Chapter 77

Every person gathered here possessed senses honed to an almost supernatural degree. In unison, hundreds of gazes snapped toward Shen Qingqiu, pinning him from every direction like a butterfly to a board.

With a practiced flick of his wrist, his folding fan snapped open, shielding the lower half of his face. He allowed his eyelids to droop with an air of detached composure.

Luo Binghe strode forward, the river wind tugging at the hem of his black robes. The sword at his waist was none other than Zheng Yang. To his left, the Northern Desert Demon King held his head high with icy arrogance. To his right, Sha Hualing swayed with deliberate, seductive grace. Behind them trailed a contingent of Illusory Demon Palace disciples he hadn't seen in ages, and bringing up the rear was a small squad of heavily armored demonic infantry.

Shang Qinghua was weaving through their ranks like a greased eel, his presence jarringly out of place. The moment their eyes met, it was as if two grappling hooks had been thrown, locking in a silent, vicious battle of glares filled with enough imaginary stabbing and slashing to wage a small war.

Luo Binghe cut a path straight through the crowd, planting himself to form a new, third point in the tense standoff. The expressions that flitted across the faces of the assembled cultivators were a spectacle in themselves, vivid enough to comprise a full set of reaction images. The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect disciples, in particular, were practically seeing red. Their history with the Illusory Demon Palace was one of immediate and violent conflict. Yet, according to Zhao Hua Temple, they were now supposed to be allies. They could only grit their teeth and hold their ground.

Qi Qingqi’s voice was sharp with suspicion. “Are you certain of this, honored masters?”

Luo Binghe offered a benign smile. “Is Peak Lord Qi suggesting that Zhao Hua Temple has also fallen under my corrupting influence?”

Seeing the conversation veering toward another pointless argument, Shen Qingqiu quickly interjected. “Master Wuchen’s word is beyond doubt.”

As if pulled by a string, the hundreds of eyes that had momentarily drifted away snapped back to him with renewed, almost painful intensity.

Qi Qingqi shot him a glare that could curdle milk, her expression a perfect mix of exasperation and profound disappointment.

Luo Binghe’s gaze settled on Shen Qingqiu, softening. “Shizun, it has been many days. This disciple has missed you terribly.”

We saw each other just last night…

If anyone else had uttered those words with such saccharine sincerity, it would have raised goosebumps on every person present. But Luo Binghe, blessed with the innate setting that made anything he said sound perfectly natural, effortlessly deflected the focus. Shen Qingqiu found himself at the center of what could only be described as a merciless public dissection. He managed a noncommittal, “Hm.”

A trace of a smile still lingered at the corner of Luo Binghe’s mouth as he continued, addressing the crowd. “The Northern and Southern demon territories have long been at odds and do not support this merger. They are willing to lend their strength to join forces with you all and repel the enemy.”

Looking at Luo Binghe now, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, the very picture of dignified leadership, who would guess he was the type to cling to someone in private, alternating between tears and childish coquetry? A truly bizarre creature.

Who would ever believe it!

Yue Qingyuan’s tone remained composed. “Forgive my skepticism, Palace Master Luo. Our last meeting at Zhao Hua Temple ended… poorly. Now you suddenly wish to ally with the cultivation world to defeat your own father…”

Luo Binghe’s reply was succinct. “I do this for one person only. Nothing else concerns me.”

This time, he didn’t specify who that ‘one person’ was. But did it matter? Was there any point?

Even an idiot would know who he meant!

Shen Qingqiu decided to play the idiot for now. In the middle of a snowy winter, he began fanning himself with his supposedly elegant folding fan as if it were a crude palm-leaf fan, wishing he could simply blow all those piercing stares into the stratosphere.

A Sect Leader from a smaller clan chuckled awkwardly. “Peak Lord Shen has truly taught his disciple well. A great boon for our cultivation world.”

Though his words were “taught his disciple well,” his tone carried the unmistakable inflection of “married into a good family.” Shen Qingqiu’s fanning took on a distinctly murderous rhythm. Master Wuwang looked as if he wished he could raise his staff and smite both these scandalous individuals right then and there. Master Wuchen hurriedly intervened. “Since Benefactor Luo is sincere in his offer of aid, so much the better. Let us defer to Sect Leader Yue to direct our efforts.”

Yue Qingyuan, long the default pillar of stability in a crisis, naturally began to issue orders.

