Chapter 81

It was, from the very beginning, explicitly stated to be a wish-fulfillment harem novel.

Shen Qingqiu was, as heaven and earth could attest, a straight man with a clear conscience. This was a fact he had personally confirmed from the moment he was born.

So, if someone had told Shen Yuan when he first cracked open this uniquely and masterfully terrible book—a literary landmine of its own genre—that he would end up in a homosexual relationship, and with the novel’s male protagonist at that, and worse, that he’d be the one crawling on the ground offering himself up… he would have made the person intimately acquainted with the concept of “brains on the pavement” using the complete forty-volume brick-like physical edition.

Now, he floated in that same void-like space he’d first passed through upon entering this world, listening to the System’s ever-present, Google-Translate-esque, strangely familiar accent echoing in every corner.

[Greetings. Through your tireless efforts and active cooperation, all required parameters have reached the upgrade threshold.]

[The System is pleased to inform you that you have been promoted to a Primary VIP User. Please be advised that VIP users may activate the advanced function: 'Self-Rescue'.]

[When your Vitality Points fall to their minimum, this function allows for one full restoration.]

A full resurrection!

Now that was a VIP perk with a conscience!

Shen Qingqiu said, "So, uh. This Self-Rescue function. Can it only be used once? And only on myself?"

System: [Your understanding is correct.]

Shen Qingqiu immediately considered a serious problem.

He had already transferred the majority of the demonic energy from Luo Binghe to himself. Even if the Xin Mo Sword were destroyed now, it shouldn't affect Luo Binghe much.

Originally, thinking he was most likely doomed, that kid had tearfully vowed to die with him. Now that he was going to use the Self-Rescue function, he prayed the fool wouldn't stupidly follow through with suicide!

Shen Qingqiu hurriedly asked, "What about Luo Binghe? How is he now?"

System: [Your current permissions do not allow inquiries regarding the Primary Energy Source. Would you like to view your Historical Achievements?]

Why couldn't he ask even as a VIP?!

Shen Qingqiu was frantic, clawing at his heart and liver with anxiety, but he'd long since grasped the System's infuriating nature.

Not enough was not enough. No questions meant no questions. Panic changed nothing.

System: [Would you like to view your Historical Achievements?]

...Fine. It seemed this was mandatory. Shen Qingqiu waved a hand. "Show me! Hurry up!"

Accompanied by a burst of jubilant background music, the System slowly unfurled a scroll-like achievement list:

[Achieved over 20 Landmine Avoidances. Removed tag: 'Heavenly Thunder Rolling'. Awarded medal: 'Slightly More Nitpicks'.]

[Peak B-Grade Value surpassed 5000. Awarded medal: 'Readable During Famine'.]

[Executed over three instances of Melodramatic Plot Devices. Awarded medal: 'Drenched in Dog Blood'.]

[Removed filler content and irrelevant subplots. Removed tag: 'Invincible Water God'.]

[Completed hidden character arcs, essentially filling plot holes. Removed tag: 'Potholes Everywhere'.]

[Enjoyment Value exceeded quantifiable range. Awarded medal: 'Decent for a Quick Read'.]

[Reached System-recommended standards. One-sentence Synopsis: The story of a love-obsessed chuunibyou trying to destroy the world.]

Seeing this line, Shen Qingqiu: "..."

He had absolutely no retort. [Manual Farewell Wave]

Thinking about it carefully, it was true. From the moment he was reborn here, the story had transformed from a no-holds-barred, pornographic harem novel into a melodramatic romance about a pure, virginally-challenged lunatic.

Still, looking at this row of shiny medals, Shen Qingqiu felt a secret, grudging admiration for himself.

The author wouldn't fill the plot holes? Fine, this daddy would do it himself! How badass was that?!

In the entire history of harem novels, what reader had ever thrown themselves into the fray like this, single-handedly dragging the story's B-Grade value to such heights and earning so many honors?!

Sure, the direction might have veered off course a bit, but at least this was the true embodiment of "You can you up, no can no BB"!

Suddenly, Shen Qingqiu noticed a small pink symbol "♀" in the upper left corner of the honors list.

He knew the symbol ♂ represented male, and ♀ female. He found it strange. "What does this symbol mean?"

System: [It indicates that all achievements listed were earned within the female-oriented category.]

Shen Qingqiu: "...You're joking."

System: [Work classification has been modified.]

Wait a minute!

Why was it classified as female-oriented?!

No wonder such an absurd, melodramatic plot could still rack up so many medals—it had been shuffled into the female-oriented category!

And why did the female-oriented category have a "Decent for a Quick Read" medal? What were they even... reading for?!

Had it been exiled from the main male-oriented site to the women's channel?!

No. The truth was probably more terrifying.

Shen Qingqiu suddenly remembered. Since the System upgraded, the interface had changed—no wonder it looked familiar. The style and color scheme of this interface… it seemed… it seemed like that legendary Green Ding Ding Literature City?!

The mouthful of stale blood he'd been choking on since the first day of his rebirth finally erupted as Shen Qingqiu grasped the horrifying truth.

He stretched a hand toward the heavens: "No—!"

Silence reigned in the room for two seconds.

Then, with a rustle, a crowd of dark-haired figures swarmed around the bed.

Ning Yingying, Ming Fan, Qi Qingqi, Mu Qingfang—a whole pile of people squeezed around, chattering loudly. The noise made Shen Qingqiu's brain throb painfully. He couldn't make out a word. Bending over, he clutched his head. Only when Liu Qingge's voice cut through: "Everyone, get back!"

The moment he spoke, the others immediately fell silent. The Juniors stuck out their tongues and slunk away. Liu Qingge filled the vacated space. Arms crossed, he stood by the bed. Finally seeing someone reliable, Shen Qingqiu grabbed at him and asked, "Where's Luo Binghe?"

Liu Qingge's face darkened. "Dead!"

Shen Qingqiu: "...Dead?"

That couldn't be!

Had he really been foolish enough to follow through with a lover's suicide?!

Judging by Liu Qingge's expression, he wasn't joking. And Liu Qingge never joked. Shen Qingqiu shot upright, the movement too abrupt. A sudden, dull pain radiated from his backside.

His face contorted instantly. With a thump, he fell back onto the bed.

The reaction was too exaggerated. Liu Qingge looked as if he'd received a tremendous shock, staggering back three steps. He seemed torn between stepping forward to speak and turning to flee. Qi Qingqi grabbed his arm, shrieking, "Look at you! Just look at what you've done! I told you not to scare him, and now you've scared him unconscious again!"

Lying on the bed, Shen Qingqiu raised a hand. "I'm not unconscious. I just..."

His backside hurt, and he'd failed to sit up properly…

Ning Yingying, who had always been most afraid of the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, found her courage now. She stamped her foot at Liu Qingge. "Uncle Liu, how could you! Even if you dislike A-Luo, you know Shizun just woke up and can't handle shocks. You… you spout nonsense, cursing him to die!"

Mu Qingfang also wore a look of reproach. "Senior Brother Liu, this is truly not good. Not good at all."

For the first time becoming the target of universal criticism, and never skilled with words to begin with, Liu Qingge simply retreated to the table and snapped, "I won't speak anymore!"

Shen Qingqiu pressed one hand to his temple, the other to his waist. "Will someone please tell me, is he dead or not?!"

Qi Qingqi said, "He's not dead! That boy thought you were done for and almost followed you. Later, Junior Brother Mu said you were fine, still breathing. After that, he wasn't about to die."

So that was it.

Thank all the heavens for small mercies!

Shen Qingqiu now understood Liu Qingge had spoken in anger, but he'd still been scared for a second or two. His old face felt a bit warm with embarrassment. He chided, "Peak Lord Liu, must you be like this? I asked you first because I trusted you. You've let me down."

Liu Qingge glared at him. Unfazed, Shen Qingqiu slowly sat up, adjusting to a position that wouldn't put too much pressure on his tender rear. "What exactly happened? How did I get back to Qing Jing Peak? What about Burial Mound Ridge? And where is Luo Binghe now?"

Qi Qingqi said, "Don't worry about Burial Mound Ridge. It's blown up."

Shen Qingqiu repeated, "Blown up?"

Qi Qingqi said, "Weren't you and Luo Binghe destroying the Xin Mo Sword at Burial Mound Ridge? When the sword broke, the entire mountain exploded."

Ming Fan squeezed his head to the bedside. "Yes, yes, Shizun! Half the mountain crashed onto the ice, making a huge hole. Then the ice on the Luo River melted. You and Luo Binghe both fell into the river. It was Uncle Liu who fished you out."

Shen Qingqiu had just accepted the tea Ning Yingying handed him, about to take a sip. Thankfully, he hadn't, or he would have surely sprayed it.

"You"?

Shen Qingqiu glanced sideways at Liu Qingge, guilt gnawing at him.

Holy crap, if he remembered correctly (and how could he possibly forget that), he had just finished… that with Luo Binghe!

Even though Luo Binghe had dressed him afterwards, there must have been some lingering evidence. With Liu JuJu's eagle eyes, it would be strange if he hadn't noticed something amiss.

No wonder Liu Qingge had been staring at him with such severe intensity!

Scandalous! Depraved!

Qi Qingqi prattled on, "He fished out two at once, holding you both so stiffly, like corpses glued together, couldn't even pry you apart. So many people saw it, how shameful…"

Held together in front of everyone as they fell from Burial Mound Ridge!

Shen Qingqiu was filled with regret.

No matter how he tried to prevent it, he couldn't stop "Spring Mountain's Lament" from gaining fresh material!

But given Luo Binghe's particular brand of logic, it was strange he hadn't just taken Shen Qingqiu away directly, but had obediently returned him to Qing Jing Peak. Shen Qingqiu felt something was off and pressed further, "So where exactly is Luo Binghe now?"

It was Ning Yingying, ever filial and obedient, who answered. "Shizun, you've been asleep for so many days without waking. Of course he went to find spirit medicine for you."

What spirit medicine? After narrowly escaping death and getting a full resurrection, shouldn't that kid be kneeling by the bed waiting for him to wake up? What was he doing running around? Leave such errands to the underlings!

Ning Yingying muttered under her breath, "It's more like he was chased down the mountain by all the various uncles and aunts…"

Luo Binghe had offended far too many within Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. His expulsion was only natural. What was surprising was that he now knew how to swallow his pride and accept being cast out so meekly. A pitiful sight indeed.

Still, it was a relief that all was well.

Seeing everyone acting normally, even boisterous, Shen Qingqiu guessed Yue Qingyuan must be safe and sound. He asked anyway, "How is the Sect Leader?"

Qi Qingqi snapped, "So you do remember to ask about him. He's not dead."

As expected, drawing his sword at Burying Bones Ridge hadn't consumed the last of Yue Qingyuan's lifespan. It seemed the secret of Xuan Su remained unknown to others.

Just as Shen Qingqiu breathed a sigh of relief, several golden fireworks exploded against the pitch-black night sky outside. Straining his ears, he could hear the clamor of voices drifting from Qiong Ding Peak. "What's going on?" he asked. "Why is Qiong Ding Peak so noisy?"

Mu Qingfang smiled. "Senior Brother Shen, your timing is impeccable. You've woken just in time for the celebration."

What celebration? Shen Qingqiu thought, his face a blank slate. Could it be to celebrate his awakening?!

Liu Qingge seemed to read his mind. "The failure of the realms' merger, combined with Cang Qiong Mountain Sect's four-hundred-year grand ceremony. A joint celebration."

Shen Qingqiu decided to go to Qiong Ding Peak first to see Yue Qingyuan.

This celebration wasn't limited to members of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Many sects who had participated at the Luo River had also been invited. Shen Qingqiu spotted quite a few familiar faces.

Master Wuchen chanted a Buddhist invocation, his face wreathed in smiles. "It is truly fortunate that Peak Lord Shen is safe and sound."

Wuwang shot Shen Qingqiu a glare full of utter disdain and stalked off elsewhere.

Master Wuchen said, "Peak Lord Shen, please do not take Senior Brother Wuwang's attitude to heart. Ever since this humble monk lost his legs in Jinlan City, he has harbored a deep hatred for demons, which has unfortunately extended to Peak Lord Shen as well…"

Shen Qingqiu rubbed his nose. "It's nothing."

Being disliked by a grumpy old bald monk was hardly worth mentioning!

After a moment's thought, he asked, "I heard Tianlang-jun is being held at your temple?"

Master Wuchen shook his head. "It is not quite 'holding.' This humble monk merely wishes to discuss Buddhist teachings with him while helping to slow the deterioration of his Luminous Mushroom body. Once he stabilizes in a few years, he may go wherever he wishes. Whether he chooses to wander the human realm or return to the demon realm will be his own decision. This humble monk believes he carries no malice within him. Whatever existed before should have dissipated by now."

Master Wuchen's legs had been destroyed by the Seed-Bearing Man in Jinlan City, a servant sent by Tianlang-jun himself. Yet he could set this grievance aside. Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but feel a surge of respect.

Moreover, this wasn't blind compassion. At their final parting, Shen Qingqiu had also felt that Tianlang-jun… probably no longer harbored that juvenile desire to destroy the world.

The statement 'a chuunibyou with the power to destroy heaven and earth' was an absolute truth!

After bidding farewell to the monks of Zhaohua Temple, he spotted the Daoists of Tianyi Temple standing near the Qiong Ding Hall.

The three beautiful, identical Daoist nuns were gently pestering someone—Liu Mingyan, her face veiled by a light gauze.

Watching Luo Binghe's former harem members gather and vie for attention now gave Shen Qingqiu a profoundly strange feeling. He was still keen to observe the spectacle, but he could no longer view it with the same… imaginative mindset.

He stole a few sidelong glances. The three sisters were cooing, "Dear sister, great lady, please, write an inscription for us."

"It's so rare to meet the author in person. Please leave us a memento."

They were pressing a stack of garishly decorated booklets into Liu Mingyan's hands. The booklets looked terribly familiar. Shen Qingqiu frowned inwardly, a strong sense of déjà vu nagging at him. He was about to step closer to see what those three large characters on the cover actually were when a shadowy figure darted furtively past from the side.

Shen Qingqiu caught up in two strides, grabbing the person from behind. His voice was icy. "You dare show your face on Qiong Ding Peak? Aren't you afraid Qi Qingqi will skin you alive?"

Shang Qinghua nearly dropped to his knees in fright at being seized. Recognizing Shen Qingqiu's voice, he let out a long sigh of relief and turned around. "Hey now, I helped in the fight, didn't I? Don't be so quick to chase me off."

Shen Qingqiu: "Did you just come from Qiong Ding Hall?"

Shang Qinghua: "Indeed. Don't let this shock you, but… I might be returning to resume my position as Peak Lord of An Ding Peak."

Shen Qingqiu: "Yue Qingyuan is letting you come back?"

Shang Qinghua: "I'm a prodigal son returning, a lost lamb finding its way. I haven't done anything truly heinous. Why wouldn't he let me back?"

Shen Qingqiu released him, muttering sourly, "Sect Leader Senior Brother is just too kind-hearted."

Shang Qinghua straightened his collar. "Ah, seeing the novel I wrote twisted and changed beyond recognition like this is really… utterly intoxicating."

Though he knew this was a clumsy attempt to change the subject, the words stirred up a flood of memories for Shen Qingqiu. He agreed wholeheartedly. "Yes. Absolutely intoxicating. All that chaotic messing about. I really don't know what the point of it all was."

Shang Qinghua said, "You can't look at it that way. You might think it was pointless flailing, utterly useless. But for Bing-ge… the entire world's reason for existing might just be your pointless flailing."

…Damn. Since when could 'Towards the Sky Shooting Planes,' the great one, say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was horrified. "Fuck. Are you… not the original goods?"

Shang Qinghua said solemnly, "Don't be like that. I'm a young man with literary ideals too, of course I have my own reflections."

Shen Qingqiu sneered. "Your literary ideals? Why do I only see shameless, bottomless fan service?"

Coupled with the typing speed to update ten thousand words daily and the audacity for occasional twenty-thousand-word bursts. Without those 'hardware specs,' who would have read such a thunderously cliché novel?!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. "You think I started out writing shameless, no-boundaries content? I used to write pure literature too, but every single book flopped. I had to carve out a more… popular path."

Shen Qingqiu eyed him. "You don't seem the least bit heartbroken about it."

Shang Qinghua said, "Why should I be? Compared to writing a stereotypical harem protagonist, crafting a bizarre male lead with a complex personality like the current Bing-ge aligns more with my writing philosophy."

Shen Qingqiu summed it up. "So, your writing philosophy is to write about gay men?"

Shang Qinghua: "Do you look down on gay male leads? Pure literati, artists, they all love crafting gay characters. Look,"

He counted on his fingers. "Brokeback Mountain, Bai Xianyong, Farewell My Concubine. Classics, masters, they all love writing about gay men. Pure literature favors gay men, you know?!"

Shen Qingqiu scoffed. "Writing a gay male lead makes it pure literature. Have you heard of Ding Ding Original Web? By your logic, everything on there is pure literature."

Shang Qinghua waved a hand. "I refuse to communicate with you. You're just a hater."

Shen Qingqiu was about to say "I only hate, I'm no fan!" when he heard Shang Qinghua start to hum a tune.

Something about "warmth of human feeling, grace hard to bear, lips meeting, wishing tonight would last till dawn, morning and evening never ceasing…" The key point was that melody sounded terribly familiar. So familiar it made Shen Qingqiu's hands itch and his teeth grind. He pointed a finger. "Shang Qinghua, what are you humming?"

Shang Qinghua continued humming. "Not knowing if today will see tomorrow, how long till the sun's zenith fades, the sun rising slowly, autumn sounds rustling, Xiu Ya's sheath empty, cold water gushing forth, weeping without sound, pleading miserably, begging yet not receiving, rising once more…"

Shen Qingqiu was incredulous. "I'll f—ing— Try singing one more line?"

Shang Qinghua said, "Shen-dada, why won't you listen? You really shouldn't casually 'do' people. Bing-ge will go mad. Let me tell you, this 'Spring Mountain's Regret' is now the equivalent of the 'Eighteen Touches.' You two are legendary, national-level homos, you understand? Silencing me is useless. You can't silence the murmuring mouths of the entire world…"

Finally, Shen Qingqiu achieved his wish and gave 'Towards the Sky Shooting Planes,' the great one, a thorough beating.

So cheap. Utterly despicable!!!

An author who digs pits and doesn't fill them, leaves stories with rotten endings, lets characters collapse beyond Siberia, and then celebrates it—such an author deserves to be beaten to death!

After the beating, he straightened his robes and entered Qiong Ding Hall. At the center of the great hall, Yue Qingyuan stood with his back to him.

Shen Qingqiu stepped forward and bowed. "Sect Leader Senior Brother."

Yue Qingyuan turned abruptly, a faint trace of joy on his face. "Xiao Jiu…"

Shen Qingqiu said, "Senior Brother, it's Qingqiu."

Even if he couldn't reveal the truth to Yue Qingyuan, Shen Qingqiu still hoped to draw a distinction as much as possible.

Even if it was, perhaps, a little cruel.

Yue Qingyuan was silent for a moment, then lowered his head and said softly, "…It is Qingqiu. Junior Brother Qingqiu."

Shen Qingqiu's gaze fell to Xuan Su at his waist. Before he could speak, Yue Qingyuan volunteered, "Junior Brother need not worry. After secluding myself in meditation for a few more months, I should be temporarily fine."

Shen Qingqiu said, "Senior Brother, you absolutely must not impulsively draw your sword again. Cultivation can be improved, realms can be ascended, but lifespan… once lost, cannot be recovered."

A faint, bitter smile touched Yue Qingyuan's lips. He shook his head slowly. "What cannot be recovered… is hardly limited to lifespan."

Stepping out of Qiong Ding Hall, Shen Qingqiu walked slowly along the path, surrounded by the cheerful laughter of young disciples and the bursts of fireworks blooming overhead.

Before he left, Yue Qingyuan had said to him, "But Cang Qiong Mountain Sect will always be a place you can return to."

He had said it with grave sincerity. Yue Qingyuan was always like that—what he promised, he would deliver. What he couldn't deliver, he would use every means to make up for.

If only he really were Shen Jiu.

If only the original goods could have heard those words.

Shen Qingqiu's steps grew slower and slower. Suddenly, as if sensing something, he lifted his head and scanned the crowd. His gaze landed on Luo Binghe, rushing through the throng, his face etched with frantic anxiety, as if searching for someone.

Those who saw his face wore every expression imaginable. Shen Qingqiu called out, "Luo Binghe!"

Luo Binghe saw him and was before him in an instant. "Shizun! Why weren't you at Qing Jing Peak? Are you able to walk now?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "I should be asking you. Why didn't you wait at Qing Jing Peak? Why are you running around out here?"

Luo Binghe lowered his head. "No one in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect welcomes me. I can only visit you secretly from time to time. When I didn't see you in the bamboo hut just now, I thought... you had left again. Or that they had hidden you away."

Hearing his slightly aggrieved defense, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but recall Shang Qinghua's words from earlier.

If he hadn't stirred up such a mess, perhaps the real Luo Binghe would have plunged completely into darkness, becoming that shadowed youth from the original work and the punishment system—the one who tore men limb from limb.

Although now, he'd grown into a lovesick lunatic instead... which didn't seem much better. Still, there was something pitiable and endearing about it.

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "If you know you're unwelcome, why did you send me back to Cang Qiong Mountain?"

Luo Binghe said softly, "I thought... when Shizun woke, he would surely want to be at Cang Qiong Mountain more..."

Shen Qingqiu swatted him on the forehead.

Even now, after everything, this child was still so insecure, so stubborn, so unable to see what was right in front of him!

"Of course this master wanted to see you first!" he said, exasperation sharpening his tone.

Luo Binghe took the slap with a soft pat, but his face flushed with excitement. His eyes grew shiny, words caught in his throat. Just as Shen Qingqiu was about to be undone by that look, shouts and the ring of drawn steel erupted around them.

Yang Yixuan stood on the eaves of the Great Hall, yelling, "That demon is pestering Uncle Shen again!"

A chorus rose in answer.

"Attack! Everyone, attack!"

"He dares to show his face here again!"

"Luo Binghe, you demonic scum! If you dare set foot on Cang Qiong Mountain, be prepared to be beaten down!"

No wonder Luo Binghe hadn't been able to wait by his side until he woke. So he was still public enemy number one here, receiving such a "warm welcome."

Shen Qingqiu said wryly, "It seems you really can only come secretly."

Luo Binghe mumbled, "I told you I'm not welcome here."

Shen Qingqiu reached out and ruffled his hair. "It's alright. I welcome you."

The summit was alive with battle cries—half-serious, half-feigned, a crowd eager for chaos. More were peace-loving bystanders who simply turned a blind eye to this troublemaker, Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Why don't you take me away first?"

Luo Binghe blinked, slow to process. "Away?"

Shen Qingqiu nodded. "Anywhere you want to take me."

Luo Binghe stared at him, dumbstruck.

Shen Qingqiu continued, voice clear and carrying. "Didn't you say you're not welcome here? Then let's go. The Demon Realm, Huan Hua Palace... any place you wish to go, this master will accompany you."

He hadn't lowered his voice. Besides the disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain, the peak was packed with cultivators from other sects invited for the celebration, all with keen senses. They heard every word. In unspoken agreement, they pretended deafness—some gazing intently at the fireworks, others laughing a little too loudly.

They were being considerate, sparing Cang Qiong Mountain's face. Liu Qingge, however, would have none of it. He leapt down from the eaves, practically vibrating with fury as he shouted at Shen Qingqiu. "Hey!"

Qi Qingqi was livid. "...I don't care anymore! Go wherever you want! Let the two of you torment each other! ...Mingyan, let's go! Nothing more to see here!"

Shen Qingqiu glanced back and felt a vein throb in his temple. "Why are you crying again?!"

Luo Binghe hurriedly wiped his eyes, voice trembling. "I'm not. I won't cry anymore."

Shen Qingqiu felt like the Tang Monk, having endured eighty-one trials to finally subdue a disciple who once turned heaven and earth upside-down, barely achieving a righteous result. Damn, it had been too hard. Let him cry. After all, this was just Luo Binghe's nature.

Madman, fool, lovesick idiot, lunatic... so be it.

Shen Qingqiu took his hand, as if leading a child. "Shall we go together this time?"

Luo Binghe slowly lifted his head. His eyes held a galaxy of shimmering stars.

Their palms met, fingers intertwining tightly.

Shen Qingqiu strode ahead, hearing Luo Binghe call out from behind.

He called softly, "Shizun."

That voice, in truth, had never changed.

It remained constant.

Extra: The Peak Showdown Between Bing-mei and Bing-ge 1

The first stop after leaving Cang Qiong Mountain Sect was, without a doubt, Luo Binghe's stronghold in the Northern Demon Realm.

Shen Qingqiu had been "detained" here before, in this underground palace. Back then, outside the bamboo hut replica built to exact scale, soil had been turned, fertilizer spread, and bamboo stalks nurtured, died, and revived repeatedly. Now, returning to this familiar place, he found—through some method employed by Luo Binghe's diligent demon subordinates—the bamboo had actually taken root, growing into a grove of rustling green shade.

For the first ten days or so, Luo Binghe stuck to him like glue, impossible to peel off. Recently, however, he'd begun to hold back, suddenly becoming polite. He claimed conflicts between the Northern and Southern territories kept him busy, so his time hovering around Shen Qingqiu had greatly diminished.

This was, of course, a lie. Shen Qingqiu suspected it was because he had tactfully refused Luo Binghe's request to share a bed, bruising the young maiden's delicate heart once more.

Alright, he had only refused out of habit! He would have agreed if Luo Binghe had persisted just a little longer!

Who knew that with a mere wave of his hand, Luo Binghe would charge out the door and find a corner to squat in, metaphorically growing mushrooms...

The heartbreak had been instantaneous!

Guessing Luo Binghe had likely been hiding in the inner chambers these past few days, Shen Qingqiu decided to take the initiative and go smooth his ruffled feathers.

The inner chambers were forbidden to all except Luo Binghe. But Luo Binghe had said Shen Qingqiu could walk through this palace blindfolded, entering any place at will.

With orders passed down through the ranks, no one dared bar his way. Shen Qingqiu strolled in boldly but, to his surprise, didn't see Luo Binghe immediately. He took the opportunity to thoroughly inspect this private space Luo Binghe had always kept sealed tight.

Just as he was about to explore every nook, the stone door swung open with a crash. A figure stumbled inside.

Shen Qingqiu's eyes narrowed to slits, then widened in shock. "Luo Binghe?"

Luo Binghe clearly hadn't expected another person in his inner sanctum.

His half-dazed pupils contracted sharply. Lifting his gaze, he saw Shen Qingqiu's face reflected in his dark eyes. The murderous aura that had shrouded his features transformed in an instant into sheer astonishment.

Shen Qingqiu didn't notice any of that.

All he could see was the blood—soaking Luo Binghe's hair, drenching his clothes.

Luo Binghe took a few steps, then his knees buckled. Shen Qingqiu moved forward, catching the collapsing figure against his chest, his hand instinctively coming to rest on the other's blood-soaked back. "What happened? Who did this?"

That Luo Binghe could be beaten to such a state in his own territory!

Well, this wasn't exactly a plot hole. When a harem novel protagonist turned gay, what plot twist could even qualify as a hole anymore?

Luo Binghe's throat worked. He seemed to be grinding his teeth to dust, forcing out a single syllable: "...Go!"

"Go"?

Meaning... he should run?

"Alright, we'll go," Shen Qingqiu said hurriedly, moving to haul Luo Binghe up by the waist.

But Luo Binghe clamped his mouth shut and shoved him away violently.

This was the first time Shen Qingqiu had ever been pushed away by him. He stood frozen for a moment, thinking, Is this kid telling me to go alone first?

...Afraid of implicating him?

That seemed the only explanation!

"Stop fooling around," Shen Qingqiu chided. "This master will take you back to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect."

A vein throbbed on Luo Binghe's forehead. "No!" he snarled.

Shen Qingqiu thought he was being stubborn again. "No arguments now! We'll hide there first!" As he spoke, he pressed his palm firmly against Luo Binghe's back.

Luo Binghe's face went rigid.

A warm, ceaseless stream of spiritual power flowed from that point of contact, wave after wave pouring into his body.

After a sustained transfer, Shen Qingqiu deemed it sufficient and withdrew his hand. He drew Xiu Ya, pulled Luo Binghe up, and shot into the sky.

Xiu Ya was born of the Ten Thousand Swords Peak. No matter the circumstance, riding it into Cang Qiong Mountain's aerial defense perimeter would never trigger an alarm. Thus, Shen Qingqiu could slip back to Qing Jing Peak with a person in tow, completely undetected.

He could evade the other peaks, but not his own disciples.

As he dragged Luo Binghe furtively toward the bamboo hut, he found someone was already inside.

Ming Fan was sweeping with a broom, muttering to himself. Ning Yingying stood on a small bamboo stool, sleeves rolled up, stretching on tiptoe to dust the highest shelf with a feather duster.

Shen Qingqiu kicked the door open. The two jumped, then cried out upon seeing him: "Shi—"

Shen Qingqiu made a zipping motion over his own lips. Their voices died instantly.

"Don't shout," Shen Qingqiu hissed. "Do you want to summon the whole mob from Bai Zhan Peak?"

If Liu Qingge knew he was back, he would come. And if he came, with Luo Binghe in this state, how could they possibly hide him?

After all, the most enthusiastic participants in beating Luo Binghe every time were precisely that gang of terrorists from Bai Zhan Peak. Hindered by Shen Qingqiu's presence, Luo Binghe didn't dare fight back, becoming a living target chased and pummeled. Even if it couldn't kill him, it was a tremendous hassle!

Ning Yingying's almond eyes went wide. She covered her mouth with both hands, nodding like a chick pecking grain. Peering at the blood-drenched Luo Binghe, she lowered her hands and gasped. "Shizun, what happened to A-Luo?"

Luo Binghe's gaze swept over Ming Fan. A flicker of disbelief and intense loathing passed through the depths of his eyes.

The gaze was bone-chilling. Ming Fan’s fingers tightened around the broom handle, his shoulders hunching as he nearly stumbled backward.

Shen Qingqiu, oblivious to the exchange, guided Luo Binghe to the bed. “He’s injured. Both of you, out. Is the medical kit from Qian Cao Peak still in its usual place?”

“Everything in the bamboo house is untouched, Shizun,” Ning Yingying said, her voice soft with worry. “Do you need our help?”

“No. I can manage.”

Once he’d shooed his disciples out, Shen Qingqiu settled Luo Binghe against the pillows and knelt to remove his boots.

Luo Binghe remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. His gaze was fixed on the fall of Shen Qingqiu’s dark hair as the man bent over, an inscrutable mix of wariness and icy sharpness shifting in his eyes. Assuming his disciple was simply too pained to speak, Shen Qingqiu noted the cold sweat beading on his forehead. He fetched water and a soft cloth to wipe his face, then selected several bottles and jars from Mu Qingfang’s medical kit. Turning back, he reached to undo Luo Binghe’s robes.

Luo Binghe’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist with crushing force.

Shen Qingqiu frowned. He couldn’t very well slap the boy’s head with his other hand. “Don’t be difficult,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I need to see the wound.”

Luo Binghe didn’t let go. Shen Qingqiu’s left hand was already full of multicolored pills; his patience had worn thin. In one swift motion, he shoved the entire handful into Luo Binghe’s mouth.

Dozens of pills of varying sizes filled his mouth. Luo Binghe’s face darkened, and his grip finally loosened. Seizing the chance, Shen Qingqiu tore the bloodied robe open with a sharp rip.

He stared for a moment, unsure where to begin, and could only dab gently at the mess with the soft cloth.

The lacerated flesh seeped faint tendrils of black energy. This was no ordinary injury—otherwise, with Luo Binghe’s regenerative abilities, it would have already closed. Working carefully, Shen Qingqiu asked, “Where have you been these past few days? Who did this to you?”

Luo Binghe offered no reply. After cleaning his chest as best he could, Shen Qingqiu took his wrist, checking his pulse as Mu Qingfang had taught him. If the situation was truly dire, he’d have to summon the Qian Cao Peak Lord.

As he concentrated, his eyes drifted over Luo Binghe’s hand and chest again.

A strange unease began to creep up his spine.

Something felt… off.

As if something was… missing.

But seeing Luo Binghe’s pale lips and cold, distant expression, he pushed the thought aside. He sat on the edge of the bed and resumed channeling spiritual power into him.

As the energy flowed through Luo Binghe’s meridians, Shen Qingqiu felt the tense muscles gradually relax. He sighed inwardly in relief and reached out, intending to draw the younger man into an embrace.

Luo Binghe pushed him away again.

Shen Qingqiu tossed the cloth aside with his free hand. “What now?” he asked, exasperated.

Luo Binghe’s eyes held pure vigilance and defense. Shen Qingqiu mentally rolled his eyes. “Still in a mood, even now? Is it really worth holding a grudge just because I didn’t let you share the bed a couple of nights ago?”

At that, the corner of Luo Binghe’s mouth seemed to twitch.

Shen Qingqiu huffed and instead reached to feel his forehead. “You’re a bit feverish. Feeling dizzy?”

Suddenly, Ning Yingying’s voice carried from outside, louder than her usual soft, dulcet tones—a deliberate warning. “Uncle Liu! You can’t go in! Shizun is… indisposed at the moment!”

Shen Qingqiu leapt from the bed, dropping the curtain around it just as the bamboo door crashed open.

Liu Qingge strode in, three steps bringing him to the center of the room, his sword strapped to his back. Shen Qingqiu turned, one hand clasped behind him, and raised a brow. “Junior Brother Liu. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Liu Qingge cut straight to the point. “Cang Qiong Mountain Sect has a rule. Luo Binghe is not permitted here.”

“I’ve never heard of such a rule.”

“Newly instituted.”

Ming Fan peeked in from the doorway. “It’s true, Shizun! There really is such a rule now. Sect Leader just hasn’t had it carved onto the Precept Stone yet. Everyone knows…”

“You shut your mouth!” Shen Qingqiu snapped.

Don’t think I don’t know it was you, you little brat, who called Liu Qingge here!

The boy had always idolized Bai Zhan Peak, reporting every minor incident to Liu Qingge. He’d practically become a spy for them within Qing Jing Peak! While it was understandable for youths to admire Bai Zhan, this sneaky, traitorous tattling was utterly shameless!

I’ll deal with you later.

Scolded, Ming Fan wilted and slunk away. Ning Yingying lingered anxiously at the door, then stomped hard on his foot in retaliation, muttering curses under her breath for ruining things.

Once they were gone, Liu Qingge immediately swept the bed curtain aside.

Luo Binghe sat half-propped on the bed, his gaze feral—like a wounded young leopard, murderous intent rolling off him in waves. His eyes were ice blades and venomous flame, one hand curled as if ready to unleash a devastating blow. Shen Qingqiu hastily stepped between them, planting one knee on the bed frame to block Luo Binghe from view. “Junior Brother, don’t.”

Liu Qingge’s eyes narrowed in surprise. “He’s injured?”

Shen Qingqiu almost felt like bowing in gratitude. “If he weren’t injured, would I have brought him back? Just turn a blind eye this once. Don’t drive him out.”

“If he’s injured, why not stay in the demon realm?”

He got injured precisely because he was in the demon realm!

“There were… complications,” Shen Qingqiu said.

“A rebellion among those fiends?”

“Well.” Shen Qingqiu glanced at Luo Binghe, unsure how much to divulge about internal demonic affairs. “Something like that.”

“He should clean up his own mess. Cang Qiong Mountain is your backing, not his.”

A cold laugh escaped Luo Binghe, tugging at the wound on his chest. He clenched his jaw, suppressing a wince. Hearing his pain, Shen Qingqiu found his resolve hardening. “Junior Brother Liu, do not forget,” he said sternly. “This is Qing Jing Peak.”

Who stayed on Qing Jing Peak was the Peak Lord’s decision!

Liu Qingge’s face was a mask of frosty disappointment. “Keep shielding him, then!”

With that, he spun on his heel and stormed out. Two seconds later, he stormed back in and flung something into Shen Qingqiu’s arms.

Shen Qingqiu caught it. It was his folding fan—the one lost during the chaos at Luo River. Liu Qingge found it again? He always seemed to be the one retrieving it. They really had a connection with this fan. Maybe he should just gift it to him.

He cleared his throat, adopting a genteel tone. “I trouble you every time, Junior Brother.”

Liu Qingge left with a furious flick of his sleeve.

A low, slightly hoarse voice spoke from behind Shen Qingqiu. “…Liu Qingge?”

It held a note of genuine uncertainty.

“Pay him no mind,” Shen Qingqiu said, placing the fan on the table. “That’s just how he is. He shouts a bit, then leaves.” He turned back to offer comfort. “Don’t be afraid. After what I said today, he won’t trouble you for now. If the Bai Zhan disciples come to gang up on you again, you can fight back. Just don’t kill anyone. No need to hold back on my account. Consider it… bringing honor to Qing Jing Peak.”

