qing Jing Peak… Shizun paid me no mind at first."

"But what I remember more… is that Shizun was the first to give me medicine for my wounds. The first to let me ride in the carriage, to prepare a room for me, to patiently teach me sword forms, to secretly look out for me… all of that was Shizun."

Shen Qingqiu listened silently, and suddenly realized he had overlooked another facet all along.

Luo Binghe wasn't merely someone who held onto grudges.

While he would repay hatred a thousandfold, he also engraved every kindness shown to him firmly in his heart. Every single act, every drop of goodwill—things Shen Qingqiu himself had thought nothing of, some he didn't even remember—Luo Binghe remembered with crystal clarity.

Remembering was good, of course. But if only that sentiment hadn't gotten so… twisted.

Luo Binghe withdrew his hand from the table and suddenly took a step toward him. Shen Qingqiu reacted instinctively. "Calm down."

If only he had his folding fan right now. A few waves of it could cool both their heads. Luo Binghe, for his part, still listened to him, maintaining a façade of calm with visible effort. "Does Shizun know why I can never stay calm around you?"

Shen Qingqiu genuinely couldn't guess, so he remained silent.

Luo Binghe said, "Shizun once asked me if I could endure any kind of suffering or torment."

Shen Qingqiu: "?"

He seemed to recall something like that.

He ventured, "That's right?"

"That's right," Luo Binghe affirmed. "I can endure it. It doesn't matter what anyone else does to me. I couldn't care less. But that suffering… that torment… it cannot come from you!"

A thousand, ten thousand people could treat him badly. It meant nothing. But there was one person who could not.

His meaning was perfectly clear, and his eyes held nothing back, locking onto Shen Qingqiu with the intensity of a burning flame. Shen Qingqiu felt utterly besieged.

"Let's… put this aside for now…" he managed.

Shouldn't they be discussing important matters? How to retrieve the stolen golden finger, the saga of Luo Binghe's two problematic relatives, guessing what 'gift' Tianlang-jun planned for the Human Realm, how to deal with it all, and how to resolve the three strands of blood still inside Shen Qingqiu.

But Luo Binghe seemed determined to avoid the practicalities. He persisted stubbornly, "Unless we start over from the very beginning. Unless Shizun never did any of this for me—never accepted me as a disciple, never saved me time and again, never taught me with care, never gave me any hope. Now that we've come this far… how can you ask me to let go?"

Put that way, it made him sound like the irresponsible one!

He had just reached out, intending to smooth Luo Binghe's hair in a placating gesture, when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward.

Shen Qingqiu: "...Hey."

Luo Binghe murmured, "If Shizun hates me for this, then hit me. Cut me. Kill me. You know I never fight back."

Having said his piece, he lowered his lashes, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he leaned in closer.

He seemed terribly nervous, afraid of rejection, his lips trembling faintly.

Shen Qingqiu was at a loss.

He's the one holding me in place. Why does the one forcing the issue look like the more helpless one?

The green bamboo lodge, the mountain's silent birdsong—all of it vanished.

Shen Qingqiu scrambled upright.

The air was dry, his throat itchy. A dark-skinned demon girl was crouched beside him. Seeing him sit up, she called out to the outside in a thick accent, "He's awake!"

A hand lifted the curtain. Tianlang-jun poked his head in and looked, raising an eyebrow. "You slept for quite a while."

This dream ended at the perfect time!

Otherwise, who knows when that kid would have let him out. Once Luo Binghe got his teeth into something, he never let go.

Shen Qingqiu rubbed his face. A hot, dry wind whipped the gauze curtains into a frenzied dance, allowing glimpses of the world outside.

He was lying atop a giant black-scaled serpent. The serpent bore a lavish platform on its back, crawling smoothly across the ground.

All around, scattered in a disorderly yet massive procession, were demons of all sizes and shapes—fully bestial, semi-bestial—forming a vast, motley army on the move.

Shen Qingqiu judged they were likely in the Southern Territories of the Demon Realm.

The Northern Territories were Mo Bei-jun's domain, now Luo Binghe's, populated mostly by humanoid demons who favored direct attacks. Only the Southern Territories had this many fully beast-like demons and hybrids. It was like a wildlife documentary.