“Zhao Hua Temple, please deploy your remaining disciples to reinforce the barrier. We must prevent the Burial Mound from descending further and stop it from making contact with the river.”

Master Wuchen’s face fell. “We will do our utmost. However, the Luo River is wide, its banks far apart. With no stable footing, it is ill-suited for forming a large-scale array.”

Yue Qingyuan considered for a moment. “What if we have a contingent from one of Cang Qiong’s peaks provide support on flying swords, allowing you to anchor the array mid-air?”

“There’s no need for such trouble,” Luo Binghe said casually.

At his slight nod, the Northern Desert Demon King stepped forward. He walked to the river’s edge and stepped onto the water’s surface without sinking. Wherever his feet touched, thick ice spread with shocking speed. In moments, a vast expanse of the river was frozen solid to a depth of several feet, the area still expanding. Fish were captured mid-swim in the clear ice. Given a little time, freezing this entire central section of the Luo River would be trivial.

The innate advantages of demonic energy were on full display. Murmurs of awe and grudging admiration rippled through the crowd. Master Wuchen offered repeated thanks. Luo Binghe showed no pride, merely turning back to look at Shen Qingqiu, his eyes shining brightly.

His face might as well have been inscribed with the words, Pat my head! and Praise me!

Shen Qingqiu wasn’t sure what to say. He gave a reserved nod and said with practiced dignity, “Hm. Well done.”

The smile on Luo Binghe’s lips widened. For some reason, Shen Qingqiu felt a strange warmth spread through his own chest, the corners of his mouth tugging upward of their own accord. He caught himself and forcibly smoothed his expression back to neutrality.

Yue Qingyuan continued the assignments. Tian Yi Monastery was to spread out to other areas showing signs of the merger, protecting and evacuating civilians. Next was Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

“During the first breach by the Southern Border demons,” Yue Qingyuan began, “Bai Zhan Peak will hold the line.”

Only forty disciples from Bai Zhan Peak were present. Someone couldn’t help but ask, “The Southern demons are mostly bestial forms, each possessing immense strength. Can forty people truly hold against the first wave?”

Daring to doubt the combat prowess of the war-obsessed peak!

Liu Qingge had one foot propped on a jagged rock, the tassel of his sword and the sleeves of his white robes whipping in the wind. He didn’t deign to answer directly, only casting a cold glance at the disciples behind him. “Anyone who doesn’t rack up a thousand kills can go crawl back to An Ding Peak.”

The forty voices roared in unison. “YES!”

Shang Qinghua muttered weakly from the sidelines, “No need to discriminate against An Ding Peak…” Logistics were innocent! Long live logistics!

Yue Qingyuan went on, assigning positions to Qiong Ding Peak, Xian Shu Peak, Qian Cao Peak… each to their place, each to their duty. Seeing Luo Binghe standing by so idly, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t resist asking, “How many forces have you brought? Shouldn’t you deploy them?”

The moment he spoke, he felt countless ears pricking up around them. The ambient whispers died down abruptly, replaced by a tense, listening silence. Nearby, three graceful, identical-looking Taoist nuns let out a series of muffled, knowing giggles.

“I brought everyone I could,” Luo Binghe said. “Deployment is simple.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Sha Hualing and the Northern Desert Demon King. “The Nine-Terrors Sovereign is hers. The ugly beast is his.”

…Is he sending his daughter to betray her father again? Honestly…

“Anyone else?” Shen Qingqiu pressed.

Luo Binghe nodded gravely. “There is.”

His face blossomed into a radiant smile. “Shizun is mine.”

A chorus of coughs erupted around them. Shen Qingqiu felt his face begin to burn.

With a sharp snap, he closed his fan. Gripping it tightly, he schooled his features into seriousness. “This master has words to exchange with the former Peak Lord of An Ding. You should take this time to coordinate with the other leaders and discuss the strategy for meeting the enemy.”

Without waiting for a response from anyone, he turned and strode away, grabbing Shang Qinghua by the collar and dragging him like a stubborn hog toward a relatively isolated tree. “Why aren’t you dead yet?” Shen Qingqiu hissed. “You were supposed to die eight hundred chapters ago! Why hasn’t the Northern Desert Demon King finished you off?”

Shang Qinghua straightened his robes. “Brother Shen, you were supposed to die before me, and you’re still alive and kicking. You have the nerve to say that to me?”