The more Shen Qingqiu spoke, the stranger the light shimmering in Luo Binghe’s eyes became.

He tested the word, voice tentative. “…Shizun?”

“Hmm?” Shen Qingqiu tilted his head, his expression and tone overflowing with gentle indulgence.

Luo Binghe averted his gaze, the corner of his mouth quirking. “It’s nothing. I just… wanted to say it.”

The boy had always been one to call “Shizun” incessantly for no reason. Shen Qingqiu was used to it by now. He ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “Sleep now, alright? Whatever is happening in the demon realm can wait until you’ve recovered here.”

Luo Binghe gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Satisfied, Shen Qingqiu leaned over, removed the supporting pillows, and gently guided him to lie down. Before settling him, he carefully untied the ribbon holding back Luo Binghe’s hair to prevent it from pressing uncomfortably against his head during sleep.

Only then did Shen Qingqiu extinguish the lamp, shed his outer robes in the rustling dark, and climb into bed.

He wrapped his arms around Luo Binghe. “Sleep. I’ll help regulate your energy.”

He’s being held, he’s sharing the bed… surely that little fit of temper is over now?

Shen Qingqiu closed his eyes, smoothing his spiritual energy to its most placid state, letting it wash through Luo Binghe’s meridians like a gentle evening tide.

In the darkness, a pair of clear, bright eyes glinted with a cold light, remaining wide open for a long time, staring fixedly at Shen Qingqiu’s peacefully composed face.

Shen Qingqiu’s loose hair spilled over his arm and between his fingers. He grasped a strand of the black silk, slowly tightening his grip, and soundlessly mouthed the name, over and over.

Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu.

A strange, sinister curve suddenly touched the corners of his lips.

A silent smile spread across “Luo Binghe’s” face, wider and wider.

He looked as if he had discovered something utterly fascinating, his eyes burning with a light that held a trace of near-cruel excitement.

That night, Shen Qingqiu’s dreams were intricate and long.

---

The next morning, Luo Binghe was the first to open his eyes.

The morning light found Luo Binghe awake first. Some color had returned to his pale face, a marked improvement from the sickly pallor of the night before. In contrast, Shen Qingqiu, who had been full of energy before bed and had even been holding him upon waking, now seemed drained and weary, caught in a drowsy haze.

He had truly spent the entire night channeling spiritual power, the flow only ceasing when he’d finally succumbed to sleep.

Luo Binghe’s lashes fluttered slowly as he watched him for a long, complex moment. He reached out to move Shen Qingqiu’s arm.

The movement roused Shen Qingqiu. Seizing the opportunity, Luo Binghe rose and left the bed.

Shen Qingqiu was baffled.

Usually, kicking him wouldn’t get him to leave. This morning, he was being so… cooperative?

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Shen Qingqiu frowned. “Why are you up so early? To cook? Don’t bother today.” Noticing Luo Binghe was only wearing thin inner robes, the collar loosely tied, he added, “Your old clothes are still in the side chamber. Ning Yingying and the others haven’t touched them.” Though the crisscrossing wounds had smoothed into faint marks that would likely vanish by day’s end, a good portion of his chest was still exposed to the chill air. The outer robe from last night was beyond wearing.

Luo Binghe walked around a privacy screen and entered the adjacent room.

A small, immaculate space greeted him. Furniture of polished green bamboo—a desk, chairs, a bed, a cabinet—was arranged with simple elegance. A small stand by the bedside held scrolls and brushes, all neatly ordered. Opening the cabinet door, he found stacks of white robes folded with precision. Above them hung an assortment of fine-quality jade pendants.

While Luo Binghe was in the side chamber, Shen Qingqiu slowly pushed himself up in bed. He scanned the floor for his boots, one hand massaging his temple.

Last night’s sleep had been abysmal. Absolutely miserable!

Dreams. Nothing but dreams! A relentless parade of them!

He’d even relived the embarrassing black mark of fighting the Skinner Demon in Twin Lakes City! Complete with a dream-within-a-dream!

The Immortal Alliance Conference, Jinlan City, Huayue City, the Sacred Mausoleum… they all flashed by in a dizzying carousel. Getting beaten up, coughing up blood, having plants sprout from his body… [Manual wave goodbye]

Packing so many dreams into one night was enough to make his head explode!

It had to be because he’d been channeling spiritual power to Luo Binghe while asleep. Once his divine sense became unstable, anyone sleeping nearby was bound to suffer.

Just then, Luo Binghe emerged from the side chamber, now properly dressed. Shen Qingqiu, having given up on the boots, waved him over. He pulled at Luo Binghe’s sleeve, trying to draw him down to the bedside.

He didn’t budge. Luo Binghe raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

Shen Qingqiu produced a hair ribbon and a wooden comb from beneath his pillow. “What do you think?”

Only then did Luo Binghe obediently sit down before him. His gaze swept around the bamboo house as Shen Qingqiu began combing his hair. “What are you looking at?” Shen Qingqiu asked casually.

Luo Binghe’s eyes remained sharp and analytical, but his voice softened. “All these years, every time I returned to Qing Jing Peak, it was always in a hurry. I never had the chance to really… look.”

Shen Qingqiu held the ribbon between his teeth for a moment. Seized by a mischievous impulse, he secretly braided a small section of hair. “You can look your fill these next few days. Afterward, I’ll go to Bai Zhan Peak and have a word. Let Liu Qingge properly discipline his disciples. There’s no reason disciples of Qing Jing Peak should be chased and beaten by those from Bai Zhan.”

Luo Binghe was silent for a beat. Then, he slowly turned his head and bestowed upon Shen Qingqiu a sweet, radiant smile. “Shizun?”

“Hm?”

“Shizun.”

“Hm.”

It was as if he’d discovered a wonderfully novel game. He called out several times in a row, each met with a response, growing more addicted with each repetition. Finally, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t take it anymore. He snatched up his folding fan and swatted the back of Luo Binghe’s head. “Enough. Once was plenty. Speak properly.”

Luo Binghe’s face darkened for a split second at the hit before he swiftly smoothed his expression back into an inscrutable smile. His eyes slid away. “Did Shizun sleep poorly last night?”

Holding you? How could I sleep well?

“Just dreamed of some old matters, that’s all,” Shen Qingqiu said mildly.

“Then, how about next time, I hold Shizun while we sleep?” Luo Binghe suggested.

He really could produce such lines with effortless ease. Shen Qingqiu finished his task, patted Luo Binghe’s head, and pushed him off the bed. “Go on, get out.”

True to his word, Shen Qingqiu went to visit Bai Zhan Peak.

The journey was a familiar one, requiring no formal missive. After a few sips of the plain congee Ming Fan brought him and a quick adjustment of his robes, he drifted away. Luo Binghe, however, having been firmly instructed to “wait obediently for your master’s return” and then left in the bamboo house, had no intention of obeying.

The moment he opened the door, a petite figure in orange bounded toward him. Luo Binghe focused his gaze. “Yingying.”

To his surprise, Ning Yingying shuddered, her face a mask of horror. “A-Luo! What’s wrong with you! Did you injure your head?! Why are you calling me that!”

Luo Binghe: “……”

Her look of utter alarm didn’t fade. “Why aren’t you calling me Senior Sister Ning?!”

Luo Binghe: “…… Senior Sister Ning.”

The title “Senior Sister” was uttered through gritted teeth. Ning Yingying, however, sighed in relief and patted her chest. “That’s more like it. Changing how you address me all of a sudden… that’s not like you. Even though Shizun dotes on you, we must always remember the proper order of seniority. That’s what it means to uphold the dignity of us Qing Jing Peak disciples.”

A vein throbbed at Luo Binghe’s temple. Losing patience, he cut her off. “I have questions for you.”

Ning Yingying immediately adopted a look of profound understanding.

With a solemn flourish, she presented a horsetail whisk and a broom to Luo Binghe.

“Senior Sister understands,” she declared. “Here.”

Luo Binghe: “……”

Ning Yingying continued earnestly, “A-Luo, don’t take this the wrong way. I know you’ve always insisted on cleaning and tidying Shizun’s bamboo house by yourself. But you and Shizun were gone for so many days, so Senior Brother and I had to take over temporarily. Now that you’re back, of course, we return the duty to you. Senior Sister won’t fight you for the chore. I do understand these things.”

…

Understand my foot!

Luo Binghe turned and headed for Xian Shu Peak instead.

The disciples of Xian Shu Peak had always welcomed him—wherever he went, it was the same.

Liu Mingyan, her face veiled by plain silk, bowed courteously. “Senior Brother Luo.”

In the past, Shen Qingqiu had often sent Luo Binghe on various errands, so his figure was a common sight on Xian Shu Peak—delivering messages, handing over invitations, fetching people, borrowing items.

Other male disciples who came up the mountain tended to skulk around, peering here and there, their gazes inevitably straying toward the fairies’ private chambers or even—though they’d be cut down by a flurry of sword strikes long before reaching it—the bathing areas. Only Luo Binghe, each time he visited, was received with courtesy. He strictly and consciously maintained his distance. Consequently, his reputation on Xian Shu Peak was exceptionally high. Thus, the peak tacitly permitted him to wait within the inner halls.

Before Luo Binghe could speak, Liu Mingyan nodded to him. “Senior Brother Luo, have you come on Peak Lord Shen’s behalf to request my master’s presence? Please wait here a moment. I will see these Fellow Daoists from Tianyi Temple off and return shortly.”

The “Fellow Daoists” she referred to were three lovely female cultivators.

Their graceful figures were swathed in water-blue robes as they fluttered around her. Six pairs of sparkling eyes fixed on Luo Binghe. They whispered behind their hands to each other, stamped their feet in playful protest, their cheeks flushed like three vivid blue flowers dancing and trembling around a graceful lotus stem. Giggling and teasing each other, they followed Liu Mingyan out.

Luo Binghe did as instructed and waited patiently for her return.

He hadn’t been standing there long when he noticed it—the corner of a book peeking out from beneath a disorderly pile of scrolls on the writing desk. It had clearly been stuffed there in a hurry.

So, even Liu Mingyan had things she needed to hide.

He casually pulled out the concealed booklet. A quick glance showed a garish cover, its three-character title written in increasingly flamboyant, twisting script. Frowning, he saw the author’s pseudonym: “Liu Su Mian Hua.” A faint smile touched his lips. He opened it and began to read.

…

…

By the time Shen Qingqiu returned from Bai Zhan Peak, Luo Binghe was already waiting for him in the bamboo house.

The moment Shen Qingqiu stepped inside, he felt the scorching, searing weight of a gaze sweep over him.

Shen Qingqiu: “…”

Somehow, I’m a little afraid to close the door…

Luo Binghe reclined lazily on the bed, a smile playing on his lips. “What’s wrong? Why won’t Shizun come closer?”

The tone was the usual soft, slightly plaintive one, but the eyes told a different story.

He was looking at Shen Qingqiu with an intensity that felt brand new, as if he were seeing him for the first time. His gaze traveled up and down, as though trying to visually strip a layer of skin from him.

Shen Qingqiu’s appearance was, admittedly, excellent. His shoulders were neither broad nor thick, his waist slender, his legs long. Encased in the green robes of Qing Jing Peak, he possessed a certain… grace.

Yes. Grace.

Shen Qingqiu closed the bamboo house door behind him. Before he could get within five steps, a hand shot out and pulled him forward. He stumbled directly into Luo Binghe’s embrace, a strong arm tightening around his waist.

Luo Binghe’s hand slid to his side, kneading with idle, rhythmic pressure.

Hand. Hand. Thank you! Your hand!

Shen Qingqiu reached back to grab the offending paw. Luo Binghe twisted his grip effortlessly, and somehow, Shen Qingqiu found himself maneuvered to sit straddling Luo Binghe’s thighs, his position locked firmly in place. The next moment, Luo Binghe’s hand cupped the back of his neck, pressing down, and Shen Qingqiu’s lips were captured once more.

Don’t move. Holy shit, in this position, I really dare not move!

The truth was, they had already engaged in far more intimate acts. But that had been under special circumstances, with catastrophe looming—there had been no time for shyness or restraint. During those nearly two weeks in the demon realm, Luo Binghe had been very affectionate, but whether out of bashfulness or something else, he had never crossed this particular line.

This time, this place, this situation… was completely different.

The sun hadn’t even set yet. Was this really appropriate for broad daylight?!

He must have really bottled the kid up for too long.

Shen Qingqiu was profoundly uncomfortable with such close physical contact while fully conscious. Yet, this Luo Binghe was like a porcelain doll that would shatter at a touch; he couldn’t possibly push him away again. So, he yielded, parting his lips slightly.

It was strange. Shen Qingqiu had inhabited this body for so long, and his impression of it was this: from head to toe, it was stiff and unyielding, with no particularly ticklish or sensitive spots. Poke anywhere, and it wouldn’t elicit a flinch. But now, under Luo Binghe’s uneven, teasing touches, an unbearable itch began to spread.

How is he so skilled? Why?

He’s supposed to be a virgin! Why?

Did he just figure it all out in one go? Why?!

This isn’t fair. I want to protest. I want to scream!

Luo Binghe bit his lips, alternating between gentle and rough, his tongue exploring Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. Struggling to keep up, Shen Qingqiu began to pant lightly. Each time he tried to turn his head away, a firm hand guided him back, deepening the kiss further. Breathless, frowning, eyes shut tight, he naturally missed the flicker of malice in Luo Binghe’s gaze.

Unsteady on the other’s lap, Shen Qingqiu instinctively reached for Luo Binghe’s collar. His fingers missed the fabric entirely, landing instead on bare skin over his chest.

Smooth, unblemished skin.

In that instant, Shen Qingqiu’s mind went starkly, chillingly clear.

His palm shot forward with explosive force, delivering a vicious strike aimed directly at Luo Binghe’s heart. Luo Binghe took the full brunt of the powerful spiritual energy head-on, utterly unaffected. A cold laugh escaped him as one hand clamped around Shen Qingqiu’s right wrist, the other maintaining its pressure on the back of his neck. With practiced ease, he rolled them both onto the bed, pinning Shen Qingqiu beneath him. Looking down with a smile, he asked, “What’s wrong, Shizun? Don’t you love me? Why won’t you give yourself to me?”

“Fuck you!” Shen Qingqiu spat. “Get off!”

Luo Binghe’s kiss shifted from lingering to savage, teeth breaking skin. The metallic tang of blood flooded Shen Qingqiu’s mouth.

His left hand formed a seal. On the desk, Xiuya responded, flying to his call. Luo Binghe’s movements faltered for a split second. Seizing the chance, Shen Qingqiu drove a foot into his chest. Before he could scramble up, a vice-like grip closed around his ankle. Glancing back, he saw Luo Binghe yank him back down with brutal force, flipping him onto his stomach. In one fluid motion, he straightened Shen Qingqiu’s body, grabbed his calf, and bent it back towards his chest.

The entire sequence was executed with terrifying precision!

“Where is he?!” Shen Qingqiu demanded sharply.

“Luo Binghe” tilted his head. “Who are you asking? If you mean me, I’m right here.”

Shen Qingqiu suddenly calmed his tone. “How did you get here?”

Playing with a strand of Shen Qingqiu’s hair, Luo Binghe countered, “Rather than that, I’d like to know… how did Shizun figure it out?”

Damn it. The real Luo Binghe had wounds on his palm and chest. Wounds he had inflicted!

“Do you really want to know?” Shen Qingqiu said.

Luo Binghe leaned closer, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. “It doesn’t matter if you tell me or not. We have plenty of time to… figure things out… slowly.”

“Then why don’t you turn around and look?” Shen Qingqiu suggested.

The smile froze on Luo Binghe’s face. He jerked his head around, instantly on guard.

In the half-light, a face identical to his own loomed close.

It was as cold as frost, radiating a bone-deep chill. Yet, the eyes burned like malevolent will-o’-the-wisps, glowing with a hellish crimson light.

---

Within the bamboo hut stood two identical men with two identical faces.

Apart from one wearing white and the other black, there was no discernible difference.

The Luo Binghe in black had a sword hanging at his waist, wrapped layer upon layer in talismans, sealed so thoroughly it was almost crude. The once-overbearing Xin Mo Sword was bound so tightly not a wisp of demonic energy could escape.

“Get down from there!” he rasped, voice thick with fury.

The low roar was accompanied by a blast of energy. The white-clad “Luo Binghe” pinning Shen Qingqiu immediately returned fire without hesitation. The two forces collided mid-air with a sharp crackle, dissipating into drifting motes of light.

The white-clad man looked supremely annoyed, his expression scornful. “Of all times to return… couldn’t have picked a worse moment…”

Before he could finish, Shen Qingqiu crooked two fingers. Xiuya, which had embedded itself in the wall after missing its mark earlier, trembled and flew back into his grasp. The moment his hand closed around the hilt, he swung it down in a fierce slash!

Caught between two fronts, “Luo Binghe” could no longer maintain his provocative position. He flipped off the bed, but not before giving Shen Qingqiu’s waist a parting pinch. He landed lightly on the far side of the hut, affecting a wounded tone. “Shizun strikes so harshly. Do you not feel any pity for this disciple at all?”

Go to hell!

Who’s your Shizun?!

This bastard was the original harem protagonist from The Proud Immortal Demon Way—the “Luo Binghe” revered by the novel’s readers! The one who’d appeared during the System’s punishment sequence before—the god-like man readers worshipped, the one they respectfully called “Bing-ge”!

Shen Qingqiu never imagined this guy could not only appear in a punishment program but actually manifest physically in this world. It seemed the System’s so-called punishment wasn’t about simulating a personality, but literally dragging Bing-ge over from a parallel original novel world!

Although something had felt off since yesterday, Luo Binghe had always been prone to bouts of sulking and coquettishness. Combined with his own frantic worry and focus on treating the injuries, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t stopped to think it through.

The real Luo Binghe had sword wounds on his palm and chest—wounds Shen Qingqiu himself had left. That kid treated those scars like treasures, refusing to let them heal completely. How could he possibly have felt “smooth, unblemished skin”?

In the end, it came down to not being familiar enough with each other’s bodies, which was why it took him so long to remember.

Thankfully, he’d pulled back from the brink. That was too close. He’d almost lost his… dignity.

Now, the meaning of that single word “Go” from their encounter in the underground palace yesterday made perfect sense. It didn’t mean “Run away quickly!” It meant “You scum, get the hell away from me!”

The black-clad Luo Binghe with the sword at his waist rushed forward, urgency in his voice. “Shizun! Did that bastard do anything to you?”

Uh, calling him a bastard is basically calling yourself one…

Quips aside, seeing this Luo Binghe’s frantic expression, the way he grabbed him and wouldn’t let go, Shen Qingqiu felt a wave of relief.

This is more like it!

He cleared his throat, ensuring his robes were intact and his appearance orderly, before saying, “This master is fine.” Suddenly remembering the bloody, lacerated state of the “Luo Binghe” from yesterday, he hurriedly asked, “What about you? Are you hurt?”

Luo Binghe nodded. “I’m healed already.”

Shen Qingqiu grabbed his wrist, turning it over. A pale scar, neither faint nor severe, marked his palm. A pang of emotion struck him. “What exactly happened? Where have you been these past two days? Why is he here?”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “This disciple doesn’t know. The day before yesterday, while I was in secluded cultivation in the underground palace, the remnant of the Xin Mo Sword suddenly flared with purple light. And then… this person appeared, holding another Xin Mo Sword. We fought. I was careless for a moment and fell through a rift the sword had sliced open. The rift closed. I only had time to snatch his sword away. When I returned, you were gone, Shizun. I had to search all the way back to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.”

So, for the past two days, Luo Binghe had been in the original world of The Proud Immortal Demon Way?

It seemed the Xin Mo Sword’s spatial-cutting ability had reached such a heaven-defying level it could even tear open entrances to parallel worlds.

This was no longer something that could be explained as a mere bug!

A protagonist from a BL novel suddenly thrown into a harem of three thousand beauties… the kid must have been terrified. Just as Shen Qingqiu was starting to feel a wave of pity (…), a cold voice cut through.

“Excuse me. I’m still here. Could you not ignore me?”

The original Luo Binghe was accustomed to being the absolute center of attention. Seeing these two immediately cling to each other as if he didn’t exist, being all sickeningly sweet and affectionate, stirred an indescribable irritation within him. He exerted subtle pressure underfoot, silently grinding several green stone tiles to dust.

Luo Binghe stepped in front of Shen Qingqiu, his tone icy. “What were you doing just now?”

“Luo Binghe” replied indifferently, “Just having a bit of fun.”

Shen Qingqiu was stunned.

Having fun with whom?

…With me?

Bing-ge, you… you’ll take anyone?

No distinction between men and women, no pickiness at all? You just eat whatever’s served to you?

Or is it because you haven’t collected your harem here yet, so you’re feeling pent up?

Bing-ge clicked his tongue in disdain. “Who asked him to be so useless, not having a single woman.”

That standard for ‘useless’ is truly something else. Luo Binghe’s focus, however, was elsewhere. Rage seemed to bleed from his pupils. “How dare you insult Shizun like that…”

The other “Luo Binghe’s” eyes also abruptly shifted to crimson, meeting his gaze. He sneered. “Insult him? That’s the least of what I’ll do. Look at your pathetic self! To think ‘I’ could look so wretched, spending all my time clinging to a shameless little man like Shen Qingqiu…”

He didn’t get to finish. Luo Binghe exploded.

The bamboo hut was almost instantly filled with a dense, black miasma so thick one couldn’t see their own hand. Neither gave an inch. Suddenly, a beam of white light pierced through from above—their wild, exchanged blasts had innocently struck a wooden eave on the ceiling, blowing a large hole clean through it. Luo Binghe looked up, his face instantly darker than the demonic energy swirling in his hands.

Shen Qingqiu’s expression mirrored his own. Damn it, what excuse are we going to give the An Ding Peak disciples when they come to repair this?

Unwilling to destroy the bamboo hut further, Luo Binghe leapt out the door and shouted, “Come out here!”

The one from the original work snorted, "Perfect. That cramped little hut was too restrictive!"

A black-robed figure and a white-robed figure vanished in the blink of an eye. Shen Qingqiu was considering whether calling the Bai Zhan Peak disciples would result in both Luo Binghes being beaten to death when Ming Fan and Ning Yingying rushed over with a group of disciples in tow. They had likely been in the middle of evening study, hearing the commotion and hurrying over—some still holding their qin, others clutching books. Shen Qingqiu immediately commanded, "Halt!"

The disciples scrambled to stand at attention. Ming Fan began, "Shizun, is there something—"

Shen Qingqiu cut him off. "Line up."

The Qing Jing Peak disciples immediately fell into formation out of conditioned reflex. Shen Qingqiu continued, "Go down and run laps around Qing Jing Peak. Thirty laps!"

If he simply chased them away, these youngsters would undoubtedly refuse to leave, insisting on staying to "help" (and only making a bigger mess). It was better to send them off with a direct order. Faced with such a command, the disciples exchanged confused glances. But if Shizun said run, then run they would. A train of green-robed youths, one after another, began jogging down the mountain.

Seeing them dispatched, Shen Qingqiu sighed in relief and turned, leaping into the bamboo forest of the back mountain.

The one from the original work could control the Xin Mo Sword completely. The one he had raised, however, due to his unstable mind—or rather, the excessive clutter in his heart—was easily invaded and corrupted by it, and thus likely dared not wield it recklessly. It was probably for this very reason that he had proactively sealed the sword with talismans. Holding a golden finger but afraid to use it, possessing a golden bowl yet unable to beg for rice. Since the sword remained sheathed, their fight appeared to be pure hand-to-hand combat.

But the destructive power of this "hand-to-hand combat" was terrifying!

The ground was already scarred with dozens of deep pits, bamboo stalks lay shattered, leaves swirled in chaotic clouds, and roosting birds shrieked as they fled skyward. At this rate, Qing Jing Peak would be shaved down to a bald summit. Spotting an opening, Shen Qingqiu urged Xiu Ya forward, shooting toward the original Luo Binghe.

A streak of silver light flashed past the narrow, long eyes. "Luo Binghe" jerked his head to the side, flicking the blade away with a finger. He tilted his head. "We are the same person. Why do you help him and attack me, Shizun?"

The hell you're the same person!

The Luo Binghe he had raised was, after Shen Qingqiu's intervention in the plot, a version reclassified by the System under the banner of Green Dingding Literature City's "Psychotic Girl Luo," nicknamed Bing-mei. He was not the same person as this bastard protagonist overflowing with tyrannical aura, whose mind was full of vulgar thoughts, and who leveled up by plowing through low-IQ antagonists and side characters all the way to his harem-ending destiny!

Shen Qingqiu refused to answer. He exchanged a glance with Luo Binghe. No further words were needed. They attacked the original Luo together.

The difference in strength between the two Luo Binghes had never been great to begin with. Most of the injuries on the original Luo's body were likely inflicted by his Luo Binghe. Now, with Shen Qingqiu added to the mix, the scales slowly tipped.

Amidst the snow-white, dragon-like grace of the sword light, spiritual power and dark energy churned and intertwined, their coordination seamless. "Luo Binghe" narrowly avoided several waves of attacks, his eyes narrowing slightly. He seemed angered, but didn't let the emotion show too much, merely pressing his lips together. Suddenly, he said, "His technique is so poor. What's so good about him?"

The sudden comment made Shen Qingqiu's hand twitch. He gritted his teeth and kept fighting.

Unexpectedly, Bing-ge didn't let up. "Shizun, you've experienced my skills firsthand. Since we're the same person anyway, why not come with me? I guarantee I'll make you happier than he ever could."

Shen Qingqiu snapped, "Shut up!"

Luo Binghe murmured, "...Experienced them?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "Focus on the fight."

Luo Binghe pressed, "What does 'experienced' mean? What does 'happier than with me' mean?"

"Luo Binghe" said suggestively, "Or perhaps, Shizun, you simply enjoy being hurt? Even if that's the case, this disciple promises he can satisfy you."

In that instant, Luo Binghe's face contorted. Almost unconsciously, his hand moved toward the hilt of the Xin Mo Sword.

Shen Qingqiu shouted urgently, "Don't draw it!"

Luo Binghe snapped back to awareness and withdrew his hand, but the crimson in his pupils deepened, his breathing growing ragged. With a clenched jaw, he lunged forward, initiating close-quarters combat.

The two collided head-on. Their strength was equal, their moves identical, and the consequences were the same. Shen Qingqiu heard a dull crack.

Both Luo Binghes—one with a broken left arm, the other with a broken right—let their limbs hang limp. Their subsequent reactions were also identical: with an arm broken, they used their legs to kick. Another crack—this time, it was their legs.

Shen Qingqiu had had enough. "Stop!"

Was this fight meant to end in mutual destruction?!

"Luo Binghe" suddenly softened his expression, gazing at Shen Qingqiu. "Shizun, are you still angry that I hurt you last time?"

The other one's eyes flew open. "Shizun, you've met him before?"

If meeting within the System counted, then yes. Unwilling to be evasive, Shen Qingqiu said, "Only once."

Bing-ge, ever the opportunist, put on a wounded tone. "Last time was my fault. This disciple admits his mistake. But didn't Shizun also seem quite... pleased just now? We're both your disciples. How can you be so cruel only to me?"

Act. Go ahead and act. Keep acting. Truly the two-faced, honey-tongued, dagger-hearted Bing-ge, smiling on the surface while cursing a thousand times in his heart!

As expected of a dark protagonist from the "End Point" style—devious. He was deliberately trying to unsettle Luo Binghe's mind. Shen Qingqiu wouldn't let him succeed. He retorted righteously and without hesitation, "I wasn't pleased at all!"

The moment the words left his mouth, a fierce wave of tingling, numbing heat erupted from his lower abdomen.

It was impossible to ignore, impossible to suppress. It felt like millions of sticky ants were crawling and burrowing through his body.

"Luo Binghe's" lips curled into a pleased, sinister smile. "Still being contrary, are we?"

The Heavenly Demon's blood.

How could he have forgotten? Any Luo Binghe could manipulate the blood parasite within him.

Here, with one Luo Binghe inciting the parasite and the other trying to suppress it, openly competing, the result was that waves of tingling numbness and feverish heat came in erratic pulses, spreading rapidly from his abdomen throughout his entire body, even to his fingertips. Shen Qingqiu gasped several hot breaths, his vision blurring slightly, his grip on the sword growing unsteady.

In that moment of distraction, the Xin Mo Sword hanging at Luo Binghe's waist was snatched away.

The original Luo smiled triumphantly, with a hint of near-bloodthirsty excitement. Just as his hand closed around the hilt, about to draw the blade, Shen Qingqiu spoke coldly. "Don't celebrate too soon. Look up."

Above the three of them, there was only the sparse, rustling canopy of bamboo leaves, swaying in the wind. "Luo Binghe" didn't need to look up to sense there was no threat from above. He gave a shallow, mocking smile. "Shizun, using such a trick meant for foolish children to deceive your disciple—you think too little of me."

Won't look?

Fine. Your funeral.

Shen Qingqiu formed a seal with his left hand, snapped his fingers crisply, and focused his gaze.

"Luo Binghe" was about to speak when a gently floating leaf drifted past his eyes.

His smile froze.

A thin trickle of blood slowly traced a path down his cheek.

From all directions, more and more bamboo leaves began to fall. The gently drifting green leaves suddenly accelerated, each one sharp as a winter wind-carried blade, swirling toward him with ferocious intent.

The Essence of Plucking Leaves and Sending Flowers! A Thousand Leaves, Ten Thousand Blossoms!

"Luo Binghe" swept out a palm strike, dispersing the dense barrage of leaf-blades aimed at him. All around, the entire bamboo forest seemed to erupt in a deadly, beautiful shower of petals—leaves that chased the original Luo with relentless, gentle grace. They looked soft, but upon contact, they held the power to slice flesh and scrape bone. Dodging one or two was possible, but when thousands descended from all sides, anyone would be flustered, especially two combatants who had just broken an arm and a leg each in their brutish fight, their mobility hampered. Just as Shen Qingqiu prepared to press the attack, a black-robed figure shot past him. The intact palm struck squarely against "Luo Binghe's" chest.

Watching that all-too-familiar face wear an expression of utter disbelief, for a fleeting moment, Shen Qingqiu actually felt a pang of pity.

"Luo Binghe" staggered back two steps, swallowing hard as if forcing down a mouthful of blood. He sneered, "Such tacit understanding. Impressive."

Though his tone was mocking, his remaining intact hand was clenched into a tight fist, the tendons on its back bulging intermittently.

Since reaching adulthood, no one had ever pushed him to such a point.

Being at such a disadvantage reminded him of the days when he had suffered humiliation and endless abuse.

Scalding tea poured over his head, the drafty woodshed, endless beatings and verbal abuse, kneeling from scorching afternoons deep into the night, going hungry.

Those days were inextricably linked to the face before him.

Yet now, the owner of that face stood beside the person who looked exactly like him, supporting the broken arm—not daring to touch it, yet not daring to let go—as if he could feel the pain himself. He frowned. "Why did you clash with him head-on like that? You knew it was broken, yet you still struck. Don't be so reckless next time."

Though it sounded like a scolding, the tone was filled with anger, urgency, and heartache.

Even a fool could hear it.

A cold wind swept through the forest, rustling the leaves, sending bamboo blades drifting down one after another.

It's not fair.

I can't accept this.

The sight of those two standing together was so glaring it made his eyeballs ache, his eye sockets burning.

They were both "Luo Binghe." So why did he get to encounter this Shen Qingqiu, while the one he had met was a narrow-minded, jealousy-ridden, shameless scoundrel?

Why?!

The carefully preserved clothes and belongings, the clean and tidy side room, the whispered conversations, the endless doting, the countless indulgences.

He had only meant to humiliate them. He had always looked down on this disgusting relationship between the two of them with contempt.

Yet, the words "Come with me" had slipped out to Shen Qingqiu entirely of their own volition.

Luo Binghe, upon hearing these three words, let out a cold laugh. "What did you say? Hm?"

The cracking of his knuckles was audible; it seemed he was genuinely considering murder.

While Shen Qingqiu was a firm believer in finishing off a wounded foe—long live the coup de grâce—this… having Luo Binghe kill Luo Binghe? What kind of absurdity was that?

Letting him do the deed? Even more impossible.

Besides, who knew if the "Protagonist's Plot Armor" rule would apply to the original Luo as well?

Shen Qingqiu pressed two fingers against his disciple's shoulder, signaling him to hold back. Just as he was racking his brain for a solution, the "other Luo Binghe" moved first.

He shattered the seal on the Demonic Heart Sword. A surge of black mist and violet light erupted. Under the pair's full vigilance, he executed a spatial slash, ripping open a tear in reality and leaping into it.

In his final glance back, he bit his lip so hard it nearly bled.

Unfair.

The rift vanished along with his figure.

He just… left?

Bing-ge… was that easy to get rid of?!

Shen Qingqiu stared blankly for a moment before snapping back to his senses. "We must destroy the remaining fragments of the Demonic Heart Sword as soon as we return. That thing cannot be kept."

Its potential for causing trouble was far too great. Left unchecked, who knew what kind of insane developments it might trigger.

Luo Binghe nodded silently. Though he likely didn't need the support, Shen Qingqiu continued to let him lean against his side.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps when Luo Binghe asked gloomily, "Shizun, is my… technique… really that poor?"

…

To be honest, yes.

Truly poor. Not just the kissing, but the touching, the undressing, the… rolling around—all were lacking, and not by a small margin.

As for the… penetration… there was no basis for comparison, but by extrapolation, it was probably also… failing grade.

Shen Qingqiu, of course, would never say that out loud. He brushed it off. "Not really."

The gloom on Luo Binghe's face only deepened.

Shen Qingqiu tried to console him. "It's only natural. You lack experience."

Bing-ge's proficiency was honed through countless battles and a hundred women a night!

Luo Binghe hung his head. It seemed he was once again contemplating which patch of ground to claim for squatting and growing mushrooms. Shen Qingqiu couldn't bear to see him like this. He coaxed, "This master will heal your hand and leg first. After that… we can… explore the matter together. How does that sound?"

Luo Binghe's head jerked up. "Really?!"

Shen Qingqiu had expected that reaction. He calmly patted the young man's head. "Healing first."

Luo Binghe nodded. With two sharp cracks, he reset his own hand and leg.

He sprang to his feet, using his now-uninjured hands to grasp Shen Qingqiu's arms. A flush spread across his cheeks, his eyes shining brightly. "All healed! Shizun, t-together? Explore?"

Side Story: Bamboo Branch Lyric 1

=======================

There was a hole in the roof of the bamboo hut.

A chilly draft whistled through it.

Shen Qingqiu lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Luo Binghe was on top of him, nuzzling and licking down his neck like an eager puppy. Gazing up at the large hole—likely blasted open during the fight by one of the two "Luo Binghes"—he could no longer pretend not to see it. "...Perhaps we should change locations."

Luo Binghe lifted his head, stubborn. "No."

Even getting a room in town would be better than this!

Before Shen Qingqiu could speak, Luo Binghe added, "I won't change. Right here. In the bamboo hut."

His tone was resolute. To him, the bamboo hut was clearly a place of profound significance.

Shen Qingqiu accepted his fate. He began undressing himself. By now, he had gained a bit of experience. If he waited for Luo Binghe to do it, the clothes would be rendered unwearable afterward. Better to strip himself clean first.

With a soft rustle, his outer robe, inner garments, and belt fell to the floor one by one, layers of azure and black mingling together.

Now "openly" exposed, a cool breeze swept through the hole, making Shen Qingqiu feel both cold and acutely awkward. Luo Binghe, however, seemed utterly unaffected.

Kneeling between Shen Qingqiu's legs, his Adam's apple bobbed visibly. He looked intensely nervous.

The last time, at the Boneyard Ridge, his memories were hazy, but the bloody aftermath was evidence enough of how poorly he had performed. Coupled with the recent blow to his confidence, he was desperate to do better but had no idea how. Seeing his pitiful hesitation, Shen Qingqiu sighed and reached out to undo Luo Binghe's trouser belt himself.

Watching the furious blush bloom on Luo Binghe's fair face, Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but reach up and scratch the young man's chin, finding him rather endearing in that moment.

But once the belt was undone, his gaze drifted lower, landing on the already erect member. All thoughts of finding him "endearing" instantly vanished into the ether.

…

Side Story: An Account of Fighting a Succubus Demon with Brother Liu

=========================================

Shen Qingqiu said, "I still think it would be better if you didn't come along. Really."

Liu Qingge acted as if he hadn't heard, continuing forward.

He strode with his head held high, gaze fixed ahead, the tassel of his sword, Chengluan, swaying behind him. He walked as if this were not a mountain path overgrown with tangled branches and hanging vines, but the sun-baked training grounds of Bai Zhan Peak.

