The First Law of Alchemy - PeerlessCourgette (marimorimo) - 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (2024)

Chapter 1: ⚡️The Summoning of Shen Yuan

Chapter Text

One moment, Shen Yuan is sleeping soundly in his soft and comfy bed in his modern apartment, and the next thing he knows, he is rudely jolted awake by a cacophony of voices and the sharp smell of ozone crackling in the air.

In place of his luxury brand memory foam mattress, he’s sprawled on cold, hard stone with strange markings painted on it. This definitely isn’t his bed, nor anything he is familiar with. In a daze, he sits up and looks around to figure out where he is and get his bearings.

Almost immediately, the cacophony drops to frenzied whispers, eventually petering off to a complete stop. Shen Yuan finds himself in a large, dimly lit chamber surrounded by about a dozen people—or at least what seems to be people—they’re definitely humanoid in shape, dressed bizarrely like cosplayers in medieval outfits.

Several of them are brandishing two-meter tall wands with large gems embedded in them, the likes of which Shen Yuan had only ever seen in video games. They’re all staring at him and giving him a wide berth, and Shen Yuan belatedly realizes that he’s the centerpiece of the room, sitting on the floor in the middle of a circle encompassed by several concentric circles filled with mysterious glyphs written inside their borders.

Understanding dawns on Shen Yuan, connoisseur of several supernatural anime and other questionable media. Holy sh*t—is he in the middle of a summoning circle?

A heavy silence settles into the chamber, with neither Shen Yuan nor the dozen or so summoners seemingly willing to make a move. Still reeling from the predicament he found himself in and knowing he is at a distinct disadvantage, Shen Yuan opts to freeze in place. The room holds its breath.

Shen Yuan feels a hard stare from behind him, raising the hairs at the back of his neck. The eyes on him send a shiver racing through his spine. Even without turning to look, he instinctively knows that whoever is staring at him so intently will determine his fate. There is a palpable weight to that gaze, like a jaguar ready to pounce on its prey. Heart in his throat and chest thumping wildly, Shen Yuan steels himself and turns his head to meet his fate.

The person boring holes into his head is seated on a dais and radiates a majestic, powerful aura that blankets the room. It’s a man wearing black and red robes and shimmering silver accents befitting his station. Shen Yuan can’t quite make out the man’s facial features as the dais is situated the farthest away from the summoning circle, and his nearsightedness isn’t helping. He doesn’t sleep with his glasses on and the summoners hadn’t seen fit to bring the glasses on his nightstand along for the ride.

The man abruptly stands up—wow he’s really tall, and really broad, and seems really badass—raises a hand, and speaks in a smooth, commanding baritone that resonates throughout the entirety of the chamber:

“That’s not Shizun.”

The room immediately explodes in frantic, panicked whispers. Shen Yuan’s breath is caught in his throat, the baffling dismissal dropping a strange, sinking feeling of dread to the pit of his stomach. Who is Shizun? He spies a few people falling to their knees, faces ashen with fear. Whoever the man is, he must be some terrifying authority to inspire this kind of reaction.

“My Lord,” a brave voice cuts in. “We calculated and rechecked dozens of times! There can be no mistake.”

“And This Lord is telling you that it’s defective.”

“I—We—” the brave soul, who sounds like a middle-aged man and dressed in resplendent midnight-blue robes, valiantly tries to come up with a counterargument but wisely resigns to give up. “Apologies, Your Highness. I implore you to give us more time to rectify our mistake and recalibrate our spells and calculations.”

“Make sure the next attempt is successful. Otherwise….” the Emperor—for that’s what he must be— lets the unfinished threat hang in the air.

“Thanking Junshang for his mercy! We will certainly bring success in our next attempt!” Several people groveling on the ground are quick to respond.

The Emperor casts a dismissive glance in Shen Yuan’s direction then flicks his hand away in a sweeping motion, as if he were mere trash. “Take the faulty subject away,” he says.

Shen Yuan’s vision is obscured as several guards promptly arrive to restrain and carry him off. He tries kicking his feet but the guards’ strong grip quickly render him immobile.

“Hey!” he shouts as the guards grapple all four of his limbs and unceremoniously hoist him up from the floor, hauling him away from the chamber like a sack of garbage.

He’s carried through a series of long corridors, the first few of them wide and palatial looking, then gradually narrowing out as they start to descend. The walls close in on them the deeper they go underground, the air taking on a stale and damp quality that irritates his nose and makes him sneeze. It gets much darker too, and Shen Yuan has to squint his eyes to make out any details in his surroundings.

Torchlights hang on the walls every few meters but there’s nothing much to see except the interminable path and the walls and ceiling hewn from barren stone. The guards carrying him have remained silent throughout the ordeal, and the only sound he hears is the clacking of their boots against the floor. As they go even lower into the depths, an ominous feeling takes root in his stomach. Nothing good is waiting for him down there, that’s for sure.

After what seems like forever, they stop in front of the iron bars of a prison cell. One of the guards temporarily lets go of Shen Yuan’s left foot to unlock the cell. The guards then swing him a couple of times like a hammock to gain momentum then let go, throwing him onto the hard, unforgiving flooring of the prison butt-first.

While Shen Yuan is busy rubbing his bruised backside, he hears the cell door lock with a loud and heavy clang. With a rush of panic-fueled adrenaline, he leaps up from the floor to tug and bang his fists on the prison bars.

“Hey! I didn’t do anything! Let me out!” He calls out to the guards’ retreating backs, but they never spare him a glance. With a sinking feeling, he watches them disappear into the corridor they originally came from.

“Hellooo???” He shouts a few more times but nobody replies, not even the echo of his own voice. He tries tugging again on the prison bars but they’re solid and unyielding. He needs a way out—they can’t possibly leave him here to rot! Can he pick the lock? A cursory search of the cell and his person yields nothing that can be used for lockpicking. After all, he’s in nothing but his pajamas—a baggy Hatsune Miku t-shirt and ankle-length pajama pants with a cucumber print.

Panic rises to his throat and he feels like he’s stifling despite inhaling big gulps of air every second, shoulders lifting up to his ears. Calm down Shen Yuan, calm down. You need to think, he tries to steady himself.

He reviews everything that has happened so far. Falling asleep in his bed as usual. Waking up in the middle of a summoning circle surrounded by cosplayers. Although there weren’t any characters they could be cosplaying that he knew. That Emperor guy though. He seemed strangely familiar…

The same Emperor who had deemed him defective, faulty…

Shen Yuan bristles. Is this some elaborate prank? Because it sure isn’t funny! He’ll tear whoever set this up a new asshole once he gets a hold of them!

The long, winding corridors seem excessive for a prank but he assumes they’re an illusion using cleverly-placed mirrors.

A few minutes pass, perhaps an hour. His heartbeat gradually slows down. He counts his breaths for a while, trying to tamp down his impatience. He waits, and waits, but not a soul comes by to release him from his cell and jokingly say “Gotcha! Issaprank!”

Maybe it’s not a prank after all? If not, is he hallucinating? Did he eat something funny before going to bed? Maybe a gas leak in the apartment?

Perhaps he’s dreaming?

He tries slapping his face and ramming his head through the iron bars but no luck. How do you even snap out of a hallucination or wake up from a dream? Most people who hallucinate don't even realize they’re hallucinating, right? If it’s a dream he can just wait it out until he wakes up in the morning.

Exhaustion seeps into his veins as the final vestiges of adrenaline leave his body. Prank, hallucination, or dream, this is all very sh*tty. -100 stars. 0/10 would not recommend. He settles himself by laying on his side on the hard, uneven floor of the prison. His eyes begin to sting but he resolutely closes them, choosing to end this bizarre series of events the best way he knows how: ignoring the present. He shuts his eyes and focuses on counting his breath until it gradually evens out. Sheer exhaustion finally claims him in a dreamless slumber.

When he wakes up who knows how many hours later, he’s still in the prison.

That can’t be right. If it’s not a prank, and if he isn't dreaming, then does that mean…

He transmigrated, right? Does that mean he’s dead? He hasn’t left his penthouse apartment in nearly a week so his demise definitely couldn’t be because of Truck-kun. Did something off him during his sleep? He’s heard of someone dying of an aneurysm while sleeping in their own bed.

System? He calls out hesitantly. No disembodied mechanical voice nor floating screen greets him. What gives?

Maybe it’s taking its time to boot up. Maybe the System is buggy, he reasons out. After all, genre convention dictates that people usually transmigrate into an existing canon character but he came here as himself, anachronistic modern pajamas and all. No choice but to wait it out then.

When the System is back online, he’ll get assistance, he’ll be given tasks and surely one of them would be escaping from this hellhole. He’ll figure the rest out from there.

The cell is windowless, all light provided by a single torch burning in the hallway outside his enclosure. It casts long shadows inside his prison cell and darkness drowns what little light manages to come in. Just how many days have passed? He is unable to keep track of day or night without a clock or the sky. The only way he can measure the passage of time is through the meal trays that regularly appear through a cubbyhole on the wall. He never sees the person replenishing the tray nor taking out the old one. Neither does a single person come down into the cellars to check on how he’s doing.

The meals are cold, tasteless, and look like slop. He doesn’t mind, carefully chewing each slimy spoonful before swallowing it down. The simple act of mastication breaks the monotony of solitary confinement.

The single ounce of comfort in the prison is a small aqueduct running along the wall where water trickles continuously and splashes into a narrow sewer dug into the ground. It allows Shen Yuan access to fresh water for drinking and washing up so he can at least maintain a modicum of dignity.

For his bed, he makes do with the cold, hard ground. It gets chilly sometimes but he manages. He curls up like a shrimp and tucks his arms and legs tightly into his body like a contortionist. He’s impressed at how far he’s able to stretch his ankles so that he can warm his bare feet against his backside.

He loses count after the tenth meal. He thinks he only gets one meal a day because his stomach would often growl fiercely and wake him up at all hours. But that was a while back. Still not a peep from the System. The last time he’d seen a single soul was when the guards threw him into his cell.

Sometimes he dreams that he’s back in his apartment, writing another scathing review of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. Ordering takeout, arguing on the forums. Bickering with Da-ge, Er-ge, and Meimei. Then he wakes up with wetness on his cheeks and the sound of trickling water in his cell for company.

He feels like he’s going crazy. He wants to scream, to smash something against the wall. His fingernails have grown long and sharp now. They leave deep divots whenever he clenches his palm, which is something he finds himself doing often. The pinprick feeling of sensation welling from the pointed edges of his fingernails centers him, giving him something to feel other than oppressive solitude.

The next time he wakes up, his voice is hoarse, his throat painful and scratchy. His head throbs like it’s been trampled on by a hundred elephants. He runs his fingers through his messy hair and discovers a large bump on his scalp. When he moves closer to the firelight, he finds deep scratches all over his arms, some of them sluggishly oozing blood.

He drinks some water to soothe his throat. The throbbing in his head and the stinging on his arms have the strange effect of grounding him in the moment. When he closes his eyes, he feels calm and at peace for the first time since arriving at this place.

His fingernails carve slim grooves on the grimy walls. He traces thirty lines, each line representing each cold, stale, bland meal served to him. It’s something to do, something to keep him occupied.

His stomach has forgotten how to growl.

Some more time passes and he stops counting the days. He ceases his scratching on the walls. His meals come and go, but he no longer looks forward to them. They all taste the same anyway: cold, stale, bland. He loses trust in his sense of time.

One day, he opens his eyes, and it’s like he’s looking at the world with a new lens. He feels silly for even entertaining the thought of transmigration. That’s the stuff of fiction, an overdone trope. It’s shameless pandering to weebs, NEETS, and shut-ins. He can't be dead either, because if he were he should be drinking Meng Po’s soup right about now.

He’s overlooked the most simple explanation: Occam’s razor. He remembers once having a fever dream where he lived 100 years in the span of a single night. Isn’t his current situation the same? Time seems to stretch and dilate, the edges of his vision dissolve into haziness, and everything feels surreal like a Dalí painting.

So that’s settled then. Not a prank, not a hallucination, not a case of transmigration. It’s simply a dream.

It’s the same prison cell, the same bare and dingy walls, the same tasteless slop but it’s different, somehow. He can endure it because when he wakes up, it will all dissolve into ether. Maybe he’ll even forget most of it, as he usually does with his dreams.

Later, when he settles down to sleep again on the cold, bumpy floor, he does so with a smile on his face. Nothing he does here, and nothing that happens to him here matters.

It’s just a dream after all.

Chapter 2: ⛈️ Lightning Strikes Twice

Chapter Text

Not long after Shen Yuan’s epiphany, he again finds himself at the center of another summoning circle. The transition is instantaneous, as it often is in dreams—one moment he is standing inside his cell, an inexplicable wind suddenly rushing in his ears, and the next he is standing at the very chamber where his dream self had first entered this world. Already, the memory of damp, dark, walls littered with scratches and the skeleton of a man keeping vigil recedes from his brain.