Shen Qingqiu massaged his temples, taking a deep breath. “Airplane-bro. Great Master. Great Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. Do you have some sort of love deficiency, huh? The original setting you wrote for ‘Shen Qingqiu’—a childhood abused by a pervert?! Do you just get a kick out of writing these miserably tragic backstories?”

Shang Qinghua shrugged. “Tragic characters have higher popularity.”

“Bullshit! You got two whole forum threads demanding the story be scrapped because of it, and you call that popularity?”

“Hey, I scrapped that plotline, didn’t I?” Shang Qinghua argued, presenting his case. “Bing-ge. Tragic or not? Popular or not?”

He dares to use Luo Binghe as an example!

Shen Qingqiu whacked him with his folded fan. “How much do you love that trope?”

The mental image flashed before his eyes: a small, skinny Luo Binghe kneeling on the ground picking up shards of a teacup, struggling up the mountain path with two heavy buckets of water, shivering alone at night, curled into a ball in a dark corner of the woodshed. A chaotic, restless feeling churned in his chest—the kind that demanded he hit someone, and that someone had to be Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky!

Seeing his expression, Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened in shock. “…What’s with that look? Don’t tell me you’re feeling heartache for him? Holy shit, I always thought you were straight!”

Shen Qingqiu kicked him. “No time for your nonsense! Tell me, how do we fight Tianlang-Jun?”

“I already told you! I myself can’t think of a way to beat him.”

“If you can’t think of one, think of one now. You built the logic of this world. Following your own train of thought, there must be…”

Before he could finish, Luo Binghe’s voice drifted over, gentle yet carrying. “Is Shizun finished talking? If so, it is about time we departed.”

It hasn’t even been five minutes!

Shen Qingqiu whirled around. “Depart?”

“Sect Leader Yue and I agree that sending a team of ten to retrieve the sword is best. Will Shizun go? If you go, I go.”

“Acceptable,” Shen Qingqiu said. After a pause, he pointed at Shang Qinghua. “We’re taking him.”

Shang Qinghua’s face paled in horror: Shit shit shit, I don’t have the strategy guide, I don’t want to run the Burial Mound dungeon, thank you very much!

Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharp: No guide? Then brainstorm one on the way. Fresh and hot. You’re welcome.

Liu Qingge and Bai Zhan Peak were tasked with guarding the ice. As Shen Qingqiu passed him, he suddenly turned back, a teasing lilt in his voice. "If you demand a thousand kills from your disciples, you'd better set an example with ten thousand yourself."

Liu Qingge snorted. "Let them come."

"Feeling reassured now?" Shen Qingqiu pressed.

After a moment's thought, Liu Qingge conceded grudgingly, "With Senior Brother here."

Luo Binghe tugged at Shen Qingqiu's sleeve. "Shizun, fly with me."

Shen Qingqiu glanced down at the sword at his waist. "...You have your own."

Alone with Shen Qingqiu, all traces of Luo Binghe's usual domineering arrogance vanished, replaced by a shy hesitation. "I've been using too much demonic energy lately, not enough spiritual power. I've... almost forgotten how."

With nearly ten other cultivators watching, Shen Qingqiu couldn't delay further. "Fine, get on!" he said brusquely.

They soared into the air on Xiu Ya, but the flight was brief. The moment they crossed into Burial Mound Ridge, they descended. Luo Binghe didn't get to hold on for long.

They landed in a jagged field of pale, weathered stones, skeletal remains jutting from the crevices. Above, twisted black trees clawed at the sky, their branches tangled like gnarled fingers. Eerie, unidentifiable shrieks mingled with the cawing of crows, echoing through the desolate valley.

Finding the Heart Demon Sword would require searching the ridge. "This place is crawling with demons," Shen Qingqiu warned the group. "Best not to touch anything that looks remotely alive."

As a demon and to show his cooperative spirit, Luo Binghe naturally took the lead. Shen Qingqiu walked beside him.

After a while, Luo Binghe's hand found his, fingers intertwining in a stealthy grasp.

Wu Wang coughed loudly. Wu Chen murmured a Buddhist chant. Yue Qingyuan's gaze shifted toward them, calm and unreadable.

Heat flooded Shen Qingqiu's face, crawling from his forehead down his neck to the tips of his ears. A wave of inexplicable guilt and panic tightened his chest. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

The moment his palm emptied, the light in Luo Binghe's eyes seemed to freeze over, transforming into a vast, ice-locked wilderness.

A low, soft laugh escaped him. "What are you afraid of?" he whispered, voice barely audible. "They need me. They won't dare say a word."