Shen Qingqiu said sincerely, "Junior Brother, don't force yourself."

Liu Qingge cut him off. "Are you returning or not?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "After this job… after we deal with the succubus here, I'll return."

Liu Qingge: "That's what you said last time."

Shen Qingqiu: "Mhm."

Liu Qingge: "Then you vanished for a month!"

Shen Qingqiu said, "This senior brother won't die out here. When the Without-A-Cure poison was about to flare up, did I ever fail to return to Cang Qiong Mountain to find you? There's no need for Junior Brother to trouble himself chasing me out…"

Liu Qingge insisted, "I'm not chasing you. The Sect Leader ordered it."

Yes, yes, of course. Shen Qingqiu said mournfully, "Sect Leader truly is a good man…"

After a pause, he added, "Actually, this senior brother is thinking of your own good. Rumors in the town below say this succubus has a particular fondness for handsome, vigorous young men. If Junior Brother Liu insists on coming, I fear you might become a target."

Liu Qingge snorted, about to retort, when a wonderfully enchanting, melodious song suddenly began to echo through the mountain valley.

The song was languid and suggestive, each note lingering, teasing like a feather tickling the heart. The two men rounded a bend in the path and arrived at the mouth of a cave.

From the surrounding flowers and grasses, seven or eight young maidens suddenly emerged. Each was dewy-fresh, with hair in twin buns, appearing youthful—and indeed they were, their demonic aura so poorly concealed it was almost laughable. They chirped in unison, "Who goes there?"

Shen Qingqiu replied amiably, "This place is…"

Before he could finish his greeting, Liu Qingge reached behind his back, drew Chengluan two inches from its sheath, and unleashed a sweep of sword energy.

That single motion caused a small section of the cave entrance's earth and stone to collapse. The seven or eight maidens immediately shrieked in unison and shrank back into the foliage.

Succubus demons, blessed by their race, were usually quite appealing in appearance and rarely treated with such roughness. These few were young and inexperienced; they promptly burst into tears.

The sound of little girls sniffling and sobbing came from all directions. Shen Qingqiu rubbed his ear. "Junior Brother, you have no appreciation for delicate beauty."

Liu Qingge said impatiently, "They're demons and monsters. What is there to appreciate? If we're fighting, let's fight! Finish it and go back!" Each phrase was sharp and forceful, ringing clearly through the air!

Suddenly, a voice from within the cave spoke. "How rude these two immortal masters are. What have my little maids done to offend you, that you would frighten them so?"

Following the soft, honeyed words, a slender woman dressed in jade green swayed her hips as she walked out. The sunlight at the cave entrance illuminated her flawless, creamy skin and bewitching features. Every movement carried a bone-melting allure.

The little succubus demons, frightened by Liu Qingge, wailed, "Lady Meiyin, this cultivator is terrifying! He bullied us!"

This Lady Meiyin, being a succubus demon and a stunning beauty, meant that—following the usual tropes of a harem protagonist novel—she inevitably had to have a fling with Luo Binghe.

Typically, Shen Qingqiu was very conscious about avoiding any woman Luo Binghe had touched, let alone actively seeking trouble with them. The reasons he was braving this situation were twofold: first, the elderly couple in the town below, whose son had been ensnared, had wept so pitifully, and they truly had only that one son; second, Lady Meiyin was notoriously promiscuous. Besides Luo Binghe, she had countless official husbands and lovers! Her affair with Luo Binghe was just that—a brief fling, over after one encounter. She was never added to the harem. The readers had enjoyed the peculiar thrill of a one-time NTR involving a crowd of men.

So strictly speaking, Lady Meiyin did not count as one of Luo Binghe's wives!

Liu Qingge clearly had no intention of conversing with a member of the opposite sex. Having just collapsed part of her cave entrance without a shred of remorse, he turned his head away. Shen Qingqiu coughed. "Ahem, my junior brother is… unaccustomed to outsiders getting close."

Lady Meiyin gazed mournfully at Shen Qingqiu. "My little maids are still young and ignorant. They offended the immortal master. I offer my apologies. But this dwelling was newly renovated. For the two immortal masters to arrive and immediately reduce it to such a state…"

Don't look at me, look at the guy next to me! He's the one who caused the collapse!

That one's from the Cang Qiong Mountain Demolition Department! Learn demolition at Bai Zhan Peak!

Shen Qingqiu always adhered to the principle of courtesy before force. He fanned himself politely. "Damaging your residence was not our intention. We are here at the request of the Huang couple from the town below. We merely hope you will release Young Master Huang."

Lady Meiyin said, "Oh? Young Master Huang? I have met no fewer than eight, if not ten, young masters with the surname Huang. Which one might the immortal master be referring to?"

Liu Qingge sneered. "Just release them all!"

Lady Meiyin pretended to be troubled. "It's not that I won't let him go. But if he himself insists on staying and refuses to return home, what can little old me do?"

Liu Qingge made a sound of disgust.

Shen Qingqiu had no desire to continue this verbal dance. "Regardless, please bring the man out. We will handle the rest."

Lady Meiyin's voice remained soft as silk. "If that is your wish, honored Immortal Masters, please follow me."

She turned and glided deeper into the cavern. Shen Qingqiu waited a few steps before following, lowering his voice to a whisper only his companion could hear. "She has no intention of handing him over, nor of letting us leave."

Liu Qingge's response was flat. "You think I fear her?"

When soldiers come, deploy a general; when water rises, build a dam. Shen Qingqiu preferred to play along for now, adapting as events unfolded, rather than tearing the facade prematurely.

They were led into a spacious cavern, its floor strewn with fragrant herbs and woven tapestries. Twelve voluptuous and graceful maidens stood in two rows along the walls, holding round fans and tittering softly.

Lady Meiyin guided them to a stone table. "I have already sent a handmaid to fetch Young Master Huang. While we wait, perhaps this humble one could share a cup of wine with the two masters?"

Shen Qingqiu knew exactly what game she was playing and felt no trepidation. He smiled faintly. "You are too kind."

Lady Meiyin poured wine for them with exaggerated care, her limpid eyes repeatedly drifting toward Liu Qingge, whose brow was furrowed in profound displeasure. The longer she looked, the more blatant her flirtation became. Liu Qingge treated her as if she were dead air, rolling his eyes. Shen Qingqiu, however, was inwardly delighted.

Lady Meiyin has a taste for Luo Binghe's type of refined beauty! Now that Liu Qingge has caught her eye, can he possibly escape her clutches?

For a man like this, she would employ every trick in the book, clinging and pestering until she finally pinned him down and had her way... The expression on Liu Qingge's face later was bound to be spectacular.

Why am I actually looking forward to this?

Sure enough, they had barely settled before Lady Meiyin covered her mouth with her sleeve, casting a coy, timid glance at Liu Qingge. "Might this humble one inquire... does the honored Immortal Master have a dual cultivation partner?"

So direct.

No one—human or demon—had ever dared ask Liu Qingge such a question. It was as if a silent thunderbolt had struck him on the head. For a moment, he seemed to doubt his own hearing, the corner of his eye and his lips twitching slightly. A hint of bewilderment flashed in his gaze, and he instinctively turned to look at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu was witnessing, for the first time, an expression of near-incredulous shock on that perpetually icy face. The thousand-year glacier is cracking! A tidal wave of hysterical laughter surged in his heart, yet his face remained a placid lake. He fought to keep his fan-holding hand from trembling, using it to barely conceal the spasming corner of his mouth. With utmost seriousness, he said, "...No. He does not."

Lady Meiyin was puzzled. "But why ever not? With such distinguished bearing and character, how could there be no female cultivators who admire him? This humble one finds that hard to believe."

Shen Qingqiu nodded in agreement. "Mm. I've often wondered the same."

One of the Ten Great Mysteries of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect: Is Liu-juju actually frigid?! Perhaps the answer will be revealed today!

Liu Qingge took a silent, deep breath, his voice frosty. "Why isn't the man here yet?"

Lady Meiyin soothed, "Patience, honored Master. Perhaps Young Master Huang is unwilling to come. If you are bored, perhaps this humble one could perform a small diversion to entertain you both?"

Shen Qingqiu readily agreed. She continued, "This one is not skilled in much, but I have always had some small accuracy in divining matters of romance and fate. Which master would allow me to attempt a reading?"

Shen Qingqiu tilted his head. "Junior Brother, interested?"

Liu Qingge's reply was rigid. "Not interested!"

Shen Qingqiu spread his hands. "He's not interested. I suppose it falls to me."

According to the original work's setting, Lady Meiyin's divinations concerning romantic entanglements and karma were ten out of ten accurate.

If she said Luo Binghe would have six hundred and thirteen wives, he would absolutely not have six hundred and twelve. If she said Luo Binghe's next girl liked riding [BEEP—], she would definitely not be skilled at the rear [BEEP—] position!

How could Shen Qingqiu, a bachelor dog with an uncertain future, not feel an itch of anticipation?

Lady Meiyin gave a radiant smile, her fair wrist turning over to produce a delicate, unopened flower bud, which she offered to Shen Qingqiu. "Honored Master, please bestow your breath."

Shen Qingqiu knew the procedure. He leaned forward slightly and blew a gentle puff of air onto the bud.

When Lady Meiyin withdrew her hand, the tightly closed bud had begun to slowly unfurl. Holding the stem, she raised it to her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. She peered at the center of the blossom... and suddenly froze.

Liu Qingge, who had been sitting ramrod straight, leaned over a little, as if trying to listen. Shen Qingqiu tapped his shoulder with the tip of his fan. "Junior Brother... 'not interested,' remember?"

Liu Qingge immediately sat upright again.

Lady Meiyin stared for a while, her expression growing more solemn by the second.

She said, troubled, "Honored Master, regarding your past romantic threads... this humble one's skills are lacking. It is... somewhat unclear. At first glance, it appears to be a solitary fate. Yet upon closer inspection, there seems to be a faint, flickering red thread."

She sighed with regret. "This thread... it was severed. A truly great pity."

Shen Jiu had once had a fiancée, but Shen Yuan was a single dog! Two tangled life threads mixing together—no wonder it was unclear. Shen Qingqiu understood. "The past need not concern us. Madame, perhaps you could divine the future."

He genuinely wanted to know if he could find a girl in this world. She didn't need to be a stunning beauty—just not a renyao would do!

To his surprise, Lady Meiyin's expression grew even stranger, as if she found the words difficult to utter.

That look made Shen Qingqiu's heart sink.

Damn it. Don't tell me the result is—destined for eternal solitude?!

Finally, Lady Meiyin spoke, haltingly.

"Mmm... The other party... is younger than you. Their seniority, or rather, their experience... is also less than yours."

Women older and more experienced than him—so far, Shen Qingqiu had only met a few elderly Taoist nuns from Tianyi Temple, who really weren't to his taste. He suspected there weren't many in the entire cultivation world either. So these two points were reasonable—so reasonable they were practically useless.

Lady Meiyin continued, "Your initial meeting was... not pleasant. Perhaps there was even mutual dislike. But due to a very important turning point, things began to change completely."

This one seemed somewhat plausible. Shen Qingqiu couldn't help but feel a stir in his heart. Liu Qingge had unconsciously leaned closer again. This time, Shen Qingqiu was too focused on the divination to tease him.

Lady Meiyin's elegant brows furrowed. "This person is often by your side. You have both saved each other's lives."

Hearing this, Shen Qingqiu grew confused again.

Why does it feel like there isn't a single girl around me who fits these conditions?

Ning Yingying? Liu Mingyan?

Don't even think about it—Luo Binghe's harem members, dismissed!

Qi Qingqi?

Well, her experience was slightly less than his. Their first meeting... he'd long forgotten what that was like. "Often by your side"—that didn't quite fit either. Shen Qingqiu would like to be "often by the side" of the Immortal Beauties Peak, but he lacked the courage and wouldn't stoop to peeping.

Ultimately, Shen Qingqiu couldn't even imagine being in a romantic relationship with Qi Qingqi!

Liu Qingge spoke up abruptly. "Is there more?"

Shen Qingqiu started, realizing that Liu Qingge, who had been stealthily eavesdropping before, had now fully moved over to sit beside him.

Since when did Liu-juju become so interested in gossip?

Lady Meiyin said, "The Master's destined person pays little heed to others. But once they care for someone, they do so with their entire heart and soul."

Liu Qingge actually seemed to ponder this seriously before asking, with grave expression, "What of their appearance?"

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, speechless.

I didn't even ask. What are you asking for?

And hitting the crucial point!

Lady Meiyin stated with certainty. "First-class beauty."

Liu Qingge, acting completely out of character, pressed on. "Spiritual power? Talent?"

"Exceptionally gifted. Powerful spiritual energy. Prestigious status."

Liu Qingge shook his head as if he couldn't believe it. "You said earlier... this person... is often with him?"

Lady Meiyin nodded. "There may be brief separations, but they will reunite quickly. And each time, it is the other party who actively pursues and catches up."

A muscle twitched violently at the corner of Liu Qingge's eye. He pressed a hand against it hard, as if deeply affected. Or, to put it more accurately—as if struck by a powerful bolt of lightning!

Lady Meiyin added one final, fatal blow. She sighed to Shen Qingqiu, "This person... is truly deeply devoted to you."

Liu Qingge turned his stiff neck toward Shen Qingqiu, his face wearing an indescribably complex expression. It held neither joy nor anger, yet seemed to convey immense suffering. Shen Qingqiu asked, puzzled, "Junior Brother, what's wrong?"

Liu Qingge spoke with difficulty. "...Inaccurate."

Shen Qingqiu: "Hmm?"

Liu Qingge's head snapped up, his voice firm. "Her divination is inaccurate!"

Lady Meiyin took offense. "How can you be so certain this humble one's reading is wrong?"

To be honest, Shen Qingqiu also thought it was inaccurate.

What 'often by my side,' younger, beautiful, noble, and throwing herself at me... It reeks of a dead-end male loser's fantasy, and not even a good one at that! There's simply no white-rich-beautiful around me who fits. Hah!

Liu Qingge stated decisively, "Nonsense. What 'deep devotion'! Nothing of the sort!"

Having her specialty questioned, Lady Meiyin grew angry. "You are not his romantic fate! What right do you have to say it's inaccurate?"

Wait a moment, Young Master Huang still isn't here. Could you two not clash over such a trivial matter? And isn't the subject of this divination me?

Liu Qingge's patience had long since worn thin. The moment the other party showed hostility, he erupted. His palm slammed down, splitting the stone table cleanly in two. Chen Lian sang from its sheath, sword energy sharp as a blade's edge.

Lady Meiyin flew into a rage, clapping her hands. "All of you, come out!"

Wait... Why are we fighting now... What was the trigger?! I haven't even figured out where the turning point was...

Shen Qingqiu’s desperate, outstretched hand went entirely ignored. Seeing Lady Meiyin and dozens of her succubus maidservants surround them, he adjusted his expression and swiftly shifted into combat readiness. Spiritual power surged chaotically as Cheng Luan darted through the air. Lady Meiyin let out a sharp, piercing whistle.

Damn! Not so fast! I’m not mentally prepared for this!

At their mistress’s command, the robes of every succubus maidservant exploded into tatters!

A vast, overwhelming sea of pale, naked flesh flooded his vision…

Although Shen Qingqiu knew these succubi loved to deploy their ultimate group technique of collective disrobing and frenzied dancing, that knowledge did nothing to soften the visual impact now assaulting his eyes.

He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, stumbling back two steps until his back collided with Liu Qingge. The succubi’s seductive giggles and moans echoed throughout the cavern. Any normal man would have long since lost his mind, dropped his sword, and surrendered to their tender embrace. Yet, to his horror, Shen Qingqiu realized Liu Qingge seemed utterly unaffected, his expression cold and detached as ever. With each sweeping arc of his blade, he cleaved through swathes of them, a dance of gleaming steel and spraying blood—he was cutting them down with terrifying efficiency!

The naked succubi revealed their true forms, dropping to all fours. Their sharp claws dug into the earth and stone as they hissed, drool dripping from their mouths. They threw themselves at the two men in the center, wave after wave, only to be repelled by bursts of spiritual power.

Shen Qingqiu genuinely wanted to fight seriously. He did. But he couldn’t bring himself to look!

As a seasoned Senior who had seen countless… films, even he struggled to maintain composure before such a vivid, living display. How in the world was Liu Qingge managing to remain completely unmoved?!

Lady Meiyin’s flowery countenance paled with shock. She hadn’t expected all her subordinates combined to fail in bewitching these two. Gathering her skirts, she turned and fled. Shen Qingqiu instinctively moved to pursue, but then remembered their primary goal: to rescue the Huang couple’s son, along with the other men held captive as pets by the succubi. He called to Liu Qingge, “Leave the rest. They can’t cause any real trouble now. Rescuing the prisoners is urgent.”

Suddenly, Liu Qingge spoke, his voice tight. “Don’t believe it.”

Shen Qingqiu was baffled. “Believe what?”

“That just now! Her fortune-telling! It was nonsense!” Liu Qingge insisted, a rare urgency in his tone.

“Don’t get worked up,” Shen Qingqiu replied calmly. “I never believed it in the first place.”

Liu Qingge’s unusual behavior made Shen Qingqiu sneak glances at him. After just a few looks, Liu Qingge caught his gaze and immediately snapped, “Stop looking at me!”

The more he protested, the more Shen Qingqiu wanted to look. What he saw surprised him. Whether from anger or something else, a faint, delicate flush colored Liu Qingge’s skin from the corners of his eyes down to his cheeks. His usually calm, nearly indifferent eyes now seemed like a frozen lake shattered into a thousand glittering shards, turbulent and swirling.

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, then suddenly reached out to grasp his wrist.

The moment his fingers closed around Liu Qingge’s pulse point, he felt the skin was abnormally warm. After checking his meridians for a moment, Shen Qingqiu said with grave seriousness, “Hmm. Junior Brother Liu, be honest with your Senior Brother. Have you ever… practiced dual cultivation with anyone?”

Liu Qingge: “...Why are you asking that?”

“Just curious. Do you know how it’s done?”

Liu Qingge took a sharp breath, gritting his teeth. “Shen. Qing. Qiu.”

“Alright. Let me rephrase,” Shen Qingqiu said, lowering his voice. “Junior Brother Liu, how are you feeling… right now?” Can you hold out until we get down the mountain…

“Not good,” Liu Qingge ground out.

Of course it wasn’t good.

Even for someone like Liu Qingge, being poisoned by a succubus’s aphrodisiac toxin was… extremely problematic.

Side Story: Bamboo Branch Lyrics 2

Zhuzhilang had known from a very early age that he was a disgusting monster. Even among the monstrous denizens of the Southern Borderlands, he was a monster among monsters.

Back then, he wasn’t called Zhuzhilang. He had no name.

Generally speaking, when one saw a half-human, half-snake creature crawling on the ground, no one would be idle enough to think of giving it a name. If they had the time, the demons of the Southern Borderlands preferred to give it a few kicks, or poke its tail, studying whether such a thing had a vital point and if beating it would make it die.

His daily routine was simple. Crawl. Find water. Crawl. Find food. Crawl. Fight and tussle with other beast-type demons. Though unsightly, he wasn’t at a significant disadvantage in combat. On the contrary, his flexible, pliant body and his revolting appearance often distracted his opponents during fights. Thus, this ugly, tenacious creature was profoundly unpopular in the Southern Borderlands.

Tianlangjun observed him for a while, then remarked with sincere candor, “So ugly.”

The black-armored generals standing impassively behind him naturally offered no reply. Tianlangjun, as if complaining to no one in particular, repeated, “Too ugly.”

The emphasis in his words was so heavy that the creature shrank back.

Yet, somehow, the criticism from this noble lord didn’t seem to carry genuine disgust. He had seen that latter look many times before, and this wasn’t it.

Tianlangjun crouched down, staring at him. “Do you remember your mother?”

He shook his head.

“Hmm. Just as well,” Tianlangjun said. “If I had a mother like that, I’d probably wish not to remember either.”

He didn’t know what to say.

Of course, even if he did know, he couldn’t say it. The snake-man’s mouth could only produce low, rasping hisses.

Tianlangjun smiled. “Still, there are things you should know. Your mother is dead. I am her elder brother. At her dying request, I came to see you.”

Demons were cold-blooded. The death of a blood relative could be mentioned lightly, dismissed in a single, airy sentence.

He felt nothing, nodding blankly out of habit.

Tianlangjun seemed to lose interest. “Well then. Her final wish is fulfilled. These are all your subordinates. From now on, this territory is yours.”

The “subordinates” he referred to were the hundreds of black-armored generals who had followed him. These constructs possessed no minds, could not think, felt no pain, feared no death, never tired, and never stopped. They could form an indomitable army, and here they were, casually handed over to a half-human, half-snake monster.

He stood up, brushed non-existent dust from his robes, and turned to leave.

By some strange impulse, the creature hesitated, then began wriggling along after him.

Tianlangjun looked back, puzzled. “Why are you following me?”

The snake-man froze, not daring to move. Seeing this, Tianlangjun started walking again, and the creature resumed his clumsy, crawling pursuit. Tianlangjun stopped, looking genuinely perplexed. “Can’t you understand what I’m saying?”

After this repeated two or three times, Tianlangjun simply ignored him, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled on. The snake-man doggedly “followed.”

Tianlangjun’s status was special, his bloodline noble, his position extraordinary. Naturally, he had many enemies. Along the journey, even though Tianlangjun clearly needed no help, the creature would throw itself into desperate combat on his behalf.

After this happened numerous times, Tianlangjun could no longer ignore his presence. He looked at the battered, wounded snake-man and commented, “Still so ugly.”

The snake-man shrank back, wounded. Tianlangjun laughed again. “And so stubborn. That’s not very endearing.”

Having followed for so long, through countless dangers and obstacles without ever retreating, the creature now felt an almost overwhelming urge to turn and flee. Yet, the next moment, Tianlangjun reached out and placed a bare hand atop his head. “Too ugly and too stubborn. I can’t stand to look anymore.”

A strange, warm-cool current flowed through his entire being.

No.

What limbs?

Soon, the snake-man discovered that his previously malformed body had somehow grown complete limbs. Ten fingers—delicate, intricate things that had once seemed utterly beyond his reach—now extended from his new hands.

It was the body of a youth, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, healthy and whole. Tianlangjun removed his hand, his dark pupils reflecting a slender figure clad in white.

He opened his mouth, trying to speak. Finally having a human form, his tongue and lips felt clumsy and uncooperative. The moment he managed to produce a single, halting syllable, warm liquid spilled from his eyes first.

Although Zhuzhilang firmly believed that whatever his lord did was never wrong, he privately thought that Tianlangjun’s mind wasn’t quite… all there.

After being tacitly permitted to stay by Tianlangjun’s side, Zhuzhilang went for a long time without a name. Tianlangjun seldom gave orders to others and had no need to call him by name, so months passed in this vague, nameless state.

Until one day, when Tianlangjun wanted to find a volume of human-world poetry and, after rummaging fruitlessly through his study, was forced to ask for help. Only then did he remember the nephew who lingered like air in the corner of the room.

But after calling out “Hey,” he realized he had nothing to follow it with. Tianlangjun frowned in thought, then asked, “Have I never asked your name?”

He answered honestly, “Lord, this subordinate has no name.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Lord may call me whatever he wishes.”

Having said this, he walked to the bookshelf, retrieved the poetry collection that had been haphazardly stuffed away after the last reading, and presented it with both hands to Tianlangjun.

Tianlangjun, pleased, took the book. “Not having a name is no great matter. We’ll just give you one.” He flipped carelessly through a couple of pages, picked a phrase at random, and said offhandedly, “Let’s call you Zhuzhijun.”

He shook his head.

“Don’t like it?” Tianlangjun held the book out. “Then pick one yourself.”

He was caught between laughter and tears. “Lord, only nobility may be addressed as ‘jun.’”

“So many rules at such a young age. Fine then, Zhuzhilang it is.”

Everything Tianlangjun did seemed somewhat careless. Bestowing a name was like child’s play. Yet, for the “Zhuzhilang” born in that moment, this man had given him life, and had given him a name.

Even if he was careless, even if he was muddle-headed, this was the person for whom he would walk through fire and boiling water in this life, the one he would serve unto ten thousand deaths without hesitation.

Little did he know, Tianlang-Jun was also pondering whether this nephew of his had spent too many years as a snake, leaving his brain addled. He refused to call him ‘Uncle,’ insisting on ‘Your Lordship.’ He wouldn’t go to the Southern Border to be a carefree lord, choosing instead to come here and run errands. He wouldn’t accept a proper title and rank, insisting on demoting himself a grade.

Truly, his brain just couldn’t make the turn.

His Lordship genuinely adored everything related to humans.

He probably found the demon race to be a cold and dull lot. Toward humans, this foreign race, he held an almost bizarre enthusiasm and an exaggeratedly beautiful imagination.

Whenever he ventured out, his most frequent destinations were the borderlands. Crossing the boundary markers, his trips ranged from short visits for a cup of wine and a storytelling session to extended travels lasting half a year or more, sightseeing and enjoying himself without a care.

Tianlang-Jun likely disliked being followed. The black-armored generals were often sent away by the hundreds. However, Zhuzhilang neither spoke nor obstructed anything. He would simply follow silently behind, almost as if he weren’t there. Occasionally helping to pay a bill or run an errand, he was actually quite convenient, so Tianlang-Jun never found him particularly bothersome.

Even when meeting that Young Lady Su, neither of them minded him being nearby. They were in perfect tacit understanding, directly treating him as a snake that couldn’t understand human speech or sweet nothings, carrying on their intimate conversation as if no one else were present.

Only once did Tianlang-Jun order Zhuzhilang away, using the word “scram.” That counted as one of the rudest phrases ever uttered by His Lordship, who usually pursued refined elegance.

Bailu Mountain.

Extra: A Casual 100 Questions for the Luo-Shen CP

======================================

Questionnaire Subjects: Luo Binghe x Shen Qingqiu

Questionnaire Host: Shang Qinghua

Questionnaire Provider: The System

Shang Qinghua’s System had issued a task.

A bizarre questionnaire.

The entire document’s purpose was unclear, its questions growing increasingly indecent the further one read.

But, no matter how indecent, he still needed to earn some points, didn’t he?!

After abandoning (what little remained of) his dignity to beg Shen-dada, Shen Qingqiu finally reluctantly agreed to bring along the one he’d raised—ah, no, the disciple he’d raised—to complete this questionnaire.

Thus, the following is the live recording from Airplane.

Shang Qinghua: “May I have your name?”

Luo Binghe, having just sat down, raised an eyebrow at the question, displeased. “If you don’t even know our names, what’s the point of asking?”

Shang Qinghua: “Your age?”

…To tell the truth, Shen Qingqiu really didn’t know this body’s specific age. He looked up at Shang Qinghua. “Shouldn’t you know better?”

Shang Qinghua twirled his brush, thinking he hadn’t considered this question either. Might as well wing it. He scribbled a random number.

Shang Qinghua: “Your gender?”

Three idiotic questions in a row. Luo Binghe already deemed them unworthy of an answer. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t take it either. “Classified under the Green Dingding Boys’ Love channel, what do you think?”

Shang Qinghua silently crossed out thirty-plus similar nonsense questions from the later part of the form and asked anew, “How would you describe your personality?”

Shen Qingqiu thought for a moment. “Not bad, I suppose.”

Luo Binghe said, “I don’t know.”

Shang Qinghua: “And the other’s personality?”

Shen Qingqiu listed them off: “Crybaby, maiden heart, love-obsessed brain, chuunibyou, sickeningly sweet and clingy.”

A watery shimmer flashed in Luo Binghe’s eyes, as if hurt by the criticism, but he still answered obediently. “Shizun’s personality is, of course, the best. So gentle and strong, so considerate.”

Shen Qingqiu: “…”

Why did he suddenly feel a bit embarrassed?!

He cleared his throat twice and amended, “Actually, this child’s personality is quite good. He has one especially rare virtue. Obedient. That’s enough.”

A faint blush colored Luo Binghe’s cheeks.

Shang Qinghua, dryly: “When and where did you two meet?”

He knew this answer!

Luo Binghe said, “The first time I met Shizun was right after passing Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s entrance examination…”

Shen Qingqiu felt somewhat uncomfortable. The Luo Binghe back then hadn’t met him, but the original goods. And it wasn’t a pleasant memory. He fanned himself. “Skip! Skip!”

Shang Qinghua: “First impression of the other?”

Luo Binghe continued reminiscing, his tone light. “A lofty, unattainable immortal.”

Shen Qingqiu told the truth. “A little bun.” And a handsome one at that.

Shang Qinghua: “What do you like about the other?”

Shen Qingqiu said with a benevolent expression, “Obedient enough.”

Luo Binghe smiled. “I like everything about Shizun.”

Shang Qinghua: “What do you dislike about the other?”

Luo Binghe said decisively, “Nothing.”

Touched by his firm answer, Shen Qingqiu reciprocated in kind. “Nothing.”

If he really said something he disliked and made him cry in front of an outsider… that would be a huge loss of face…

Shang Qinghua: “How do you address each other?”

Luo Binghe, finding this utterly dull, turned his head. “Shizun, these questions are truly baffling. What exactly are we here for?”

Shen Qingqiu said calmly, “Be good, Binghe. It’s just a formality. Consider it saving your Uncle Shang’s life.”

Shang Qinghua: “How would you like the other to address you?”

Luo Binghe’s face flushed red.

Seeing his shyness, a sense of foreboding rose in Shen Qingqiu. He waved a hand. “Skip! Skip skip skip!”

Shang Qinghua, sensing potential explosive material, egged him on. “Skip what?! If you skip every question, what’s left to ask? Bing-ge… Nephew, speak plainly!”

Luo Binghe stole a nervous glance at Shen Qingqiu and whispered, “Like how ordinary husbands and wives address each other.”

Shang Qinghua immediately said, “Shen-dada, Bing… Nephew wants to hear you call him ‘husband.’ Did you hear that?”

Shen Qingqiu said, “You shut up.”

Shang Qinghua: “If you had to compare the other to an animal, what would it be?”

Luo Binghe answered without hesitation. “A crane in a forest of rain.”

Shen Qingqiu said, “Can’t think of an animal. A plant, though. A black lotus.”

Luo Binghe asked, puzzled, “Shizun, are there black lotuses?”

Shang Qinghua: “What gift would you choose for the other? What gift would you want for yourself?”

Luo Binghe said, “As long as Shizun asks, I will offer anything.”

Shen Qingqiu said honestly, “There doesn’t seem to be anything I particularly want.”

As a Peak Lord, there really wasn’t much that was hard to obtain. Thinking about it, it felt like a waste, sitting atop a mountain of gold.

Luo Binghe said, “Then I want Shizun to ignore everyone else and accompany me for three days.”

Shang Qinghua licked his brush tip and muttered, “Why not just have him accompany you for a lifetime?”

Luo Binghe shook his head. “Shizun would be unhappy.”

Seeing his despondent, almost resentful-wife-like expression, Shang Qinghua was dumbfounded. Shen Qingqiu, however, remained perfectly calm. “Silly child, overthinking again. When would this master ever be unhappy about that?”

Shang Qinghua: “How far has your relationship progressed?”

Shen Qingqiu said, “Everything that should be done has been done. Everything that shouldn’t be done has also been done.”

Luo Binghe said, aggrieved, “Why would there be things that shouldn’t be done? Does Shizun think what we… shouldn’t have been done?”

Shen Qingqiu said, “No. If it really shouldn’t have been done, this master wouldn’t have let you do it.”

Shang Qinghua: “Where was your first date?”

Luo Binghe said, “The water prison at Huan Hua Palace.”

Shang Qinghua: “…”

Shen Qingqiu: “…”

Bing-ge, you call that a date?!

Shang Qinghua: “What was the atmosphere like then?”

Luo Binghe: “Not very good.”

That couldn’t possibly be described as just “not very good”!

Shang Qinghua: “Where do you date frequently?”

Shen Qingqiu propped his chin on his hand. “When I open my eyes, I see him. When I close my eyes, I still see him. Does that count as dating every single moment?”

Luo Binghe asked cautiously, “Does Shizun find it annoying?”

Shen Qingqiu patted his back. “No. You just think too much.”

Shang Qinghua thought to himself, Being in a relationship with Bing-ge—no, with Bing-mei—is fucking exhausting!

Only a few questions in, and Shen-dada had already comforted him three times! This fragile glass heart, shattered and glued back together—when would it ever end?!

So annoying!

Shen Qingqiu was like a kindergarten teacher minding a child!

Shang Qinghua: “Who confessed first?”

Luo Binghe: “I did.”

Shen Qingqiu: “Of course it was him.”

Shang Qinghua: “What does the other do that leaves you helpless?”

Shen Qingqiu spread his hands helplessly. “The moment he starts crying, I’m at a loss.”

Luo Binghe said, “When Shizun gets angry, I’m helpless.”

Shang Qinghua hummed, leg jiggling, taking notes while internally snarking: Exactly like a kindergarten kid and a kindergarten teacher!

Shang Qinghua: “When you’re together, what makes your heart race the most?”

Luo Binghe said seriously, “When he pats my head, when he teaches me.”

Shen Qingqiu said, “Uh, when he tearfully begs me for something, I suppose.”

Luo Binghe added, “And when he scolds me, hits me…”

His face wore an intoxicated expression. Shen Qingqiu seemed long accustomed to it.

Shang Qinghua silently added a note beside Luo Binghe’s name: Hopelessly advanced masochist.

Shang Qinghua: “Have you ever lied to the other? Are you good at lying?”

As soon as he asked, he confidently wrote three large characters next to Luo Binghe’s name: Pathological Liar.

Luo Binghe said, “Yes. But never again!”

Shang Qinghua: “Have you ever fought? What were the fights about?”

Shen Qingqiu sighed. “Fought terribly. Causing heaven and earth to turn upside down, and for who knows what reason.”

Luo Binghe said, annoyed, “Why keep asking these questions? They just upset Shizun for no reason.”

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “My fault, I guess.”

Shang Qinghua: “How did you make up afterwards?”

Shen Qingqiu waved a hand. “Papa-papa saves the world!”

Shang Qinghua: “Is your relationship public or a secret?”

Shen Qingqiu countered, “Have you heard ‘Chun Shan Hen’?”

The questions that followed raced straight for the gutter. Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. "May I ask, are you the top or the bottom?"

Luo Binghe looked confused. "What does that mean?"

He genuinely didn't understand. Shen Qingqiu, pretending not to understand either, fanned himself. "Who knows what it means? Skip it, skip it."

Shang Qinghua: "Why did you decide it that way?"

Shen Qingqiu thought for a moment. "I don't know either. It just… happened that way, inexplicably. Probably… because he looked pitiful?"

Luo Binghe said, puzzled, "I still don't understand what's being asked."

Shen Qingqiu patted the top of his head, speaking with grave sincerity. "It's fine if you don't understand. You're not at a disadvantage anyway."

Shang Qinghua: "Location of the first intimate encounter?"

Shen Qingqiu was about to answer when Luo Binghe cut in. "Qing Jing Peak."

Shen Qingqiu: "Buried—"

Luo Binghe cut in again. "Qing Jing Peak. The bamboo house."

Fine, Shen Qingqiu thought. Luo Binghe would never admit to such a disastrous first time. Qing Jing Peak it is. Nothing worth arguing over. Let him answer however he wants. He didn't correct him.

Shang Qinghua: "Feelings at the time?"

Shen Qingqiu stayed silent.

If he were to be honest, it would be just three words: It hurt! But saying that in front of others would strip Luo Binghe of all dignity.

Luo Binghe said dejectedly, "Shizun was so good. But I was so useless."

Shang Qinghua: "First words the morning after the first night?"

Luo Binghe: "Shizun, breakfast is ready."

Shen Qingqiu: "Don't say anything! Just put your clothes on first!"

Shang Qinghua: "Frequency of intimacy per month?"

Shen Qingqiu found this preposterous. "Who has the time to count such a thing? And why are the questions developing in such a strange direction?"

Luo Binghe answered seriously, "Roughly speaking, once every three nights. If Shizun is in a good mood, he occasionally allows me to… every two days."

Shang Qinghua bit his pen, scribbling notes while muttering, "That's not scientifically accurate… According to my settings, going at it non-stop from the first of the month to the last shouldn't be a problem…"

Shang Qinghua: "Usual location for intimacy?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "He has an obsession with the bamboo house."

Luo Binghe nodded with a smile. "Mhm."

Shang Qinghua: "A [beep] location you'd like to try?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "It's the same act wherever you do it. Why change locations?"

Luo Binghe replied calmly, "Bai Zhan Peak."

Silence fell around them.

Luo Binghe added coolly, "The Bai Zhan Peak training grounds."

Shen Qingqiu's jaw dropped. "...What the hell?!"

Shang Qinghua thought: Has he lost his mind or his shame?!

Shang Qinghua: "Any agreements between you two during [beep]?"

Luo Binghe: "You must tell me if it hurts. You absolutely must!"