There is a transient pause before the chamber—the same one as last time—explodes into loud chatter. It doesn't seem to be the excited or joyful kind of talk, however. He detects an undercurrent of fear and anxiety from the summoners’ tones and body language. As before, they’re standing at the edge of the summoning circle. Shen Yuan notes that the circle’s design and inscriptions are more intricate and elaborate than before.

Shen Yuan though? He’s cool as a cucumber, quietly observing his surroundings as if being zapped from one space to another was an everyday occurrence. He’s been ready for this. You think a few shady characters and some esoteric mumbo-jumbo could faze him? Not on Shen Yuan’s watch!

“This Lord was assured that there would be no mistake,” he hears in a voice that sounds weighty despite the flat, even tone. He recognizes the deep, familiar voice of the Emperor. He turns his head towards the sound and is greeted with the sight of a supreme ruler in full regalia. The cut of the Emperor’s flowing silken black robes emphasize his broad shoulders while a wide silver belt cinches his narrow waist. The ceremonial headpiece adorning his head adds to his already impressive height. Standing on a dais, the man exudes power, authority, and total badassery.

Amazing what my subconscious came up with. 9/10 second best character design ever, Shen Yuan thinks.

A man with strikingly auburn yet graying hair and dark blue robes is quick to kneel in front of the Emperor, head bowed in supplication. “My Lord, I assure you that we have recalibrated and recalculated the spell hundreds of times to guarantee the highest degree of accuracy. However, due to the nature of Your Majesty’s request and the…the…delicacy that the ritual requires, the result may not be exactly as My Lord wants or expects.”

Shen Yuan recognizes the older man’s voice from his first summoning.

The Emperor considers the kneeling man for a long moment. His next words send a frisson of foreboding through Shen Yuan’s spine.

“This Lord wants only one thing.”

Shen Yuan doesn't like where this is going. He’s back to square one, in the middle of a summoning circle, again, and a seemingly dissatisfied Emperor, again. He’d just finally escaped that dingy prison cell—if he doesn’t act now, he might get thrown back in. He has zero plans of repeating that nightmare scenario.

So what if he's unwanted goods? It’s not like he asked to be delivered here! More importantly—this is his dream, so he should be able to exert a modicum of autonomy. Enough control to at least influence his fate. He’ll reason out and plead his case. That’s how lucid dreaming works, right?

With a burst of confidence, he walks right out of the center of the circle to the startled gasps of the other people in the room. The inscriptions on the floor glow each time his bare feet come into contact with them—the visual effect looks super cool—as he strides toward the dais with a purpose.

He stops at the foot of the dais, just before the outer edge of the summoning circle. He bends his back in a deep bow. When he brings his head up to face the Emperor, the words he was about to say die in his mouth. He stares, eyes wide and mouth agape at the huadian faintly glowing red on the Emperor’s forehead.

Without his prescription glasses, he hadn’t been able to see details from a distance. He’d missed it before due to his nearsightedness, but he can recognize that mark and the face it belongs to anywhere. After all, it’s the mark emblazoned on countless merch and memorabilia in his bedroom, the very face in the wallpaper that greets him each time he turns on his computer or smartphone in the waking world.

It’s the symbol and visage of none other than the Emperor of the Three Realms, The Heavenly Demon and Saintly Ruler, Luo Binghe.

11/10 Top 1 character design! This is the best dream ever, Shen Yuan gushes internally. He suppresses his desire to stare and fanboy and quickly tries to regain his composure. Even if this were a dream, he didn’t want to leave a bad first impression on THE Luo Binghe, especially in front of an audience!

Luo Binghe meets Shen Yuan’s eyes with an impassive stare of his own. Shen Yuan clears his throat and starts, “Lord Luo.” He’s mortified by how rusty his voice sounds from disuse. “Allow me to introduce myself. This lowly one is called Shen Yuan.”

Something flickers in the Emperor’s eyes. “Shen—?” he says and suddenly he’s bounding down from the dais. He stops an arm’s length away from Shen Yuan but he’s so tall and so broad he obscures Shen Yuan’s vision.

Shen Yuan summons up his courage to continue. “This lowly subject doesn’t know how or why he was summoned here, but he can make himself useful if My Lord allows,” he bullsh*ts. He’s hoping to somehow make this into a transaction that benefits the both of them. “This Shen Yuan is knowledgeable of this world’s flora and fauna, and privy to many of its secrets.” He single-handedly wrote and edited at least 90% of the PIDW wiki so he should know!

“…A scholar?” Luo Binghe murmurs in an inquisitive tone. What answer does he want to hear? Not knowing the safe response, Shen Yuan shrugs noncommittally.

Luo Binghe takes his time assessing his subject from head to toe. Shen Yuan squirms under his gaze. He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass. He knows he isn’t much to look at, and his now ratty t-shirt and pajamas certainly aren’t helping. Under Luo Binghe’s calculating stare, he can’t help but feel like a slab of meat about to be put for sale at the market.

Luo Binghe extends a clawed hand towards Shen Yuan’s neck. Shen Yuan flinches instinctively. Had he been busted and found wanting so quickly? He halfway expects sharp claws to either wring or slice off his neck but Luo Binghe’s fingers just wrap around his throat and stay there. The grip on his neck is firm but not tight enough to cut or bruise. He feels a strange, tingling sensation of warmth that circuits through his body from where the pads of Luo Binghe’s fingers touch his skin.

Luo Binghe’s expression turns darker and darker the longer he continues his nerve-wracking inspection. At last, he removes his hand and frowns. “Juvenile meridians, undeveloped core, completely mortal and no cultivation potential to speak of,” he lists.

Shen Yuan can’t help but huff in indignation. Excuse me if he’s a modern millennial from a world that relies on technology to get things done, and not some OP xianxia character! Of course he doesn't know the first thing about cultivation! Of course he’s a mere mortal and of course he wouldn't have a golden core!

What he has, though, is an encyclopedic knowledge of PIDW including Easter eggs, exclusive paid content, and information from dropped plot points undisclosed third-party sources that Luo Binghe has no way of knowing. Where is he in the PIDW timeline anyway?

“This Lord doubts you hold anything of value to me,” Luo Binghe continues, and ouch, the rejection stings. “But you’ve interfered with the summoning ceremony twice now and that warrants investigation. This Lord will personally conduct a closer inspection on the matter before deciding your fate.”

“My Lord, it wasn’t this subject’s intention to—” Shen Yuan tries, but Luo Binghe cuts him off. Signaling to a nearby attendant with an imperial tilt of his chin, he commands “Make him presentable and place him on house arrest at the moonlit quarter.” He then addresses the rest of the room. “This Lord will deal with the lot of you next,” he says ominously.

A pair of attendants materialize beside Shen Yuan. Before he’s briskly led away from the chamber, he spies another auburn-haired man in dark-colored robes helping up the brave old soul who had stood up to the Emperor from where he had been frozen in a kowtow.

Shen Yuan follows the attendants through the same long, ornate corridors as the first time but instead of making a sharp turn to a darkened hallway, they go straight until they reach a great hall with people scattered about, mostly women.

Shen Yuan steals curious glances at the women as he passes through the hall. They’re incredibly beautiful, and seem to be of different races. There’s a healthy mix of human, demonic, and fey features. Members of Luo Binghe’s harem?

Despite the anxiety knotting in his stomach, Shen Yuan can’t help the bubble of excitement that surges as he tries to identify this or that wife. He curses his lack of glasses as it makes it incredibly hard to tell them apart unless they’re very close or have large, distinctive tells like a unique hair color or conspicuous accessories.

At last they arrive at the baths, where Shen Yuan is judiciously stripped of his clothing despite his indignant protests. He is then scrubbed, soaped, and soaked in steaming water, his hair washed and fingernails filed, all done with mechanical efficiency.

When Shen Yuan emerges from the bath squeaky clean and steaming pink, he is quickly toweled off by attendants flanking both of his sides. They then dress him up in three layers of modest-looking but soft robes. Finally, they slip a pair of brocade slip-ons on his feet and he is herded away from the baths and towards another winding corridor.

The walk to their next destination is longer and more circuitous than any of his previous journeys in this world. They climb a ridiculous amount of stairs. The surroundings seem to take on a hazy quality as he passes scenery by scenery, but that could just be his myopia.

They finally reach the threshold of a nondescript door, one in a corridor of similar-looking doors. The attendants wordlessly herd him into the room. The moment he steps inside, Shen Yuan hears the door lock with an audible click, followed by the heavy thud of a deadbolt.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. Do they think his mortal ass with no cultivation potential whatsoever has any chance of escaping whatever prison they intend to lock him in? Speaking of prison, his new room is a definite upgrade from the previous dingy cellar. It has a double bed, a wardrobe cabinet, a study table and chair, and a good-sized window caged by thick iron bars that lets sunlight in.

The room isn’t large but has enough space to walk more than a few paces. There’s even a commode with a sink tucked in a corner. There’s another door on one side of the wall—probably a connecting room, but when he tries to open it, it’s firmly locked.

His new enclosure screams “budget motel room.”

He finds a covered tray on the study table. When he opens it, he is pleasantly surprised to find a decent-looking full course meal, kept warm with…is that a real, honest-to-goodness heating talisman!? He pockets it for later perusal. His mouth waters—how long has it been since he last ate anything that isn’t slop?

The meal isn’t anything to write home about, but he can’t suppress his joy at eating real food again.

Belly pleasantly full, Shen Yuan flops onto the bed and is out like a light in seconds.

It’s been six days and nothing has changed since the first day he’s been moved to the xianxia version of a budget motel. His meals are delivered through a flap under the door, and he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Luo Binghe or anyone else since his second summoning. Has he been forgotten again?

His only source of entertainment are the talismans that regularly come with his food trays. He keeps a collection of them, much like Pokemon cards. The heating talismans are the most common, but sometimes there’s a talisman for keeping things cold, or keeping things fresh.

Each talisman seems to have been made by different hands and there are subtle differences between them, like specifications for temperature or duration. Fascinating! When Shen Yuan’s thoughts start to drift to his family, he takes out his talisman collection and stares at them for hours, analyzing every little detail.

He’s fine. He’s at least treated more humanely. He can count the passing of days from the rise and fall of the sun through his window. Through the window’s iron bars, he can glimpse an expansive garden—with some areas looking more like a dense forest.

His quarters sit high above the ground. Sometimes, when the wind blows ferociously, he’s forced to close the window but he tries to avoid that since it plunges the room into darkness. It seems Luo Binghe had deemed it unnecessary to provide an artificial light source in his captive’s room. When night falls, the only source of light is the faint glow of the moon filtering through his open window.

As dreams go, this must be the most boring one he’s had so far. Where’s the action?

The last time he met Luo Binghe, he’d tried to act like a normal prisoner, humbling himself appropriately and choosing his words to not seem too suspicious. But that backfired terribly—Luo Binghe hadn’t even let him finish his spiel before he was hauled away again.

Since the most logical approach didn’t work, he needs to change tactics. But who knew anymore with dreams? What trap has his subconscious set for him this time?

Finally, on the eighth day, he hears the clank of a door being unlocked—not from the front door but from the connecting room. He immediately leaves his perch by the window, smooths out his clothes in a semblance of order, and faces the door with nervous anticipation.

The door opens to reveal none other than Luo Binghe, this time missing his ceremonial headdress. Shen Yuan’s feet carry him closer to the demon lord of their own accord. He eyes the manly physique of the demonic Emperor. Luo Binghe looks no less handsome and intimidating in understated black robes that hug the planes of his body perfectly. Oh—Is that belt buckle made from the horn of the Great Eastern Onyx Minotaur? And the rings on his fingers—he’s sure at least one of them has a gem from a celestial nymph’s tears. Speaking of gems, isn’t that arm guard—

Luo Binghe catches Shen Yuan’s hand by the wrist as it is about to touch said arm guard. He meets Shen Yuan’s eyes with a quirk of a brow and drawls, “Has Shen Yuan had his fill of looking at this Lord?”

The demon lord’s tone stops Shen Yuan’s grabby hands but does nothing to quell his greedy gaze, which boldly zones in on his captor’s face. Dropping all formality, his eyes filled with stars, Shen Yuan unselfconsciously gushes, “As expected of the Protagonist! So f*cking cool and handsome, he can give Hollywood A-Listers a run for their money! Show me more.” He’s definitely making the most of this dream-fueled opportunity!

Luo Binghe’s eyebrow quirks up and his grip on Shen Yuan’s wrist tightens enough to bruise. The abrupt pain cuts through Shen Yuan’s fantasies, making him wince. “Have you no fear of this Lord?” Luo Binghe says.

Tsk! Shen Yuan thinks fast on his feet for a suitably harmless reaction. He lets his wrist hang limply from Luo Binghe’s grip and puts on an unaffected look. “Ehhh…I should probably be groveling at your feet but that’s so basic and predictable,” Shen Yuan says. “Anyway, I’d much rather do whatever I want to do here in my own dream.” He gives Luo Binghe a sideways look and grins. The worst that could happen if his captor decides to kill him here and now is that he wakes up from his dream, end of story.