He had no idea where Tianlang-jun was leading this horde, or what he intended to do.

Having finished observing his surroundings, Shen Qingqiu suddenly noticed a persistent, dull ache and numbness in his right chest and entire arm. The limb felt slightly sluggish, unresponsive.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself with every ounce of mental preparation, and looked down.

...Damn. It was worse than he'd imagined.

It was as if his arm had been grafted with a prosthetic made of twigs and leaves. Dense clusters of green fleshy buds and tendrils covered it, trembling with every slight movement. His fingers were numb; he couldn't even curl them.

One look was all he could bear. Xiu Ya was right beside him. He really, really felt like picking it up and chopping the damn thing off.

Just then, Zhuzhi-lang approached, holding a small golden censer from which thin smoke curled. Shen Qingqiu went on alert. "What are you doing?"

"This humble one only wishes to assist Immortal Master Shen…"

Shen Qingqiu immediately made a 'stop' gesture. He'd learned his lesson. A snake's idea of repaying a favor was to stuff his mouth full of Heavenly Demon's blood. Zhuzhi-lang spoke with earnest concern. "Please believe me. If the love threads are not removed more than seven times a day, the residual roots will remain embedded in the flesh. We have only extracted them three times today. This is a critical moment. If we cannot pull them out now, Immortal Master Shen will not be able to keep this arm."

Hearing the risk of permanent disability, Shen Qingqiu immediately offered up his arm.

Zhuzhi-lang retrieved a piece of charcoal, glowing red-hot, from the small censer. He took it in his bare hand without flinching and pressed it directly against Shen Qingqiu's chest with a soft thud.

Shen Qingqiu: "..."

He should have known better than to expect anything resembling normal help from Zhuzhilan.

The searing charcoal pressed against the infestation of green shoots on his chest. The tendrils withered and curled, the heat burning down to their very roots. Shen Qingqiu gritted his teeth against the impulse to hiss in pain, forcing his expression into a rigid mask—it would be too undignified to show it.

Zhuzhilan methodically worked his way across every sprouting patch of flesh. By the time he was done, the arm was at least temporarily presentable again.

Withdrawing the charcoal, Zhuzhilan stated, "We'll need to cauterize it three more times this afternoon."

Shen Qingqiu pulled his discarded outer robe back over his shoulders. Zhuzhilan caught a glimpse by accident, his gaze snapping away as he hurriedly looked down.

From outside, Tianlang-jun laughed. "What are you so shy about?"

Yeah, Shen Qingqiu wanted to ask the same thing. What was there to be shy about, looking at a chest and arm that had just been a garden of grotesque flesh?

"I must ask my lord not to jest," Zhuzhilan said with utmost seriousness. "This subordinate holds no improper thoughts toward Immortal Master Shen." He looked directly at Shen Qingqiu and emphasized, "Not the sort of improper thoughts Luo Binghe holds."

Why are you emphasizing that?!

Zhuzhilan hurriedly gathered the small brazier and leapt from the serpent's back, returning below to direct the formation's adjustments. Left in a state of bewildered agitation, Shen Qingqiu let his gaze wander, searching.

The Xin Mo Sword… where was it?

Ah. There, beside Tianlang-jun's seat outside. That blade tossed carelessly by his feet.

Shen Qingqiu felt faint.

How utterly casual!

It's supposed to be the number one miraculous sword of legend! Is it really alright to just discard it like that?!

Tianlang-jun, who had been resting his chin on his hand while gazing into the distance, noticed Shen Qingqiu's strange expression. "What is Peak Lord Shen looking at?"

He paused, following Shen Qingqiu's line of sight downward. "At this sword of mine?"

"That is Luo Binghe's sword," Shen Qingqiu replied flatly.

Tianlang-jun smiled, unconcerned. "Peak Lord Shen, there is a question I have long wished to ask you."

"By all means."

Ask away. I'll just answer however I please.

Tianlang-jun's tone was light, almost conversational. "Have you and my son ever engaged in dual cultivation?"