Shen Qingqiu: "No crying!"

Shang Qinghua said, "I think you two might have misunderstood the meaning of the word 'agreement'?"

Shang Qinghua: "Regarding the mindset of 'if I can't have the heart, at least I'll have the body'—do you agree or disagree?"

Shen Qingqiu disapproved. "A loser's mentality."

Luo Binghe said, "Without the heart, what use is the body?"

Shang Qinghua felt a pang of bitterness. In my writing, Luo Binghe was clearly a peerless stallion who only pursued physical desires. The number of girls he forcibly [beep] definitely reached double digits… I know he turned into a gay man in this strange world, but how did he fall to this state, step by step!

Shang Qinghua: "If the other person was violently raped by a thug, what would you do?"

The question was too surreal.

After a long, speechless moment, Shen Qingqiu said, "Who would be so foolish as to try to rape him…"

If you're looking for death, couldn't you at least pick a more tragically beautiful way to die?

Luo Binghe smoothed his sleeves, speaking slowly and deliberately. "Turn them into a human pig, toss them into the Endless Abyss, then think of other methods to slowly torment them to death."

Shang Qinghua: "If a good friend said to you, 'I'm so lonely, just for tonight, please…' and requested intimacy, what would you do?"

Luo Binghe said indifferently, "I don't have such shameless friends. I don't need friends."

Shen Qingqiu lowered his head to skim the tea leaves in his cup, took a sip, and said, "I don't have any either."

Luo Binghe said suspiciously, "Really? Would Liu… Shishu not do such a thing?"

Tea sprayed across the floor.

Shang Qinghua changed into clean clothes and returned to continue the questions.

"Do you think you are skilled in bed? What about the other party?"

Shen Qingqiu gave a dry, hollow laugh. Luo Binghe looked on the verge of tears. Seeing his clouded, miserable, speechless expression, Shen Qingqiu's heart softened with pity. He turned to Shang Qinghua angrily. "Must you poke at the sore spot? Skip!"

Shang Qinghua dug a finger in his ear. "So it's all my fault, then."

Shang Qinghua: "Interested in S&M?"

Luo Binghe said, "What's that? Shizun, why are there more and more things I don't understand?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "Oh. He's asking if you like me hitting you, if you like me scolding you, or if you get any feeling from me pricking you with needles or burning you with fire."

A hint of shyness appeared on Luo Binghe's face. He said softly, "If it's done by Shizun, how could this disciple not like it?"

Shang Qinghua understood. He lifted his pen and wrote in a flourish: Luo Binghe is very interested in S&M!

Shang Qinghua: "What is more painful during intimacy?"

Luo Binghe: "Too small."

Shen Qingqiu: "Too big."

Shang Qinghua cursed inwardly about this shameless master and disciple, then wrote with a flourish: Interpret yourselves!

Shang Qinghua: "Has the bottom ever taken the initiative to seduce?"

Shen Qingqiu pointed at himself. "Me? Do I look like that kind of person?"

Shang Qinghua mumbled, "Hard to say. Actually, you look pretty straight too…"

Shang Qinghua: "Where do you like to be kissed by the other party?"

Luo Binghe said, "Forehead, fingers, lips. Everywhere."

Shen Qingqiu said helplessly, "Actually… this child doesn't know how to kiss. He only knows how to bite."

Shang Qinghua: "The best method to please the other during [beep]?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "Praise him for improving?"

Luo Binghe said, "Don't cry."

Shang Qinghua's pen flew across the paper. He absentmindedly added a line: Shen-da's standards are really low.

Shang Qinghua: "What do you think about at that time?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "Who wrote this questionnaire? Do they have any experience? What else can you think about at a time like that besides a blank mind!"

Shang Qinghua: "Do you take off your clothes yourself, or does the other party help?"

Shen Qingqiu said, "If I let him do it, I'd have hardly any wearable clothes left."

Luo Binghe defended himself, "Shizun, at a time like that, how could I possibly control my strength?"

Shang Qinghua: "Approximately how many times per night?"

Shen Qingqiu said, headache forming, "How many times? Who actually counts that?"

Shang Qinghua flipped a page, ready to ask more, but Luo Binghe, who had long lost his patience, gave a cold laugh. "If you're so curious, we can count tonight and I'll tell Shang… Shishu later. How about that!"

True to his nature as a man of action, Luo Binghe meant it. Before Shang Qinghua could react, he had already grabbed Shen Qingqiu. "We beg to take our leave!" He kicked the door open with earth-shaking force. A gale swept into the room, scattering the freshly written stack of questionnaires all over the floor.

The corner of Shang Qinghua's mouth twitched uncontrollably. He crouched down, picking up a few sheets. After a long moment, he suddenly fell to his knees.

"Shen-da… the mission… the questions aren't finished yet… System, don't deduct my points so quickly, aaaaaah!"

Extra: The Strange Encounter of Hitting the Airplane 2

=============================

#10

Is there anyone who likes Sect Leader Yue? I love gentle, caring tops the most, sob sob sob, silently floating by.

#11

Boring. Not written as well as Immortal XX War, far from it. That's what you call a real cultivation novel.

#12

LS, having fun stepping on one to praise another, huh? Heh heh.

#13

Brother Cucumber on the 9th floor writing such a long review for this toxic weed must be true love.

#14

Reply to #13: Heh heh, I dare not accept that. I return the original words to you. Have the rabid fans of Arrogance not been jumping around everywhere stepping on other books? Want me to dig up records and screenshots to slap you in the face with?

#15

Reply to #10: Is there anyone who likes Sect Leader Yue, sob sob sob, silently floating by.

Caught the girl on the tenth floor! You're a girl, right?! I like Sect Leader Shixiong too! I really like him! ☆\( ̄▽ ̄)/★ Unconditional doting is just the cutest! (w`) It's a shame he ended up with such a self-destructive shidi, the BE was just too complete…

#16

Shen Qingqiu is a scumbag, no explanation needed, times 10086! Oh heavens, #15 can actually find someone like that cute.

I always thought it was such a pity the Bai Zhan Peak Lord died so early. If written by naturally BL-obsessed Senior Airplane, he'd definitely be a total heartthrob.

#17

The last few floors contain so much information. I want to say, has the [Heavenly Thunder Rolling] forum been invaded by strange people?

#18 【Peerless Cucumber】

Calm down, upstairs. There are quite a few girls from the Green Dingding site on this forum.

#19

Brother Cucumber is of course true love, but the trolling here isn't as fierce as in the book review section. Not vicious enough. Bad review.

#20

Arrogance fans are here to stir the pot again. You can see this book everywhere, it's nauseating. This book's quality can't support this level of popularity. If you say Airplane didn't hire water armies, I won't believe it.

#21

Reply to #4: Who are you calling an SB upstairs? Such low quality.

What a joke. Elementary school kids who love trash books like Arrogance have the nerve to talk about quality. No one has lower quality than you.

#22

Generalizing because of one or two people is just ridiculous. Seeing the 'hype theory' from #20 again. Forget everything else, just look at Airplane's update volume—daily ten-thousand-word updates, exploding with twenty-five thousand on weekends. How many people can do that? Well, let's put the quality issue aside for now.

#23

Wrote some R18 fanfic about Bing-ge x Scumbag Shen (:3)∠) Not sure if anyone wants to read it. Falling for a cold CP is like arriving at the North Pole, so painful. Looking for a CP in a 'The End' novel is just me seeking death.

#24

Girl writing fanfic, don't go! Is it with the eighth letter?! Please!

#25

The author really can't write romance lines. Better not to write them at all. I think Luo Binghe had no feelings for any of his wives, only used them.

#26

Just collect all the girls. Whether there's affection or not doesn't matter.

#26 【Peerless Cucumber】

#25 must be joking. You want Airplane to not write a harem? Two-thirds of this book would disappear.

……

……

……

Senior 'Hitting the Airplane Towards the Sky' sat with one leg propped up, calmly stirring his instant noodles while scrolling through the posts with his mouse wheel. His eyes automatically added a layer of highlight to the familiar ID 'Peerless Cucumber'.

This famous Brother Cucumber often raged wildly in his book review section, but his subscriptions and update-urging tickets never decreased. Therefore, he had suspected this person was a masochist.

The rant from Brother Cucumber in the book review section gave him a feeling akin to a woman married to a useless husband, irritable as if suffering her monthly cycle every single day. She’d want to straddle him, shake him by the throat, kissing and spitting in a tangled mess of love and hate. Helplessly addicted to reading on, yet disgusted by her own “damn hand that can’t stop clicking to read!”

“The mouth complains, but the body is honest!”

Senior Brother Feiji delivered his verdict, then burst into raucous laughter, slapping his computer desk in hysterics.

That slap was disastrous. The instant noodles toppled, drenching his beloved, hard-working keyboard in a flood of spicy broth. Da Feiji’s face paled in horror. He jerked upright to rescue it, leapt too high, caught his foot on the power strip, and—crack—his laptop screen went black.

After this chain of misfortunes born from excessive joy, Da Feiji’s face was ghostly white.

Ffffffff!

His forum browser, his writing document—all open! Don’t tell me it’s fried just like that? I’ve already hammered out 8,000 words for today’s update!

He instinctively dove for the power strip, snatched up the plug, and shoved it into the socket—

And learned firsthand what it meant to be “struck by lightning, body coursing with the wrath of the heavens.”

*

“What are you daydreaming about, you idiot! Get to work!”

Senior Brother Feiji pffted, spitting out the blade of dogtail grass he’d been chewing.

In his heart, he flipped a thousand middle fingers and a thousand F-words at a certain vicious Senior Brother from Anding Peak. Then he turned, his face blossoming into a radiant smile, and scurried over with shameless eagerness. “Coming!”

Senior Brother X spat, “All you know is how to slack off!”

Shang Qinghua, a seventeen-year-old outer disciple (elderly by entry standards), shuffled along with the large group unloading cargo from the ship onto the dock, his eyes wandering all the while.

Yes. Da Feiji had become Shang Qinghua.

The sleazy, scheming spy from the harem novel he himself had written. The cannon-fodder logistics officer who worked diligently for the Northern Desert Lord his whole life, only to be used up and discarded by his cold, ruthless boss. That Shang Qinghua.

No—wait. At this point, he was still just an outer disciple on Anding Peak whom everyone could bully. Not the head disciple. Not yet renamed into the ‘Qing’ generation.

Anding Peak itself was a thoroughly depressing place. The Peak Lord was like the director of a housekeeping service—depressing. His disciples, by extension, were like unpaid hourly laborers—also depressing. The outer disciples? The absolute bottom of the food chain. Depression squared. Everyone was irritable. The senior bullied the junior. Commonplace.

Shang Qinghua occasionally grumbled internally: Just wait till I become Peak Lord, I’ll show you all… heh heh!

But he quickly snuffed out such delusions himself.

Think about the ending: used and discarded by the boss, dying a miserable death.

Obviously, not a good deal!

If it were up to Shang Qinghua’s own wishes, he’d strip off his robes, roll up his bedding, dash down Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, flee the cultivation world, and sprint toward a life of free poverty. With all the research he’d done for his transmigration harem novel (like how to make soap, glass, abacuses), he was confident he could live a smooth, prosperous, dazzlingly successful little life!

But whenever this thought arose—

[Violation. Points deducted.]

Transmigrating into my own harem novel is bad enough. Why couldn’t I be the protagonist?

Not being the protagonist is bad enough. Why is there a damn System?!

It’s all that poster’s fault! No critique, no harm! And that absolute Cucumber!

Shang Qinghua hauled heavy crate after crate of books from the ship onto the cart, hitched the horse, all while stewing in silent resentment.

Such menial tasks, in a typical cultivation novel, should be handled with a wave of the hand. When it came down to it, he had only himself to blame. Of all things, why did he write a low-magic setting? Manual labor had to be done the hard way. In the end, he’d only dug his own grave.

Alright, what he really wanted to say was: Qing Jing Peak is just so damn good at making trouble!

They were the absolute worst! Helping the fairy sisters of Xian Shu Peak transport clothing and such? Tiring, sure, but at least the heart felt fluttery. Bitter for the body, sweet for the soul. But being a mover for Qing Jing Peak? What was that?!

Every time they made a purchase, it was hundreds upon hundreds of jin of books. They made the Anding Peak disciples huff and puff their way down the mountain to fetch them, then huff and puff their way back up to deliver them. And those Qing Jing guys? Didn’t lift their backsides from their chairs, didn’t take their fingers from their zither strings, just sat there waiting for delivery.

Screw your aloofness! Have the skill to come get it yourselves!

The other outer disciples were also complaining. “Those Qing Jing disciples clearly look down on us from Anding Peak. We always have to be their beasts of burden.”

Someone said indignantly, “Especially that Shen Qingqiu. He really thinks too highly of himself. His eyes are on the top of his head.”

“So what if the Elegant Sword has some reputation? This is too arrogant.”

“Heh. He even dares to provoke Head Disciple Liu from Bai Zhan Peak. Why would he care about nobodies like us?”

“With Bai Zhan’s temper… Liu Qingge’s temper… how hasn’t he beaten Shen Qingqiu to death yet?”

“How could he? You think Senior Brother Yue would just stand by and watch? With him around, Junior Brother Liu could never actually kill Shen Qingqiu.”

Another outer disciple who had also entered Cang Qiong at an advanced age said sourly, “Who knows how a half-trained outsider like Shen Qingqiu got selected as head disciple. They say he’s on good terms with Senior Brother Yue, but you never see him go to Qiong Ding Peak, and when he sees Senior Brother Yue he puts on that fake, aloof, dead-fish face. Say they’re not on good terms? Doesn’t seem like it either.”

Shang Qinghua remained silent, feeling stifled.

Ah! I want to gossip so badly!!! I want to slap you all in the face with the plot outlines I designed but that never saw the light of day!!! No one knows these old stories better than this master!!!

The group’s muttered complaints grew more venomous, their resentment and jealousy feeding off each other, as if arguing with some unseen foe. Shang Qinghua hunched over the driver’s seat, deflecting any direct questions with a noncommittal laugh, carefully not adding a single word.

Don’t be fooled by their enthusiastic venting now. In the future, they might just secretly rat out whoever they complained about today. A moment’s pleasure in gossip could lead to being reported. Get targeted by disciples from another peak, and you’d be in for a world of hurt.

The road was pitted and puddled after the rain. The cart wheels jolted and swayed. As it listed sharply, the System dinged with a prompt:

[Mission, prepare.]

Hearing this, Shang Qinghua’s face scrunched up like a chrysanthemum.

He offered an ingratiating smile. “Brother System, isn’t the information you release each time… pathetically brief? Could you clarify what mission? How to prepare? Prepare for what? Give a hint, could you?”

The System said implicitly: [You know.]

Shang Qinghua: “…”

I don’t know!

Just then, crack—the cart suddenly stopped, as if something had jammed it against the ground.

The disciples on and behind the cart jolted, stumbling. Already irritable, they immediately slapped the cart rail and roared, “Idiot! Can’t even drive a cart! Move! Why are you stopping?!”

Shang Qinghua didn’t know why it had suddenly stuck either. Puzzled, he jumped down and took a look. His soul nearly fled in terror.

The wheel couldn’t move because it had sunk into a muddy puddle. The water in the small hole had frozen, solidly trapping the wooden wheel.

An invisible, biting cold ran rampant through the surrounding air.

The winter was cold. Shang Qinghua’s heart was colder. Shivering, he looked up.

A figure cloaked in black was slowly approaching. Tall and straight, the silhouette suggested a youth.

System: [Current target anger value: 500. Mission objective: Survive.]

[Hint complete. Good luck.]

Side Story: Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu

=============================

1

Clang!

Shen Jiu kicked the small, pitch-black wooden basin flying.

He crossed his arms, saying nothing. The boy—maybe fifteen, maybe fourteen—shrank back.

The other kids nearby egged him on with their eyes. Steeling himself, the boy stiffened his neck. “Shen Jiu, don’t be so tyrannical. You didn’t buy this street. Why won’t you let us work here too?”

The main street was broad and flat, bustling with people. Some passersby watched the children’s scuffle, but most hurried on their way.

For begging, it was indeed prime territory.

This kid dared to challenge him. Shen Jiu lowered his head, ready to grab a brick and teach him a lesson, when a tall youth happened to walk over. Seeing him roll up his sleeves and look down, the youth hurried over to stop him. “Xiao Jiu, let’s go somewhere else.”

Shen Jiu said, “No. I’m staying here.”

The boy seized the chance to tattle. “Seventh Brother, he’s bullying me.”

Yue Qi said, “It’s not bullying, Fifteen. Xiao Jiu is just joking with you.”

Shen Jiu said, “Who’s joking with him? I’m telling him to get lost. This is my territory. Anyone who fights me for it, I’ll end them.”

With Yue Qi blocking the way, Fifteen’s courage inflated. “Don’t think you’re so great! You hog the best spot every time we get to a new place! Everyone’s wanted to beat you up for ages!”

Yue Qingyuan chided, “Fifteen.” Struggling, Shen Jiu kicked Yue Qi in the shin. “Wanted to? Then dare to try! No skill of your own, just blame the location. Bastard. Who’s your Seventh Brother? Call him that again and see!”

“You’re the bastard! You’ll be sold off sooner or later! Sold to be a brothel attendant!”

Yue Qi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Where did you learn such foul language!” He pulled Shen Jiu toward the roadside, coaxing, “Alright, alright, you’re the most capable. We don’t need to pick spots. Let’s change streets.”

Shen Jiu stomped on his foot. “Get lost! Afraid of him? One-on-one, I’m not afraid even if they all come at me!”

Yue Qi knew perfectly well that if Shen Jiu really fought them, he’d fight dirty—gouging eyes, striking below the belt, vicious moves. The ones ending up hurt and scared into tears would be the others. Suppressing a laugh, he said, “Had enough stomping? Stop it. Seventh Brother will take you to go have fun.”

Shen Jiu snarled, "Play? It'd be more fun if they all dropped dead."

Yue Qi looked at him and shook his head helplessly.

With a Seven and a Nine, naturally there had been a One through Six.

But among the earlier batches of acquired children, those numbered six and above had either been resold or had long since perished.

Shen Jiu was a scrawny, small bundle. Yue Qi would hold his head, sitting on the ground with a "blood-letter" spread out before them, detailing how their parents were dead, how they were stranded far from home seeking relatives, alone and destitute, adrift and helpless, and so on.

According to the plan, Yue Qi was supposed to wail and sob, but he could never quite manage the tears. So the task always fell to Shen Jiu, who was supposed to be playing sick and halfway to death's door. He was small, with a decent face, and when he cried, it was a torrential downpour. Passersby, seeing such a pitiful sight, would generously drop coins into their bowl. Calling him a money tree was no exaggeration.

Later, as Yue Qi grew older, he became increasingly unwilling to do this kind of work and was eventually assigned to lookout duty and patrols.

The two were just about to leave the busiest stretch of the main street when a dense clatter of hoofbeats erupted.

The stall owners on both sides panicked, pushing their carts and fleeing as if facing a mortal enemy. Yue Qi was bewildered, but Shen Jiu yanked him aside just as a tall, powerful horse rounded the corner.

The horse's bit was actually forged from solid gold—gleaming, dazzling, heavy. Perched arrogantly atop the saddle was a spirited young master. His features were strikingly vivid, with narrow, long eyes. Two points of sharp light shone in his dark pupils, painfully bright. The wide hem of his purple robe spilled over both sides of the saddle, his archer's sleeves drawn tight. In his pale palm, he held a whip of purest black.

Dazzled by the gold, Shen Jiu instinctively craned his neck for a better look. Yue Qi quickly pulled him back, and they retreated further into the shadows.

They hadn't gone far when screams and the sound of scattering footsteps reached them. A pack of their little brothers came running over, throwing themselves at Yue Qi, nearly smearing snot and tears all over him. Shen Jiu flew into a rage, but Yue Qi quickly said, "Stop crying. What happened?"

Someone wailed, "Fifteen is gone!"

Yue Qi stopped in his tracks. "He didn't follow?"

The child sobbed, "The street was too chaotic just now… I didn't see clearly…"

"Don't panic. Explain slowly," Yue Qi urged.

It turned out that when the young master on horseback, leading his retinue, had turned the corner, his gaze had swept over Fifteen and the others huddled in the street corner. He wrinkled his nose. "Where did this filth come from?"

A servant answered, "Young Master Qiu, just some beggars from who-knows-where."

The young master said, "Why is this rubbish still cluttering the place?"

The servants needed no further instruction. They moved forward aggressively to drive them off.

Fifteen, who had finally wrested this territory from Shen Jiu, couldn't bear to be chased away like this. He stretched his neck and yelled, "What gives you the right to—"

He was about to add, "This street isn't yours!" when the young master flicked his wrist. A black shadow fell, and a bloody, mangled whip mark appeared on Fifteen's face.

The lash missed his eyeball by a hair's breadth. Before Fifteen could even register the pain, he was frozen in shock.

The young master smiled brilliantly. "No right at all. Just that this street was built by my family."

Whether from fright or pain, Fifteen crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.

Shen Jiu burst into laughter before the story was even finished. But his laughter died quickly. Yue Qi, doing a headcount, found several were missing. He turned back. "You go ahead. I'll catch up."

Shen Jiu gloated. "Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. You think that Qiu bastard would actually kill them?"

Yue Qi shook his head. "You go back first. I'm the oldest. I can't just ignore this."

"They won't die. A beating at worst. If it doesn't kill them, it'll teach them a lesson."

"Go back."

Shen Jiu couldn't hold him back. "Seventh Brother, you meddle too much!" he cursed, then followed after him.

2

Qiu Jianluo found Shen Jiu immensely entertaining.

It was like beating a dog. If you hit a dog and it just whimpers and cowers, it poses no threat, but it's also rather dull. But if you step on a dog and it growls low in its throat, glaring at you with fear yet not daring to fight back—now that was much more interesting.

He would slap Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu was surely cursing his ancestors a hundred times over in his heart, yet he still had to obediently endure the kicks, obediently offer his face for more strikes.

Truly delightful!

Thinking this, Qiu Jianluo couldn't help but laugh aloud.

Shen Jiu, having just endured a thorough beating, hugged his head and shrank to the side. Watching Qiu Jianluo laugh until he doubled over, he sincerely believed the man was insane.

When Qiu Jianluo first bought Shen Jiu, he locked him up for a few days until he was grimy and disheveled. Once even Qiu Jianluo found the sight disgusting, he handed Shen Jiu over to a few burly servants like a kitten, telling them to "give him a good scrubbing."

And so, Shen Jiu was indeed scrubbed raw, his skin nearly scraped off, before being hauled back to the study.

With the years of grime scalded away, his face, shoulders, and arms, rubbed too vigorously, shone white tinged with red. His damp hair still steamed slightly. Dressed in clean clothes, standing properly to the side, he actually looked quite pitiable and pleasing.

Qiu Jianluo tilted his head, observing him for a long moment. A strange feeling, mixed with a flicker of fondness, stirred within him. The kick he had intended to deliver remained undelivered.

"Do you know any characters?" he asked.

Shen Jiu whispered, "A few."

Qiu Jianluo spread out a sheet of pristine paper and tapped the desk. "Write them. Let me see."

Reluctantly, Shen Jiu picked up a small wolf-hair brush. His grip was surprisingly proper. He dabbed it in ink, thought for a moment, and first wrote the character for "Seven." He paused, then wrote the character for "Nine."

Though the stroke order was backward, the characters were neither crooked nor slanted, standing upright and elegant. "Where did you learn this?" Qiu Jianluo asked.

"Watched others write."

This brat understood nothing, only knew how to copy shapes, yet he could still manage to impress. Qiu Jianluo was greatly surprised.

Consequently, his demeanor grew even more amiable. Mimicking the tone of his old tutor, he said approvingly, "You show some aptitude. If you are willing to study properly from now on, you might even walk the righteous path."

Qiu Jianluo was four years older than Shen Jiu. At sixteen, doted on by his parents, raised in a house paved with gold bricks, he looked down on everyone. The only treasure in his life was his younger sister, Haitang.

Haitang was the treasure of the entire Qiu family. Before her, Qiu Jianluo had always been a good elder brother. He had once wished she would never marry. After Shen Jiu arrived, he began to entertain other plans.

Qiu Haitang liked Shen Jiu very much.

If he could mold Shen Jiu into something presentable, he could make a convenient son-in-law. That seemed rather good. His sister would remain by his side, and he could keep Shen Jiu around for his own amusement. As long as Shen Jiu remained obedient, all would be peaceful.

Marrying him wouldn't mean her moving far away. Her food, clothing, and expenses would still come from the family—little different from not marrying at all. Aside from the slight mismatch—a toad lusting after swan meat—there were almost no drawbacks.

Qiu Jianluo's calculations were quite beautiful. He often warned Shen Jiu, "If you dare make Haitang unhappy, I'll make sure you lose your miserable life."

"If not for Haitang, I'd have beaten you to death long ago."

"One must know gratitude. Our family made you look somewhat human. Even if you repaid us with your life, it would only be right."

The older Shen Jiu grew, the more he understood: he could not show the slightest defiance toward this man. Whatever Qiu Jianluo said, he must agree. Even if the words made him want to retch, he could not show it. Only then would he avoid a vicious beating.

But in his heart, he often reminisced about that first day he saw Qiu Jianluo—the only day he had driven that beast Qiu Jianluo into a mad rage.

Yue Qi had insisted on going back for Fifteen and the others, nearly running headlong into Qiu Jianluo's horse hooves. In that instant, Shen Jiu forgot Yue Qi's warning that their "immortal arts" were best kept hidden from others. He turned the gold into a sharp blade and drove it into the horse's leg.

Qiu Jianluo's horse reared and spun wildly in the street, bucking uncontrollably. Shen Jiu cursed inwardly for him to fall, to fall and break his neck! Yet, surprisingly, Qiu Jianluo's horsemanship was exceptional. Even with the horse's front hooves in the air, he sat steady in the saddle, roaring, "Who did that?! Who was it?!"

Of course, it was Shen Jiu.

But if Fifteen hadn't spoken up voluntarily when Qiu Jianluo later came looking, no one would have ever known he was the one who interfered.

If they hadn't saved him, Fifteen would have been trampled to death under the Qiu family's chaotic hooves. He got his life back, only to betray them in return. Fifteen deserved to be trampled. Yue Qi never should have gone back to save him in the first place. His death would have been justified!

Shen Jiu relied on repeatedly chewing over this sweet, yet ultimately useless, venomous fantasy for comfort, getting through one agonizing day after another.

3

Shen Jiu had thought of many reasons why Seventh Brother never came back for him.

Maybe he was discovered while escaping and had his legs broken. Maybe he ran out of food on the road and starved to death. Maybe no immortal mountain would take him in. He even imagined how he would weep while digging a grave for his bones with his bare hands if he were dead, and how he would move heaven and earth to rescue him from dire straits if he were alive—even though Shen Jiu himself had just escaped the wolf's den only to fall into the tiger's lair, and was currently in his own dire straits.

But he had never, in any of his imaginings, considered they might meet again under such circumstances.

He repeated the motion: raise the sword, bring it down. Raise, bring it down. Blood flew in arcs, the scene brutal. Blood droplets spattered into his eyes. He merely blinked, no other expression on his face. His movements could be described as composed and practiced.

After Wu Yanzi took him from the Qiu household, the most he taught his "disciple" was how to kill, set fires, steal, and fish in troubled waters. Like this: taking advantage of the Immortal Alliance Conference, robbing a bunch of naive, laughable, yet self-important young masters from cultivation clans who fancied themselves elite. Stealing their storage pouches. Disposing of their corpses.

When Yue Qi found him, he must have been stunned by the ghastly, half-human figure he presented, so much so that he ignored the corpses of the disciples from other sects scattered on the ground and took two steps forward.

Shen Jiu shuddered, jerking his head up sharply.

The moment Yue Qi saw his face clearly, his eyes instantly reddened.

"Don't come any closer!" Shen Jiu snarled, his voice sharp with panic.

His mind was in chaos. His first instinct was to lunge for the ground, snatch a signal flare from one of the corpses, and fire it into the sky.

Yue Qi remained frozen in stunned confusion, still moving forward, a hand reaching out as his mouth opened to call out—

A sinister, cackling laugh erupted from the dense forest nearby.

"My obedient disciple, who is this that has frightened you so? Since when do you know fear?"

Shen Jiu's hand went slack. The signal tube slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground without a sound.

He whirled around. "Master, it's not him I fear! It was a momentary lapse—I didn't notice these wretches on the ground had managed to launch a flare. Reinforcements will be here any moment!"

Yue Qi finally grasped the direness of the situation. His expression didn't change, but spiritual power gathered at his fingertips.

Wu Yanzi snorted. "I saw the flare and guessed as much. Your work is usually clean. What happened this time?"

Shen Jiu bowed his head. "This disciple is at fault."

Yue Qi stepped between them, raising his sword. His eyes, still slightly red, flicked to Shen Jiu for an instant. His voice was hoarse but unwavering. "You will not leave."

Shen Jiu glared at him with pure venom.

Wu Yanzi looked him over, then his sword, and let out a derisive laugh. "Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. And from Qiong Ding Peak, no less. Xuan Su… Yue Qingyuan?"

Hearing this, Shen Jiu stiffened almost imperceptibly before quickly adding, "Master, since he's from Cang Qiong, killing him won't be quick. We should flee now. If the pursuers catch up, we're finished!"

Wu Yanzi sneered. "Cang Qiong Mountain may be large, but I don't fear some junior. Besides, he's the one courting death."

When the fight between him and Yue Qi truly began, Shen Jiu realized how laughable his earlier worry for Yue Qi's life had been.

He himself was terrified of this "Master" Wu Yanzi, yet Yue Qi—or rather, Yue Qingyuan—faced him with ease, not even needing to fully draw his sword.

Yet he couldn't relax completely. He knew Wu Yanzi's fighting style and his trump card. The man possessed a set of vicious curse talismans. Countless times, Shen Jiu had seen him throw these black slips when cornered, killing his opponent by surprise. Even many renowned cultivators had fallen to this trick, let alone Yue Qi, who clearly lacked real combat experience and fought by the book.

This time, however, Wu Yanzi never got the chance to throw those talismans. Because Shen Jiu drove a sword through his back.

Yue Qi grabbed his hand, and they fled for their lives. After the frantic escape and the fierce battle, the two of them leaned against a tree, breathless and hearts still pounding.

Only when he'd calmed did Shen Jiu finally take a proper look at Yue Qi.

He carried himself with a steady dignity, his clothes fine and immaculate, every inch the scion of a great sect. It bore no resemblance to the struggling, desperate existence Shen Jiu had imagined for him.

This was Yue Qingyuan. Not Yue Qi.

Yue Qingyuan's expression was agitated. He opened his mouth, about to speak, but Shen Jiu, his face like stone, cut him off with a barrage of questions. "You joined Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?"

Yue Qingyuan seemed to think of something. His excited expression dimmed, his face gradually paling.

"You became the head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak. Why didn't you come back for me?"

"I…"

Shen Jiu waited. When no further words came, he said, "Why stop? I'm listening. I've already waited years. A little longer makes no difference."

How could Yue Qingyuan continue?

Shen Jiu folded his arms. Finally, Yue Qingyuan's low voice came. "...It was my fault. I failed you."

A cold, all-consuming rage, thick with the scent of blood, rose in Shen Jiu's heart, so potent he could almost taste the metallic tang of fury in his mouth and nose.

First, he had been a mouse that cowered and endured beatings. Then, a mouse scurrying in the sewers, chased and despised by all. No matter the form, he was still a mouse. Hiding, flinching, living in shadows. Wasting his years, squandering his time. Yue Qingyuan, meanwhile, was a true phoenix that had soared to the highest branch, a carp that had leaped through the Dragon Gate.

"You're sorry… you're sorry…" Shen Jiu said. "That's all you ever knew how to say."

He let out a cold laugh, delivering the final verdict. "It's useless."

Some people are born bad seeds. Shen Jiu thought he was probably one of those—a malicious, poisonous seed. Because he had one exceptionally clear and powerful thought:

He would rather have seen Yue Qi's wretched bones rotting in some forgotten corner than see this elegant, perfectly intact Yue Qingyuan standing before him.

---

Shen Jiu hated too many things and too many people.

A person who hates everything can hardly be said to have a good character.

Fortunately, by the time he became Shen Qingqiu, he had learned how to keep it, at the very least, from showing on the surface.

Within Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, his most hated was undoubtedly Liu Qingge.

Liu Qingge was a prodigy who achieved fame young—naturally gifted, possessing formidable spiritual power and peerless sword skills. He came from an excellent family, with both parents alive and well. Any single one of these points was enough to make Shen Qingqiu gnash his teeth and lose sleep for three days and nights. Combined in one person, it was unbearable.

At the Twelve Peaks annual martial arts assembly, Shen Qingqiu's opponent was Liu Qingge.

The outcome was, of course, an unquestionable defeat.

Losing to the future Peak Lord of Bai Zhan Peak was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it was expected. It was the normal order of things.

Shen Qingqiu would absolutely never see it that way. What he saw was not the others' admiration for how long he had managed to hold his own. All he saw was the natural, arrogant certainty in Liu Qingge's eyes as the tip of Cheng Luan halted a hair's breadth from his throat.

Qing Jing Peak prided itself on being the Peak of Gentlemen. Shen Qingqiu played the gentleman with ease, but Liu Qingge always managed to provoke his most vicious temper, making him unwilling to waste even the energy pretending at harmony.

"I'll kill you one day, Liu Qingge!" Shen Qingqiu spat.

Liu Qingge glanced at him. "With what?"

Only two words, but Shen Qingqiu heard endless, venomous contempt in them. His wrist twisted.

Yue Qingyuan, sensing trouble, clamped a hand on his elbow, stopping his drawing motion, and barked over his shoulder, "Leave. Now!"

Liu Qingge also seemed disinclined to prolong the confrontation. With a cold snort, his figure vanished in an instant. Only the two of them remained in the Warm Red Pavilion's private room—one disheveled, the other impeccably neat.

Yue Qingyuan hauled Shen Qingqiu up from the bed, a rare edge of anger in his voice. "How could you do this?"

"Do what?" Shen Qingqiu retorted.

"A disciple of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, brawling in a brothel. Does that sound good?"

"If you don't talk and I don't talk, who will know which sect we're from? Cang Qiong Mountain is Cang Qiong Mountain. Which rule of our sect explicitly forbids disciples from coming here? This isn't a monastery or a Daoist temple. You can't control the heavens, the earth, or my choice of company."

There was no explicit rule, of course. But cultivators were supposed to understand the principles of cultivating a clear heart and nurturing their nature, to exercise self-discipline. This was especially true for Qing Jing Peak, whose Peak Lords had always maintained impeccable conduct. This unspoken consensus had now become fodder for Shen Qingqiu's sophistry.

Yue Qingyuan was left speechless, swallowing his words with a stifled sound before saying gloomily, "I won't speak of it. Junior Brother Liu and the others won't either. No one will know. It's just… feminine allure damages one's cultivation."

Shen Qingqiu sneered. "Didn't you hear the tone in your precious Junior Brother Liu's two words? Damaged or not, this is how it is."

Yue Qingyuan was silent for a moment. "Junior Brother Liu isn't a bad person, truly. He doesn't single you out. He's like that with everyone."

"'Like that with everyone'?" Shen Qingqiu scoffed. "Don't lie to me, Sect Leader Senior Brother. Is he like that with you, too?"

Yue Qingyuan said patiently, "If you show him a measure of goodwill, he will repay you twofold."

"Sect Leader Senior Brother is truly understanding," Shen Qingqiu said. "It's just, why doesn't he show me goodwill first? Why doesn't he take pity on me first?"

Faced with such impregnable defensiveness, even Yue Qingyuan found it hard to speak.

He certainly couldn't say outright: If you hadn't tried every underhanded method to trip him up and humiliate him after the assembly, you and Liu Qingge wouldn't be at each other's throats like this now. Saying that would only make Shen Qingqiu's face turn even uglier.

The girls originally in the Warm Red Pavilion room had fled in fright. With no reason to stay, Shen Qingqiu shook off Yue Qingyuan's hand, jumped off the bed, pulled his robes back over his shoulder, sheathed Xiu Ya, and turned. "How did you know to find me here? Who told you?"

"I went to Qing Jing Peak and didn't see you," Yue Qingyuan said. "But I saw the disciples from Bai Zhan Peak preparing to go up."

"Go up to do what?"

"…"

This conflict had arisen from an unfortunate coincidence.

A Bai Zhan Peak disciple, on a mission in a remote town, happened to see a familiar figure entering the Warm Red Pavilion.

The disciples of Bai Zhan Peak shared their Peak Lord's lack of goodwill toward Shen Qingqiu. Seizing the opportunity, he followed him in, taunting Shen Qingqiu for his usual hypocritical posturing and lofty airs, only to be found in such a place—a disgrace to their sect.