The look he receives from Luo Binghe would be a little funny if it weren’t entirely unexpected. To see a close up look of a truly handsome yet fearsome face with eyes scrunched up in apparent confusion is, in a word, gratifying. Then, in a low voice Shen Yuan barely hears, Luo Binghe mutters to himself, “Shen Yuan thinks this is a dream?”

“Huh? What else could it be?” Shen Yuan punctuates with a shrug of his shoulders, which he intends to be casual but ends up being awkward because of Luo Binghe’s tight grip on his wrist.

“Long, empty days stretching out to eternity, a nightmare scenario straight out of an isekai like Rising of the Shield Hero, and then my brain decides to be generous for once and conjures my Favorite. Character. Ever.” Shen Yuan beams at Luo Binghe as he says my favorite character ever. “This almost makes up for being locked in that dank dungeon!”

Luo Binghe is quiet for a long moment. Shen Yuan fidgets. Seemingly coming to a conclusion, Luo Binghe releases Shen Yuan’s wrist. “Tell me, what does Shen Yuan want to do in his dream?”

Plenty! If he’s in Proud Immortal Demon Way, he can look up the cool plants and beasts that hack Airplane only passingly wrote about. Maybe even try his hand in cultivation. “I want to explore the world,” Shen Yuan replies, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. “I want to check out the palace library and I want to watch Luo Binghe in action!”

A corner of Luo Binghe’s lips twitches up and he nods. “Very well. For the meantime this Lord will indulge Shen Yuan’s wishes.” He strides to the front door and with a controlled burst of qi, smashes the deadbolt on the other side.

Luo Binghe turns to Shen Yuan and hands him a key and a jade token hanging on a piece of twine. “This is the key to the door. The jade token grants access to the palace library. Shen Yuan is free to explore the entirety of the palace, except for the harem grounds. He is forbidden to leave the estate.”

He casts Shen Yuan a meaningful glance. “This Lord would like to emphasize that although he grants Shen Yuan provisional freedom, it does not mean that his safety is guaranteed. This Lord also reserves the right to call on Shen Yuan as he sees fit.”

Shen Yuan looks in awe at the open door, to the jade token in his hands, to freedom. Maybe this dream is shaping up to be the best ever, yet. A wide smile creeps up his face. He nearly cries tears of joy, but that's too unbecoming so he gives a thumbs up instead. “Understood. Thank you! I knew as much, but Luo Binghe really is the best!”

Luo Binghe acknowledges that with a wry smile and a shake of the head then he’s out the door.

Shen Yuan watches Luo Binghe’s retreating back as it disappears through the corridor. He pockets the key and looks at the jade token, cool on his palm, then carefully ties it to his belt.

“Alright, time to explore PIDW!”

As Luo Binghe walks towards the throne room, a corner of his mouth curls up at the memory of the intriguing human currently in his custody. Though frail and powerless, Shen Yuan showed no fear in speaking to the Emperor, even deigning to touch him. Luo Binghe would have instantly struck him down if he weren’t aware of how weak and harmless the human could be.

In truth, he had other plans before visiting Shen Yuan in his holding cell. The sorcerers’ investigation had concluded that Shen Yuan was an anomalous interference hindering their efforts to summon the gentle and kind Shen Qingqiu from that parodic mirror world. The investigation committee was divided on whether placing the anomaly under observation or eliminating the interference altogether would be the best course of action, with a 50/50 split in opinions. In the end, the decision was left to Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe had never taken well to any obstacle that stood in his way, at least not after the Endless Abyss. Furious at the sorcerers’ incompetence, he had locked up their head sorcerer in the dungeons and given the rest of the clan strict orders to perfect their next summoning spell. He commanded them to leave no stone unturned and to exhaust any and all resources for his cause. It would be their final chance, no ifs or buts.

Impatience and irritation roil under his skin at the reminder that he has to rely on a clan of inept wizards because the faker from that other world has sealed access through Xin Mo.

Every single day after his excursion into that mirror world has him feeling out of sorts. Nothing could hold his interest, not even his more adventurous wives or the excitement of a new conquest. It’s as if the world has lost all color, smothered in gray ash. Only his obsessive need to reach that strange Shen Qingqiu fuels him.

Once he has Shizun in his arms, he’s never letting go.

Shen Yuan was a mere hindrance, one that Luo Binghe had no qualms of eliminating in the pursuit of his goal. It was with that purpose in mind that he approached the human’s holding cell, electing to finish the job himself.

But then…the small, insignificant human defied Luo Binghe’s expectations with his fearless demeanor and wide, guileless eyes that looked at him with pure adoration. The baffling reaction caught Luo Binghe off-guard and stirred a strange yet not entirely unpleasant sensation deep in his gut.

The human may be touched in the head, though, somehow believing himself to be dreaming.

Luo Binghe then decided on the spot to delay Shen Yuan’s demise. He went a step further in humoring the hapless human and magnanimously gave him provisional freedom. After all, weak and mortal Shen Yuan posed no threat. He would still be under Luo Binghe’s control as long as he stays within the palace grounds. In addition, the human could provide some passing entertainment while Luo Binghe waited for the sorcerers to complete their work.

Satisfied with his decision, Luo Binghe approaches his throne with a renewed pep in his step. What a funny little plaything he’d acquired. Today is shaping up to be slightly less gray and a touch more vibrant than yesterday. Just by a teeny, tiny bit.

Chapter 3: 🤓 Shen Yuan at Work

Chapter Text

It takes Shen Yuan a few hours of wandering down the maze-like corridors before he reaches the library. Most of the staff outright ignore or rebuff him when he tries to ask for directions. When he does get someone to help, he's sent to a circuitous path that somehow brings him back to where he started. It takes a few tries of this before he realizes he’s being played.

Honestly, this is on him. He’s a nobody at the palace, a prisoner on parole, and he probably ranks lower than a scullery maid.

He sits down on a bench at the Great Hall to catch his breath and rest his aching legs. After a few minutes, a woman in soft pink and lilac robes approaches him, an attendant trailing behind her. Even with a veil covering the lower half of her face, she exudes the aura of a peerless beauty.

“I hear you’re looking for the library?” the veiled woman says. “I can guide you there if you wish.”

Shen Yuan is beside himself with joy at his unexpected benefactor. “I wouldn't wish to impose. If you can give me the directions, I’ll figure it out myself.”

The peerless beauty shakes her head. “It’s no trouble. Please follow me.” She starts moving away without waiting for Shen Yuan to reply, and he is left with no other choice but to trail after her.

If he isn't mistaken, the lady in front of him could be none other than—

“My name’s Liu Mingyan,” the peerless beauty says as she turns her head towards him.

“I’m Shen Yuan,” he supplies. First, Luo Binghe and now Liu Mingyan. This is really turning out to be the best dream ever! “It’s an honor to meet you, my esteemed lady.” Feeling bold, he continues. “In my humble opinion, Luo Binghe should crown you empress as you are the only one worthy of the title among all of his wives!”

Liu Mingyan’s eyes crinkle with what looks like mirth. “While I am flattered that Shen Yuan thinks so, that is up to my Lord husband to decide.” She faces back towards the corridor, hiding her expression. “In all these years, I feel that Lord Luo has not yet found what he is looking for.”

Shen Yuan stares at Liu Mingyan’s back and bites back an argument. Why would Luo Binghe look elsewhere when the rightful empress is! right! here!

They turn at a corner that looks just like ten other corners they’ve passed before, and are immediately greeted by an ornate set of double doors flanked by torches of ghost fire. Even from the outside, it screams “Demonic Royal Library.”

“We’re here,” Liu Mingyan says. She points upwards. “You’ll know where the library is by looking up at the carvings in the columns. The way to the library has three dragons instead of two.”

They both enter the library and Shen Yuan stifles an excited gasp at the sight of endless shelves of scrolls and bound books begging to be perused.

Liu Mingyan turns towards Shen Yuan, her eyes friendly and welcoming over her veil. “I’m a regular here. Feel free to ask me or the library master if you need any help.”

“Thank you very much for your generous assistance,” Shen Yuan bows to Liu Mingyan before they part ways.

Shen Yuan goes to the section on talismans and immediately goes to work.

“That’s a unique talisman design you’ve got there,” Shen Yuan hears a voice behind him on his fourth day at the library. He whips his head around and is met with a handsome young man in midnight-blue robes, unusually light-colored eyes, and a head crowned with striking auburn hair. A foreigner…? Shen Yuan drops the brush he was holding and blushes in embarrassment. “The design is purely theoretical. I haven't had the opportunity to try it yet, so it’s probably rubbish.”

The young man hums, then picks up Shen Yuan’s dropped brush. “It looks pretty solid in construction to me, though unusual. It seems to amplify a particular kind of effect but in a circuitous way, as if recycling qi…” He traces the lines of Shen Yuan’s talisman design in the air.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m aiming for!” Shen Yuan exclaims, glad to hear that his amateur design makes sense to this young man. The guy seems to be some sort of expert too—he has the looks of a scholar.

“In that case, a little addition here can facilitate the collection of qi for recycling,” the youth says as he adds a few strokes to Shen Yuan’s design.

“That’s so clever!” Shen Yuan exclaims, a wide smile beaming on his face. He hears a chuckle and immediately catches himself. Isn’t he being too casual by xianxia standards? He stands up from his chair to face the young man as he bows from the waist. “Apologies for my rudeness. Allow me to introduce myself. This one is called Shen Yuan.”

“Shen Yuan…?” the youth’s clear gray eyes seem to widen in surprise but the expression is quickly shuttered away. “No need to be so formal. My name is Zhao Jiahao.” He flashes Shen Yuan a winsome smile. With his easy smile, accommodating attitude, and scholarly air, the youth somehow manages to look unassuming and unthreatening despite towering more than a head over Shen Yuan.

He’a almost as tall as Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan thinks. And almost as hot, another part of his brain supplies without his input. His name doesn't ring a bell though—he’s fairly certain there was no character named Zhao Jiahao in PIDW.

“I’m glad to see Shen Yuan healthy and whole,” Zhao Jiahao says, eyes surreptitiously scanning over Shen Yuan like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Wait, this guy knows him? At Shen Yuan’s questioning look, he adds “I was at the summoning ritual. I… I’m really sorry about what happened.”

The boy looks so distressed and remorseful that Shen Yuan can’t help but reassure him. “It’s not your fault,” he says. First of all, it’s Shen Yuan who's dreaming, meaning his brain cooked up this whole bizarre scenario. And two, Luo Binghe existing means that he can't even be the protagonist in his own dream. To add insult to injury, he has the rotten luck of being assigned the role of an NPC cannon fodder. What that says about his subconscious, he doesn't want to know.

Zhao Jiahao starts, “You don’t understand, it’s because of me and my—mmmph!!”

Shen Yuan spies the library master from the corner of his eye and quickly clamps Zhao Jiahao’s mouth shut with his free hand. He pushes the both of them deep into the nearest bookshelves. “Shhhhhhh,” Shen Yuan whispers under his breath as he presses his front against Zhao Jiahao’s body in an attempt to blend into the shadows. The youth, as accommodating as he is, doesn’t protest and lets Shen Yuan manhandle him despite being physically taller and stronger.

Shen Yuan holds his breath and waits, hand still covering Zhao Jiahao’s mouth, until the library master passes without noticing the two of them and disappears into the distance.

Shen Yuan gingerly removes his hand from Zhao Jiahao’s mouth and takes a step back. “Erhmm… sorry ‘bout that. The library master has a beef with me and I’d rather we don’t cross paths as much as possible.”

They leave the bookshelves and return to the table where the brush and talisman paper lay forgotten. The tips of Zhao Jiahao’s ears glow a violent shade of pink under the brighter light of the reading room. The poor boy must be mortified to be bullied by someone smaller and weaker than him.

“Why is the library master giving you a hard time? You have permission to be here,” Zhao Jiahao says, gesturing at the jade pendant on Shen Yuan’s belt.

It’s Shen Yuan’s turn to flush pink. “I…err… may have caused a little accident,” he coughs. “Not on purpose! I asked the library master for some paper, brush and ink to copy some talismans from the scroll I was reading. Purely as an intellectual exercise, of course! I didn’t expect the talismans to work at all. But when the library master touched them, they burst into flames and burned some nearby books and ledgers. He got so mad he threw me out of the library and said he’ll never lend me a single brush or sheet of paper ever again.”

Hence why Shen Yuan has to sneak around and swipe paper, ink, and brush from the head librarian’s desk but he’s not going to mention that and further incriminate himself.

“Interesting…” Zhao Jiahao says as he reaches a curious hand towards the talisman Shen Yuan was previously working on. The moment his fingers touch the paper, blue sparks fly and it bursts into flames. Zhao Jiahao quickly waves a hand and extinguishes the fire with a burst of qi before it has a chance of spreading.