Words led to blows, and Shen Qingqiu severely injured him. When this disciple returned to Bai Zhan Peak, he ran into Liu Qingge. After some questioning, Liu Qingge flew into a rage, immediately mounted his sword to seek Shen Qingqiu out, intent on returning every blow in kind.

If Yue Qingyuan hadn't intercepted the Bai Zhan Peak disciples preparing to surround Shen Qingqiu's bamboo house on Qing Jing Peak, there was no telling how much of that little town they would have reduced to rubble.

Seeing Yue Qingyuan remain silent, Shen Qingqiu could also guess that Bai Zhan Peak likely wasn’t planning anything good, so he didn’t press further: “Why did you come to Qing Jing Peak? Didn’t I tell you not to look for me?”

Yue Qingyuan said, “I just wanted to see how you’ve been.”

Shen Qingqiu replied, “Thank you for your concern, Senior Martial Brother Yue. I’m doing just fine. Though I’m a bothersome sort, fortunately, the Peak Lord of Qing Jing Peak doesn’t seem to mind.”

Yue Qingyuan followed behind him and sighed, “If you’re truly doing well, why have you never stayed overnight at Qing Jing Peak?”

Shen Qingqiu shot him a dark glance.

He knew Yue Qingyuan must have thought he was being ostracized at Qing Jing Peak.

In truth, he was wrong this time. Though Shen Qingqiu hadn’t won the affection of his peers, he wasn’t so ostracized that he couldn’t even squeeze into a shared sleeping area.

He simply loathed being crammed together with people of the same gender.

Back in the day, whenever Qiu Jianluo beat him, he would crawl into Qiu Haitang’s arms, trembling. That was the only place he could hide. Once, there was a woman among them who was like an older sister. But when she came of age, she was sold to a shriveled old man as a replacement wife.

There was no shame in liking women, but treating them as saviors, shrinking into their arms to find confidence—without anyone saying it, Shen Qingqiu knew it was utterly shameful. So he would rather die than tell anyone, especially Yue Qingyuan.

Shen Qingqiu said slowly, “If I said I wasn’t doing well at Qing Jing Peak, what would you plan to do? Bring me to Qiong Ding Peak?”

Yue Qingyuan thought for a moment and replied solemnly, “If you wanted to.”

Shen Qingqiu snorted decisively, “Of course I don’t want to. If I wanted to be the head disciple, would you give up your position for me? Would you let me become the sect leader?”

His words rang firm: “Among the twelve peaks, Qing Jing Peak at least ranks second. I’d rather wait for that position.”

Yue Qingyuan smiled bitterly, “Xiao Jiu, why must you always be like this?”

Hearing that name, Shen Qingqiu shuddered, irritation boiling in his heart: “Don’t call me that!”

Among the Qing-generation disciples, Shen Jiu was clever and had won the Peak Lord’s favor. Though he hadn’t been in the sect long and his foundation wasn’t as solid as others’, he was still designated as the next successor. After the Peak Lord named the head disciple, his original name was discarded.

Once, Qiu Jianluo forced him to study reading and writing. Shen Jiu refused, hating it to the point of madness. Yet now, it was precisely because he was smarter than others at reading and memorizing that he gained the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s favor. Even more laughable was that, of all the characters in the world, the Peak Lord happened to give him the character “Qiu.”

No matter how laughable or how much it made him grit his teeth, Shen Qingqiu would never abandon it. This name represented his completely new life from now on.

Shen Qingqiu collected his thoughts and said with a smile, “I’ve already forgotten my original name.

“Please forget it too, Senior Martial Brother Sect Leader.”

Seeing his smile, Yue Qingyuan, despite having much more to say, couldn’t bring himself to speak.

5

Shen Qingqiu finally lost his patience and made a trip to Qiong Ding Peak.

Shen Qingqiu avoided Qiong Ding Peak as much as possible, just as he avoided Yue Qingyuan.

The annual Twelve Peaks Martial Arts Conference was quite troublesome for him.

The Twelve Peaks of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect had fixed rankings, unrelated to each peak’s strength but determined by the fame of the founding Peak Lords from the earliest generation. Later-generation Peak Lords addressed each other based on these rankings, not the order of entry into the sect. So, even though Shen Qingqiu entered the sect much later than Liu Qingge, Qing Jing Peak ranked second, just below Qiong Ding Peak, while Bai Zhan Peak ranked seventh. Thus, Liu Qingge had no choice but to respectfully call him “Senior Martial Brother.”

At the same time, because of this ranking, disciples from Qiong Ding Peak and Qing Jing Peak were always placed in the same formation during events, with the head disciples forced to stand together.

Yue Qingyuan, unable to catch him at other times, would seize this opportunity to chatter endlessly, asking about everything from cultivation insights to daily comforts. Though Shen Qingqiu found it tiresome, he wasn’t foolish enough to embarrass the sect leader’s head disciple in public. For every twenty questions Yue Qingyuan asked, Shen Qingqiu would answer one, distant yet polite, all while pondering the spells he’d memorized the night before and plotting other matters.

This was the most absurd scene at every Martial Arts Conference. These two might not have known it, but for many disciples, before the conference officially began, watching the two head disciples—one ignoring the solemn silence with quiet muttering, the other absentmindedly enduring with vague responses—was the only amusement during the lengthy speeches of the Peak Lords.

So, when Shen Qingqiu actively went to Qiong Ding Peak, not only was Yue Qingyuan surprised and delighted, but nearly all the present disciples found it exceptionally entertaining.

Shen Qingqiu, however, had little to say and no interest in being a spectacle. As soon as he applied for cultivation rights in the Lingxi Cave, he turned to leave.

The Lingxi Cave was rich in spiritual energy and isolated from the outside world. As Shen Qingqiu moved deeper inside, his expression grew increasingly gloomy.

The time wasted under Qiu Jianluo and Wu Yanzi had taken its toll.

Among the new generation of Peak Lords, Yue Qingyuan was naturally the first to form his golden core. Qi Qingqi and Liu Qingge broke through almost simultaneously soon after. Even someone as mediocre as Shang Qinghua from An Ding Peak caught up in cultivation before officially taking his position.

The more anxious Shen Qingqiu became, the more stuck he felt, neither progressing nor regressing. Restless and uneasy, every day felt like swallowing hundreds of pounds of tobacco and firecrackers, burning with impatience and rage in his stomach and mind.

In this state, naturally, no one dared to provoke him. But just because they didn’t dare didn’t mean Shen Qingqiu would let them off.

Luo Binghe was clearly using the flawed beginner’s cultivation manual he’d given him. He should have long since practiced until his orifices bled and his body exploded. So why hadn’t that happened? Instead, his cultivation was steadily improving!

He’d told Ning Yingying a thousand times to stay far away from Luo Binghe and not mingle with him. So why did he see them whispering together every day?!

Shen Qingqiu grew paranoid, convinced that everyone was secretly discussing his delay in forming a golden core, resenting his position, and plotting to replace him.

If he couldn’t break through during this seclusion in the Lingxi Cave…

Shen Qingqiu sat on the stone platform, lost in wild thoughts, working himself into a cold sweat. His breath grew uneven, stars danced before his eyes, and a surge of spiritual energy ran rampant through his meridians. This was no small matter. Panicking, he quickly sat up straight, trying to rein in his thoughts.

Suddenly, he sensed someone approaching from behind. A chill ran down Shen Qingqiu’s spine. He swiftly drew Xiu Ya halfway from its sheath and demanded sharply, “Who is it?!”

A hand gently pressed on his shoulder.

Yue Qingyuan said, “It’s me.”

Shen Qingqiu: “…”

Yue Qingyuan continued channeling spiritual energy into him, calming the chaotic, stampeding flow of energy. “It’s my fault for startling you, Junior Martial Brother.”

Shen Qingqiu had indeed been frightened by his own wild thoughts earlier, which made it all the more irritating to have someone point it out. He snapped, “Who’s startled?! Senior Martial Brother Sect Leader, don’t you never enter the Lingxi Cave for seclusion? Why do you have to compete with me for space as soon as I arrive?!”

Yue Qingyuan said, “I don’t never enter. I… have been here before too.”

Shen Qingqiu was baffled. “Who cares if you’ve been here or not?”

Yue Qingyuan sighed. “Junior Martial Brother, can’t you say less and focus on regulating your energy?”

On the dry stone candleholders, faint flames flickered quietly.

After taking in the full view of the cave dwelling he’d chosen, Shen Qingqiu was taken aback and blurted out, “Did someone die fighting here?”

The cave walls were covered in marks from blades and axes, like layers of scars on a face, fierce and horrifying.

Yue Qingyuan, behind him, said, “No. Fighting is forbidden in the Lingxi Cave.”

Besides sword marks, there were also large patches of dark red bloodstains.

Some looked like they’d been splattered from a sharp weapon piercing a body. Others seemed as if someone had pressed their forehead against the rock wall, kowtowing as if pleading for something, leaving marks from repeated impacts.

Shen Qingqiu stared at the nearly blackened bloodstains and said, “Then… did someone die here?”

When the two of them were together, it was usually Yue Qingyuan who did the talking, tireless in his chatter. There had never been a situation where Yue Qingyuan fell completely silent. Shen Qingqiu felt uneasy, goosebumps rising on his skin. Reluctantly, he made conversation: “I’ve heard that the Lingxi Cave sometimes imprisons those who’ve lost control in their cultivation?”

After a long pause, Yue Qingyuan let out a faint “Mm,” neither confirming nor denying.

Shen Qingqiu said, “It seems this person really wanted to get out, struggling for a long time before dying.”

If all this blood came from the same person, even if they didn’t die, they’d have lost half their life.

As he spoke, Shen Qingqiu suddenly felt that Yue Qingyuan’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t quite right.

He asked warily, “What’s wrong with you?”

After a moment, Yue Qingyuan said, “It’s nothing.”

Shen Qingqiu fell silent.

He couldn’t see Yue Qingyuan’s expression, but his hand was trembling slightly.

6

When Shen Qingqiu woke up, he felt a cool, soothing sensation on his wounds. The unbearable burning pain from before had eased considerably.

With effort, he opened his eyes. A figure was kneeling beside him, leaning close to check his condition.

The hem of black robes spread flat on the moss-covered stone ground, weighed down by a simple, ancient-looking longsword. A few empty medicine bottles lay scattered nearby.

The sword was Xuan Su. The face was still the gentle, handsome one he knew, but paler than usual, filled with exhaustion.

Of course, it was Yue Qingyuan’s face. At a time like this, only Yue Qingyuan would still come to see him.

Shen Qingqiu spoke, his voice hoarse: “How did you get in?”

Why would Luo Binghe, who was determined to make him suffer, ever permit Yue Qingyuan to enter the water prison just to keep him clinging to life?

Seeing that Shen Qingqiu could still speak, Yue Qingyuan let out a soft sigh of relief. He took Shen Qingqiu’s hand, his voice low. “Don’t speak. Focus your spirit and gather your energy.”

He wanted to transfer spiritual power, to speed the healing of those grievous wounds. For once, Shen Qingqiu didn’t shake him off. His mind was elsewhere: True, he is still a Sect Leader. No matter how forceful Luo Binghe and that old fool from Huan Hua Palace are, they must still pay some superficial respect.

But it must have cost him dearly to get in.

The flow of spiritual power coursed through his wounds, the pain like a thousand steel needles piercing his torn flesh. Shen Qingqiu clenched his jaw, hatred twisting his lips into a smile. “That little bastard Luo Binghe certainly has a creative repertoire.”

Hearing the bone-deep malice in his tone, Yue Qingyuan sighed.

Yue Qingyuan wasn’t a man prone to sighing. It was just that Shen Qingqiu had a unique talent for leaving him riddled with holes.

He said wearily, “…Junior Brother. Even now, why do you refuse to consider your own faults?”

Swallowing blood and broken teeth, Shen Qingqiu had never admitted wrongdoing, especially not before Yue Qingyuan. Expecting him to relent was futile.

“What faults?” Shen Qingqiu retorted. “If Luo Binghe isn’t a bastard, what is he? Just you wait. He won’t be satisfied with just me. If chaos is to engulf the cultivation world, my only fault was not killing him with a single stroke back then.”

Yue Qingyuan shook his head, as if he’d long anticipated this answer. There was no point in guidance or admonition now. It was far too late for that.

He asked suddenly, “Did you truly kill Junior Brother Liu?”

Shen Qingqiu had no desire to gauge his expression while speaking.

Yet, against his will, his eyes flicked up to Yue Qingyuan’s face.

He paused, then violently wrenched his hand free from Yue Qingyuan’s grasp, pushing himself up from the ground.

“I never thought you would actually kill him,” Yue Qingyuan said.

Shen Qingqiu’s voice was icy. “The deed is done. Don’t you think your reproach comes a little late?”

“I have no right to reproach you,” Yue Qingyuan said slowly.

His face, his eyes, were preternaturally calm. A calm that inexplicably stoked Shen Qingqiu’s fury. “Then what do you mean?!”

“Has Junior Brother ever considered,” Yue Qingyuan said, his voice steady, “that if you had not treated Luo Binghe as you did, none of this would have happened today.”

Shen Qingqiu let out a hoarse, mirthless laugh.

“Why does Sect Leader Brother say such ridiculous things? What’s done is done. Even if I ‘considered’ it ten thousand times, there are no ‘ifs,’ no ‘back thens’—no chance for redemption!”

Yue Qingyuan tilted his face up slightly.

Shen Qingqiu knew his words were knives plunging into the man’s chest. There was a fleeting, vicious satisfaction in it. But seeing Yue Qingyuan sitting there on the filthy ground, staring blankly at him, all composure and dignity stripped away in an instant, as if he had aged decades in mere moments… a strange sensation welled up in Shen Qingqiu’s chest.

Pity, perhaps.

Yue Qingyuan, Sect Leader of Cang Qiong Mountain, unshakable before crumbling mountains, forever poised and unflappable—in this moment, he truly pitied him.

And this pity, somehow, loosened something that had been knotted tight in Shen Qingqiu’s chest for years.

Yue Qingyuan has truly done his utmost by me, he thought with a perverse kind of pleasure. However much guilt he felt, he’s long since repaid it.

“Leave,” Shen Qingqiu said. “Let me tell you, even if everything started over, the result would be the same. My heart is venomous, filled with resentment. That Luo Binghe wants me to die wretchedly today—I brought it upon myself.”

Yue Qingyuan asked, “Do you still harbor hatred in your heart now?”

Shen Qingqiu threw his head back and laughed. “I only find relief in seeing others suffer. What do you think?”

“If hatred remains,” Yue Qingyuan nodded, straightening his posture, “then draw Xuan Su and take my life. At least it might dissipate some of that hate.”

Shen Qingqiu sneered. “Sect Leader Yue, kill you here? Do you think the charges Luo Binghe has pinned on me aren’t enough? Besides, who do you think you are? I am beyond saving. For Sect Leader Yue to cast himself as the miracle cure is rather presumptuous.”

Yue Qingyuan seemed to gather his courage. “Xiao Jiu…”

“Don’t call me that,” Shen Qingqiu cut him off, sharp and final.

Yue Qingyuan bowed his head. He took Shen Qingqiu’s hand again, channeling a steady, unending stream of spiritual power to soothe his injuries.

As if his courage had shattered, Yue Qingyuan did not speak again for the remainder of his visit.

When the transfer was complete, Shen Qingqiu said, “Get out. From now on, don’t ever appear before me again.”

Only then did Yue Qingyuan leave.

Go as far as you can, Sect Leader Yue. If you escape this calamity, from now on, never have anything to do with something like Shen Qingqiu again.

7

Shen Qingqiu stared at the entrance to the cellar with his one remaining eye.

He didn’t know how many days he had been staring when Luo Binghe finally arrived.

Even in the dank, dripping gloom of the dungeon, Luo Binghe retained an air of pristine elegance, untouched by filth, his steps light over the blackened bloodstains congealed on the floor.

“Sect Leader Yue kept his appointment as predicted. I really must thank Shizun for that poignant, heart-wrenching blood-letter. Otherwise, this disciple would never have succeeded so easily. I originally intended to bring Sect Leader Yue’s body back for Shizun to see, but alas, the arrow was tipped with a rare poison. When this disciple drew near and merely touched him, Sect Leader Yue just… ah. I had no choice but to bring back his sword instead, as a memento for Shizun.”

Luo Binghe was lying.

Luo Binghe was a deceitful, treacherous little liar. The monumental falsehoods he’d spun were legion.

But Shen Qingqiu didn’t understand.

Luo Binghe took his seat in the chair nearby—his usual vantage point for watching Shen Qingqiu wail and scream. He blew gently on the steaming tea in his cup, watching the leaves float and sink. “A famed sword matches a hero. Xuan Su is indeed a fine blade, worthy of this Sect Leader Yue. However, there is something even more… profound about it. While Shizun convalesces here in his retirement, if he finds himself with idle time, he would do well to examine it closely. It will prove most interesting.”

He had thought about it countless times. That final meeting in the Huan Hua Palace water prison, where he had dredged up every ounce of bitterness, sarcasm, and venom to tell Yue Qingyuan to get lost. And Yue Qingyuan had gone. He might not have heeded the summons of a blood-letter. Anyone thinking clearly would never step into such a blatantly obvious trap.

He didn’t understand.

Why?

Weren’t you supposed to stay away?

Luo Binghe, fairly satisfied with the outcome, smiled. “Oh, right. While Shizun’s blood-letter was deeply moving, it was regrettably a bit… sloppy. Written in excruciating pain, this disciple understands. So, to show my sincerity, I took the liberty of including two other items.”

Shen Qingqiu understood. “Other items” referred to the two legs that had once been attached to his body.

It was all so absurd.

Tell him to come, and he wouldn’t. Tell him not to come, and he came anyway.

A cold smile hung on Shen Qingqiu’s lips. “Ha. Haha. Yue Qingyuan. Oh, Yue Qingyuan.”

Luo Binghe’s mood, which had been rather pleasant, soured at the sight of this strange laughter.

He asked softly, “What are you laughing at?”

Shen Qingqiu ignored him, chuckling to himself.

Luo Binghe set aside his triumphant expression, focusing intently. “Shizun, you don’t actually think pretending to be mad will work on me, do you?”

Shen Qingqiu enunciated each word clearly. “Luo Binghe, you are a bastard. Do you know that?”

Silence descended abruptly.

Luo Binghe stared at him. Shen Qingqiu stared right back.

Suddenly, the corner of Luo Binghe’s mouth quirked up. His right hand came to rest on Shen Qingqiu’s left shoulder and squeezed.

A piercing, horrifying scream tore through the air.

Blood gushed like a waterfall from the stump of Shen Qingqiu’s right arm. He screamed and laughed simultaneously, gasping for breath. “Luo Binghe… hahahaha… Luo Binghe…”

The scene was grotesque.

For Luo Binghe, tormenting Shen Qingqiu had always been an exquisitely pleasurable affair. Shen Qingqiu’s screams could send him into raptures. But this time, for some reason, the pleasure was absent.

His chest heaved more and more violently. He kicked Shen Qingqiu, sending him spinning several times across the floor, blood smearing everywhere.

Back when Luo Binghe had torn off his legs, it had felt like plucking the limbs from an insect. After pain so severe it felt like hell itself, the sensation became unreal.

Instead, Shen Qingqiu’s speech grew clearer, more methodical. “Luo Binghe, everything you are today, you owe to me. Why aren’t you thanking me instead of being so ungrateful? Truly a bastard who knows no gratitude… hahahaha…”

After the burst of rage, Luo Binghe suddenly calmed. A sinister smile touched his lips as he whispered, “You want to die? Nothing so merciful for you. Shizun, in this life you have committed countless evils. You harmed those with grudges against you, and you harmed those with no grievance at all. Half-dead, you still managed to drag down a Sect Leader. If you don’t die slowly, experiencing the suffering of every one of your victims, how could you possibly atone?”

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the broken sword, Xuan Su, onto the ground.

At the sound, it was as if a fist had been shoved down Shen Qingqiu’s throat. His laughter ceased abruptly.

Amidst disheveled hair and a face smeared with blood, his single eye burned with a fierce, white-hot intensity. Trembling violently, he began to drag himself toward the broken blade.

Nothing was left.

Only a sword remained.

Luo Binghe’s present was of his own making. But who had forged his end?

Yue Qingyuan should never have met such a fate.

All for a decades-old promise, for a commitment that could change nothing.

The sword broken, the man dead.

It shouldn’t have been this way.

A trickle of blood spread across the floor. Just as it was about to converge into a single pool, it veered off course.

Broken.

Extra: The Strange Adventures of “Flying Towards the Sky” 3

=====================================================

“Flying Towards the Sky” had one bad habit: he was prone to cutting his outlines short.

To the Great Lord of the Sky, who wrote fanfiction about airplanes, had a bad habit: he would chop up his story outlines.

Before formally putting pen to paper, he would first plant a small seed in the text, observe the winds of the comment section, and use that to decide which plot points in his outline to keep or discard.

For instance, Shen Qingqiu, who had been called a "scumbag" over ten thousand times, was the tragic product of such outline-chopping.

Oh, and the Ice Emperor's father was chopped even harder—he never even made an appearance.

The benefit of this was catering to the readers, at least ensuring subscriptions wouldn’t plummet and send him crashing headfirst into the gutter.

The downside? Previously laid foreshadowing became useless, plot holes littered the ground, pitted and uneven. Any reader with a bit of ambition, a bit of taste, or who wasn’t so easily fooled would start cursing him out.

The Great Lord of the Sky often felt quite frustrated too. Because, truthfully, he didn’t enjoy always writing about insane face-slapping, especially when the faces being slapped belonged to villains with IQs below the passing line. Occasionally, he also wanted to craft three-dimensional antagonists and multifaceted cannon fodder, to show that he had a basic understanding of human nature and some literary aspirations.

But the readers wouldn’t buy it.

So compared to the readers, what the hell were human nature and literary ideals worth? Hahahahahaha!

But let’s get back on track. It was precisely this bad habit that led to the loss of many original details, stillborn in the womb. For example…

When exactly did Lord of the Northern Deserts capture Shang Qinghua?!

The main text, of course, never mentioned it. The main plot was about the Ice Emperor’s domineering aura and his great slaughter across the land. Who cared how a piece of cannon fodder like you turned into a spy?

And this missing part would be automatically filled in by this world. Thus, the Great Lord of the Sky completely lost his authorial advantage of foreknowledge. So when the plot truly began to unfold, he was actually several beats late in catching on!

Senior Brother X drew his sword (which, as a disciple of An Ding Peak, hadn’t left its sheath in eight hundred years) and shouted with robust vigor, “What manner of demon dares to act so brazenly!”

A chorus of fellow disciples stirred with excitement, drawing their swords in unison. “How dare you show your face before the disciples of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect…”

Lord of the Northern Deserts was clearly in a very foul mood. He didn’t even let them finish the customary opening lines for cannon fodder. His knuckles cracked, ice arrows swept through like the wind, and heads thudded to the ground.

In his heart, Shang Qinghua was both screaming and roaring: So terrifying! But so cool! So damn cool!!!

But no matter how earth-shatteringly, tear-jerkingly cool he was, if Shang Qinghua was destined to be killed by him in the future, he would decisively refuse!

Suddenly, Senior Brother X gave him a shove on the shoulder. “Go on, then! What are you waiting for?”

Shang Qinghua’s heart felt fried in oil and roasted over fire, but his mind was crystal clear. His hands and feet were stuck to the cart like glue. “Go and do what?”

Senior Brother X: “Eliminate the demons, defend the righteous path, and carry out heaven’s will!”

Why don’t you go first?

Shang Qinghua said, “After you, Senior Brother!”

Senior Brother X flew into a rage. “I told you to go, so go! No more nonsense!” Joining forces with the others, they grabbed and kicked at Shang Qinghua, trying to pry him loose. Shang Qinghua knew exactly what was up—these outer sect disciples wanted him to stall Lord of the Northern Deserts to buy them time to escape. His stance remained firm, tenaciously holding onto his little patch of territory on the cart, unmoved. He wailed pitifully, “No, Senior Brother! We’ve studied together for years. How can you bear to send me out as cannon fodder at a time like this?!”

Senior Brother X blurted out, “What cannon fodder? If you capture this demonic cultivator, you’ll surely render a great service. You’ll rise to prominence from then on. This is the only way out for us outer sect disciples, and it’s right before your eyes.”

Shang Qinghua felt his grip on the cart slipping. He cried out, heart tearing at the seams, “I’m going, alright? I’m really going!”

The moment the words left his mouth, he was peeled alive from the cart and thrown to the ground, landing right in front of Lord of the Northern Deserts’ feet.

His sword was still half-sheathed, undecided on whether it should be drawn.

Lord of the Northern Deserts sneered, a flash of icy blue passing through his eyes. In the blink of an eye, Shang Qinghua plopped down and wrapped his arms around the other’s thigh.

The assembled Senior Brothers: “=”

Lord of the Northern Deserts: “==”

Shang Qinghua: “Great King, please allow me to follow you for the rest of my life!”

Lord of the Northern Deserts initially wanted to kick him away, but Shang Qinghua’s adhesive power was too strong. Trying to slap him to death was even harder; he was like a gecko scaling a wall, nimbly crawling about while remaining firmly stuck to the man’s thigh.

Ire inevitably flared within him.

Seeing that he possessed such a peerless skill, the outer sect disciples of An Ding Peak were overjoyed. They abandoned their cart and cargo, fleeing for their lives.

Shang Qinghua had just begun cursing them out in his heart when, not three seconds later, screams erupted from ahead.

Countless slender, glistening white ice threads, fine as silver silk, pierced through chests. Blood blossomed like flowers.

Witnessing this, Shang Qinghua immediately tightened his hold on Lord of the Northern Deserts’ thigh and began to babble. “Great King, please accept me. I can be very useful!”

Lord of the Northern Deserts’ body seemed to sway slightly. “Oh? What use are you?”

“I can serve tea, deliver water, wash clothes, fold blankets… wait, no.” Shang Qinghua analyzed helpfully for him, “Great King, look. I can be your spy within Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, passing on intelligence, helping realize the demon race’s magnificent feat of unifying the human realm.”

Lord of the Northern Deserts chuckled drily.

“An outer sect disciple, and an outer sect disciple of An Ding Peak at that. As a spy, in what year and what month would you be able to realize the demon race’s magnificent feat of unifying the human realm?”

Shang Qinghua laughed awkwardly. “Discriminating based on peak affiliation… that’s not good, is it?”

Seriously, why did even the demon race look down on their lineage… And the discrimination against the very concept of “An Ding Peak” even exceeded that against “outer sect disciples”… It was so unfair, truly unfair!

Right in the middle of his tearful sobbing, desperate clinging, and life-or-death struggle, Lord of the Northern Deserts—without any warning—collapsed.

Shang Qinghua was still hugging his thigh. As the demon lord fell, he nearly got crushed and hastily let go. He squatted there in a daze for a moment before it suddenly dawned on him:

Lord of the Northern Deserts had come here already injured, hadn’t he?

No wonder his face was so sour, his temper so foul, and he was so easily pushed over!

Did I just clumsily poke his wound?

Sometimes, having clumsy hands is an advantage!

Shang Qinghua cautiously edged closer for a careful look.

Sure enough, on Lord of the Northern Deserts’ lower back, roughly where the right kidney would be, there was a slender wound about a knuckle’s length. From the center of the wound protruded a tiny, sharp golden tip. It vaguely appeared to be crafted from gold wire with intricate workmanship, shaped like the edge of a flower petal.

So flamboyant—it was Huan Hua Palace’s Water Caltrop Dart, without a doubt!

This weapon was something the author, the Great Lord of the Sky, had casually made up. The dart body was thin, light, and small, coated with a bit of anesthetic. Those hit by it would hardly notice something had been implanted in their bodies. If they moved too vigorously, the dart body would “bloom” magnificently, sprouting six sharp petals that sliced through the victim’s internal organs. Does that sound somewhat familiar? Like it shares a setting with a certain demon realm creature, right? It’s fine, no problem—this can be explained as the Water Caltrop Dart being designed by a certain Huan Hua Palace Senior who narrowly escaped death in the demon realm, based on that strange creature called “Threads of Affection.” Anyway, don’t dwell on such details!

End of narration. Forcibly dragging the topic back on track.

In other words, this great demon lord who would very likely slap him to death in the future not only had his kidney stabbed by Huan Hua Palace but was also moderately anesthetized.

It seemed Lord of the Northern Deserts had just fought his way out of Huan Hua Palace’s encirclement. Demons held grudges fiercely. Coincidentally, Huan Hua Palace had suffered the most casualties during the Immortal Alliance Conference’s siege, which fit his backstory perfectly…

Shang Qinghua muttered internally while grinning foolishly externally. He searched the ground for a while and found a stone about half the size of a human head. He hefted it—quite heavy.

One, two, three—he raised it threateningly above the tightly closed eyes of Lord of the Northern Deserts.

No warning alarm or interception sound came from the System.

Shang Qinghua felt relieved.

No warning meant: It’s permissible to kill!

“Great King, oh Great King, heaven wills it so. Don’t blame me,” Shang Qinghua offered a prayer utterly devoid of sincerity, raised the stone, and brought it down!

—He came to a screeching halt, the stone hovering just before the bridge of Lord of the Northern Deserts’ impeccably perfect nose.

Lord of the Northern Deserts held extraordinary significance for him.

One could say Lord of the Northern Deserts was the type of man the Great Lord of the Sky dreamed of becoming. Powerful, cool, doing as he pleased—just like how every child dreams of becoming Ultraman in their childhood.

How could he bear to watch himself personally kill Ultraman?!

Shang Qinghua sighed wistfully for a while.

After sighing, he had a shameless thought: Then just don’t watch.

So he turned his head away and raised the stone high.

—Nope, still couldn’t do it.

Shang Qinghua plopped down, dropping the cumbersome murder weapon. His eyes shone with intense light, his whole body nearly pouncing on Lord of the Northern Deserts.

No, no, no. The more he looked, the more demonically captivating that face became.

He didn’t really hold the Ice Emperor’s type of clean, pretty-boy looks in high regard internally. The Great Lord of the Sky had given the protagonist that configuration simply to make the harem-building hardware more complete—even a harem protagonist needed scientific backing. The protagonist was inevitably going to get criticized; the Ice Emperor was practically getting fans every three steps and haters every five.

But Lord of the Northern Deserts was different. Side characters were meant to be loved, and Lord of the Northern Deserts was almost never hated.

This character was created entirely according to his own preferences. As a character secretly favored by the author, Lord of the Northern Deserts embodied the Great Lord of the Sky’s aesthetic ideals for a male archetype, as a man of letters.

Don’t ask why Luo Binghe didn’t embody his aesthetic. Luo Binghe’s primary function was to satisfy his desire for showing off and face-slapping [crossed out] and □□ [crossed out].

Even now, not fully matured, he completely fit the sixteen-character mantra: “deep-set eyes, high nose bridge, heroic and imposing, coldly arrogant and peerless.”

This was the dream man of his heart!

The stone weapon was raised and lowered, lowered and raised. For the first time in his life (his life after transmigrating here), Shang Qinghua faced a difficult life choice.

In the end, Shang Qinghua decided: Let’s get a room!

Securing a room at an inn… or rather, renting one.

The place was littered with corpses. After a moment of hesitation, Shang Qinghua dumped all the heavy, useless junk from Qing Jing Peak off his little cart like so much trash. He hoisted Mo Beijun onto it, face down, covering that face which made him lose all self-control at a single glance.

Returning to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect was out of the question for now. They wouldn't notice anything amiss so quickly either, as this trip was scheduled for seven days, and only two had passed.

A perfect opportunity. Guarding the young, vulnerable Demon Prince in his hour of need, staying by his side through thick and thin… that had to count for some goodwill, right?

Comforting himself with this thought, Shang Qinghua grunted and strained, pushing the large cart toward the city.

The room was paid for with the meager savings Shang Qinghua had scraped together over the years.

He was just an ordinary, unremarkable outer sect disciple, with no authority over accounts or the ability to embezzle public funds. Renting a single room was the absolute limit of his financial capabilities. Naturally, it was a single room. And just as naturally, it contained only one bed.

Who that bed belonged to was also a foregone conclusion.

Himself, of course!

Shang Qinghua lay sprawled like a starfish on the bed for a while, stretching his limbs. Then he got up and hauled Mo Beijun onto the bed as well.

Kidding! If Mo Beijun woke up injured, in a foul mood, and found himself lying on the floor or crammed into a chair… that would be a death wish. Better not risk him showering Shang Qinghua with a volley of ice spikes without a second thought.

Earlier, passing by an apothecary, Shang Qinghua had bought some medicinal salve. Granted, with a demon's freakish vitality, a hole that size would probably heal on its own if left alone. But since he'd decided to latch onto this powerful thigh, he had to abandon all pretense and show sincerity. He scooped out a generous dollop and plugged the hole in Mo Beijun's kidney. Deeming it sufficiently patched, he flipped Mo Beijun over, arranging him in a 'Sleeping Beauty' pose with hands folded. After admiring the perfect face of his ideal, mental creation for a moment, Shang Qinghua finally lay down on the outer side of the bed, pillowing his head on his hands.

The summer night was stifling. Even with the window open, not a hint of cool breeze stirred.

He tossed and turned for half the night, finally managing to doze off, only to be rudely awakened by a sharp kick to the backside that sent him tumbling to the floor.

The fright nearly scared his soul out of his body.

Scrambling and crawling in panic, he dove under the table. A glance back revealed Mo Beijun sitting bolt upright on the bed, his eyes glowing an electric, overcharged blue.

Shang Qinghua had his lines ready. With dramatic flair, he beat his chest and wailed, "Your Highness! You're finally awake—"

Mo Beijun remained unmoved, watching him coldly.

Shang Qinghua pressed on, "Do you remember who I am?"

Receiving no response didn't faze him in the slightest. He continued cheerfully, "Well, we met on the path earlier. I said I wanted to follow you for the rest of my life, to be Your Highness's…"

Mo Beijun cut him off. "Why were you holding me?"

"…faithful little confidante…" Shang Qinghua blinked. "What? What did I do?"

"You were holding me."

Realization dawned, striking him like a thunderbolt.

The damn weather was hot as an oven, but Mo Beijun's constitution was naturally cold. In his sleepy haze, Shang Qinghua had instinctively gravitated toward that coolness. The cooler it got, the more comfortable he felt. No wonder he'd dreamed of a giant popsicle, happily wrapping all four limbs around it like an octopus, licking it with tears of joy streaming down his face.

Shang Qinghua scrutinized Mo Beijun's face and neck. No suspicious wet patches. He couldn't help but murmur a silent prayer of thanks.

He ventured cautiously, "Your body was so cold, I was afraid you might be… fading. That's why I was holding you."

Mo Beijun snorted derisively. "Fool. I was born this way. The colder, the better. I'm not human."

Shang Qinghua, who had been closely watching his expression, saw it soften slightly. His own face immediately brightened. Just as he prepared to crawl out from under the table, Mo Beijun's voice and demeanor turned icy once more. "Try moving again."

Shang Qinghua froze instantly, hugging the wooden table leg pitifully, curled up like a hamster beneath the furniture.

"What is your purpose?"

Shang Qinghua shamelessly declared, "No purpose! I just want to follow you for the rest of my life."

Mo Beijun ignored this entirely. "You are an outer sect disciple of An Ding Peak."

Shang Qinghua had started to feel that anyone emphasizing the words "An Ding Peak" did so with a hint of discrimination. Terrified Mo Beijun might find him useless and eliminate him on the spot, he poked his head out. "Your Highness, listen to me! I'm still young, I still have room for improvement…"

"Back in!"

Shang Qinghua hastily retreated to his safe zone.

Only when the distance met his approval did Mo Beijun speak again. "You 'assisted' me for this 'room for improvement'?"

So proud. He avoided the weaker verb 'saved' and used 'assisted' instead, a word implying auxiliary support.

Shang Qinghua didn't know how to answer.

'No'? Credibility below 3%. 'Yes'? Mo Beijun despised spineless, opportunistic worms. That was precisely why the original Shang Qinghua in the novel had been killed without mercy—Mo Beijun never intended to let him live from the start. Why say it out loud and actively lower his favorability?

Fortunately, Mo Beijun had already reached his own conclusion. Shang Qinghua had been firmly stamped with the seal of "craven, bootlicking, sect-traitorous scum." No answer was needed. With a cold snort, Mo Beijun lay back down.

Shang Qinghua waited. No further action came.

Did this… mean his pledge of allegiance was temporarily accepted?

It also meant the injury to Mo Beijun's kidney was more severe than he'd thought. Otherwise, things wouldn't have ended so easily.

In the end, Shang Qinghua didn't dare approach recklessly. He spent the night curled under the table, making do as best he could.

After the night's ordeal, he woke the next morning and officially began a day of toil and drudgery.