The two of them stare silently at the smoke rising from the ashes on the table. After a long, pensive moment, Zhao Jiahao faces him with a smile and says, “I’ll talk to the library master so you don't have to sneak around anymore. Shen Yuan, would you like to aid in my research on talismans?"

The week passes by in a whirlwind of excitement and discovery. True to his word, Zhao Jiahao speaks with the library master who stops giving Shen Yuan dirty looks. He provides Shen Yuan with talisman paper, ink, and other supplies as they pore over scrolls and texts on talisman-making, comparing notes and discussing theoretical modifications on existing talisman designs. The geeky nerd in Shen Yuan is delighted to share his opinions and ideas—xianxia magic lore is a surprisingly deep and interesting rabbit-hole!

“Shen Yuan is so creative. I never would have thought to combine a water and air column then top it up with a modifier for temperature and speed on the talisman head,” Zhao Jiahao praises Shen Yuan’s talisman design for the umpteenth time. “What does it do?”

Shen Yuan would preen under the praise, but he can’t be too co*cky yet. He takes his newly-crafted talisman with both hands and carefully hands it to Zhao Jiahao. “Well, that’s for you to find out.”

They’re in the garden just outside the library, a precaution they’ve taken to doing after what happened last time. Zhao Jiahao gingerly holds out his fingers to reach for the talisman in Shen Yuan’s hands.

The moment Zhao Jiahao’s fingers touch the paper, there’s a whoosh of chilly air, a ziiiip, a crackle, then a boom in rapid succession as a bolt of thunder materializes and strikes the ground beneath them. The explosion leaves Shen Yuan’s ears ringing. The two of them stare blankly at the burnt patch of grass smoldering beneath their feet.

They hear the patter of feet as the library master rushes to the open window to check on the commotion. Upon seeing the two men, he shakes his head and slams the window closed. At least he doesn’t admonish them, probably because they had the good sense to stay outside away from his precious books.

Shen Yuan breaks into a smile and pumps a fist into the air. “I did it! A thunderstrike! Holy sh*t!!!”

His middle school science classes, combined with his tendency to immerse himself into the forging or alchemy sections of any RPG he plays finally paid off. He’s the type to go all-in on breeding Pokemon to have the best movesets. Heck, when he plays Persona, he easily spends more time in the Velvet Room fusing game-breaking personas rather than in the dungeon crawling or dating sim portion of the game. It seems his compulsion to stack status effects and combine abilities where they normally don't appear is a useful skill when making talismans.

Zhao Jiahao gazes at him, mouth agape and eyes wide with wonder, as if Shen Yuan himself had hung the stars. “Shen Yuan, you’re amazing!”

Shen Yuan blushes from the attention. “Ah— just a lucky combination, is all. And it’s not like it’s usable.”

Despite the power released from the talisman, it isn’t particularly useful because 1) Shen Yuan can’t use any talisman he created, and 2) any talisman he makes instantly activates the moment another person touches it, which makes it uncontrollable.

For some reason, his talismans instantaneously react to sentient qi, whether spiritual or demonic. They've even tested to see if the spontaneous reaction could be contained by avoiding direct skin contact using coverings, but all that achieved was incinerating Zhao Jiahao’s very nice and very thick leather working gloves.

Shen Yuan still feels bad about that one. Those had been Zhao Jiahao’s favorite pair.

“May I try…?” Zhao Jiahao asks. At Shen Yuan’s nod of assent, Zhao Jiahao picks up his own brush and talisman paper and begins copying Shen Yuan’s design.

Once the ink on the talisman has dried, Zhao Jiahao concentrates his qi on the talisman, which starts glowing a faint blue. There’s a faint crackle followed by a weak zap of electricity that dissipates like a sparkler. The talisman catches fire and slowly burns away.

“……”

“Ah, maybe there was some error in your copy? And there was definitely lightning there, so you’re on the right track!” Shen Yuan tries to reassure the boy. They both know that Zhao Jiahao copied the design perfectly. Shen Yuan had hovered over his shoulder while Zhao Jiahao was making it.

But for some reason, only the talismans created by Shen Yuan’s own hand have a dramatic and explosive effect. Literally.

The greatest irony of all? Shen Yuan can’t even use his own OP talismans because even if he has juvenile meridians, he is incapable of cultivation and has zero spark of qi in his body. If this were Harry Potter, he wouldn't qualify as a muggle. He’d be the equivalent of a goddamned squib!

The injustice of it all! He’s like a celebrity chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant who creates award-winning dishes but can’t taste his own cooking because his mouth is sewn shut!

Zhao Jiahao shakes his head. “It’s just that Shen Yuan is too talented. This novice can't compare.”

Zhao Jiahao! If you call yourself a novice, what does that make of Shen Yuan? He only started making talismans a week ago!

“Enough about talismans for today. Why don’t we go for a walk? Can you tour me around? Let’s bring lunch with us, so we could maybe go further and explore the forest to the south?” Shen Yuan says to divert the topic.

Zhao Jiahao nods his assent and together they exit the garden.

“That’s a Purple-tongued Beanshooter,” Shen Yuan points at an innocuous-looking and bell-shaped plant. “It’s harmless enough unless provoked. But that over there,” he squints at the direction of a big, monstrous-looking flower a few meters away, “is a Thousand-fanged Venus Trap. It attacks anything within its immediate vicinity, so make sure to stay far away.”

They’re deep into the forested area at the south of the estate and had been walking for a few hours already, only stopping to eat the lunch Zhao Jiahao had packed for the both of them.

Shen Yuan hadn’t expected to find such exotic (and dangerous) plants within the palace grounds. But the discovery just makes this excursion all the more exciting! If the Purple-tongued Beanshooter and Thousand-fanged Venus Trap are here then that means…

Shen Yuan quickens his steps, giving the Thousand-fanged Venus Trap a wide berth. He keeps his eyes peeled open as Zhao Jiahao cuts a path through the brambles with a machete. They eventually reach a clearing and—

Just as he thought, in the middle of the clearing is a field of Suncatchers. They have the towering size and appearance of regular sunflowers except for their petals tinged yellow, red, and gold. Another thing setting them apart from your garden variety of sunflower is that the plants are sentient and can move their stems and leaves even as they stay rooted to the earth.

As the two friends pass by, the Suncatcher blooms swivel from their stems like people craning their heads to look.

The flowers had appeared in a special chapter released by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky to appease fans who were clamoring to know more about the wider world of PIDW. The qi-producing blooms were a tightly-kept secret of a reclusive group of mortal humans who resided in a hidden valley deep within the mountains. Though untrained as cultivators, they managed to defend their territory from powerful enemies and keep outsiders away using a variety of offensive and defensive magical plants powered by qi harvested from the Suncatchers.

In fact, some of the plants were so game-breakingly overpowered Shen Yuan was compelled to write a lengthy critique in the chapter’s comment section.

Reading the chapter, Shen Yuan immediately recognized the reclusive humans’ hometown as a ripoff of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village, and the magical plants as a plagiarized xianxia version of Plants vs. Zombies. The Purple-tongued Beanshooter corresponded to PvZ’s Peashooter, the Thousand-fanged Venus Trap was the Chomper, and the Suncatchers were the mana-producing Sunflowers. That hack Airplane couldn’t even bother hiding his shameless copying and straight-up plagiarized the names of other plants, including the Cherry Bomb, the Hypno-shroom, and Fume-shroom among many others.

It would have been a fun and meaningful chapter despite the brazen plagiarism if it weren't for the fact that Airplane dedicated a chapter to the mysterious village once then never mentioned it again. Worse still, they never had contact with Luo Binghe, so their purpose in the story remained unclear.

Why create such a badass village with game-breaking plantlife and not have Luo Binghe come to visit? With competent people living there, maybe that's where the protagonist could finally find a wife with two brain cells to rub together!

Shen Yuan remembers cursing Airplane to the nine heavens for that travesty. He’d paid a lot of money to expedite the release of that chapter!

They spend another hour exploring the rest of the clearing and venturing a bit further into the woods. Along the way, Shen Yuan notices an unusual set of imprints in the mud and crouches low to investigate. From the tracks, it looks as if a tiger had been standing on its hind legs while chasing a gigantic rooster.

Could it be….? But why is such a rare and dangerous creature roaming within the palace grounds? Did Luo Binghe keep one as a pet?

Zhao Jiahao casts a glance at the tracks in the mud then looks up at the perpetually reddish sky of the combined realms slowly turning into a deeper orange hue. “I think we should return to the palace. It will be dark soon. I have a feeling it’s dangerous to stay here,” he says.

“Oh! Sorry I got carried away. It’s late isn’t it? At this rate we may not be able to get back in time for supper.”

Zhao Jiahao flashes him a boyish grin. “Shen Yuan needn’t concern himself about that. I come from a clan that specializes in transportation spells. I’ll draw a transport circle here that will connect to another circle already set up at the palace, so we can go back there instantaneously.”

“Seriously!? That’s convenient! But will it even work on me? I… I don’t have qi to activate it, y’know,” Shen Yuan says sheepishly.

Zhao Jiahao merely smiles and says “We’ll make it work.” He starts drawing a circular spell on the ground using cinnabar. When he's done, he steps into the center of the circle. “Shen Yuan, come inside,” he says as he extends a hand towards his companion.

Shen Yuan gingerly takes his hand and steps into the circle. He expects that to be the end of it but is instead caught off-guard as he is swept from under his feet and lifted effortlessly into a princess carry. He squawks, panicking, as he instinctively wraps his arms around Zhao Jiahao’s neck. The circle beneath their feet glows a bright blue as Zhen Jiahao activates it with qi.

Shen Yuan hears a familiar rush of wind in his ear. He closes his eyes and holds on tight, bracing for some sort of impact, but nothing happens.

“We’ve arrived,” he hears Zhao Jiahao’s voice close to his ear. He opens his eyes and swivels his head to look around. They’re in some sort of indoor workshop.

Shen Yuan belatedly realizes that he’s still being carried in Zhao Jiahao’s arms and shimmies to be let down, face red. Really! Does this young man have to shove it in Shen Yuan’s face how thin and puny he is compared to Zhao Jiahao’s tall and muscular form?

He mumbles a quick thanks and cautiously walks around the workshop, eyes wide. Ceramic pots and glass jars filled with colorful substances line the shelves. “Where are we?” he asks, voice filled with wonder.

“This is my workplace,” Zhao Jiahao replies.

Shen Yuan peers into an open pot softly bubbling in the center of the workbench. Beside it are a few scattered tools, some scrolls left open for ink to dry, and an open wooden box with what appear to be small, empty glass vials. “I take it that Zhao Jiahao is the court alchemist, then?” he surmises.

“Something like that…but not exactly,” Zhao Jiahao says, but his eyes are strained and his smile tight. “I hail from the Sorcerer Clan. We specialize in spells and transportation circles, although we also do a bit of alchemy on the side. My father is the head of the clan and would be the closest equivalent to a court alchemist.”

The Sorcerer Clan? Shen Yuan remembers a brief mention of them in the later part of PIDW. They were a reclusive, semi-nomadic tribe that resided in the far-flung reaches of a neighboring kingdom to the West which was why it took Luo Binghe a long time to find and subdue them. Shen Yuan had high hopes for that arc as it was hinted that Luo Binghe might have finally found his match when the clan threatened to start a wide-scale rebellion.

It was said that the Sorcerer Clan held immense power and access to forbidden arts, such as a spell that could even warp time and space and traverse realms, and mystic blooms capable of suppressing any human or demonic cultivator. A worthy foil to Xin Mo’s power.

Instead, the only match Shen Yuan got to see was Luo Binghe's politically advantageous wedding with the clan leader’s voluptuous daughter (Wife #395, most likely Zhao Jiahao’s sister) followed by gratuitous kinky papapa using various spells and funky herbs to enhance the “experience.”

What was building up to be a genuine threat to Luo Binghe’s OP powers and a potentially explosive and satisfying end game ended up fizzling out in a puff of smoke. All that hack author Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s fault!

Is that why Zhao Jiahao is here at the palace? To oversee his sister’s wedding preparations? Or has Luo Binghe already married her, prompting Zhao Jiahao’s courtesy visit to check up on his sister? The answer to any of these questions would give him a clearer idea of where he is in the PIDW timeline.

“Your family…” Shen Yuan starts, trying to be subtle about his digging for information about Zhao Jiahao’s sister’s marital status.

At Shen Yuan’s words, Zhao Jiahao’s face grows darker. “Our clan was coerced by Luo Binghe to travel to the palace to perform the summoning spell, under pain of death and heavy sanctions. My father is currently under custody in the underground prison, and I’ve sent my only sister away from here for her safety. Right now it’s just me and a select few of our most powerful and talented sorcerers in the palace.”

What!? In the original PIDW tensions hadn’t built up far enough for Luo Binghe to imprison his would-be(?) father-in-law! Also, how can he woo his future wife if she’s been sent away!? This timeline is even more f*cked than Shen Yuan had thought!

“I-I’m sorry to hear that.” Shen Yuan wrings his hands. He’s unsure how to react to the unhappy piece of information. “Is that why you’re here? To petition the emperor to free your father?”

“Shen Yuan, I should be the one apologizing for involving you in this mess,” Zhao Jiahao says with his auburn head bowed low, ignoring the latter part of his question. His fringe forms a curtain over his eyes, making his face unreadable. “I was one of the people who created and powered the summoning circle that brought you here. But I…I swear I’ll fix this.” He looks up, fire flashing in his eyes. “I’ll save my father, and I’ll set you free too, Shen Yuan. Free from that tyrant.”

A tyrant….that’s what Luo Binghe must look like to the people he conquered and subdued. While they’re not exactly wrong, Shen Yuan feels that the description is unfair. Does anybody still remember the sweet, bright-eyed white lotus that wanted nothing more than to be good and obedient and to be acknowledged by his master? But due to Airplane’s sh*tty writing and stupid genre conventions, his scum villain of a shizun had to abuse an innocent child and beat all the goodness out of him.

Zhao Jiahao looks so determined that Shen Yuan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s useless to defy Luo Binghe’s protagonist halo. He’s also touched that Zhao Jiahao considers Shen Yuan as a close enough friend that he’s willing to fight for him.

“I don’t begrudge you. There’s no use dwelling on the past,” he says to appease the boy. He attempts to lift the somber mood by steering the conversation to lighter topics, such as the properties of various substances, tools, and knickknacks scattered around the workshop. And if during the course of their conversation a plan begins to form in Shen Yuan’s mind, that’s just an added bonus.

Shen Yuan prowls among the bushes in the southern forest, eyes and ears alert for any stray movement. He’s been on the lookout for over two hours now. Will his quarry appear today? He’s been patiently waiting and changing strategies for the past couple of weeks, but the most he’d gotten was a single, fleeting glimpse before the creature darted off and disappeared into the trees.

Zhao Jiahao will come looking for him soon, the worrywart. Which reminds him–he found something at the forest today that might interest the young sorcerer. Maybe he should head back early to share the news.

He is just about to give up and call it a day when his ears pick up a faint rustling from high above. He holds his breath and in the next instant, an enormous feline jumps down from the treetops and gracefully lands on the forest floor, stirring up dust and fallen leaves. Its descent is nearly silent despite its power and size.

Shen Yuan’s heart beats wildly as his eyes take on the majestic form of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake slinking towards the bait he had laid out beforehand. True to its namesake, the creature has the striped and furred body of a white Siberian tiger and about twice the size of one. But the similarities end there. While the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake has the hind legs of a feline, its front legs are taloned like a bird of prey and it sports the scaly tail of a drake. Crowning the top of its head is a darkly iridescent curved horn that shimmers and shifts colors in the light.

The creature takes its time tentatively sniffing Shen Yuan’s offering, then starts eating.

All according to keikaku, Shen Yuan mentally cheers. Previously, he left a swan’s whole carcass as bait but the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake had simply swiped it to bring back to its lair before he could get a good look. This time, he had decided to chop up the carcass into pieces so that the creature would be forced to eat the bait on the spot.

Shen Yuan clutches the vials and talismans nestled within his pockets, readying himself for a possible attack. Despite his sweaty palms, the reassuring weight of his prepared arsenal brings him a sense of comfort.

When the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake finishes the last of the hypno-shroom laced bait, Shen Yuan emerges from his hiding place and cautiously approaches the creature. The beast’s eyes appear half-lidded and glassy, its unmoving form sprawled on the ground, its head propped up.

Very good. The hypno-shroom had done its job in making the creature docile. Shen Yuan only hopes that the dose will hold until he finishes the task he set out to do. He eyes the beast’s iridescent horn sinisterly glowing and shifting colors in the dappled shade of the forest. This close, even a squib like him can feel the mass of accumulated qi roiling inside the horn. It’s exactly what he needs. He takes out the hacksaw he borrowed from Zhao Jiahao from his qiankun pouch (also from Zhao Jiahao) and sets to work to collect his prize.

Luo Binghe is on his way to the southern forest when he hears a loud rumble followed by an ear-splitting boom.

Thunder…? He looks up at the clear, cloudless sky. Not a single storm cloud in sight. A series of loud explosions interrupt his thoughts and he sets out in the direction of the blasts.

What could be disturbing the peace within his palace grounds? He doesn't think any insurgents would be foolhardy enough to start a skirmish within the very heart of the Emperor’s territory. Did his more combative wives have another spat? The possibility seems likely. He stifles the surge of irritation at the thought of playing mediator to appease his wives, preventing them from killing each other, and keeping the peace within the harem.

He was just on his way to investigate reports of a sighting of a rare creature at the southeast edge of the estate. One of his demonic generals had stumbled upon it and narrowly escaped with his life, leaving the encounter with a mauled leg. While there are plenty of dangerous creatures wandering around the palace grounds, it’s rare for one to pose such a grave threat.

From the unlucky general’s description it sounds like a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake, but how could that be? It’s a legendary creature that dwells in the depths of the Endless Abyss, not in his palace gardens.

He’d been expecting a satisfying hunt that would serve as a diversion from the dull, gray monotony of his everyday existence, not the chore of settling petty squabbles.

He quickens his pace. The explosions increase in volume and intensity. He must be close to the source. He sees two figures darting among the trees a little further away. A large beast and a… cultivator? Did one of his wives acquire a new pet? Just as Luo Binghe is about to round up the unruly combatants, he hears a sharp crackle then a thunderclap so loud and blinding it would have shattered his eardrums and burned his retinas if not for his advanced cultivation and heavenly demon ancestry.

He reaches ground zero. The sight that greets him makes his hair stand on end and stops him in his tracks. He expected a few different scenarios but not…this.

A short human with scandalously short hair stands with their back to Luo Binghe. They’re panting from exertion, shoulders visibly rising and falling with every breath. Beneath their feet lies what is unmistakably a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake. A dead one, judging from its slumped form and the wisps of smoke softly rising from its body.

Very few individuals, whether human or demonic, are capable of subduing a full-grown Abyssal beast. It would take a high-ranking Peak Lord, or at least a concerted group effort of the entire sect. It’s been decades since he destroyed all the cultivation sects, so where could this person have come from?

“Hey!” he calls out to catch their attention. The human doesn’t show any indication of hearing him. Are they deaf? How dare they ignore the Emperor. “This Lord is talking to you,” he barks out as he walks closer to the standing figure. The sharp smell of ozone prickles his nose. He seizes the human’s shoulder and pivots them to face him.

The human turns their head. Luo Binghe registers eyes wide with shock staring at him and then—

The human bursts into peals of laughter. Loud guffaws echo through the forest as the human clutches their stomach, tears streaming from their eyes from mirth. They clutch something at their ear and pull out…earplugs? So they really hadn’t heard him approach?

Now that Luo Binghe could get a good look, he realizes that the person is a man. Small, delicate, and fine-boned as many of his wives, but a man nonetheless. The second thing he notices is the familiarity of the man’s face.

“Shen Yuan,” he says, offended. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s—hahhh—you—ahhahhh—” Shen Yuan makes a vague gesture at his own head, still doubled over in laughter. “Ah f*ck it—better to show it to you.” He fishes out a small bronze mirror from a qiankun pouch and hands it over to Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe peers into the mirror and finds a ridiculous image staring back at him. His curly hair that is normally oiled and tamed to perfection stands on end. Literally, in all directions. It’s as if a wild chicken had dug into his hair and made a nest there.

A soft chuckle escapes him involuntarily. Given the situation, he’s inclined to overlook the human’s transgression of mocking the Emperor. He raises a tentative hand to his hair. When had his normally stately and civilized appearance devolved into…this? He has no recollection of his head rolling in the dirt or of stray vines catching in his hair.

Shen Yuan must have noticed his confused expression because he holds a hand up and waves his fingers in the air. “Static electricity,” he explains. “Energy buildup from the thunderbolt a while ago.” The human straightens his posture but is still visibly struggling to contain his laughter.

Luo Binghe zaps his qi into the surrounding air to neutralize the buildup of static electricity. The smell of ozone dissipates and his hair slumps back down his shoulders. It will need a thorough combing but at least he no longer looks as if he crawled out of a chicken coop. Now, to investigate this uncanny scenario.

“What is Shen Yuan doing here?”

The human freezes. “I…uhh…needed something for a project. I-is this your pet? I swear I wasn’t planning to kill it! It was an accident!” Shen Yuan says, looking cowed.

“You killed a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake, an Abyssal beast, by accident?” Luo Binghe asks, eyebrows rising to his hairline.

“Listen to me first, please! I was going to humanely harvest the beast’s horn by putting it in a hypnotic state while I cut off its horn. Unfortunately it woke up and attacked me just as I was about to finish! I had no choice but to fight back and defend myself.” The words rush out from Shen Yuan’s mouth so fast he nearly trips over his syllables.

When Luo Binghe gave the room key to Shen Yuan and freedom within the palace grounds, he didn't actually expect him to survive this long. After all, how could a mere mortal with no cultivation potential defend himself from the various traps and pitfalls hidden within the palace, the wild beasts roaming the estate, the frequent poisonings, or the malicious advances of his more sad*stic staff? Shen Yuan was safer locked in his room.

And yet—despite the odds, Shen Yuan not only survived but also managed to single handedly defeat a dangerous and fearsome beast that even a top general could not subdue.

Shen Yuan yelps as Luo Binghe grabs his wrist to probe the human’s meridians with his qi. Just as before, Shen Yuan remains without a hint of cultivation or spiritual power.

“How did you manage to kill a legendary beast?”

“Hypno-shrooms and talismans and Cherry Bombs!” Shen Yuan says nervously. “I know it likes to eat waterfowl so I laced some bait with a hypnotic. And while I don’t have the qi to activate my own talismans, they react by themselves when touched by other sentient qi. The Sinister Striped Tiger Drake’s horn has plenty of qi stored inside, so I aimed a thunderstrike talisman at it to defeat the beast using its own power.”

Luo Binghe has never heard of such a thing. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain. Let me demonstrate,” Shen Yuan says. He tugs his wrist away and Luo Binghe lets him. He retrieves a talisman from his pocket and hands it to Luo Binghe.

As Luo Binghe’s fingers brush the paper, a jet of water sprays him directly to the face. He blinks, bewildered, as large droplets of water fall from his eyelids.

Shen Yuan shoves a fist over his mouth to feign a cough. It doesn’t fool Luo Binghe.

“Oh, wow!—*cough*—It was only supposed to wet the paper, but Luo Binghe’s so OP an entire stream came out! Impressive!”

Before Luo Binghe could snap a retort, the two men are startled by a voice calling out from the woods.

“Shen Yuan? Where have you gone?” A familiar man with tawny hair and midnight-blue robes emerges from the underbrush. He freezes when he sees the Emperor, Shen Yuan, and the carcass of a large beast beneath their feet.

Nobody says anything. The new arrival is the first to move, striding towards the two of them. He extends his clasped hands and bows deeply at Luo Binghe from the waist, outstretched arms going past the knee. As he does so he pulls Shen Yuan down with him in an urging motion. Shen Yuan gets the memo and is quick to mimic his companion’s movements.

“Lord Luo, forgive this lowly one for his presumptuousness. Shen Yuan meant no harm. If you would excuse us, this Zhao Jiahao will take him back to his quarters. Rest assured he will disturb you no longer,” says the newcomer.

Luo Binghe assesses the two men bowing in supplication to him. “Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao, are you so free that you have ample time to go strolling in the palace gardens?”

Zhao Jiahao looks up, face carefully blank. “I have not been remiss in my duty, Lord Luo. There are other tasks that need to be accomplished beyond the summoning hall’s walls.” He brings a protective hand behind Shen Yuan’s back.

“As long as the plan is progressing as intended, this Lord has no complaints.”

“It is,” Zhao Jiahao says simply. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” Without waiting for Luo Binghe to reply, he scoops up a squawking Shen Yuan into his arms and activates a transportation spell. Before the two vanish in a burst of light, Luo Binghe catches Zhao Jiahao shooting him a look of barely concealed animosity.

Huh. Interesting. Today presented him with a refreshing diversion after all.

Chapter 4: 🪱 A Worm in the Heart

Chapter Text

“Shen Yuan, you’re hurt!” Zhao Jiahao exclaims in a distressed tone the moment they arrive at the workshop.

“Huh?” Shen Yuan looks down at his body and sees his tattered robes. Spatters of blood stain his sleeves and trousers from the scratches on his arms and legs. “Don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” They didn’t even start hurting until Zhao Jiahao had helpfully pointed them out!