Just in the morning alone, Shang Qinghua dutifully ran up and down more than twenty times, changing the water in the bathing tub seven or eight times.

This water was for Mo Beijun's recovery. Ice techniques were more convenient when immersed. In less than half an hour, a perfectly good tub of water would turn into a slushy mess of ice shards.

Shang Qinghua huddled in a corner, nibbling on the dry rations he carried while watching Mo Beijun undress.

Watching, watching… he suddenly noticed Mo Beijun had stopped undressing and was staring at him with clear displeasure.

Shang Qinghua chewed hastily, swallowing a few extra mouthfuls in case Mo Beijun suddenly demanded he hand over the food.

Mo Beijun asked, "Bored?"

Shang Qinghua hurriedly replied, "Not salty! This one's sweet."

Before he could take another bite, several dark shadows flew at his face.

Thus, Shang Qinghua was no longer bored. He now had to wash clothes for his newly acknowledged master.

Yes, the young Demon Prince had only brought this one set of clothes. Torn, bloody, and sweaty, could he still wear them? Of course they needed mending, washing, and drying.

This low-magic xianxia world was so utterly unromantic, bleak, and cursed with wretched realism! Shang Qinghua swore that if he ever got the chance to become Xiangtian Dafeiji again, his next book would be high-magic fantasy. The kind where logic was devoured by plot holes and science was thrown to the dogs! Weaving clouds into robes, cutting moonlight for sashes, all manual labor solved with a flick of a finger! No need for a pathetic existence like An Ding Peak ever again!

After thoughtfully mending the little hole over Mo Beijun's kidney, wringing the clothes dry, and hanging them in the room, Shang Qinghua felt he'd performed exceptionally well that day. Brazenly, he tried to climb onto the bed. Before he even reached the edge, history repeated itself—another kick sent him flying.

Sitting on the floor, tears welling in his eyes, he pleaded, "Your Highness, if you won't let me sleep on the bed, what if you get cold, thirsty, hungry, or want to turn over in the night… What then?"

Mo Beijun said, "Easy."

A rope. One end tied to Mo Beijun's finger, the other end tied to Shang Qinghua's…

Finger?

Wishful thinking. His neck, of course.

Shang Qinghua lay on the floor like a corpse, thinking this life was truly worse than a dog's… The only self-consolation he could muster was that at least Mo Beijun wasn't a pervert. The other end wasn't tied to his [BEEP—]. That would have been truly inhumane.

This life of bitter hardship lasted only four days, but to Shang Qinghua, each day felt like a year. Even his nights were plagued by constant nightmares.

In the middle of the night, Shang Qinghua was sleeping soundly when he began to dream again.

This time, he dreamed he was back in the real world, sniveling before his computer. Next to him stood a fierce, burly man brandishing a prickly cucumber, slapping his face with it while roaring, "What the hell is this garbage you're writing?!"

Xiangtian Dafeiji desperately dodged the cucumber, struggling to explain, "I haven't written anything in ages! Brother Peerless Cucumber, don't be like this!"

Peerless Cucumber snarled, "Then hurry up and update!" With that, a noose slipped around his neck.

In the midst of this agony, Shang Qinghua struggled awake, his neck still tightening rhythmically. Following the sensation, he saw Mo Beijun lying on the bed, pulling the end of the rope tied to his own finger with unnerving frequency.

Shang Qinghua asked weakly, "Your Highness, what do you need?"

After asking twice, he realized Mo Beijun wasn't deliberately tormenting him. He was completely unconscious, tossing and turning restlessly as if in great discomfort. Poor Shang Qinghua, his neck yanked with each movement, felt his eyeballs were about to be squeezed out of their sockets.

Mo Beijun frowned, still rolling about uneasily.

Shang Qinghua crept cautiously to the bedside. Seeing the faint beads of sweat on Mo Beijun's smooth forehead and the slight heat rising from his clothes, he understood.

Mobei-jun’s injury looked like nothing more than a minor scratch, but the truth was far more serious. He simply refused to admit it. Add to that the fact that ice-aligned demonic tribes naturally detested hot weather, and with midsummer in full swing, the wound was likely developing a kind of inflammation-like corruption.

If his kidneys are healing this slowly, maybe he needs some kidney-tonic to strengthen them!

Shang Qinghua resigned himself to his fate and went out. Not caring that he was knocking on doors in the dead of night and being a nuisance, he managed to borrow two palm-leaf fans. Returning, he took one in each hand and fanned with all his might.

As he fanned, he yawned repeatedly. He fanned until his own vision grew blurry. Half-asleep, he thought he saw Mobei-jun’s eyes were open—those ice-blue pupils gleaming cold and bright in the moonlight, like a pair of magnificent, eerie cat’s eyes.

The sight was genuinely frightening. Shang Qinghua jolted fully awake, his own eyes widening. He looked again, properly this time, and they were clearly shut tight.

When he woke, he discovered a terrible situation.

He had actually fallen asleep on the bed.

Close call, close call! Thankfully, Mobei-jun hadn’t woken yet. If he had, he’d have kicked Shang Qinghua’s brains out!

Shang Qinghua scrambled off the bed and lay down on his own patch of floor.

A while later, Mobei-jun finally sat up.

Shang Qinghua sighed inwardly. Just a little bit longer. If I’d woken any later, there’d have been bloodshed.

The next day, having received the gracious permission of the Great King Mobei, he was finally able to see the light of day again and go out for a walk on the streets.

In reality, it was because he had clung to Mobei-jun’s leg, weeping and wailing, "Great King, my rations are gone! My cultivation isn’t advanced enough like yours, where you can eat when you want and not eat when you don’t. If you don’t let me go buy food, I’ll starve to death in this room, and you’ll have to worry about my corpse stinking up the place…"

At a shop on the street corner, he ordered a bowl of watery porridge. The porridge was clear as water; looking down, he could see his own reflection—a picture of utter wretchedness, like flowers battered by rain, looking thoroughly abused.

In the midst of his miserable, pitiful state, he suddenly heard someone behind him call out, seemingly addressing him as Junior Brother.

He turned to see four or five young disciples, their sleeves fluttering gracefully, an aura of otherworldly elegance about them. Longswords were strapped to their backs, and they approached him with solemn expressions.

Fellow disciples! Fellow disciples from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect!

Right, seven days had passed. The organization had sent people to look for him!

Tears welled up in Shang Qinghua’s eyes. He rushed forward, his hand trembling as he reached out. "Senior Brother! Senior Brother Wei!"

The youth at the front was notably different from the others. Two swords, one long and one short, hung at his waist. His sleeves billowed as if filled with a gentle breeze. This was Senior Brother Wei Qingwei from Wan Jian Peak. He reached out to take Shang Qinghua’s hand, his expression moved. "Junior Brother… you… what happened to you? It’s only been a few days, but you’ve changed completely. You’re barely human anymore!"

"…"

Shang Qinghua gave an awkward smile. "That’s probably because I’m not that Senior Brother."

He was just a bit thinner from not eating well lately. What did he mean, ‘barely human’? Besides, Senior Brother Wei, I’ve polished every sword on Wan Jian Peak’s testing platform at least three times! You even had me sweep your room and cook your meals while I was at it. How could you forget my face so quickly!

Wei Qingwei smiled gently. "Just joking. Junior Brother Shang, why are you alone? Where are the others? Why are you overdue? Did something happen?"

"Uh, the others… the others…"

The confrontation was too sudden. Shang Qinghua couldn’t weave a seamless story on the spot. All he could do was turn pale, sway twice, and then—thump—collapse to the ground.

While playing dead, he felt Wei Qingwei squat down and poke his cheek. The others said, "Senior Brother, he’s fainted. What should we do?"

Wei Qingwei continued poking as he spoke. "What can we do? Let’s take him back first."

Qiong Ding Peak.

Rows of corpses were laid out outside the main hall. Every single outer disciple from An Ding Peak who had gone down the mountain that day to fetch supplies—except for Shang Qinghua—was lying here.

Shang Qinghua knelt before the bodies, tears pattering down.

It couldn’t be helped. This world of cultivation was tough to survive in. For someone with such poor innate conditions as him, having underdeveloped tear ducts simply wouldn’t do.

The Peak Lords finished their questioning. The atmosphere was heavy and solemn as they entered the hall to deliberate.

Suddenly, the sound of jade ornaments clinking against sword tassels could be heard. A youth wearing the Qing Jing Peak uniform slowly approached.

This youth had fair skin, slender eyes and eyebrows, and pale lips, giving him a slightly acerbic appearance. His black hair and cyan ribbons cascaded over his shoulders and back. He held a longsword in his arms. This was that ill-omened, sharp-tongued ghost, the singular oddity of Qing Jing Peak, one of the uniquely domineering generation of scum villains from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System—Shen Qingqiu.

After examining the corpses, Shen Qingqiu asked offhandedly, "Did that demon make you bring any message or anything?"

Shang Qinghua was taken aback. "No?"

Shen Qingqiu’s chin was slightly raised, often giving the impression he was looking down on people. Every time Shang Qinghua spoke with him, he felt Shen Qingqiu was looking down on him. Not that he minded being looked down on—he was used to it…

Shen Qingqiu smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "How strange. Seven or eight people are all dead. If there wasn’t some message for you to bring us, why would he spare only you?"

Shang Qinghua blinked. "Uh—"

This time, Shen Qingqiu genuinely laughed. "Shang—Junior Brother. By what means were you able to return to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect completely unscathed?"

He absolutely could not handle this carelessly.

This Shen Qingqiu was different from those two-dimensional cannon fodder characters with an IQ of 40. He was definitely not easy to fool. If he sniffed out any discrepancies and reported them, Shang Qinghua’s undercover career would be over before it even began.

After putting on a dumb, silly smile for thirty seconds, a lightbulb went off in Shang Qinghua’s head. He immediately mumbled, "This… might be because…"

Because he knelt without hesitation?

Because he cried ‘Great King’ loudly and sincerely?

Because he discarded his dignity cleanly and decisively?

Shen Qingqiu waited patiently, only to be met with a bout of heart-wrenching, violent coughing.

Shang Qinghua coughed until tears streamed from his eyes. Shen Qingqiu took a step back, a look of distaste on his face.

One thing conquers another. Watch me summon someone to deal with you!

Sure enough, five seconds later, Yue Qingyuan’s voice came from behind. "Junior Brother Qingqiu, demonic actions have never followed any set rules. Junior Brother Shang has only just narrowly escaped disaster. Even if you have questions, perhaps it would be better to let him recover first."

He’s here! The divine-level summon, the good guy Yue Qingyuan, has arrived on the battlefield!

Shang Qinghua silently began counting.

Shen Qingqiu raised a hand. "Fine, fine. My words are unpleasant, so I’ll stop. Senior Brother Yue, you take over."

One hit.

Yue Qingyuan said, "The Junior Brothers from An Ding Peak were also helping Qing Jing Peak with their tasks this time. Why must you be so sparing with even a little sympathy… Junior Brother Shang, why is your coughing getting worse? Should I call Junior Brother Mu from Qian Cao Peak to examine you?"

Shang Qinghua shook his head at Yue Qingyuan, his face a picture of tearful gratitude. He continued counting: Two hits.

Shen Qingqiu sneered. "The twelve peaks each have their own duties and specialties. An Ding Peak was made for this kind of work. Senior Brother Yue, why make it sound so grievous, as if only An Ding Peak of Cang Qiong Sect has tasks to do? Moreover, do you really think they don’t curse behind our backs on ordinary days?"

Three hits.

Yue Qingyuan’s patient expression never wavered. He was about to speak again when Shen Qingqiu immediately said, "Stop. Thank you for your instruction, Senior Brother Yue. Qingqiu will listen more attentively in the future. I’m leaving."

He knew it! Whenever these two talked, it never took more than five exchanges for things to end unhappily.

Shen Qingqiu walked away, holding his sword, Xiu Ya. Only then did Yue Qingyuan turn back. "Junior Brother Shang, you’ve had a fright."

Shang Qinghua hurriedly said, "No, no, no…"

Compared to the exhaustion and exploitation he’d suffered these past few days, a little fright was utterly insignificant!

Due to this incident, whether to comfort Shang Qinghua or for some other reason, the old Peak Lord of An Ding Peak promoted him to a formal inner disciple.

Shang Qinghua hummed cheerfully all the way back. He packed his things from the communal dormitory and went to report to the Xian Ren Ju on the highest level of An Ding Peak.

Yes, you read that right. The dormitory for these An Ding Peak disciples, who toiled their whole lives like overworked servant girls, was actually called the "Idler’s Abode." Idle, my ass! He swore to the heavens—when he’d come up with this name originally, he hadn’t meant any sarcasm by it. But now, looking at these three characters, he felt the profound malice of this world deep in his bones.

Shang Qinghua found his small room. Burdened with physical and mental fatigue, he stubbornly made his bed. He turned around to pour a cup of water, and when he looked back, someone was already sitting on his bed.

The teacup in his hand fell to the floor with a terribly clichéd clatter. His legs gave way, and he sat down hard on the ground. "…Great King."

Mobei-jun’s voice was like freezing ice. "Follow me for the rest of your life, hmm?"

Side Story: The Adventures of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky 4

=============================

Shang Qinghua was about to cry from terror.

He actually followed me back. I never would have thought… No, strictly speaking, it can’t be considered part of the ‘never would have thought’ series—‘Mysterious Appearing and Disappearing Act’! That was a special skill I originally developed for Mobei-jun so he could help Bing-ge assassinate people, set fires, and commit murders anytime, anywhere!

Words poured out of Shang Qinghua in a torrent. "Great King, please let me explain. The moment I stepped out that day, I ran into a familiar Senior Brother. I was afraid he’d ask too many questions and I’d slip up. It wouldn’t be good if he went looking for trouble with you, Great King. Plus, your injuries were no longer serious. After thinking it over left and right, I decided to swallow my pride and bear the humiliation by coming back with them for now, to wait for a future opportunity to act…"

The hand Mobei-jun had been using to prop up his temple seemed to grow tired, and he switched to the other one.

"He told you to come back, so you came back with him."

Shang Qinghua said plaintively, "What else could I do? Refuse to the death? Start a big fight? How could that work? Not to mention I can’t beat them, more importantly, I still have to be your undercover agent, Great King. How could I break with Cang Qiong Mountain Sect so early?"

Seizing this fervent momentum, he struck while the iron was hot. "Reporting to the Great King, I am now an inner disciple. Isn’t that full of momentum? Doesn’t it show great potential for advancement?…"

Bootlicking. Bootlicking to an unparalleled degree.

However, no matter how bootlicking he appeared on the surface, the heart of the great master, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, remained calm.

He had always firmly believed:

1. A real man’s knees hold gold (the order is correct).

A man does not shed tears lightly, but when the time calls for it, he must let them flow.

These two life principles taught him that when necessary, being a bit of a bootlicker was nothing to be ashamed of.

Looking at it another way, Northern Desert Lord was a character he had created. To an author, that was practically his own son. What was wrong with a father being a little indulgent, a little doting, toward his own child? So-called children were debts from a parent’s past life…

Thump, crash, bang! After receiving a thorough beating, Shang Qinghua hugged his knees and squatted on the chair, skillfully employing the art of self-delusion to perform trauma repair.

Having stretched his limbs, Northern Desert Lord lay back down on the bed, yawned, turned over with his back to Shang Qinghua, and spoke in a drowsy, indifferent tone, “We continue tomorrow.”

…Continue?!

Shang Qinghua had the impulse to scream and draw the entire Cang Qiong Mountain Sect into a mutual destruction scenario with him.

Of course, an impulse was called an impulse precisely because it could often be suppressed, not acted upon.

Northern Desert Lord hadn’t even taken off his boots, lying just like that on Shang Qinghua’s brand-new, never-slept-in bed. Shang Qinghua felt utterly wretched.

“My Lord, this is Cang Qiong Mountain.”

A pillow flew over with devastating force, smacking Shang Qinghua and making him grimace in pain.

Picking up the pillow, Shang Qinghua said tactfully, “My Lord, this is my bed.”

Northern Desert Lord raised a finger and wagged it.

With cold, elegant arrogance, he uttered two words: “Mine.”

Understood.

Because he himself entirely belonged to Northern Desert Lord, all his possessions naturally belonged to Northern Desert Lord as well. Hence, the bed was also Northern Desert Lord’s.

As for whether the reverse logic held true? This was the time to apply the Bully Theory: What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is still yours.

Grumbling inwardly, Shang Qinghua rolled off the chair, silently cleaned up the shattered teacup fragments at his feet, and began tidying the new room while humming a little tune: “I lie on the ground while you sleep in the bed. I eat husks while you drink meat broth.”

At least he’d been granted a pillow. Before, he didn’t even have that. Contentment brings happiness. He’d hug it and sleep.

Today, Shang Qinghua was as diligent as a cheerful little bee.

After staying in the Idle Living Quarters for three days, Northern Desert Lord silently vanished once more.

Only then did Shang Qinghua deeply realize how utterly unscientific the cheat abilities he’d written for Northern Desert Lord were—three days. In three days, not a single person had noticed that a demonic being had swaggered onto An Ding Peak, treating its future (logistics) elite disciple like a beast of burden!

No warnings! No suspicions! Nothing!

Like a serf liberated, singing with joy, Shang Qinghua excitedly enjoyed his freedom for a while, until he received a task assigned by the old Peak Lord of An Ding.

Although An Ding Peak’s tasks were all mundane chores, differing only in whether one fought on the rear lines or the front lines, getting closer to dangerous creatures inevitably brought unease.

For instance, rushing forward to deliver health-restoring pills while Bai Zhan Peak was in the thick of battle against vengeful spirits—such a task seemed brutally suicidal!

Fortunately, Northern Desert Lord was quite capable of providing cover.

Shang Qinghua had thought he’d been forgotten, but several times when he found himself in dire straits, creatures that looked unmistakably demonic had fished him out in passing, preserving his pitiful life.

…Did this count as tacit acceptance of his surrender???

Thinking about it afterward, Shang Qinghua couldn’t help feeling that clinging to a powerful patron was actually quite useful.

Otherwise, he’d never have survived this long!

Incidentally, the succinct and formidable System issued Shang Qinghua a new directive: Become the head disciple of An Ding Peak within three years.

Aside from needing to perform well under Northern Desert Lord’s “care” during external missions, aspiring to be head disciple required no small amount of effort within the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect itself.

Given the widely known fact that cannon fodder and supporting characters in The Proud Immortal Demon Way had an IQ of only 40, the so-called scheming probably looked something like this:

Suppose the old Peak Lord of An Ding already had a head disciple, A, who was exceptionally talented (master of serving tea, fetching water, washing clothes, and folding quilts—practically a one-stop domestic service center). One day, the old Peak Lord ordered A to bake twelve delicious pies, one to be delivered to each peak.

What Shang Qinghua needed to do was secretly sprinkle a heap of salt or sugar on each of A’s carefully baked pies, making them utterly unpalatable.

Repeat this process three times. Okay, the old Peak Lord would finally be completely disappointed with his former top disciple.

Just think: If you can’t even bake a decent pie, what else can you do?

At that point, Shang Qinghua only needed to demonstrate his superb culinary skills a few more times to successfully rise to the top!

As the saying went: When intelligence falls short, rely on sheer absurdity. If you can’t be the best, be the worst.

A plot so idiotic it drove readers into frenzied ridicule was also a form of success!

Such plotlines were countless in The Proud Immortal Demon Way, and the perennial spectacle of readers banding together to lambast them was a wonder of the book review section. The most vicious critic was that peerless “Cucumber.”

Thinking of this, Shang Qinghua felt a twinge of nostalgia for his fellow review-section comrades and that particular gentleman.

How he missed the heroic sight of him tirelessly roaring, “Xiang Tian Da Fei Ji, it’s precisely because of this mindset that you remain nothing but a third-rate harem novelist!!!”

However, upon becoming An Ding Peak’s head disciple, his troubles only multiplied.

For instance, as an outer sect disciple, he would never have had the chance to go on a mission down the mountain with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge.

What kind of cosmic misfortune did it take to win this grand prize?

The Cang Qiong Mountain Sect placed great emphasis on bonds between peers. It was common for several head disciples to team up periodically to tackle a mission. This time, the division of labor among the three was quite clear. Liu Qingge was the vanguard fighter; Shen Qingqiu held the center, responsible for deception [strikethrough], as well as ambushes, finishing blows, and fan-waving pretentiousness [strikethrough].

And Shang Qinghua?

Naturally, he was in charge of driving the carriage, booking inns, carrying luggage, and all income and expenses for the trip. Logistics, after all.

If only it were that simple.

“It’s said that at night, if you lean over and look into that well, you’ll see your own reflection smiling and waving up at you from inside, then suddenly pull you in to drown. Sometimes you might even see deceased relatives… ahem, Senior Brother Shen, Junior Brother Liu… could you please listen to me finish first…”

Shang Qinghua set down the case file.

Shen Qingqiu could produce a book from his sleeve at any moment, capable of pretentious reading whether sitting or standing. He now leaned against the shade of an old banyan tree, displaying his cultivated elegance. Meanwhile, Liu Qingge had already stationed himself by the well, peering inside.

Liu Qingge wanted to finish quickly to avoid further time with Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu wanted Liu Qingge to do the dirty work and leave sooner. Neither wanted to be near the other, each with their own considerations. Not a single one was listening to his diligent mission briefing.

Liu Qingge looked up and said, “Nothing.”

Shang Qinghua understood. It meant, “My reflection isn’t in there smiling and waving at me.”

He spread his hands. “Well… how about Senior Brother Shen gives it a try?”

Shen Qingqiu put away his book, switched to a folding fan, and strolled to the well. “Make way, if you please.”

Liu Qingge had already retreated over a dozen steps away. Shen Qingqiu glanced carelessly into the well but seemed to find nothing either.

Shang Qinghua flipped noisily through the case file. “How strange, it clearly says right here…”

Unfortunately, no amount of page-fluttering could cover Shen Qingqiu’s ill-intentioned voice: “We’ve both tried. Shouldn’t it be your turn now?”

Sure enough, even monsters in this world bullied the weak. When the other two looked, nothing showed up. But when it was Shang Qinghua’s turn, only he could see his own reflection in the well, posturing and gesturing.

Without a word, Liu Qingge slapped his sword hilt. Cheng Luan flew from its sheath, piercing into the well water with a force like a raging rainbow.

After a moment of silence, the calm well surface began bubbling.

Shang Qinghua wisely retreated again and again, putting a safe distance between himself and the well. A chorus of ghostly wails erupted as masses of flocculent souls geysered skyward from the well!

Liu Qingge dispersed a cluster of women’s heads chasing after him and commanded, “Fall back!”

By convention, once combat began, An Ding Peak disciples who weren’t providing support should roll far away and stay where it was safe. Unfortunately, Shang Qinghua miscalculated this time. He hadn’t rolled far enough, and his escape routes were blocked by vengeful spirits that had dispersed into white mist. Left with no choice, he resorted to his signature move: rolling his eyes back and collapsing on the spot.

Playing dead never failed!

In the chaotic fight, Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge accidentally bumped backs. Both wore identical expressions of disgust. Shen Qingqiu immediately retaliated with a fierce strike that flew past Liu Qingge’s shoulder. Enraged, Liu Qingge returned the favor.

Perfect. The main combatants completely ignored the enemy and started fighting each other.

Shen Qingqiu cursed, “Are you blind? Where are you aiming?!”

Liu Qingge was no more refined. “Who struck first? Who’s blind?!”

Lying on the ground, Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes. He saw clearly: just moments ago, a pale, ghostly shadow had been in front of Liu Qingge’s side. Shen Qingqiu’s strike had passed over Liu Qingge’s shoulder and dispersed it. Seeing the two going at each other with increasing ferocity, nearly seeing red, he could no longer maintain his dead act. Sitting up weakly, he called out, “Please don’t fight. Junior Brother Liu, you’ve misunderstood. Actually, Senior Brother Shen was just…”

Shen Qingqiu flicked his hand. The wall beside Shang Qinghua’s head exploded with several deep cracks, dust cascading down.

Shen Qingqiu’s voice was icy. “If you’re going to die, die thoroughly. Don’t get up halfway.”

Shang Qinghua said not another word. He lay back down and continued playing corpse with peace of mind.

Sealing every last one of the well demon and its collected vengeful spirits into a recovery vessel, Shang Qinghua summoned the carriage. Liu Qingge strode off without a glance, heading down a different path.

"Junior Brother, where are you going?" Shang Qinghua hurriedly called out.

Liu Qingge snorted. "I do not travel with those who ambush their own sect brothers."

Shen Qingqiu clapped his hands, laughing. "Excellent. I have no desire to travel with the strong of arm and empty of head either. Junior Brother Shang, let's go."

He gave Shang Qinghua's shoulder a squeeze. Shang Qinghua yelped, grimacing, and hastily agreed. Finally freeing himself from that claw-like grip, he scurried after Liu Qingge. "Junior Brother Liu, this Senior Brother has a word of advice. Don't cultivate alone if you can help it. It's too easy to suffer a qi deviation."

Before Liu Qingge could reply, the sound of a fan handle tapping against the carriage pole came from the other direction. Shen Qingqiu. Shang Qinghua hurried back.

The entire journey, he drove the carriage while stealing glances at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu had been leaning against the carriage wall, reading a book. The weight of that staring gaze finally made his expression darken. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you looking at?"

Shang Qinghua put on a shy, hesitant expression. "...Senior Brother Shen, I really didn't want to mention it. But since you asked so sincerely... your book is upside down."

"..."

Shen Qingqiu's face flushed for a split second before he suddenly drew his sword and stood up.

"No, no, no, no, no! Don't be impulsive!!!"

Shen Qingqiu had the thinnest skin of anyone. Embarrass him to his face, and he'd hold a grudge for a lifetime. For someone whose act was usually so flawless to be holding a book upside down... he must have been truly furious earlier.

Right. He finally tried to do a good deed, and it didn't go as planned. If it didn't go well, he should have just said so to Liu Qingge! But he wouldn't. He'd even cut off Shang Qinghua's attempt to explain on his behalf. The man was a master of twisting himself into knots, torturing himself with his own convolutions.

Shen Qingqiu's gaze was venomous. A cold sweat drenched Shang Qinghua's back. After a long moment, Shen Qingqiu finally sat back down, sheathing his sword with a sharp click. He took a deep, steadying breath, a tight, mirthless smile stretching his lips. "Shang Qinghua. Shut up. Can you do that?"

Shang Qinghua's fingers itched. He raised a hand. "Can I say one more thing?"

Shen Qingqiu lifted his chin, granting permission. Shang Qinghua looked at him with utmost seriousness and spoke the most earnest words he'd uttered since being electrocuted and thrown into The Proud Immortal Demon Way:

"If you ever see someone suffering a qi deviation in the future, don't panic. Don't rashly rush forward thinking you can help or save them. Stay calm. Go get help. Don't try to handle it yourself. Otherwise, you'll absolutely make things worse, create a huge mess, fall into despair, ruin your entire life, and never be able to clear your name even if you jumped into the Yellow River!"

Shen Qingqiu looked utterly baffled. "What does another's qi deviation have to do with me? Why would I panic? Why would I help?"

Shang Qinghua wore an expression that screamed 'I knew you'd say that.' "...Just remember it, okay?"

*

By the time Shang Qinghua became a Peak Lord, he finally didn't have to grovel so blatantly anymore.

He was still doomed to a life of busywork, but at least he'd been promoted from a scullery maid to the chief steward of the inner palace. That counted as significant progress, right?

Word came that the Unattainable One from Qing Jing Peak had fallen ill. After his recovery, a discreet, secret meeting was convened quietly on Qiong Ding Peak.

In a side hall of Qiong Ding Peak, eleven of the twelve Peak Lords had gathered.

Yue Qingyuan spoke with focused gravity. "Do you not think... Junior Brother Qingqiu has been acting very strange lately?"

Several Peak Lords voiced their agreement.

Liu Qingge said solemnly, "Strange is an understatement."

Qi Qingqi muttered, "It's like he's a different person."

Shang Qinghua chose that moment to stride into the side hall, travel-worn and dusty. In recent years, Qian Cao Peak's Dragon Bone Sunflower Seeds had been selling well outside the sect, and he had been traveling for months to expand their distribution. Freshly returned and inexplicably dragged to this meeting, he was still trying to get his bearings. Rubbing his hands together, he asked, "Well, I haven't seen Senior Brother Shen for a while. Could you all specify... how exactly is he strange?"

Yue Qingyuan said, "He can speak with me calmly for a full shichen."

"..." A shiver ran down Shang Qinghua's spine. "That is strange. Truly bizarre!"

Conventional wisdom said an irreconcilable knot lay between those two. Unless that knot was untied, there was no possibility of harmony.

Liu Qingge stated, "In the Lingxi Caves... he helped me."

Oh, right! Shang Qinghua suddenly remembered. At this point in the timeline, shouldn't Liu Qingge have already been schemed to death by Shen Qingqiu? How was he still alive and kicking, sitting here in a meeting?!

Could it be that his reminder to Shen Qingqiu back during the well demon incident had actually worked?

The others continued summarizing Shen Qingqiu's various recent anomalies: getting injured while repelling some brazen demoness, caring for and protecting his disciples... Shang Qinghua's face was practically contorting with the effort to keep his expression neutral. He turned it over in his mind. This self-sacrificing, benevolent persona... it looked severely OOC no matter how he looked at it!

He couldn't help interrupting. "Hold on. He... couldn't have been possessed, could he? Senior Brother Wei, what about your Testing Platform on Wan Jian Peak? Has he been there?"

On Wei Qingwei's Testing Platform stood a peculiar sword named "Red Mirror" that no one had ever been able to draw. Whenever evil spirits, demons, or malevolent beings drew near, the blade would automatically unsheathe itself. If Shen Qingqiu were truly possessed by something unclean, Red Mirror would undoubtedly raise an alarm the moment he approached.

Wei Qingwei reported, "He walked past it three times. Even tried to draw it three times. Not a flicker of movement."

"And there's no trace of ghostly energy on him," Yue Qingyuan added slowly. "I cannot detect any signs of possession."

Qi Qingqi spread her hands. "If it were possession, it doesn't make sense. A possession has to have a goal. He's been... idling about lately."

A round of discussion yielded no consensus. Finally, Mu Qingfang spoke. "It may not be possession. In my opinion, it's possible Senior Brother Shen's... old ailment has flared up again."

The Peak Lords exchanged looks.

The "old ailment" needed no explanation. Everyone understood.

Shen Qingqiu's tendency to rush his cultivation, seeking quick results, was nothing new. Perhaps he had suffered another qi deviation.

Mu Qingfang continued his analysis. "If a person is struck on the head by a giant rock, they may lose some memories. By that logic, a qi deviation leading to a drastic change in temperament is not impossible."

Yue Qingyuan asked, "Is there a chance of recovery?"

Qi Qingqi wrinkled her nose. "Sect Leader, do you actually want him to remember and go back to being his old, well... self?"

Yue Qingyuan paused, lowering his head. "I don't know." He said earnestly, "Although he is very good like this now... it would still be better if he could remember."

Another Peak Lord voiced confusion. "In the past, he never greeted the Sect Leader or his fellow Peak Lords properly, never paid visits, and his words were always laced with hidden barbs. What was good about that? This is much better."

Yue Qingyuan offered a faint smile but said nothing. Mu Qingfang said with difficulty, "Last time I was writing the prescription for the Incurable Poison, I examined him as well. I found no leads. It's difficult to know where to start. I'm afraid we can only let nature take its course."

Having reached the conclusion "The Lord of Qing Jing Peak has lost his memory. Rejoice and celebrate!", the meeting adjourned.

*

After that meeting, Shang Qinghua felt it was absolutely necessary (while delivering Qing Jing Peak's funds, of course) to conduct an inspection regarding this anomaly.

Before the inspection, however, Shang Qinghua went to Bai Zhan Peak first.

By protocol, in terms of seniority within Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, Qing Jing Peak ranked second, and Bai Zhan Peak seventh. After delivering to the top-ranked Qiong Ding Peak, he should have gone to Qing Jing Peak next. But firstly, Shen Qingqiu was too difficult to serve. Shang Qinghua always had to rack his brains figuring out how to speak without offending him. Secondly, Bai Zhan Peak was full of capable fighters. Delivering their funds first gave Shang Qinghua a sense of security.

What kind of security? Well... the kind a small shopkeeper feels after paying protection money to the local bully...

He was greeted by Liu Qingge's junior disciple, Ji Jue, who was as enthusiastic as ever. After a few pleasantries and the completion of the handover, Ji Jue said, "Then, Senior Brother Shang, take care on your way. I'll return to the training grounds."

Noting the other's expression, which seemed reluctant to see him leave so soon, Shang Qinghua asked, "Junior Brother Liu has been staying on Bai Zhan Peak quite often lately. Which disciple has made a breakthrough in their realm?"

Liu Qingge was usually out seeking fights, as no one on Bai Zhan Peak was his match. He returned at most once a month. When Bai Zhan Peak disciples descended on Qian Cao Peak in droves for treatment, it meant he'd just paid a visit. Recently, however, the threshold of Qian Cao Peak's gate had nearly been worn down by the masters of Bai Zhan Peak, and their funds were strained. Mu Qingfang had been coming to Shang Qinghua for leniency every few days. Puzzled, Shang Qinghua had asked.

Ji Jue said gloomily, "It's not someone from our peak. It's Shen Qingqiu."

Shang Qinghua hadn't been expecting any earth-shattering answer. He nodded with a smile. "Oh, Shen Qingqiu... Shen Qingqiu?!"

Digesting the enormous information contained in those three syllables, Shang Qinghua was so shocked he nearly achieved ascension on the spot.

Shen Qingqiu? On Bai Zhan Peak? And on the Bai Zhan training grounds? Doing what? Getting beaten up one-sidedly by Liu Qingge? No, given his talent for attracting hatred, it was probably a group beating—what if someone died?! He was a crucial scum villain!

Ji Jue: "...Senior Brother Shang, what is that look in your eyes?! Don't look at me like that! We didn't kill anyone! Shen Qingqiu is still alive, no one laid a finger on him! The question you should be asking is what he did to us!"

And so, Shang Qinghua followed him at a jog to the training grounds.

On the basalt platform, Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were actually... sparring with swords. Properly.

Liu Qingge's movements were much slower than usual. It was less a duel and more like he was feeding moves. His brow was also relatively calm, lacking its usual killing intent.

At that moment, Shen Qingqiu's thrust met empty air. He frowned slightly, his left hand twitching—

Shang Qinghua's heart clenched violently. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ji Jue's expression also stiffen, as if he were about to cry out.

The two men exchanged a glance. Their thoughts were perfectly aligned.

Ji Jue’s heart still pounded with lingering fear as he whispered, “I keep thinking Shen Qingqiu is about to unleash some poisoned hidden weapon or something.”

Shang Qinghua nodded in deep agreement. “Great minds think alike!” It seemed Junior Brother Ji understood this character all too well! Not surprising, given their history as old enemies who’d once brawled in a brothel, shaming both their peaks…

Shen Qingqiu sheathed Xiuya and stood still in thought. He wasn’t sneering coldly, nor was he glaring sideways. Viewed like this, with his gentle brows and calm eyes, he actually carried a faint air of a refined, modest gentleman.

After a moment, Shen Qingqiu said, “I don’t understand.”

Liu Qingge casually twirled his sword, the motion sharp and fierce. “What don’t you understand?”

A disciple beside Ji Jue suddenly choked out, “Heavens, he ‘doesn’t understand’ again.”

Another disciple murmured, “I… I can’t… My stomach feels off, I’m going down first…”

Ji Jue hurriedly added, “Junior Brother, wait for me, I also—”

The junior brother pushed him back. “Stay put! Didn’t you just get back?!”

On the training ground, Shen Qingqiu continued, “In those last few moves, if I had struck with my right hand while gathering a burst of spiritual power in my left, aiming for your abdomen when the chance arose, I still could have won.”

Liu Qingge scoffed. “Impossible.”

Shen Qingqiu insisted, “Possible.”

Liu Qingge shot back, “If you could win, why didn’t you try?”

Shen Qingqiu replied with affected restraint, “This is merely a sparring session. Getting truly serious would be improper.”

Liu Qingge wasted no more words on him. He turned toward the sidelines. “Someone, come up!”

The person he randomly pointed at ascended like a warrior crossing the Yi River, a look of grim determination on his face. He mimicked Shen Qingqiu’s suggested style and exchanged a few moves with Liu Qingge before being blasted away by the sheer force of Cheng Luan’s sword energy.

Only then did Liu Qingge return his sword to its sheath. He looked at Shen Qingqiu. “See? It doesn’t work.”

Shen Qingqiu flicked open his folding fan, waving it gently before his chest, a smile playing on his lips. “I see. Junior Brother Liu’s reactions are too fast. It truly doesn’t work.”