Zhao Jiahao merely gives him a chastising look as he pulls back Shen Yuan’s sleeves and starts applying tincture to the long, angry scratches on his arms.

“Who did this to you? Is it the tyrant!?”

Does this young man want to be tried for treason? “Don’t call him a tyrant. It’s Emperor of the Combined Realms, Luo Binghe.”

Zhao Jiahao huffs. “I’ll call him Emperor when he starts acting like one. So it’s him who hurt you,” he says darkly.

“Luo Binghe didn’t hurt me!” Shen Yuan quickly clarifies. “I just got scratched by brambles, is all.” He’s not going to mention that the large tear on his pant trouser and resulting shallow gashes on his shin are from a close call with the claws of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake.

“Stay away from Luo Binghe. He can’t be trusted,” Zhao Jiahao warns him as he unrolls a bandage. “What were you doing in that part of the forest, anyway?”

“I was out hunting,” says Shen Yuan, tone carefully casual.

“Hunting? Whatever for?”

Shen Yuan had been waiting for Zhao Jiahao to ask the question. He pulls out a foot-long, darkly iridescent object from his qiankun pouch. “For this!” he says triumphantly.

Zhao Jiahao stares at the shimmering object in shock. “That…is that the tusk of a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake!?” Then, as understanding slowly dawns on him, “The dead beast we saw in the forest—you killed it??? Not Luo Binghe?”

“That I did,” Shen Yuan replies, feeling smug.

“Shen Yuan, you’re incredible!” Zhao Jiahao says, sounding genuinely awed and happy. “Many cultivators would kill to get their hands on that legendary tusk. It’s the most efficient portable reservoir of qi in the known world.”

“And the best thing is that it’s rechargeable!” Shen Yuan adds with glee. “If this works I’ll be able to do so many talisman experiments without having to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Shen Yuan. I like doing our experimental work together.” Zhao Jiahao says, eyes soft and with a gentle smile.

Young man! Please save that adorable look for the bevy of girls no doubt knocking on your workshop door! Shen Yuan thinks.

Zhao Jiahao finishes bandaging Shen Yuan’s arms and leg and moves to the workbench. Shen Yuan follows him.

“Want to do an experiment now?” Shen Yuan asks. At Zhao Jiahao’s nod of assent, he pulls out a talisman—similar to what he gave to Luo Binghe—and presses it against the horn.

A few seconds pass. Nothing happens. Shen Yuan tries pressing the talisman on different faces of the horn but there is no reaction nor spark of qi. His brows begin to furrow. Is the horn defective and had his sweat, blood, and tears been all for nothing?

“Maybe it’s empty of qi,” Zhao Jiahao offers.

“I did use a thunderbolt talisman directly on it for the killing blow. Maybe that used up all the qi stored inside,” Shen Yuan says. It’s a bummer, but hopefully Zhao Jiahao is right, and the problem can be easily resolved. “I’ll have to recharge it, then. Speaking of, I found something that might interest you while I was at the Suncatcher field.”

Shen Yuan retrieves another object from his qiankun pouch: a dagger encrusted with five different-colored jewels ensconced within a decorative leather sheath. Engraved at the end of its hilt is a familiar insignia.

“Isn’t this your family crest?” he asks Zhao Jiahao.

Zhao Jiahao takes the dagger in hand and inspects it, tracing his fingers over the relief of a dragon swallowing a tiger on its hilt. He takes the dagger out of its sheath. A thin red groove runs along the center of its white blade.

Shen Yuan stares in awe at the gleaming blade. Isn’t that—

“My father used to tell me stories about a legendary dagger forged by our ancestor from the bones of an extinct spiritual beast.” Zhao Jiahao says, interrupting Shen Yuan’s thoughts. “He said it was a relic powerful enough to defy the gods. It’s supposed to have been lost for hundreds of years, yet this blade is exactly as my father described it.”

Indeed, the God-killing Dagger of Sorrow matches Airplane’s description in one of his special world-building chapters. According to legend, a sorcerer forged it from the bones of the last Greater Eastern Zilant as a wedding present to his daughter who had been kidnapped and forced to marry the God of Dragon Fire.

As a primordial being, the God of Dragon Fire was immune to most poisons and extremely hard to kill. The gifted blade required four essences and a personal treasure from its would-be victim in order to synthesize a poison that would surely kill its target. It took the sorcerer’s daughter a few painstaking years to gather the four required essences of bone, saliva, blood, sem*n, and a personal treasure from her husband but she managed it at last.

On the day she drove the dagger into her husband’s chest and watched the light fade from his bewildered eyes, she did not feel elation from regaining her freedom and triumphing over a god. Instead, all she felt was regret as she realized that there would no longer be any god-husband who would lovingly wake her up in the mornings, indulge her whims, take her on journeys across the realms, and tuck her hair behind her ear and call her his treasure.

In truth, she never expected the dagger to work. While the four requisite essences were simple enough to harvest, it took her several years of trial and error to find her husband’s personal treasure. It was not the first time she had tried to stab her husband, who had brushed off her previous attempts with good-natured laughter. But on that fateful day, she had accidentally pricked her finger with the blade, her own blood trickling down to the jewels encrusted on the hilt.

When the God of Dragon Fire’s body broke down, his head turned into the Purple-tongued Peashooter, his teeth into the Thousand-fanged Venus Trap, his blood into the Hypno-shroom, his groin into the Cherry Bomb, and his heart into the Suncatcher. The rest of his remains formed a mystic valley that became home to legendary creatures and enchanted flora.

The dagger changed hands a few times after that but despite the blade’s power it always ended up sapping its wielder of happiness. As centuries passed, opinion became divided on whether the dagger was a heavenly or cursed blade. Was it a God-killing Dagger or a Dagger of Sorrow? It was eventually lost to time, only to reemerge at Shen Yuan’s Suncatcher patch.

What was the dagger doing there? Had someone been hiding it all this time?

Zhao Jiahao turns the blade in his hand this way and that, pensive for a long moment. “I need to speak to Father,” he says eventually, lips thinned in a grim line. “But he’s currently in isolation at the underground dungeon and no one is allowed to see him.”

“Uh…maybe you can petition Luo Binghe for a chance to visit?”

Zhao Jiahao somberly shakes his head. “We’ve tried several times but our request is always denied.”

“That sucks,” Shen Yuan says, not knowing what else to say. He starts asking Zhao Jiahao about their next project, eager to divert his friend from depressing thoughts.

Three days later, Shen Yuan awakens in his bedroom in the middle of the night from a wave of oppressive qi pressing onto him. He is further jolted into full awareness when he sees the source of the oppressive qi, illuminated by moonlight, staring down at him with an eerily blank expression.

“Luo Binghe!?” Shen Yuan cries out in fright as he clutches his sheets close to his body like a scandalized maiden.

Seemingly satisfied now that his target is awake, Luo Binghe turns to the side door without acknowledging Shen Yuan and merely says, “Come with me.”

Shen Yuan is groggy and cold and getting up from the bed at an ungodly hour is the last thing he wants to do, but he’s compelled to obey the protagonist. If Emperor Luo Binghe tells him to dance the samba while reciting passages from the Dao De Jing at 1 am in the morning, how can this lowly captive say no?

With only a few half-mumbled grumbles, Shen Yuan hurriedly puts on an outer robe and follows Luo Binghe through the side door. It leads to a long, narrow passage illuminated every few meters by night pearls. So the palace has the resources to light up a barely-used passageway but can’t spare a single night pearl for my room? He thinks bitterly. The protagonist doesn't look back to check if Shen Yuan is keeping up with him. Shen Yuan is practically jogging and wheezing just to end up several paces behind Luo Binghe. Mr. Protagonist, not everyone has your long legs and stamina!

After a few minutes, they eventually reach a door. Luo Binghe opens it to reveal a large room with a high ceiling, luxurious furnishings, and a lavish canopy bed sitting at the center. Shen Yuan follows right behind him, panting and furiously catching his breath. He may have skipped over most of the papapa scenes in Airplane’s novel but he instantly recognizes their location: Luo Binghe’s bedchamber!

Holy sh*t, why did Luo Binghe bring him here? It’s not like he’s a harem member! Is Luo Binghe still mad about being squirted with water to the face? Should he apologize?

Still, he glances about the room in awe. There’s something tasteful but ominous and severe about the darkly-hued decorations. It resembles a luxury hotel suite: impeccably clean and meticulously organized, with no trace of being lived in. Shen Yuan had expected signs of cohabitation or at least some feminine touches from Luo Binghe’s many wives, but there were none to be found. Despite its opulence, the room feels strangely desolate, as if the grandeur and luxury that fill it serve to oppress rather than to bring joy.

Hanging on the wall in a place of honor is Xin Mo, acting as the centerpiece of the room. Shen Yuan excitedly skips towards it, all fatigue and sense of propriety forgotten.

“Whoa…” The words, whispered reverently, escape Shen Yuan’s lips.

It’s just that…Xin Mo is so much more impressive and intimidating than any art or rendering he’s seen, whether official or fan-made. Engravings decorate its scabbard, their designs more intricate than any fanart or headcanon he imagined. Forged onto the dark metal like a tableau are legendary beasts, depictions of the rise of heroes, and their inevitable downfall.

Up close, the demonic sword radiates a palpable malevolent aura that makes the fine hairs at the back of Shen Yuan’s neck stand and gives him the heebie-jeebies. Not that it makes him take a step back and want to flee, no sir! Even if his skin feels like it’s about to break into hives, this is too good of an opportunity to pass!

“Shen Yuan is invited by this Lord into his personal chambers and yet is wholly preoccupied by the wall decor,” he hears Luo Binghe’s smooth baritone from behind him. Oh f*ck, how long has he been fixating on Xin Mo? “Is this Lord so insignificant that he fails to catch Shen Yuan’s attention?” Luo Binghe’s tone sounds more amused than chastising.

Shen Yuan peels his eyes away from the sword with a sheepish grin. “Sorry ‘bout that. But that’s not just any wall decor! That’s Xin Mo! The very sword Luo Binghe mastered and used to conquer and combine the three realms. Epic!!!” He pulls his fist down to his side, voice bubbling over with excitement.

“Indeed,” Luo Binghe says as he folds his arms over his chest, sounding smug.

“I’m really sorry about the other day! Are you still mad about your pet? I didn’t mean to disrespect,” Shen Yuan hurriedly says as he remembers the incident at the southern forest. He pauses as his mind catches up to the strange situation he finds himself in. “Wait, why am I here, anyway?”

“From today you will be this Lord’s personal attendant.”

“Excuse me?”

“To begin with you will attend to this Lord in the morning and then again at night.”

“Whoa—wait, wait! Why me?! I don’t think—” Shen Yuan starts panicking, but promptly shuts up when he sees the look on Luo Binghe’s face.

Luo Binghe’s placidly neutral expression darkens into a dangerous frown. It’s unfair how handsome he is even when it looks like his scrunched up brow is a sneeze away from committing mass murder.

“If Shen Yuan is unwilling, he can return his room key. Remember this Lord gave you provisional freedom,” Luo Binghe emphasizes the last point like a dagger to the throat. “And one of the stipulations for that freedom is that Shen Yuan can be summoned anytime at this Lord’s discretion.”

Gah—Shen Yuan has been so absorbed in his research and romping around unimpeded within the palace grounds with Zhao Jiahao’s help that he’s forgotten he’s first and foremost a prisoner—Luo Binghe’s prisoner to be exact. No way he’s going back to being grounded in that stuffy budget motel! He’s got things to do outside!

No other choice then but to play along with what Luo Binghe wants, no matter how bizarre!

“Yes, sir! Anything you want, sir!” he barks out with a stiff salute. Wait, do people in xianxia-land even know what a salute means? He’s mixing his genres here! He quickly pivots to a deferential hand clasped bow. “I mean—This Shen Yuan…is at your service!”

Shen Yuan hears a huff and dares to take a peek at the Emperor. Judging from his face, it at least seems Luo Binghe has eased up on the genocidal plans. His expression is back to neutral, although Shen Yuan could almost swear there’s an upturn to a corner of the Emperor’s lip. Must be a trick of the light.

“How can this attendant be of service to his Lord?” Shen Yuan asks, with a newfound determination to get into Luo Binghe’s good graces. He even clasps his hands demurely to his front like similar to how maids and butlers do in anime. He’d like to keep his provisional freedom, thank you very much!

“Serve me tea,” the Emperor commands.

That…should be manageable. It’s just soaking leaves in hot water, right? Shen Yuan had seen his mom and aunties do it countless times. He locates the portable stove and tea caddy at the corner and sets the kettle over the stove. Shen Yuan doesn’t know what else to do but stare at the kettle as the water boils. Only the occasional bubble breaking the surface of the heated water pierces the uncomfortable silence.

Who even drinks tea at one in the morning!? The caffeine would ruin anyone’s sleep!

“Shen Yuan was not in his room the previous days,” Luo Binghe’s low voice breaks the silence.

Shen Yuan startles. “Uh, pardon my Lord. I’m usually busy during the daytime.”

“You were not there in the evening either,” Luo Binghe says, sounding bizarrely reproachful.

WTF, Luo Binghe had creeped around his room at different times of the day!? Is…is that why Luo Binghe came to his room at an ungodly hour? Because he couldn’t catch Shen Yuan at any other time?

Alarm bells ring in Shen Yuan’s head and he hastily blurts out, “I’m busy w-with…projects.” It’s true, he’s busy tending to the Suncatcher field, his talisman research, and occasionally helping Zhao Jiahao with chores. Although the reason he avoids going back to his room until late is due to the lack of artificial lighting, which is why he prefers to stay at the library until closing time. He refuses to go to bed at 7 pm just because it’s dark!

“This Lord was under the impression that Shen Yuan must have been spending his nights in other people’s beds.”

Did Luo Binghe just call him a loose whor*!? “I’m not—that’s uncalled for!” Shen Yuan sputters indignantly.

Luo Binghe has the nerve to grace him with an infuriating smirk.

“I prefer to stay out late. You can ask Zhao Jiahao. He’s often helping me,” Shen Yuan says in defense.

“…It appears Shen Yuan is quite close with Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao,” Luo Binghe says, eyes narrowed and tone calculating.

“He’s my only friend here,” Shen Yuan says with a shrug.

“Shen Yuan should take more care in choosing his friends. They could only be using him for their own machinations.”

Shen Yuan is offended on Zhao Jiahao’s behalf. “I’m not important enough to be useful to anybody.” He shoots Luo Binghe a challenging look. “And contrary to what Luo Binghe may think, not all relationships are transactional. Some people enjoy helping others, without expecting anything in return.”

Luo Binghe doesn’t reply, but his hard stare pierces Shen Yuan.

The kettle’s lid rattles from the rapidly expanding water bubbles. Shen Yuan takes some time wavering over the tea canister before hesitantly scooping some tea leaves into the pot. He arranges the teapot and a porcelain cup on a tray and brings it to a low table across a chaise where Luo Binghe had seated himself. With faltering hands, he pours the tea into the cup and pushes it closer to the Emperor.

Luo Binghe takes the cup and catches a moment to smell the aroma from the cup’s rim. Shen Yuan holds his breath as he watches this display, anxiety and anticipation churning in his gut at the Emperor’s verdict.

Luo Binghe takes a small sip, then flings the contents of the cup onto Shen Yuan. “Unacceptable,” he proclaims.

Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe in shock. Hot liquid drips from his scalp onto his eyelashes and travel further down his cheeks and neck, seeping into the collar of his robes. Fortunately the tea wasn't hot enough to burn skin, but he may as well have been burned at the sharp heat of humiliation that floods his face.

That sting of humiliation is what propels him to expel his thoughts and shout back, “No, what YOU DID was unacceptable!” This is Shen Yuan’s own dream, so he’s going to speak his mind, damnit! Even if it means having to teach some manners to the black-bellied protagonist!

It’s Luo Binghe’s turn to look at him in shock, as if Shen Yuan were the one to throw tea at him. Take that, Mr. Protagonist! It’s been a long time since anyone called you out on your bullsh*t, hasn’t it!?

Luo Binghe’s face quickly shifts from shock white to rage red. “You dare to defy this Lord!?” he roars.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Look, I know you’re the all-powerful ruler of the combined realms, a one-in-ten-billion talent, you’re so handsome it’s frankly insulting to us ordinary mortal chumps, and you’re every woman and man’s dream.“ He wags a finger in the air, similar to how one might chastise a small child. “But that doesn't mean forgetting your manners and taking out your frustrations on other people. Even if you can, that doesn't mean you should. If you didn’t like the tea, just tell me outright and I’ll try to do better. Now apologize.”

Luo Binghe bellows, face thunderous, “What makes Shen Yuan think he can order this Emperor around?”

“Eh, this is my dream. I can do whatever I want.” Shen Yuan juts out his chin defiantly.

Luo Binghe’s volatile expression suddenly cools like frost. “Shen Yuan still thinks he is dreaming…” Luo Binghe says with unnerving calmness. He takes a step closer. Shen Yuan flinches but holds his ground, despite every instinct screaming at him to run.

Luo Binghe advances until barely an arm’s length remains between them. He grabs Shen Yuan one-handed by the throat and lifts him several inches off the ground as if the human were a rag doll. “Tell me, Shen Yuan. Is this a dream?”

Fear and confusion surge through Shen Yuan as he dangles midair, his air supply significantly cut off. Dammit, why is he being bullied by his favorite character in his own dream!? Hurt people hurt people. The half-forgotten quote he’d once seen from an online advice forum flashes unbidden through his mind. Shen Yuan’s thoughts turn to the Protagonist’s miserable childhood, his abuse on Qing Jing Peak, his hellish journey through the Endless Abyss. Even after gaining the title of Emperor and subduing all his enemies to make them pay a hundredfold, Luo Binghe remains stuck in a loop of unending conquest and spilled blood, as if seeking to fill a hunger that could not be sated.

“Luo B-binghe…” Shen Yuan chokes out. “Is this w-who you... really want to be...? A t-tyrant?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow into slits, and he shakes Shen Yuan like a rattle. “Answer the question!”

Shen Yuan’s eyes zero in on the glowing red huadian on the Emperor’s forehead, and further around them, to the grand yet desolate bedroom that they currently find themselves in.

Could it be that despite how far Luo Binghe has come from his days as a battered and helpless disciple, happiness still eludes him?

The realization stabs like a dagger through Shen Yuan’s chest. Despite his terror, Shen Yuan pushes past his panic and manages to reply, “I-In my dream… I… I want Luo Binghe to remember… that h-he… is a fundamentally good man.” Yes, Luo Binghe originally started out as a pure white lotus, a considerate, good-hearted bleating sheep desperate to please his Shizun, his shixiongs and shijies on Qing Jing Peak. The polar opposite of the vindictive, manipulative, black-bellied protagonist he later turned out to be. Was forced by the narrative to be.

Dark spots dance in Shen Yuan’s vision. He feels on the verge of passing out but he pushes on, desperately wanting dream-Binghe to hear his words before the dream ends. “B-Binghe… you didn’t d-deserve…to suf-fer…You deserve…all the h-happiness…in the world.” He summons the last of his strength to look Luo Binghe in the eye and wheeze out, “B-Binghe is p-perfect… Always has been.”

He’s out of air. Just as he thinks his time is about to end, that finally he’ll jolt awake from this bizarre dream, the Emperor releases him. Shen Yuan slumps down like a heap of rags on the floor. He drinks big gulps of air to force oxygen into his lungs and wills his rabbiting pulse to calm down.

He looks up and meets the Emperor’s eyes. What he finds in those dark, starry pools startles him. Instead of the mighty and imposing Demon Lord, what he finds is a child, lost and vulnerable. Like a battered young disciple forgotten and abandoned by the world. It makes something deep in Shen Yuan’s gut ache.

The fragile look on Luo Binghe’s face is gone in a blink, leaving Shen Yuan wondering if the vision was a hallucination. Luo Binghe turns his back on Shen Yuan with a swish of robes and says “…The tea. It wasn’t hot enough.”

Shen Yuan stands on shaky legs, dusting his robes. “Gotcha. I’ll do better next time,” he says to Luo Binghe’s back. The prideful stallion protagonist still hasn’t properly apologized, but maybe that’s too much to ask for, even in a dream. Shen Yuan sighs.

They stand in silence for a while, Luo Binghe facing the wall and Shen Yuan facing his back. Then, “Shen Yuan is dismissed for tonight. Report back for duty here at mao time, “ Luo Binghe says without turning to look at his attendant.

Mao time…isn’t that like 5 o’clock in the morning!? But…it’s already way past midnight! Internally grumbling, Shen Yuan mumbles out a “Yes, My Lord” and hastily leaves the room through the side door and connecting passage that leads to his chambers. He doubts there would be further sleep to be had tonight.

Shen Yuan is groggy and sleep-deprived but he proudly knocks at Luo Binghe’s side door at 5 a.m. sharp. This personal attendant won’t be remiss on the first official day of his duties!

When he’d gotten back to his room the previous night, he went through a rollercoaster of emotions, from shock to embarrassment to anger, before finally settling on bubbling excitement. After all, no matter how abrupt or rude Luo Binghe had been, he had bestowed upon Shen Yuan the duty of being his personal attendant.

Which means that Shen Yuan will have a front seat at observing his favorite character! What an opportunity! What stroke of luck! Compared to that, what were a few shakings and a few lost winks of sleep?

He’s still not sure what possessed Luo Binghe to appoint him as a personal attendant. Doesn’t the stallion protagonist have a bevy of wives and servants at his beck and call? Shen Yuan is the least qualified person for the job, as evidenced by his disastrous first day. He can’t even take care of himself—how can he perform the duties of what is essentially a live-in nanny?

No matter. This dream may be getting weirder and weirder but it’s shaping up to be the best of the best!

He’s prepared. He went down to the kitchens at the crack of dawn to pester the kitchen staff to teach him how to properly select and brew tea leaves. He hadn’t known that there was a certain art to it, that you were actually supposed to throw away the first steeping (isn’t that wasteful?), and that the temperature of the hot water also varies depending on the tea type. He should’ve paid more attention to his Nainai, the only person in the family who regularly drank tea the traditional way. His prior experience is limited to dunking a tea bag into a mug of hot water.

He had given the kitchen jiejies milk candy he received from Zhao Jiahao as payment for their troubles.

“Enter,” he hears Luo Binghe’s booming voice from behind the wooden door of the Emperor’s bedchamber.

Shen Yuan invites himself in and bows. “Good morning, my Lord. How would you like this servant to prepare your morning tea?”

“This Lord will leave it up to Shen Yuan to decide.”

Shen Yuan selects an oolong blend from the tea caddy and starts preparing the tea with confident hands. He makes sure the water is heartily boiling before pouring it onto the tea leaves, waits for the leaves to unfurl in the teapot, then discards the first steep. He then pours the remaining hot water onto the fully bloomed leaves and waits a moment before serving the teacup to Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan watches Luo Binghe like a hawk as the Emperor takes a sip. Although he’s more confident in his newly-found tea making skills, he still half-expects the mercurial man before him to drench Shen Yuan with his drink.

“Acceptable. For an amateur,” Luo Binghe declares. Shen Yuan releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

The kitchen delivers breakfast at the door and Shen Yuan fetches it. The Emperor eats in brooding silence. Shen Yuan wonders about Luo Binghe’s cooking. Isn’t he supposed to be a talented cook? But of course as a state leader he supposes Luo Binghe wouldn’t have the time to cook for himself. But does he still cook for his favorite wives?

After breakfast, Luo Binghe directs Shen Yuan to dress him. Shen Yuan gingerly opens the wardrobe. He is greeted by over a dozen robes in varying patterns and shades of white, black and red hanging inside. They all look incredibly alike. Shen Yuan sweats bullets in panic. Which one goes over which? His own layers only went up to three, but from what he remembers Luo Binghe wearing the previous night, the Emperor wears significantly more.

“What is taking Shen Yuan so long?” He hears Luo Binghe’s voice beside his ear. Shen Yuan nearly jumps from his skin. sh*t, when had Luo Binghe sneaked up behind him?

Shen Yuan flails his hands. “Uhh…you see I’m not really familiar with fancy xianxia costumes….I’ve never cosplayed either.” Might as well come clean instead of f*cking it up and being thrown the proverbial tea again.

He hears Luo Binghe huff. “This Lord is not entirely sure what that means but surmises that Shen Yuan is inexperienced in the handling of courtly apparel. This Lord shall be generous and will instruct his personal attendant for this occasion, but listen carefully as he will not repeat himself.”

Shen Yuan nods vigorously. With wooden hands and stiff fingers, he follows Luo Binghe’s direction. He drapes layer upon layer of robes over Luo Binghe’s perfectly sculpted body, fingers skimming over the Emperor’s broad chest, clumsy hands tying each robe at that deceptively narrow waist. Finally Luo Binghe slips on the final robe, all eight of them, and Shen Yuan only has to tighten the broad belt with red accents and a green jade pendant cinching the Emperor’s waist.

Shen Yuan takes a step back to admire his handiwork. This blackened protagonist is really too handsome, ah. The early morning light filters through the windows, presenting Shen Yuan a clear and striking image of the Lord of the Combined Realms in his courtly regalia.

Standing tall and imposing in sumptuous robes of black and silver thread that shimmers in the light, Luo Binghe exudes an aura reminiscent of a neutron star, irresistibly drawing everyone in the room toward him. His dark, wavy tresses frame a perfectly symmetrical face, accentuating a chiseled jawline. While his masculine features are striking, they are softened by plush red lips and dark doe eyes that glitter like a pool of stars. A golden guan encrusted with tiny pearls adorns his hair, complemented by a matching golden earring that dangles from his left ear. Intricately engraved silver vambraces, various gem-encrusted rings, and tall, black leather boots complete the ensemble.