Ji Jue whispered to Shang Qinghua in a tone of grievance, “Every time he says ‘I don’t understand,’ Senior Brother Liu makes someone demonstrate until he ‘understands’…”

No wonder the casualty count on Bai Zhan Peak had only been rising lately, while Qian Cao Peak’s gates were bustling with patients.

Shang Qinghua had only one thought.

This bastard Shen Qingqiu is absolutely doing it on purpose!!!

After leaving the field, Liu Qingge continued to train (or rather, pummel) the disciples of Bai Zhan Peak. Shen Qingqiu exchanged farewells with Shang Qinghua, and the two began walking down the mountain together. Just as they were about to exit the mountain gate, Ji Jue approached, dragging two burlap sacks which he offered to Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua.

Shang Qinghua, baffled, loosened the ties and peered inside to see two bloody, furry lumps curled within. “What are these…?”

Ji Jue recited in a flat, wooden tone, “Short-haired beasts hunted by Senior Brother Liu. I’m told they are quite tasty. The two Senior Brothers may take them back to your peak to cook as you wish.”

Short-haired beasts? Short-haired beasts?! Did I ever create such a monster?! Edible?! Are you serious?!

Shen Qingqiu also looked deeply skeptical of the creature’s edibility. “You’ve gone to too much trouble…”

Ji Jue continued his robotic delivery. “Senior Brother said this is in return for the tea sent from Qing Jing Peak last time.”

Shang Qinghua’s mind screamed What the hell!, while his face broke into a grin. “In that case, I’m benefiting from Senior Brother Shen’s generosity. I wonder what kind of fine tea it was?”

Shen Qingqiu replied amiably, “It was harvested from the tea fields owned by my head disciple, Ming Fan. As for its quality, why not come to Qing Jing Peak sometime, Junior Brother Shang, and taste it for yourself?”

Shang Qinghua shamelessly added, “Then I shall also take advantage of Senior Brother Liu’s generosity.”

Thus, each dragging a burlap sack, they made their way toward Qing Jing Peak, engaging in idle chatter along the path.

The moment they passed through the mountain gate, a serene breeze brushed their faces, accompanied by the delicate songs of birds—a world apart from the outside. Treading upon a carpet of soft, fallen green bamboo leaves, they felt their spirits clear and refresh.

For some reason, Shen Qingqiu seemed to be in excellent spirits, showing not a hint of someone who had just lost repeatedly to Liu Qingge. Instead, he remarked leisurely, “Junior Brother Liu’s swordsmanship is truly remarkable.”

Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but remind him, “Senior Brother Shen… how many times did you lose today?”

Shen Qingqiu thought for a moment. “Hmm? Oh, this morning? Only seven or eight times.”

How can you be so calm about it?!

Shouldn’t you be gnashing your teeth, weeping tragically (…), vowing revenge, and storming off to seclude yourself for three months of intensive training?!

You’re out of character, you know that?! Have some professional integrity!

Shen Qingqiu tapped the back of his neck with the handle of his fan. “Losing to the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan Peak can’t be helped. One could even say winning would be abnormal.”

“……” Shang Qinghua felt communication was impossible.

This scene of brotherly respect, harmonious fellowship, and friendly affection was actually happening between Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge—Good heavens, at this rate, in a few days Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe might start flirting!

The moment this terrifying image flashed through his mind, a white blur shot over. Something sticky and clinging suddenly launched itself into Shen Qingqiu’s arms.

The soft, boneless thing cried out, “Shizun!”

Shen Qingqiu, nearly knocked flat on his back by the impact, staggered, caught himself against a thick bamboo stalk, and finally steadied himself. He saw Shang Qinghua watching with an expressionless, cold gaze.

Looking at the handsome youth whose arms were wrapped around Shen Qingqiu’s waist like iron bands, Shang Qinghua almost blurted out, “Bing-ge!”

Shen Qingqiu stiffly waved his fan with one hand, an awkward note in his voice. “You may call me, but don’t drag out the tone. And stop throwing yourself at people. Your shishu is right here—where are your manners!”

Luo Binghe slowly withdrew his hands, stood up straight, obediently greeted Shang Qinghua first, then said, “This disciple finished morning lessons and has been waiting here for Shizun’s return. In my joy, I forgot myself…”

Shang Qinghua’s inner world was crumbling.

Luo Binghe shifted to holding Shen Qingqiu’s arm instead. “Shizun, why were you gone so long today?”

“Today… there were many people.”

Luo Binghe naturally took the burlap sack from Shen Qingqiu’s hand. “May I go next time?”

“That depends on the progress of your swordsmanship,” Shen Qingqiu said offhandedly. “I’m not sure what’s in the bag. Your Liu-shishu says it’s edible. See if you can clean off the fur and figure out how to prepare it.”

“Oh.” Luo Binghe agreed happily, giving the sack a shake. The contents suddenly struggled.

“Shizun, it’s still alive!”

In the small reception hall of the bamboo house, Shen Qingqiu’s disciples were gathered around the burlap sack, taking turns poking the unidentified creature inside. Each poke elicited a pitiful wail from the short-haired beast, which only excited them further as they marveled, “Shizun, it really is alive!”

“What do we do with a live one? Should we still kill and eat it?”

“No way, that’s too cruel…”

Shang Qinghua tried hard to ignore the disciples sitting haphazardly on the floor as he sipped his tea, his insides twitching.

He remembered the last time he visited, all the disciples wore expressions of profound solemnity, standing straight as pines, sitting rigid as bells, each clutching an ancient text and reciting like chanting mantras wherever they went, their speech laden with classical allusions and dramatic cadence. Looking at them now… was this still the Qing Jing Peak famous for producing pretentious literary youths?

It was more like a daycare for hyperactive children.

Shen Qingqiu said, “If it’s alive, then we’ll raise it.”

Ming Fan immediately objected. “Let’s just eat it. We’ve never raised one before, who knows how much it eats, changing its water, taking it for walks… sounds troublesome.”

Ning Yingying pouted. “Oh, please. Even if we raise it, it won’t be your job. Shizun will naturally give it to A-Luo to care for.”

She looked up and asked, “Shizun, where did you catch this strange thing?”

“A gift from the Peak Lord of Bai Zhan Peak. A return for the tea.”

Ning Yingying, upon hearing this, grumbled, “Shizun, I don’t like Bai Zhan Peak. They’re awful… Last time they bullied A-Luo because their sword skills were better, even chased him to hit him…”

Shang Qinghua thought: That’s perfectly normal. The Bai Zhan lineage’s innate dislike for Luo Binghe is practically instinctual. Probably a single-celled organism’s intuition toward a latent source of evil.

After finishing her complaint, Ning Yingying demanded, “Shizun, you must teach them a severe lesson for us!”

“Pfft—” Shen Qingqiu choked, then turned to Shang Qinghua with a proper smile. “Ahem… this child, talking nonsense… Fellow disciples must be harmonious and friendly. How can we speak of ‘severe lessons’ so readily?”

Shang Qinghua hastily agreed, offering an equally dry smile in return and gulping down more tea.

Little Sister Yingying, your Shizun doesn’t need to lift a finger. Liu Qingge has already been teaching them quite harshly. The reality is Shen Qingqiu handles the ‘harmonious and friendly’ part, while Liu Qingge handles the ‘severe lessons’… Truly the essence of a hypocrite! Shang Qinghua felt deeply gratified. Shen Qingqiu, you’re still that sinister Shen Qingqiu after all!

Just then, Luo Binghe returned with the tea, entering the hall to present it to Shang Qinghua. Shen Qingqiu said, “Junior Brother, we are indebted to An Ding Peak for your constant support…”

But on the floor, an insistent voice remained. Ning Yingying exclaimed passionately, “Shizun, you must vent A-Luo’s anger for him!”

“……” Shen Qingqiu finally lost his patience. “Yingying, go out and play!”

Luo Binghe hurriedly interjected, “There’s no need for venting anger at all. This disciple’s skills were simply inferior, bringing shame upon Shizun and Qing Jing Peak.”

Shen Qingqiu comforted him. “Your foundation is merely temporarily lacking. With diligent effort, given time, you will surely surpass them.”

Ming Fan sneered. “Surpass Bai Zhan Peak? With him? Maybe in a hundred years.” Ning Yingying flew into a temper. “Looking down on our Qing Jing Peak and A-Luo like that! Why don’t you go join Bai Zhan Peak, see if they’ll even take you!” Shen Qingqiu massaged his temples. “Didn’t I tell you to go out and play? Why are you still here?! Binghe, get them out of here, don’t let them embarrass us further.”

……

Shang Qinghua felt he was about to have a heart attack.

What the hell were this Shen Qingqiu-brand Red-Candle Gardener and this Luo Binghe-brand Considerate Little Comfort?!

Don’t you dare tell me Shen Qingqiu really went to Bai Zhan Peak to mess with people just to vent Luo Binghe’s anger!

This picture of domestic bliss—no, that’s not right—this scene of perfect marital harmony… ugh, no—this image of mutual respect and courtesy was even more fantastical than Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge sparring peacefully. If things continued like this, they might one day start flirting and bantering like lovers. Pah! If that day ever came, he’d eat three pounds of hot shit.

Speaking of which, Xiang Tian Da Feiji had always been terrible with idioms. The few he did know were all used to describe Liu Mingyan’s beauty. The ones he employed most frequently were “trembling bosom” and “so delicate it would break at a touch.” Using “mutual respect and courtesy” here probably wasn’t wrong, right?

Side Story: Da Feiji’s Strange Adventure – Part 5

At that time, the diligent and earnest Xiang Tian Da Feiji had no idea that the scumbag villain Shen Qingqiu had already been replaced by the peerless troll, Peerless Cucumber.

Back when he occasionally cursed this guy for trolling too viciously, he’d maliciously wish that even a peerless cucumber would find no place to be used. Who could have guessed that, in a way, that curse had come true?

These days, Bing-ge was in a particularly foul mood.

Shang Qinghua could understand. As the original stallion protagonist who could single-handedly conquer the world, now that he had Shen Qingqiu captured and locked away—he really was just keeping him locked up. Just imprisoning him, doing nothing else.

Could you believe it?! Even he, the original author, couldn’t believe it!

If the current Bing-ge were still under the control of his pen, adhering to the principle of “making the protagonist happy is making the reader happy,” he would have flipped Luo Binghe over and over like a pancake, making him ravish Shen Qingqiu a few hundred times first (and this absolutely had no personal grudge against him and Peerless Cucumber. Absolutely none.), with no repetition in methods, positions, or locations. Only after thoroughly “cooking” him would there be room for talk; feelings would naturally develop from all that “cooking”…

Compared to Bing-ge’s current ascetic, monk-like existence—three years without knowing the taste of meat—Shang Qinghua felt increasingly sorry for his beloved son.

Therefore, no one with a death wish dared approach him at a time like this to invite trouble.

In the underground palace’s council hall, everyone was busy with their own tasks. Sha Hualing was mending her giant Immortal-Binding Net, which had been blasted open by Shen Qingqiu, while sneakily glancing at Luo Binghe, occasionally biting her lip in frustration. Mo Beijun dozed with half-closed eyes on the west side, while Shang Qinghua, bored out of his mind, jiggled his leg.

He truly had nothing to do, nor did he want to be in the council hall. But this was demon territory. If he didn’t stick to Mo Beijun like glue, he might be devoured alive by other non-human creatures.

Just as he was considering crawling over to Mo Beijun and risking a beating to beg His Majesty to find a more relaxed place to nap, Luo Binghe suddenly spoke two words.

“If.”

The ears of every demon in the hall perked up in unison.

Luo Binghe said, “If you hold someone… special in your heart, how do you make them understand your feelings?”

Ahem!

He was so desperate he’d ask anyone for help!

Though his question was phrased subtly, who couldn’t tell he was seeking romantic advice?

To bring such a matter before his subordinates for serious discussion… Humans (and demons) really shouldn’t fall in love. Once they do, their IQ plummets straight down.

Of course, no one would openly call him out and expose it, but this question was so… discordant with the usual demonic atmosphere that, for a moment, no one answered. The answer was actually simple—any ordinary person could say it: just tell them if you like them. Unfortunately, no one present was “ordinary,” and besides Shang Qinghua, not a single one was “human.” Mo Beijun pondered. Given his thought process, who knows how he interpreted “special.” He offered, “Beat them three times a day?”

Luo Binghe raised a single hand in a “stop” gesture and wisely declared, “You need not answer.”

Among those present, the only one with a gender advantage and possibly skilled in such matters was Sha Hualing. So, the rest turned their gazes toward her. The originally extremely popular Sha-meimei wore an expression that screamed “WTF, why should I provide this kind of consultation to the man I want to get with myself?” She twitched her beautifully shaped eyebrow and the corner of her mouth. “Why doesn’t Your Majesty ask Senior Dream Demon?”

Luo Binghe said, “I already have.”

No one understood better than Shang Qinghua what kind of answer Dream Demon would give. That guy was absolutely in the same camp as him—the “screw first, talk later” faction! Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but let out a snorting laugh.

Sha Hualing, already bursting with pent-up frustration and with nowhere to vent, seized upon this. “How dare you! What are you, not only daring to mix into the council hall, but even daring to disrupt the proceedings while His Majesty discusses important matters!”

This kind of question… could hardly be called “important matters,” and he’d only snorted once. How could that “disrupt the proceedings”? Given that this wasn’t the first time Sha Hualing had picked on him, Shang Qinghua had learned to take it calmly. He sat obediently in place, pretending to be a lump of air. Sure enough, Mo Beijun remained unmoved. Seeing no one paid her any mind, Sha Hualing resentfully twisted her fingernails. “Your Majesty, Mo Beijun takes him everywhere, never avoiding suspicion, even bringing him to the council hall. What exactly is the meaning of this?”

Luo Binghe was also unmoved. “You see him every day. Haven’t you gotten used to it yet?”

Sha Hualing nearly fainted.

This was the first time in months Bing-ge had commented on his existence! Shang Qinghua’s heart instantly danced with wild, chaotic joy: My son acknowledged me! He acknowledged me! Hahahaha! Who would have thought Luo Binghe would look at him and say, “Since you laughed, does that mean you have something to say?”

“……” Shang Qinghua was at a loss for words. Sha Hualing let out a triumphant “Ha!” and said, “His Majesty’s question is most apt. Since he is so… familiar with Shen… with that person, he must have some remarkable, brilliant insight. We shall all listen attentively.”

Shang Qinghua glanced back at Mo Beijun sitting behind him. Seeing that he indeed had no intention of rescuing him, he steeled his heart and declared decisively, “…This… Of course I have something to say! The secret lies in one word: ‘Persistence’!”

“As the saying goes, even the most chaste woman fears a persistent suitor; even the bravest warrior fears a delicate lady. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Even if he’s straight as an embroidery needle, you can bend him into a paperclip!”

Sha Hualing said, “What’s all this straight and bent nonsense? Don’t speak human realm slang. Your Majesty, I think he’s just being deliberately mystifying!”

Luo Binghe, however, was fully engaged, murmuring to himself, “I haven’t been persistent enough? Not enough?”

Shang Qinghua gushed on, “Persistence is the primary policy, but besides this one-word mantra, there’s another crucial point to note. Gentlemen, you must understand: a woman’s love stems from admiration, a man’s love stems from pity. We’ll temporarily set aside the case of women—I believe no woman could fail to be won over by Your Majesty’s peerless divine might, heaven-defying charisma, and profound depth of feeling—so we’ll only discuss the other scenario. If you want a man to understand your—ah, no, Your—feelings and respond, what should you do? It’s simple. No man dislikes a weak, cute, docile object of affection. So what is cute? Cute is someone or something that can evoke pity in one’s heart. Therefore, the object must be very well-behaved, very…”

With flattery and nonsense flying side by side, the crowd in the hall collectively stole glances at Luo Binghe sitting high above: face dark, pupils a fierce crimson, killing intent swirling beneath the surface—the most vivid illustration of the phrase “inviolable” (or more accurately, “dissatisfied and seeking fulfillment”). The distance between him and words like “weak,” “cute,” “docile,” and “well-behaved” was like an unbridgeable chasm.

Sha Hualing couldn’t help but spit in disgust.

Shang Qinghua hurriedly shut his mouth. Luo Binghe rubbed his temples. “Continue.”

With permission granted, Shang Qinghua resumed his analysis, his tone dripping with mischief. “We can use Shen Qingqiu as an example. This person is a straight man… What does straight man mean? Oh, a straight man is a normal man… Of course, I’m not saying Your Majesty isn’t normal. He highly values the dignity of being a teacher. Teachers all favor obedient students. So, if you want him to like you, the first step is to be obedient…”

The hall full of demons and monsters was nearly stunned into silence by his reckless words.

Sha Hualing: “Outrageous! You mean to suggest His Majesty should pretend… pretend to be pitiful and obey him? His Majesty, the esteemed ruler of the demon realm, how could he do something so beneath his dignity!!!”

Yes, that’s exactly what I mean!

Sha-sha, turn your head and look at your lord’s thoughtful expression. Does he look like he thinks this is beneath his dignity?

With passionate fervor, soaring to the heavens and plumbing the depths, Shang Qinghua concluded his twenty-minute-long love consultation. By the time he finished, Sha Hualing had already killed him a million times with her eyes. The moment Luo Binghe left, Shang Qinghua quickly scooted over to Mo Beijun’s side, pressing close to seek protection.

Mo Beijun glanced at him sideways. “So, you’re saying the most effective method to be liked by a man is to pretend to be pitiful?”

Shang Qinghua thought for a moment. “Theoretically speaking, that’s correct, yes?”

Mo Beijun reached out.

Shang Qinghua thought he was about to be hit again and hurriedly covered his head. But the expected pain didn’t come. Mo Beijun merely gave his head a light tap.

Then, looking somewhat pleased, he stood up and walked out of the council hall. Though baffled, Shang Qinghua couldn’t withstand Sha Hualing’s predatory gaze from the side and hurriedly scrambled to follow, taking two steps at a time.

In the end, they still caused a huge commotion.

Buried Bones Ridge exploded into countless flying sand and shattered stone, dust billowing, just as he had originally outlined in his draft.

He even managed to act heroically, saving the flightless Mo Beijun once. As he grabbed that hand in mid-air, Shang Qinghua could see the shock in his eyes.

Perhaps because of his good performance, his treatment had improved recently. He was even allowed to return to his old home at Cang Qiong Mountain for a visit.

Yue Qingyuan, that great saint of a man, had once again shown boundless magnanimity by allowing him to return to Anding Peak and resume his nominal role as its lord. These past few days in the "Abode of Idleness," Shang Qinghua found himself genuinely idle for the first time, to the point his very bones itched with boredom. After finishing his stockpile of melon seeds, he suddenly remembered: the System hadn't made a peep in ages.

It was a rare occasion for Shang Qinghua to proactively poke the System. The response he received was earth-shattering.

System: [Objective Achieved. Return Attachment Downloading.]

Shang Qinghua: "..."

A moment later, he began violently shaking the (non-existent) System's shoulders. "Objective achieved?! Return attachment?! Which return attachment?! Is it the one I'm thinking of?! Huh?! System, my lord! This is the first time you've said so many words! Say a few more, please, I'm begging you, speak!!!"

System: [Original plot substantially achieved. Romance subplot minor deviation. Objective achieved. Return to original world attachment download complete. Please confirm activation of return program.]

He could agree with 'original plot substantially achieved'—all the major plot holes had been filled. But 'romance subplot minor deviation'? That couldn't be right, could it? Bing-ge had gone off to… well, that. How was that a 'minor deviation'? Ah, fine, fine. In his original outline, Bing-ge didn't have a romance line at all. Adding one was whatever, he supposed. So, after all that rambling… did this mean he could go back to his original world?!?!

Shang Qinghua wept tears of joy.

He hadn't written anything in so long. He missed his pen name, 'Shooting Towards the Sky,' with its perfectly balanced legion of fans and haters. He missed the swarm of trolls in the comment section. He missed the generous patrons who threw money at him. He missed his crappy laptop from freshman year that crashed all the time. He missed the… ahem… sizable files on his hard drive, you know the ones. He missed the impressive tower of instant noodle boxes piled behind his swivel chair, the new flavors he'd bought wholesale but never got to try.

A dialog box popped up from the System: [Attachment download complete. Activate?] Followed by two buttons in different colors.

[Yes] [Maybe Later]

Shang Qinghua impulsively wanted to press the red button on the left.

But something seemed to hold his arm back.

Truth was, he didn't really have any family over there.

His parents had divorced early on, gone their separate ways, and built entirely new families. The occasional meal or gathering, on either side, always made him feel acutely out of place. The polite offering of dishes, the polite, strained smiles—it was more awkward than eating with complete strangers.

Though his father was his legal guardian, when they weren't meeting face-to-face, their interaction was limited to the occasional holiday phone call asking if he needed money. Sometimes even that was forgotten, and he never reminded them. Wherever he was, whomever he was with, his most practiced and proficient skill was that apologetic, placating smile.

He was an adult, after all. Having them pay his university tuition was unavoidable, but for living expenses, he had to figure it out himself.

It was during that time of "figuring it out" that he'd accidentally registered a pen name on Zhongdian and started writing.

At first, it was purely for catharsis, writing whatever he wanted. He flopped spectacularly, struggling to even get his work on the paid platform, yet he somehow garnered praise from a small, peculiar audience.

Once, wanting to change his style to see if he could salvage the subscriptions his editor had long given up on, he wrote something that became an overnight sensation.

'Shooting Towards the Sky' had seen the light. He had "found a way."

The more he wrote, the more he became a shut-in. The more of a shut-in he became, the more he wrote. As a classic otaku, all his good, compatible friends were online, scattered to the winds. Friends like… Mobei-jun? He basically had none.

Hold on.

Mobei-jun? A friend?

He actually categorized Mobei-jun as a "friend"?!

Shang Qinghua startled himself with the thought. Hurriedly, he grabbed another bag of Qiancao Peak's special Dragon Bone Fragrance melon seeds, devoured a metaphorical three pounds to calm his nerves, and went to sleep.

He was dreaming, his mouth still salty from the seeds, of fervently consuming the three pounds of hot… well, that… he'd once promised, when he was rolled up in his bedding and dragged off Anding Peak, straight into the demonic Northern Territories. The cold woke him.

Mobei-jun tossed him onto the ground. Against the knife-edged wind and snow of the North, his profile and expression seemed even sharper.

Handsome. Devastatingly so. But Shang Qinghua was too cold to appreciate it. Opening his mouth to spew flattery would have frozen his tongue solid, so he obediently shut it, shivering as he scrambled up, still wrapped in the quilt. Ahead, an ice fortress rose from the ground. Mobei-jun strode toward it, and Shang Qinghua hastily followed.

The great doors of ice-brick rumbled open and shut. They descended a long, deep staircase. The place was deserted until they neared a bedchamber, where a few guards and maidservants stood, not daring to breathe too loudly.

Stealing a glance at Mobei-jun's face, Shang Qinghua saw the usual haughty aloofness, but underscored now by a grave solemnity.

He couldn't help but ask, "Um, My King, how long are we going to stand here?"

Mobei-jun didn't turn his head, only his eyes shifted. "Seven days."

Shang Qinghua nearly fainted on the spot.

Oh well. He might be going back to continue his 'shooting' soon anyway. Might as well use these seven days to say a proper goodbye. After all, once he returned, there'd be no one to regularly beat him up, order him around, make him work like an ox or a horse, do the laundry, fold the quilts, serve tea, and fetch water.

They stood for a while. The cold seeped deeper. The lands of the Mobei Clan were truly not meant for humans. Shang Qinghua started jogging and jumping in place, desperate to avoid being frozen into an ice sculpture. Mobei-jun watched him, a flicker of what might have been amusement passing through his eyes. He reached out and pinched one of Shang Qinghua's fingers. It was as if the biting cold was siphoned away through that point of contact. Shang Qinghua found it slightly more bearable.

It only made the impending farewell feel more poignant. Made him feel… a little reluctant to leave.

Thinking about it, aside from his terrible temper, his pathetic life skills, his pampered upbringing, and his love of hitting people… Mobei-jun had treated him quite well.

The benefits were good. The salary was decent. Even if getting beaten was a daily staple, he was the only one allowed to be beaten. No one else had that privilege. And lately, he hadn't been hitting him much at all.

Shang Qinghua was deeply concerned about his own seemingly warped sense of life satisfaction.

What if he really went back? What if Mobei-jun suddenly felt like hitting someone again, but couldn't find him anywhere? The imagined scene carried a strange, melancholic weight—the song ends, the crowd disperses, the place remains but the people are gone.

Suddenly, the cold slammed back into him. Mobei-jun's voice was icy. "Go back where?"

Only then did Shang Qinghua realize that, lost in his melancholy, he'd actually voiced his thoughts aloud.

Now he was really going to be "melancholy."

Mobei-jun's grip tightened, almost crushing his index finger. "You want to leave? Now?"

"Nonono, not now!" Shang Qinghua hurriedly clarified.

"Not now?" Mobei-jun said. "What did you promise me?"

To follow you, My King, for this life and the next. He'd chanted it like a slogan countless times. But he thought no one actually took it seriously…

After a long silence, Mobei-jun spoke. "If you want to leave, leave now. Don't wait seven days."

Shang Qinghua was taken aback. "My King, if I really go… we'll never see each other again."

Mobei-jun looked at him with the gaze of one viewing an ant from ninety million feet in the air. "Why would you think I care about that?"

Even Shang Qinghua's face, tempered to be impenetrable by years of practice, flinched under that expression and those words. He wanted to say more, but events unfolded beyond his expectations.

"Get out," Mobei-jun said.

His body was hurled backward as if by an invisible force, slamming into the steel-hard ice wall. Excruciating pain, numb for only an instant in his back, instantly radiated through his organs.

Mobei-jun hadn't even lifted a hand, hadn't even glanced his way. A warm, metallic-tasting liquid surged up Shang Qinghua's throat.

Though being beaten by Mobei-jun was almost routine, and being told to "get out" was common, he had never, in any of those instances, felt such intense hatred and fury directed at him.

As he had countless times before, he climbed up from the floor, silently wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and offered a smile that no one would appreciate.

He stood there a moment longer, still wanting to speak. Mobei-jun, as if pushed past all endurance, roared, "Get out!"

So Shang Qinghua scrambled out.

To be honest, even though no one could possibly know what he was thinking, he still felt a bit… embarrassed.

For that fleeting thought that had crossed his mind earlier—"Mobei-jun" and "friend."

Extra: The Adventures of Shooting Towards the Sky - 6

==============================

After the guards of the underground ice fortress were dismissed, the place was empty. Mobei-jun must have thought he had obediently "gotten out" and wouldn't expect him to double back. Thus, when Shang Qinghua returned to the corridor outside the bedchamber, he hadn't been discovered yet. He stopped there, shimmied up a massive pillar wide enough for three men to embrace, and found a spot on a roof beam where he was absolutely hidden from view.

Although this spot indeed prevented others from seeing him… it also meant he couldn't see anyone else either! Damn it!

Mobei-jun's cold voice rang out, still seemingly forcing down his anger.

"What are you doing here?" he said.

An unfamiliar young man's voice laughed lightly. "My nephew ascends the throne. I've come for a celebratory drink. Is that not allowed?"

Mobei-jun didn't answer, only snorted. After a pause, he said, "What is there to celebrate?"

Another voice chimed in. "After these seven days, you will be the true Mobei-jun. Is that not worthy of congratulations?"

Shang Qinghua knew who this was, and which segment of the original plot—disrupted and delayed until now—this was.

This was bad. Mobei-jun was in serious trouble.

This uninvited guest was Mobei-jun's little uncle—Lingguang-jun!

And lying within the bedchamber must be the corpse of the Northern Desert Lord’s father—a man the young lord had likely seen only a handful of times since birth.

According to the rules he himself had written, each generation’s ruler of the Northern Desert Clan would, upon death, bequeath seventy percent of their cultivated power to the next heir. This moment was critical. In the original plot, Lord Lingguang had chosen precisely this juncture to launch his ambush—on the final day, when the Northern Desert Lord would be at his most vulnerable, wholly focused on assimilating that inherited power. Because the Northern Desert Lord was the legitimate first heir, Lord Lingguang had no right to claim the power. Force was useless; illegitimacy remained illegitimacy, and the ancestral spirits would never acknowledge him. But if the Northern Desert Lord died after formally succeeding, he would be the last of the direct bloodline. Then, taking over that seventy percent would be… effortless.

In the original story, Bing-ge should have been here, playing the fool while secretly providing cover, then extorting the Northern Desert Clan once the succession was secure. But in this world, Bing-ge was shamelessly occupied with tormenting his master. Tell me, how could he possibly spare any attention for this affair? And whom had the Northern Desert Lord brought back instead? His utterly useless self!

Shang Qinghua clawed at his own hair in despair: My king, you—you, you, you—why did you bring me back?! I can’t lift a sword or shoulder a burden! What ability do I have to guard your ritual? For a life-and-death matter like this, you should call your most trusted confidant, your most powerful ally! Even if you couldn’t peel Bing-ge off his master like stubborn glue, you could at least have borrowed ten thousand of his Black-Armored Generals! At the very least, you shouldn’t have picked me! Aside from serving weak tea, fetching water, doing laundry, and folding blankets, what skill of mine isn’t strictly amateur level?!

Without the indestructible golden halo of plot armor he had personally bestowed upon the protagonist, when that fatal moment arrived seven days from now, the Northern Desert Lord would…

Lord Lingguang’s voice cut through the silence. “Such an important day, and you brought no one with you?”

“…” The Northern Desert Lord answered coldly, “I didn’t.”

Lord Lingguang chuckled softly. “You did bring someone, originally. I saw. On my way here, I happened to see someone leaving. That was… the Lord of An Ding Peak, who supposedly follows you? How did he offend you? Beaten to such a state. From the rumors I’d heard, I thought your temper had improved.”

A long silence followed, unanswered.

Lord Lingguang laughed again. “Your uncle is merely asking. Why look at me so unkindly?”

The Northern Desert Lord stated bluntly, “I wish you would leave.”

“How you wound this demon’s heart. A pity, but our clan has no rule forbidding observers during the succession ritual, does it? Besides, I am your father’s brother. If not for you, the one standing here today, waiting to inherit, would certainly be me.”

The Northern Desert Lord seemed to know he couldn’t be driven out and said no more. Lord Lingguang, however, grew smug and unrestrained. “Ah, grown up and about to become the ruler. How different you are. You were much more adorable as a child.”

Listening to this familiar line, Shang Qinghua wiped cold sweat from his brow, feeling a faint shame that he had once written such a shameless character. This uncle actually has the nerve to bring up his childhood.

The Northern Desert Lord had lost his mother early. As a child, the one he had clung to and felt closest to was this uncle, not much older than himself. However, due to some messy affairs and emotional entanglements between the brothers of the previous generation, Lord Lingguang held no real affection for his nephew. Once, when other demons weren’t paying attention, he coaxed the obedient little boy out the main gate and abandoned him in the human realm, where a mob of righteous cultivators chased the terrified, confused young demon—who stumbled every few steps—for days.

At that time, the Northern Desert Lord’s age was roughly equivalent to a human four-year-old. If his father hadn’t suddenly remembered, over ten days later, that his son hadn’t been trailing his brother lately and casually asked after him, the Northern Desert Lord might have been locked in the Huan Hua Palace water prison until he died of sheer terror. To a demon of that age, a crowd of strangers shouting and circling him were nothing but bloodthirsty monsters. Imagine a human four-year-old locked in a demonic pit. The reaction would be similar.

The previous Northern Desert Lord had a heart as broad as a basin—the Sichuan basin, to be precise. Since his son was retrieved in the end, scared but alive, he didn’t dwell on it. He merely scolded his younger brother a few times and told them to continue “getting along well” in the future.

After being brought back, disheveled and filthy, the Northern Desert Lord never spoke to his once-favorite uncle again. As he grew older, this silence worsened, extending until he was unwilling to speak to anyone at all, and he developed a deep, abiding hatred for all forms of betrayal.

Running through the melodramatic, cold-hearted young master backstory he had concocted, Shang Qinghua reflected. Primarily, he reflected on whether the setting of the demons’ inherently cold and detached nature was too inhumane. Secondarily, he reflected on why he hadn’t added a rule stating, “No unrelated persons are permitted to observe the succession ritual, not even direct relatives.” Because of this omission, the Northern Desert Lord, during the mourning period before the inheritance, could not leave the chamber and had no valid reason to expel Lord Lingguang.

Trembling with fear while engaged in this self-reflection, Shang Qinghua endured for seven full days. Finally, the last day arrived.

The seven days of ritual observance concluded. The moment for the Northern Desert Lord to formally inherit the power had come. Wisely, he delayed taking action. Yet, eventually, he would have to act.

Lord Lingguang said, “What is it? Why hesitate?”

Because you’re standing right there!!!

Lord Lingguang continued, “Surely you’re not… afraid I’ll attack? How could I? I am your uncle. Northern Desert, you must hurry. If you don’t begin now, you’ll miss the moment. There is no second chance—need I remind you?”

If he didn’t begin immediately, the power would dissipate naturally, a vast inheritance scattered to the wind. If he began immediately, Lord Lingguang—whose intentions were absolutely malicious—would be watching like a tiger poised to strike. The Northern Desert Lord was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Everything proceeded as in the original plot, except the peerlessly powerful Bing-ge was missing, replaced by the utterly incompetent Hua-di.

Finally, the Northern Desert Lord let out a cold laugh.

Shang Qinghua gritted his teeth. Risking detection and having his head lopped off by a demon, he peeked out. Almost the instant a sphere of blue light flew from the bedchamber to envelop the Northern Desert Lord, Lord Lingguang struck!

The Northern Desert Lord had been prepared. He freed one hand to block the insidious palm strike. Yet, divided in focus, he allowed a wisp of foreign demonic energy to slip into his palm. This alien energy rampaged through his body. Not daring to be careless, he had to divert another portion of his concentration to suppress it. Lord Lingguang, sensing his initial success, was ecstatic. But before he could press his advantage, a figure suddenly dropped from above, leaping into view!

Lord Lingguang’s voice turned icy. “I wondered how there could still be a guard here who wasn’t sent away. Didn’t you leave seven days ago? What? Come back to protect your master? I never would have guessed you possessed such loyalty.”

Originally unable to see him, Shang Qinghua now felt his legs turn to jelly. Lord Lingguang was quite handsome, but in a soft, sinister way. Those peach-blossom eyes glinted like cold, poisonous needles. When he smiled slightly, baring his teeth, they were unnervingly white—perfect for tearing into raw flesh!

Steeling himself, Shang Qinghua planted himself before the Northern Desert Lord. “First, who said I came back to protect my master? Second, who told you he is my master?”

Lord Lingguang said, “Then what do you call standing in my way now?”

Shang Qinghua declared with forced vigor, “Kicking a man when he’s down!”

As he spouted this nonsense, his hand trembled, pointing shakily at his own face. “Look! Look what he did to me. This nephew of yours has such a wonderful temper!”

Behind him, the Northern Desert Lord spat a mouthful of blood. Absolutely out of sheer fury.

Shang Qinghua continued, his voice mournful. “Over the years, the ribs I’ve broken could rebuild the Boneyard Ridge. The blood I’ve coughed up could drown me alive. Loyalty? To someone… some demon like this… who the hell could stay loyal? Treated like this, if Shang Qinghua could still swallow his anger and not seek revenge, he’d be unworthy of the title Lord of An Ding Peak!”

While delivering this speech, Shang Qinghua absolutely did not dare look back at the Northern Desert Lord’s expression. His back felt so cold it might frost over!

Lord Lingguang laughed heartily. “Northern Desert, did you hear that? I truly pity you. Forever destined to be betrayed. How can you lead the Northern Desert Clan like this? If you really succeeded, with your constitution, wouldn’t our clan be in constant danger of collapse? Better listen to your uncle. Leave the important matters to me, and you can just… go.”

His lifelong wish on the verge of fulfillment, Lord Lingguang felt magnanimous. He addressed Shang Qinghua generously. “And how do you plan to ‘kick him while he’s down’?”

With a sly grin, Shang Qinghua formed a fire sigil and flung it behind him.

Lord Lingguang felt a wave of blistering heat rush at his face, crimson light dancing before his eyes. The Northern Desert Ice Clan detested flame, and this fire seemed no ordinary blaze—it was born from several Xuan Yang Fire Seeds that Shang Qinghua had shamelessly pestered Shen Qingqiu into making for him. Disgust mingled with a thread of fear in Lord Lingguang. He immediately retreated, shielding his face, a flicker of surprise in his heart.

Ling Guang-jun thought to himself, Who would have guessed that the notoriously weak and cowardly Peak Lord of Anding Peak is actually such a ruthless character? I heard Mo Bei treated him quite well. Yet this bastard bided his time for years, and his first move is this vicious—trying to burn Mo Bei alive with immortal flame. Death would be too merciful; this fire could reduce him to charcoal and ash! If he’d used that spell on me earlier, I’d have been in a sorry state too. I wonder if he has any more of those formidable fire seeds. Regardless, this man cannot be allowed to live.

But when he finished his calculations and steadied himself to look, fury erupted within him.

Mo Bei-jun was not being consumed by flames. Instead, he was enclosed within a ring of fire. That handful of fire seeds Shang Qinghua had thrown hadn’t struck him at all. Instead, they had landed in a wide circle around him, several yards in radius. The leaping, wild dance of the Profound Sun True Fire now surrounded them both.

While Mo Bei-jun couldn’t leave the circle, Ling Guang-jun couldn’t enter it either. Any ice-based magic cast from outside would be melted by the Profound Sun flames. It looked less like an attack and more like a—protective barrier!

Realizing he’d been deceived, Ling Guang-jun’s face darkened instantly.

Mo Bei-jun, struck by a vicious stream of demonic energy from Ling Guang-jun, was on one knee. The malicious energy rampaged through his limbs and meridians. His face alternated between pallor and a sickly green, and he lacked even the spare focus to glance at anyone else. Shang Qinghua fluttered around him helplessly, unable to assist. Ling Guang-jun paced slowly around the fiery ring, a cold sneer on his lips.

“I spoke too soon,” he said. “You’re not just loyal. You’re recklessly, suicidally devoted. Coming back to die for this worthless nephew of mine! I just wonder… how long can this little circle of yours last?”

His words struck a nerve.

Shang Qinghua had used every last fire seed Shen Qingqiu had given him in one go, keeping none in reserve. Crouching beside Mo Bei-jun, he prayed with frantic intensity, Mother of heaven, Your Majesty, are you listening? He’s going to kill me! Your uncle wants me dead! You have to finish digesting this quickly, I really don’t know how long this circle will hold!

Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. Ice dust and frost rained down from above.

Shang Qinghua wobbled unsteadily, the dancing flames around him flickering in sync.

Ling Guang-jun withdrew his hand from one of the great ice pillars. “You think staying in there means I can’t touch you?”

He intended to collapse the ice fortress and bury Mo Bei-jun alive!

Watching fissures spiderweb across the pillar, knowing a second strike was coming, Shang Qinghua hurriedly cried out, “Coming out! I’m coming out now!”

Like a frog with a grievous grievance leaping into a pot of boiling oil, he slowly hopped out of the circle.

Once out, there was no going back. Ling Guang-jun moved with ghostly speed, seizing him. “What good is you coming out alone? Dismiss the fire!”

In truth, a thread of panic had entered Ling Guang-jun’s mind. He didn’t know how long Mo Bei-jun would need to suppress that demonic energy. If he managed to regulate his breathing and fully assimilate the inherited cultivation before the Profound Sun Fire faded… today’s coup would become nothing but a farce.

“I only know how to start fires,” Shang Qinghua said. “Not put them out.”

“Then make him come out!”

“Well… Your Highness, look at him. In his current state, even if he wanted to, he can’t move.”

Ling Guang-jun gave a cold laugh and placed his hand over Shang Qinghua’s heart.

“Then tell me,” he said amiably, “if your heart were beginning to freeze, do you think he might be… impulsive enough to come out then?”

“If breaking through relied on ‘impulse,’” Shang Qinghua chattered, “I’d suggest Your Highness try being ‘impulsive’ enough to charge in yourself…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Ling Guang-jun began humming an ice spell, turning it into a cheerful, malicious little tune. “Mo Bei, dear nephew, your uncle is surprised. You actually have a loyal hound who won’t betray you, even at a time like this. Such a good dog… it would be a shame to lose him, wouldn’t it?”

An icy wilderness spread through the region around Shang Qinghua’s heart.

His lips turned purple. He raised a hand. “Y-Y-Your Highness.”

“Speak.”

“If y-you… f-freeze my heart, I-I-I won’t be able to scream. It w-won’t sound pitiful enough. W-won’t achieve your d-desired ‘impulse.’ I s-suggest you just beat me instead. I promise to scream hard. Scream pitifully.”

“Oh? But my hand is very heavy. What if I lose control and kill you?”

“N-no problem. I can take it. Used to it. Often get b-beaten by your nephew…”

Before the words fully left his mouth, Shang Qinghua gained a visceral understanding of just how “heavy” Ling Guang-jun’s hand was.

He used no demonic energy, only physical force. Shang Qinghua could hear each of his ribs snapping, one by one. After vomiting too much blood, his chest made a hollow, wheezing sound like a broken bellows.

As his teeth began to feel loose in their sockets, Shang Qinghua thought, Compared to his uncle and the other demons, Mo Bei-jun is fucking gentle. Kind. A veritable little angel.

The longer he delayed, the closer Ling Guang-jun edged toward frantic rage. He planted a foot on Shang Qinghua’s back, yanked one of his arms up, and snarled, “Weren’t you going to scream hard and pitifully? Why is your mouth so shut? Not a single sound yet?”

The position triggered some extremely unpleasant associations for Shang Qinghua. He hurriedly spat out a mouthful of warm blood and let out a very sincere, loud cry.

“Good,” Ling Guang-jun said. “But not pitiful enough. Let me help you.”

A horrifying pain of tearing muscle, tendon, and bone erupted in his shoulder. Shang Qinghua’s mouth fell open. Overwhelmed by terror, no sound came out.

But the pain did not escalate to its inevitable conclusion. Abruptly, the arm being wrenched behind him went limp and fell.

The deep blue hem of a robe swirled before his eyes, filled with wind and snow.

Mo Bei-jun had shot out from the ring of fire without warning. A single palm strike landed squarely on Ling Guang-jun’s chest.

Caught completely off guard, Ling Guang-jun felt half his chest cave in. The demonic energy surrounding his body seemed to gush out through a massive rupture. A chill seized his heart: The power of this strike is nothing like before. He managed to drag it out after all, assimilating the full inheritance of the Mo Bei lineage!

And he’d actually charged straight through the Profound Sun True Fire without fear!

Though filled with hatred and resentment, Ling Guang-jun knew he was likely no match for Mo Bei-jun now. He hastily sealed the wound with ice, transformed into a black gale, and fled the ice fortress.

Shang Qinghua lay face-down on the ground. No movement came for a long while. No one came to help him up. A wave of desolation washed over him. Still angry? I got beaten to a pulp for your sake. The least you could do is help me up. This is too much!

Then, a heavy thud.

Gritting his teeth against the agony, Shang Qinghua managed to roll over.

Mo Bei-jun had collapsed again. Two figures lay in disarray beside a fiercely burning ring of fire. Quietly, quietly… flopped.

Only then did understanding dawn. Mo Bei-jun likely hadn’t finished assimilating the inherited cultivation, nor had he suppressed Ling Guang-jun’s demonic energy. Earlier, he had truly acted on “impulse,” mustering his strength for one desperate strike to scare Ling Guang-jun off. Now, having exhausted his last bit of energy and been roasted by the lethal Profound Sun True Fire, he had… flopped again.

Though Mo Bei-jun lay stiff on the ground, unable to even curl a finger, he was glaring at Shang Qinghua with immense force.

Unable to lie there peacefully under that gaze, Shang Qinghua finally spoke. “Ahem, Your Majesty… stop struggling. Lie still and digest it slowly. The accumulated power of generations of lords isn’t something you can swallow whole in one bite.”

The glare did not abate. Shang Qinghua felt as if he were bathing in a rain of needles, his heart pounding with fear. Finally catching his breath, he managed to sit up halfway, trembling like a leaf.

At least now Mo Bei-jun could listen properly. He sighed in relief. “Uh, Your Majesty. Honestly, I didn’t plan to leave at a time like this. I didn’t know it was the critical moment of your succession, really. Why didn’t you tell me earlier about something this important?”

Mo Bei-jun’s expression clearly stated, Get on your knees, cry, say you’re wrong, and I’ll forgive you.

Shang Qinghua’s mouth twitched. He continued, “To be honest, you shouldn’t have brought me. I’m useless in a real fight. I’m only good for you to beat up on normally. You saw me just now—beaten to this state, and all I bought you was a little time. Your uncle is severely wounded by you; he probably won’t dare return. You’re almost done digesting, right? So I’ll just… be going now.”

Mo Bei-jun’s expression had softened slightly, but at the last sentence, his eyes shot forth icy rays. “Leaving?! You dare!”

Shouted at again, every inch of his body still screaming in pain, a sudden surge of rage ignited in Shang Qinghua. He slapped the ground and shouted back, “Why wouldn’t I dare!”

The slap, of course, didn’t frighten Mo Bei-jun. It only made Shang Qinghua’s shoulders and arms ache fiercely, stars dancing before his eyes. But since Mo Bei-jun couldn’t move anyway, a wicked courage rose in Shang Qinghua. He pointed a finger at him. “I’ll tell you the truth! I’ve put up with you for a long time, you spoiled young master, you ill-tempered demon second-generation!”

This was the height of audacity. Mo Bei-jun’s face was a picture of utter disbelief. And Shang Qinghua’s years of pent-up grievances erupted like a rainbow-hued geyser:

“You think I’m good-tempered, easy to talk to, and weak in cultivation, so you can push me around all you like, right? You think your daddy here is really this… this… huh?!”

That stare still held no restraint. Shang Qinghua felt as if he were sitting through a rain of needles, his heart pounding and nerves frayed. He finally managed to catch his breath, pushing himself up to a sitting position, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Now that Mobei-jun was finally listening to him properly, he breathed a sigh of relief. "Uh, Your Highness. To be honest, I didn't actually plan to leave at a time like this. I really didn't know it coincided with your critical succession. Why didn't you tell me about something this important earlier?"

Mobei-jun's expression clearly stated, 'Kneel down, cry, admit you were wrong, and I might forgive you.'

The corner of Shang Qinghua's mouth twitched. He pressed on, "To be honest, you shouldn't have brought me. I'm completely useless in a real fight. At best, I'm good for you to practice your punches on. Look at me now—beaten to a pulp, and all I did was buy you a little time. Your uncle is severely injured by you and probably won't dare come back. You're almost done digesting that power, right? So I'll just… be on my way."

Mobei-jun's expression had softened slightly, but upon hearing that last sentence, his eyes instantly shot out icy daggers. "You're still leaving?! How dare you!"

Shouted at again, with his entire body still aching, a sudden wave of fury surged within Shang Qinghua. He slapped the ground and roared, "How dare I? Of course I dare!"

The slap, of course, didn't frighten Mobei-jun. It only made Shang Qinghua's shoulders and arms hurt even more, stars dancing before his eyes. Since Mobei-jun couldn't move anyway, a wicked courage rose in Shang Qinghua. He pointed an accusing finger. "Let me tell you the truth! I've had enough of you, you spoiled young master, you ill-tempered demonic second-generation brat!"

This act was the epitome of audacity. Mobei-jun's face was a mask of utter disbelief. And Shang Qinghua, his years of pent-up resentment now erupting like a torrent, continued:

"You think I'm easy-going, easy to talk to, and weak in cultivation, so it's fun to push me around, don't you? You think your 'daddy' here is really so… so… what?!"

"What are you staring at? Got a problem?! I am your daddy! Call me daddy! It's only because I've been going easy on you! Try that with anyone else?! Bing-ge would have beaten you to a pulp, and the original Shen Qingqiu would have schemed you to death!"

"Nobody likes getting beaten up every day! And nobody who gets beaten daily would actually walk around grinning like an idiot all the time! I'm not actually a dog! Even a dog, if you kick it enough times, will eventually learn not to come near you!"

Mobei-jun said, "Do you have a death wish?"

In their current situation, the threat lost most of its bite. Shang Qinghua retorted, "No, I don't. Not only do I dare to leave, I dare to do other things too, believe it? This Peak Lord is going to pay you back right here, right now, for every single beating you've ever given me!"

Mobei-jun raged, "You—!!!"

Shang Qinghua cut him off. "Me what me? 'How dare you' again? Let me tell you, I really do dare now. Bring it on!"

With that, he rolled up his sleeves and made a show of flexing his fist right in front of Mobei-jun's livid face. Mobei-jun's eyes shot cold blades, but Shang Qinghua felt no fear. He swung a punch, aiming straight for his face.

Mobei-jun instinctively turned his head away, feeling a strange tightness on his cheek.

It was a very unfamiliar sensation. A little itchy, a little stingy, but completely lacking the expected heavy impact.

Shang Qinghua had pinched one of Mobei-jun's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger and was pulling it outward with force. "Well? Does it hurt?!"

As he pulled, he thought, This is nothing like what I wanted to do in my heart! Hit him! Hit him while he can't move! Pulling his cheeks? No matter how you look at it, I'm the one losing out here!

But there was no helping it. As expected… he still couldn't bring himself to actually hit that face!

Pulled into a distorted expression, Mobei-jun managed to slur out, "You're finished!"

Shang Qinghua let out a cackling laugh. "What spirit! Still threatening me in this state. Your daddy admires you."

His other hand joined in, pinching Mobei-jun's other cheek, pulling it in opposite directions one moment, squishing them together the next. Mobei-jun's usual noble, aloof image was utterly destroyed by these two shameless hands. Shang Qinghua kept repeating, "Still doesn't hurt? Does it hurt? Huh?"

Mobei-jun's pride remained unyielding. However, physiological tears were not something pride alone could stop. Eventually, the corners of his eyes glistened with moisture from the relentless pulling.

"...Hurting? Good, it should hurt!" Shang Qinghua released his claws. "When you hit me, it's at least ten times more painful than this! What's wrong with letting me pull your cheeks a bit? So delicate!"

That one contemptuous word—"delicate!"—paled Mobei-jun's face with fury. His cheeks were now covered in a patchwork of red and bluish finger marks, a truly startling sight.

To be fair, Shang Qinghua was indeed a coward. The thrill of his impulsive crime was fleeting, replaced by the cold fear of facing the consequences—specifically, being sent straight to the crematorium. Especially after Mobei-jun's face returned to its normal shape, that expression was truly… truly… It made Shang Qinghua's heart quake with dread. He hurriedly patted his robes and prepared to make a run for it.

He took several large, swift strides before Mobei-jun's roar echoed behind him. "If you want to keep your legs, stand still and don't move!"

Conditioned by reflex, Shang Qinghua obeyed once more.

Not daring to look back, he said, "Your Highness, I'm really leaving."

Mobei-jun: "Shut up! Come back!"

Shang Qinghua continued as if to himself, "Even if you're angry, please don't come looking for me. Once I go back this time, you'll absolutely never find me again, so don't waste your effort. That's it then, Your Highness. Farewell."

Mobei-jun was practically roaring now. "If you dare leave, don't let me see you again!"

Shang Qinghua turned a deaf ear.

After a few more steps, he added one last sentence, "Seeing you… I was happy. Really—you're even more handsome than I imagined!"

At that moment, his exuberant, radiant expression was identical to the one he'd worn the instant he first put pen to paper and wrote this character's debut.

Feeling genuine emotion for a character he created. Thinking about it afterward, it was truly embarrassing.

But with parting imminent, the embarrassment would only last a moment.

Except, Shang Qinghua didn't understand. Where was this promised "imminent parting"?

Why was he still idling around in the world of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System a full month after the system had issued the return attachment?!

Every time he poked open the system interface, staring at the differently colored 【YES】 and 【MAYBE LATER】 buttons, he would first space out for a while, then select the button on the right and close the window.

'Later' after 'later', there was always another 'later'.

Shang Qinghua blamed it on procrastination. That accursed procrastination!

He didn't dare return to Cang Qiong Mountain for the time being, unsure if Mobei-jun would be angry enough to come block him at An Ding Peak. But half his savings were hidden in a cave on An Ding Peak, and the other half were stashed in Mobei-jun's Northern Palace. Consequently, for this past month, while Shang Qinghua appeared to be living freely, he was, in reality, scrimping and saving, exposed to the elements. If not for the bit of spiritual power he still possessed, he wouldn't have been much different from an ordinary vagrant.

After nearly a month of wandering, he actually ran into a certain master-disciple pair who were leisurely traveling the world, enjoying the mountains and waters.

When Shang Qinghua recognized who they were, he couldn't help but rub his eyes. It took him half a minute to confirm that the plain-clothed young man carrying a fishing rod and a fish basket, yet still radiating an imposing aura, was Luo Binghe. It took another half minute to confirm that the person bringing him a lunchbox, still persistently trying to look cool and exude an immortal air, was Shen-sensei, Peak Lord Shen, Shen Qingqiu.

Here you two are, living it up, playing your romantic 'retreat to the mountains' game, leaving Mobei-jun to handle the Demon Realm, and making me go face him head-on. The suffering!

Shang Qinghua grumbled internally, but seeing these two still made him genuinely happy. Especially since he hadn't had a proper meal in days.

Don't ask why a cultivator still cared about being full—the comment section had critiqued that enough. He wasn't from the Ascetic Peak; he didn't practice inedia!

Having his pastoral life disturbed out of the blue, Luo Binghe naturally didn't look upon him favorably. Out of respect for Shen Qingqiu, he wouldn't show it on his face, but when Shen Qingqiu exchanged a few pleasantries and invited him to "come sit inside the house," Bing-ge's face did darken noticeably.

They had quite tastefully built a small bamboo house nestled between emerald waters and green mountains. The longer Shang Qinghua sat, the more he felt these two were living the good life. Sitting on a rattan chair, he remarked, "Nice place."

Shen Qingqiu fanned himself. "Think about who built it. Could it be anything less?"

Shang Qinghua said shamelessly, "Your lives are so much more comfortable than mine. I wonder if I could bask in Brother Melon's glory and enjoy a little peace and comfort myself?"

Shen Qingqiu: "Unfortunately, your timing is off. We're just about to eat."

Shang Qinghua: "Not at all. Better to come at the right time than early. I'd say my timing is perfect. Let me see what's on the menu." With that, he got up and walked to what looked like a kitchen door, lifting the curtain.

Luo Binghe stood there in simple black robes, sleeves rolled up high, his expression solemn and focused as he silently… kneaded dough.

His face was serious and concentrated, two patches of white flour dusting his cheeks, a speck of it even caught on his eyelashes. It was as if he weren't kneading dough, but rather a grand scroll outlining his plans to conquer the world!

No, no, no, no, no—

Shang Qinghua felt his liver and gallbladder shatter, his heart nearly breaking.

The protagonist he had created—the domineering, awe-inspiring Bing-ge who had conquered thousands.

He was kneading dough!

Making noodles!

Noodles, noodles, noodles (endless loop)…

It was indescribably horrifying!

Shang Qinghua retreated silently. He sat back at the table, reaching out to grab a cup to drink some tea and calm his nerves. Shen Qingqiu snatched it back. "Mine."

Still shaken, Shang Qinghua said, "Is there a second cup in this place of yours? What's the harm in letting me use it?"

Shen Qingqiu pointed toward the kitchen. "As you can see, there's no second cup. So, it's his too."

"…"

"Dare to use it? If you dare, I'll give it to you."

Shang Qinghua's claw changed from a pulling motion to a pushing one. "You keep it, Elder. I wouldn't dare impose."

Bing-ge continued cooking. The two of them chatted idly for a while. After hearing the broadcast of the incident at the Mobei Clan's ice fortress, Shen Qingqiu expressed doubt. "Really? Just that?"

Shang Qinghua said, "What good would lying about this do me? What do you mean, 'just that'? It concerns my dignity. Of course I couldn't stay."

"That's true enough," Shen Qingqiu thought for a moment. "But you don't really seem like that type of person."

"What type?"

Shen Qingqiu said amiably, "The type who cares so much about dignity."

Given Shang Qinghua's—no, Toward the Sky, Fire the Cannon's—unyielding will, thick skin, and tenacious vitality, he really didn't seem like someone who would run away after just one beating from Mobei-jun. After all, he'd endured it for so many years. Why suddenly become fragile, sensitive, and gloomy* now?

Shang Qinghua said awkwardly, "Brother Melon, I may have frequently sold out my integrity to beg for votes and tips from big spenders, and incidentally became the Peak Lord of An Ding Peak. But for you to discriminate against me because of that… that's just not right."

Shen Qingqiu replied, "The two reasons you just gave… aren't they enough to justify discriminating against you?"

Shang Qinghua: "Ah, be nicer to me, be gentler, okay? Brother Melon, tell me, when should I really go back to the modern world?"

Shen Qingqiu: "Do you really want to go back? Firing your cannon toward the sky too much will really damage your eyesight. Wake up. You're just waiting for someone to apologize and then drag you back to continue giving you three light beatings a day."

Before their conversation could conclude, the meal was ready. Luo Binghe brought out two bowls of noodles.

White noodles in a red broth, sprinkled with finely chopped green scallions, topped with neatly arranged slices of tender meat. The presentation was excellent.

But Shang Qinghua wouldn't reach out a claw. He didn't need Bing-ge to say it outright. One seemingly casual glance was enough for Shang Qinghua to know—there was no portion for him.

Shen Qingqiu sighed. "That's why I said your timing was off."

After all, food personally made by Bing-ge wasn't something just anyone was qualified to eat. Shang Qinghua had nothing to say. He shrunk into a corner of the table, watching with longing eyes as the pair opposite him picked up their chopsticks.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu could watch no longer. Suppressing a laugh, he picked up a slice of meat with his chopsticks and placed it in Luo Binghe’s bowl, taking mercy. “Enough, stop teasing him. Your shishu has had a hard enough time lately. Don’t bully him any further.”

Luo Binghe ate the meat without looking up. “There’s more in the pot.”

Shang Qinghua happily scrambled for the ladle.

He slurped down the noodles, tears of emotion welling in his eyes. For the first time, he felt deeply that in this world, the most reliable bond was indeed the fellowship of sharing a hometown with a peerless cucumber.

Having mooched an incredibly delicious bowl of ramen, Shang Qinghua was overjoyed and hadn’t even considered staying the night.

Are you kidding? He had no desire to eavesdrop outside Ice Brother’s bedroom. Whether he’d get any quality sleep was one concern; whether Ice Brother would slice off his ears to use as noodles the next day was another entirely.

Look at the blissful, immortal-like existence Shen Qingqiu led. Then look at his own miserable lot. Comparing people only bred resentment. It was utterly unreasonable! He was the author, the god-card-creator of this world! Couldn’t everyone treat him a little better? Show some care for the author! Protect the author!

Savouring the memory of the one and only bowl of noodles his ‘son’ had ever made for him, Shang Qinghua picked his teeth with a blade of grass as he walked along the mountain path.

Walking along, he suddenly slipped.

The path ran alongside a ravine. Shang Qinghua hadn’t brought his sword. If he fell, he wouldn’t be flying back up. He cursed himself aloud. “How can you slip walking on a perfectly good path? I’m not some manga heroine with a built-in ‘trip-on-flat-ground’ special move!”

Sitting on the ground, he looked. There was no inexplicably placed banana peel or tree root, only a small puddle.

Except this puddle was frozen. The low wild grass around it was subtly creeping with a thin layer of frost.

Shang Qinghua scrambled and crawled to the nearest rock face, pressing his back against it for a sliver of security.

He had thought the worst-case scenario was him dawdling, asking for trouble by not returning, dragging things out until Mobei-jun finally came looking for him. But when a certain figure emerged from behind the hanging vines and craggy rocks, he realized reality could be worse.

Lingguang-jun said, “Well, well, look who it is.”

Shang Qinghua forced a dry laugh. “Yes! Who could it possibly be?”

Lingguang-jun patted the top of his head. “Mobei has been turning the Northern Borders upside down looking for you. You certainly know how to hide, don’t you?”

“Your Highness jests, I wasn’t hiding…”

“Is that so? I found it strange too. What is there to hide from? Last time in the Ice Fortress, you performed such a great service. Mobei should be rewarding you, not making you flee to this backwater wilderness in despair.”

“Not at all, not at all!” Shang Qinghua waved his hands frantically. “It had nothing to do with me. Last time was entirely due to Mobei-jun’s own formidable abilities…”

This deflection was meant to avoid Lingguang-jun pinning the blame for the Ice Fortress retreat on him too. Unexpectedly, upon hearing this, Lingguang-jun’s face darkened, his voice turning sharp and vicious. “Are you saying that without you, that despicable, treacherous, shameless, lowly Cang Qiong Mountain dog, suddenly appearing to ruin my plans, that brat could have defeated me alone?!”

Agreeing was wrong. Disagreeing was wrong. Shang Qinghua inwardly wailed. “How could that be! Mobei-jun only defeated Your Highness through a sneak attack!”

Lingguang-jun: “Are you mocking me?”

Shang Qinghua: “…”

He thought, Oh right. The one who started with the sneak attack was Lingguang-jun himself. Once again, his flattery had missed the mark. No matter what he said, it was wrong. After decades of smiling obsequiously and clinging to powerful thighs, this was the first time Shang Qinghua had encountered such a difficult character!

He shut his mouth, his face a picture of misery.

Lingguang-jun sneered. “That brat Mobei would never imagine that the person he’s searching for with all his might, I stumbled upon by sheer chance. Since that’s the case, I’ll have to make good use of you…”

Shang Qinghua hurriedly said, “Your Highness! If you want to capture me to threaten Mobei-jun, it’s completely useless! Let me be honest about why I ran. Actually, last time… while he couldn’t move… I couldn’t resist giving him a beating… You know his stiff-faced, ghostly temper! Given that kind of opportunity, it’s hard not to want to hit him, right? Afterward, there was no choice. I was afraid he’d take revenge, so I… ran. Him searching everywhere for me is mostly just because he wants to hit me back. In his eyes, I have no value whatsoever. At best, I’m just a convenient punching bag and lackey.”

Lingguang-jun paused, then said impatiently, “Why are you telling me all this? Do I look like a demon who would do such low-class things?”

Hard to say. You sneak-attacking Mobei-jun wasn’t exactly high-class either… Shang Qinghua said sincerely, “No, you don’t.”

Lingguang-jun: “Then do I look like a demon with this much patience?”

Shang Qinghua: “That, I don’t know. So, Your Highness, how exactly do you want to ‘use’ me?”

“How?” Lingguang-jun chuckled. “Kill you to vent my anger. Is that usage so hard to imagine?”

“…” Shang Qinghua stared blankly for a moment. “Don’t do that! What a waste of a perfectly good resource! Your Highness could just capture me to threaten Mobei-jun or something. Killing me directly is such a pity!”

Lingguang-jun: “‘In his eyes, I have no value whatsoever. At best, I’m just a convenient punching bag and lackey.’ Who said that?”

Shang Qinghua: “There’s an old saying, modesty is a virtue…”

Before the word “virtue” was fully out, he suddenly threw his hand out, shouting, “Behold, the Profound Yang True Fire!”

Several balls of crimson flame came rolling through the air. Lingguang-jun, greatly alarmed, hastily dodged sideways. However, the flames sputtered out upon hitting the ground—clearly not the indomitable Profound Yang True Fire, unaffected by wind or water. Shang Qinghua had bluffed him!

Enraged by the trick, old and new grievances boiling over, Lingguang-jun casually flicked a droplet of dew from a hanging leaf and aimed it at Shang Qinghua’s legs. Shang Qinghua felt a chill in his calf as a pellet of demonic ice pierced straight through. He couldn’t run. Thud. He fell over.

Lingguang-jun closed in, placing a foot lightly over the kneecap of Shang Qinghua’s other leg. “You’re like a cockroach, too good at running! I’ll cripple both your legs first. Let’s see how you run then.”

Shang Qinghua possessed not a shred of noble, unyielding spirit. His soul practically fled his body. “Great King—!!!”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear!

An ink-blue figure arrived like a ghost. Crack! Two masses of dark energy collided. Lingguang-jun, clutching his leg with the shattered kneecap, was furious. “You brat! Did you have to arrive so promptly?! Couldn’t you have waited a little longer?! Couldn’t you have arrived after I stepped down?!”

Mobei-jun shattered his other kneecap with a kick, saying coldly, “No!”

Lingguang-jun was tough. With both kneecaps reduced to powder, he didn’t scream. Instead, he cursed even more hysterically. “Truly your damned stiff-faced father’s spawn! Of all people to take after, it had to be him. Turtle-egg bastard from the same nest! He stole, and you steal! He died early, why don’t you die early! I’ll f—”

Mobei-jun said, “Keep cursing, and I’ll send you down to keep him company.”

Shang Qinghua gaped. He knew Lingguang-jun held deep resentment toward his older brother, but he hadn’t realized it ran so deep here that he’d abandon all decorum to curse in the streets…

Amid Lingguang-jun’s furious stream of invective, Mobei-jun casually shoved him, sending him tumbling into the ravine. Falling into a valley like that might finish a human, but a demon certainly wouldn’t die. Shang Qinghua didn’t remind him to eliminate the root of the problem. After all, this was his own uncle, and Mobei-jun’s father had surely instructed him to go easy on Lingguang-jun no matter what. In truth, Shang Qinghua didn’t want to remind him of anything at all. If Mobei-jun could forget his existence, that would be even better…

Mobei-jun withdrew his gaze from the bottom of the ravine and barked, “Stop!”

Shang Qinghua, dragging his pierced leg, had been trying to sneak away. Caught by the shout, he froze on the spot.

A pervert caught red-handed wouldn’t look as guilty. Hearing the sound of Mobei-jun’s footsteps crunching frost and cracking ice as he approached, Shang Qinghua hurriedly covered his face.

Mobei-jun seemed particularly irritable today, not aloof in the slightest. “What are you doing?!”

Shang Qinghua said awkwardly, “Didn’t you say ‘don’t let me see you again’? Well, you’re seeing me now, so there’s no helping it. I’m covering my face first.”

Mobei-jun raised a hand. Shang Qinghua instinctively covered his head.

“…”

Mobei-jun pulled his two hands apart, straightening them, and said through gritted teeth, “If I see you make that gesture again… you won’t need to keep your hands!”

There was a hint of gnashing-teeth hatred in those words. Shang Qinghua reflexively wanted to cover his head again, but for the sake of these hands that had labored tirelessly over keyboards, he forcibly restrained himself.

The effort made him jittery. He started trembling.

He trembled so much that Mobei-jun said, “Am I that terrifying?”

Shang Qinghua: “Uh, not really! It’s just… I always feel like you’re about to give me a couple of whacks. Before, getting hit or kicked was whatever. But now you’ve formally ascended the throne. Your cultivation is beyond compare. One strike from you could stir towering waves and pierce clouds with shattered stone. I’m afraid I can’t withstand your couple of whacks…”

Mobei-jun said, “Shut up! Follow me. Walk!”

Shang Qinghua threw caution to the wind, clinging to the rock face like a gecko. “I’m not going! No—I am going! I’m going back home.”

Mobei-jun said, “If I let you hit me back, will you stay?”

Shang Qinghua: “Rather than staying and getting beaten by you three times a day, I’d rather… Huh?!”

Hit him back?

Let him hit him back?

Mobei-jun was willing to let him hit back?

To make him stay, Mobei-jun was willing to let him hit back?

Utterly stunned, Shang Qinghua’s mind entered an infinite loop of the above cascading barrage of text.

Mobei-jun held his chin high, standing stiffly, radiating an aura of “hit me, I won’t fight back,” but the corner of his eye kept stealing glances at him.

Seeing him still not making a move after a long moment, the Lord of the Northern Desert seemed to suddenly brighten. Though when he was pleased, it only manifested as the slightest lift at the corners of his eyebrows.

“Not fighting?” said the Lord of the Northern Desert. “Time’s up. Then I won’t give you the chance. Let’s go.”

Hold on, I never said I wasn’t fighting! Since when was there a time limit?

With that faint, deeply concealed delight still lifting his brow, the Lord of the Northern Desert grabbed Shang Qinghua and started to run. Shang Qinghua immediately let out a howl of agony. “Ow ow ow ow! Your Highness, look at me! Look! See me!”

The Lord of the Northern Desert did indeed look at him, and saw his blood-soaked leg.

“......” After a moment of silence, he tried to hoist Shang Qinghua over his shoulder.

Shang Qinghua, feeling like he was dying and being reborn, wailed, “Spare me, Your Highness, spare me! If you carry me like that all the way, this leg really will be useless!”

“Then what should be done?” asked the Lord of the Northern Desert.

Tears welling in his eyes, Shang Qinghua ventured, “How about… finding me a doctor first?”

The Lord of the Northern Desert made a ‘tsk’ sound, turned, and walked away.

A cold wind blew past. Shang Qinghua, abandoned on the spot, stood frozen like a wooden chicken.

Was this… considering him too troublesome?

A short while later, the Lord of the Northern Desert returned, dragging a wooden cart he’d apparently stolen from somewhere. The wooden chicken came back to life.

The dignified second-in-command of the demon race, the noble and aloof leader of the Northern Desert’s ice tribe, was condescending to drag a rickety, dilapidated cart that clashed violently with his entire aesthetic. The sight was… spectacular.

Shang Qinghua “Pfft!” and broke character again.

Seeing a vein begin to throb faintly at the Lord of the Northern Desert’s temple, he quickly started groaning and grimacing in pain. After a couple of cries, the Lord of the Northern Desert scooped him up and deposited him onto the cart.

Though he was riding a crooked, broken-down cart—likely stolen from some farmer’s old horse, and which had probably only ever hauled fodder, firewood, or slop buckets—Shang Qinghua sat upon it with his head held high, radiating pride and majesty. An uninformed onlooker might have mistaken him for a top scholar who, after a decade of arduous study, had finally passed the imperial exams with flying colors, and was now being paraded through the streets with gongs and drums to fetch his emperor-bestowed bride.

What a twist of fate. The first time he’d met the Lord of the Northern Desert, he had also used a cart to haul the unconscious demon lord off to get a room!

As the saying goes: thirty years on this side of the river, thirty years on the other. The cart wheel turns; next year, it’s my turn. Haha!

Feeling utterly transcendent and immortal-like, Shang Qinghua announced, “I want noodles.”

Ice Bro’s bowl of noodles had been delicious, but there were too few left for him, not enough to satisfy his craving.

The Lord of the Northern Desert: “Mn.”

Shang Qinghua emphasized: “Hand-pulled noodles.”

The Lord of the Northern Desert: “Acceptable.”

Shang Qinghua, pushing his luck: “You make them.”

The cart jolted to a sudden halt. The Lord of the Northern Desert stopped in his tracks.

A faint, source-less chill drifted over. Shang Qinghua immediately cowered, his face scrunching up. “I’ll make them, I’ll make them, of course I’ll make them. Just joking, hee hee hee.”

Ah. The ideal is plump, but reality is bony.

After a long pause, the cart wheels began to creak forward again. The Lord of the Northern Desert, not looking back from where he pulled ahead, said, “I’ll make them.”

……

What did he say? He said he’d make them? Make what? The noodles?

A Lord of the Northern Desert willing to fight him, willing to make noodles for him—what day was today? Today was his lucky day!

Shang Qinghua made a decision!

He would resume his old profession.

The pen name ‘Shooting Towards the Sky’ was going to make a fierce and formidable comeback!

What to write? Shang Qinghua slapped his thigh. He’d heard that the ‘Spring Mountain Regret’ series by Liu Sumianhua, all eighty-one volumes, was selling like crazy. Well, he’d just follow the trend! Though he himself was a man of utmost integrity, where there were readers, there was a market, and where there was a market, he dared to write. ‘Shooting Towards the Sky’ was best at following trends; whatever was popular, he’d write about it. Couldn’t go wrong!

The first step was to brainstorm a catchy, crowd-pleasing title. He hadn’t decided on one yet, needed to mull it over. It didn’t matter if his prose wasn’t as polished as Liu Sumianhua’s; ‘Shooting Towards the Sky’ never sold on literary merit anyway. Besides, writers like Liu Sumianhua and San Shengmu formed their little cliques and stuck together; Lord Plane didn’t care for that. Writing only about Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, their scope was too narrow. In his opinion, they could be much bolder. For example, since it was called ‘Spring Mountain Regret’, why limit it to one pairing? A peerless beauty like Liu Qingge—wouldn’t it be a shame not to include him? Yue Qingyuan was a handsome and dignified man too, successful in his career and quite domestic. Which of the various Junior and Senior Brothers weren’t idols in the eyes of the world? Write a chaotic stew of multiple pairings, and who’d be afraid of no readers?

In short, as long as it was brazen enough, vulgar enough, shameless enough, he would eventually become a dominant force in the local literary scene again. Even without selling homemade soap, he could thrive in glorious, dizzying success!

‘Shooting Towards the Sky’ sat with his legs crossed, the cart creaking and swaying along the potholed mountain path. The sun set in the west. The Lord of the Northern Desert pulled him along, heading to who-knew-where.

Though it was a mess of absurdities, chaos, and chicken-feathers, written with the prose of a grade-schooler—serious readers might even be unable to resist throwing the book down and cursing, “What kind of garbage is this!”—Lord Plane could find a thousand “justs” to muddle through. For example: it’s just a story, like life itself, just for fun, no need to take it so seriously; it’s just a frivolous piece written on a whim, everyone should cut me some slack; just…

Just.

…Just that he truly, genuinely loved the story he had written.