“Shen Yuan is dismissed for his morning duties. He may return at nightfall to tend to this Lord,” Luo Binghe says. Shen Yuan bows goodbye and turns to leave the way he came.

At least this means he has the rest of the day to catch up on sleep and tend to his Suncatcher patch.

Shen Yuan returns to the Emperor’s personal chambers later that night. He helps Luo Binghe remove his many layers of robes. Untying the intricate robes is infinitely easier than wrangling to put them on, and he removes each with deft fingers. When he removes the second-to-the last layer, he glimpses Luo Binghe’s naked chest partially exposed through the inner garment. His fingers fumble and his breath catches in his throat.

He’s just scared of his clumsy hands inadvertently touching something he shouldn’t, is all. He’s not in the mood for further testing Luo Binghe’s mercy.

Luo Binghe leaves his inner robe on and puts on a loose over-robe for lounging around his private quarters. He sits at his desk and peruses some scrolls. Master and attendant sit in silence, punctuated only by the trickling of the tea as Shen Yuan refills Luo Binghe’s cup.

Luo Binghe speaks without looking up from his scroll, his tone bored yet his words sharp and calculating. “Shen Yuan is so bold and fearless. He faced a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake alone. He dares to insult this Lord. He seems to place no value to his own life.” He puts down the scroll and faces Shen Yuan, giving him his full attention. “What, then, do you fear?”

What a strange question. Shen Yuan does have some healthy fears, such as being trapped and alone back in that dark dungeon. He gulps and shivers at the memory, shaking his head to dispel it. But somehow that doesn’t seem to be the right answer.

“I’m afraid…that when I wake up I’ll forget this dream,” he goes with.

It’s definitely the most intricate, outlandish dream Shen Yuan has ever had. He feels like he’s been thrown through a woodchipper and spat back out, but it’s here that he feels, strangely, more alive than he ever felt in his waking life.

It’s only here, in this dream realm, that he’s had a taste of what magic can do. It’s here where he feels a sense of purpose as he tends to his plants, explores the palace library, and helps Zhao Jiahao research. It’s here where he can see, touch, and talk with a Luo Binghe that is so hyper-realistic he can discern the exact shade of the protagonist’s eyes (burgundy when it catches the light) and smell his spicy masculine scent as Shen Yuan removes layer upon layer of robes.

This is a dream that he wouldn’t mind sleeping in for, appointments be damned. A dream that he’ll want to journal the moment he wakes up so as not to forget a single moment, visions he’ll desperately want to cling on to as they inevitably slip through his fingers like water in the reality of day.

And only in this dream does Shen Yuan dare to hope that maybe…maybe…he might have a chance to show Luo Binghe the happiness that Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had denied him.

“Shen Yuan never ceases to amuse,” Luo Binghe replies, tone filled with mirth.

Luo Binghe finishes his reading and moves to the dressing table. A large, polished bronze mirror gleams in front of him. He sits down in front of the dresser, hands Shen Yuan a comb and commands, “Brush this Lord’s hair.”

Shen Yuan hesitantly takes the proffered comb and stands behind Luo Binghe. He begins to weave his fingers through the wavy dark tresses. The fluffy locks are so soft and so smooth. So not only does Luo Binghe look good and smell ridiculously good, his hair is luxurious enough to grace a shampoo commercial.

Shen Yuan works the wide-toothed comb carefully so as not to irritate the scalp. He works on the long, dark tresses from right to left, section by section, making sure not to tug. He recalls memories of doing the same thing for his meimei when they were younger. The repetitive motion of silently weaving the comb through long locks slips him into a semi-meditative state.

In the peaceful quiet broken only by the rhythmic rustle of the comb passing through the silky strands, Shen Yuan could almost pretend that the person before him is a young, white sheep of a disciple and not a fearsome demon lord.

He reaches the final section of hair. Something snags on the comb’s teeth. It takes Shen Yuan by surprise and he threads his fingers deeper into the luxurious strands, trying to find the culprit.

He finds a gnarled and twisted braided lock of hair, tied at the end with a frayed green ribbon, buried underneath. The tired-looking braid looks like it had been forgotten for quite some time….had Luo Binghe missed it? Does he not have a hairdresser or a wife to properly groom his hair? He runs his fingers through the length of the braid to assess the damage, giving it the barest of tugs.

Luo Binghe whips his head around at an alarming speed and snarls, “Don’t you dare!”

Shen Yuan takes a stunned step backwards. “I-I’m sorry…! What did I do this time?”

Whatever it is that bothered Luo Binghe seems to have worked the Emperor up. His chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. His eyes, glinting like blood rubies in the lamplight, look like knives ready to kill.

sh*t. Shen Yuan may have to exit this dream prematurely after all. Despite all his bluster and bravado he’s not quite ready to say goodbye. Quick, Shen Yuan! Do something before the Emperor massacres you on the spot!

“I’m really sorry,” he tries again. The violent mood swings are giving him a fright. He needs to deescalate the situation and try to calm Luo Binghe down. “Is it something I did? If you explain I won’t let it happen again.”

“…The braid,” Lue Binghe says, swallowing audibly. “Leave it alone.”

“I understand,” Shen Yuan replies.

At least Luo Binghe’s murderous gaze seems to have cooled down to a dull simmer. The agitated man turns away to face the bronze mirror once again. Shen Yuan takes that as his cue to return to his task of combing.

He carefully works on the remaining section, making sure to give the braid appropriate care and reverence. He parts it away from the other sections of hair, handling it with gentle fingers. Why is Luo Binghe so particular with this scraggly lock of hair? It didn’t seem to be something the Emperor had braided in himself—one from a child, or a beloved wife perhaps? But then, why would he keep such a gnarly thing in his otherwise perfectly groomed hair? He could just ask it to be redone. Unless—

Unless something happened that is keeping Luo Binghe away from the maker of that braid. Shen Yuan feels cold dread swoop down his gut. Could it be that—that they died? No, Luo Binghe wouldn’t allow that to happen. He doesn’t remember anyone of importance in the harem dying either. While there was a lot of catfighting, drama, and poisonings, at the end of the day Luo Binghe with his OP powers, blood mites, and heavenly healing pillar always came to save the maiden in distress. Is it a faraway lover? A long-distance relationship sort of thing? No matter—any and all hard-to-get maidens enter the harem eventually.

But to cherish the braid so deeply…. Luo Binghe must truly care for that person.

“The person who braided your hair,” Shen Yuan says, voice feather-soft, as if talking to a wild, unpredictable creature ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, “…must be someone very special.”

Shen Yuan risks taking a peek at the mirror. Luo Binghe’s dark eyes meet his on the polished surface.

“…No one else can compare,” Luo Binghe says.

Shen Yuan quickly lowers his lashes and breaks eye contact. He tries his best to hide it, but Luo Binghe’s admission rocks him to his bones. THE Luo Binghe, first-class Casanova and serial lady-killer, pining for someone? And Luo Binghe hasn’t managed to woo the maiden and make her fall straight into his arms? Unthinkable! Who could it be? What would such a person be like?

What a privilege to be held above all, to be chosen over thousands of others.

Shen Yuan finishes combing Luo Binghe’s hair in silence. After his dismissal, he retreats to his own room, mulling over the discovery of the braid and its mysterious maker.

Chapter 5: ⚔️ A Duel

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan is a week into his new role as glorified imperial nanny when he is stopped by Zhao Jiahao at the palace hallway.

“I haven’t seen you much lately. Are you OK?” Zhao Jiahao asks, voice brimming with concern.

“Ah, well,” Shen Yuan says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Been kinda busy this past week. I’ve been appointed as Luo Binghe’s personal attendant.”

“You’re what!?” Zhao Jiahao says, voice loud and harsh enough that passersby turn to glance at the two of them. The poor young man looks distressed and scandalized. He grips Shen Yuan’s shoulders with both hands as if to make sure Shen Yuan is still in one piece.

Zhao Jiahao! There’s no need for such theatrics!

Now that Shen Yuan thinks of it, he only ever sees Luo Binghe in the Emperor’s personal chambers and never outside of it, so only a select few people would know about his new gig. No wonder Zhao Jiahao is so surprised.

Zhao Jiahao leads Shen Yuan to a secluded alcove. He takes furtive glances around. Satisfied that nobody can hear them, he places a firm hand on Shen Yuan’s shoulder and says, eyes serious: “Has the tyrant made you drink his blood?”

“Ssshhhh….you never know who can hear you! Stop calling Luo Binghe that!” Shen Yuan says in a stage whisper. “And no, I haven’t drunk any blood.”

Zhao Jiahao’s face visibly relaxes with relief. “Remember, don’t trust that Luo Binghe. And please, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“No need to stress,” Shen Yuan smiles and tries to calm down the worrywart. “Luo Binghe’s OK! He’s, uh, harmless.” It’s true! Luo Binghe hadn’t shown any signs of murderous intent in the past week. In fact, he’s only gone so far as to flash Shen Yuan a look of annoyance whenever this hapless nanny makes a mistake. No strangulations and sudden outbursts, barring that disastrous first day. So. Practically safe!

Zhao Jiahao looks unconvinced. “Regardless, don’t let your guard down. Do you still have time to come to the lab?”

“I’ll visit sometime this week,” Shen Yuan assures his friend. He’d been meaning to go to the lab earlier but he’s been so overwhelmed with his new duties and schedule that his only free time is spent tending to his plants.

“I’ll be waiting,” Zhao Jiahao says. “Don’t worry, Shen Yuan. I’ll try my best to get you out of Luo Binghe’s clutches.”

Zhao Jiahao, this Shen Yuan just told you there’s nothing to worry about! Why is he talking like Shen Yuan is a kidnapped maiden!?

After giving Zhao Jiahao further assurances that he’s in perfectly good health and that no, Luo Binghe doesn’t make him do questionable things, the two friends part ways.

How would a cannon fodder character who isn’t even mentioned in PIDW have any hope of going against Luo Binghe? Shen Yuan shakes his head as he makes his way to the kitchens for a quick bite before his evening duties.

Three days later, Shen Yuan receives some unexpected news.

“….we therefore humbly request the presence of his Majesty Luo Binghe and his personal attendant Shen Yuan at the Royal Alchemical Research Facility at their earliest convenience. Signed and sealed, Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang.” Luo Binghe reads aloud the letter in his hands. He tears his gaze from the scroll to look at Shen Yuan. “What could the sorcerers be scheming, this Lord wonders,” he says in a half-amused tone, as if anything the Court Alchemist could throw at the Emperor is beneath him.

Shen Yuan, for his part, is bubbling with excitement. “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look,” he tries. This is his chance to visit the Royal Alchemical Research Facility! A place featured in PIDW! For some reason Zhao Jiahao has never taken him there, even though the young man mentions the place from time to time. “And it does seem to be an important matter,” he adds hopefully.

Luo Binghe concedes and they immediately set out for the research facility. They go down a long winding staircase. The few people they meet along the way, dressed in scholarly styles reminiscent of Zhao Jiahao’s robes, give a deferential bow as they pass by. The stairs go on and on and on. Shen Yuan already dreads the climb back up. They must be deep below the palace grounds by now. They finally stop in front of an ornate set of heavy-looking double doors carved with astronomical and alchemical symbols.

A man in his early fifties dressed in dark blue robes patterned with stars and celestial symbols greets them at the door. “Thanking Junshang for his prompt response to our request. This Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang apologizes for the short notice.”

Luo Binghe acknowledges the man with a slight tilt of the head. “Is there an issue with the summoning spell?”

Zhao Gang rubs his hands together nervously. “Ah—not really an issue per se, but a minor concern. One that can easily be fixed with Junshang’s cooperation. My Lord, could the two of us take a step back for some privacy?”

Luo Binghe turns to Shen Yuan, his expression serious. “Stay here,” he says. Shen Yuan watches as the Emperor follows Zhao Gang deep into the recesses of the research facility. The moment their backs disappear from sight, he starts walking in the opposite direction.

It’s the Royal Alchemical Research Facility! A place in the palace Airplane often mentioned but never actually described in detail. The facility featured prominently in chapters connected to poisonings and their subsequent antidotes for those plotlines where Luo Binghe can’t rely solely on papapa to heal the injured wife of the week. Like hell Shen Yuan would stay put in one place. This is his chance to explore a little! He promises to be back at his post near the entrance before Luo Binghe’s return.

The laboratory is huge as a cathedral and sports a vaulted ceiling painted with astronomical symbols. Natural light seeps in through the stained glass windows decorating the ceiling. It’s a wonder how the light manages to reach this deep underground.

He passes shelves filled with vials and jars reminiscent of Zhao Jiahao’s personal lab and endless rows of tables cluttered with maps and strange contraptions. It all looks like something straight out of a steampunk movie. Shen Yuan brushes his fingers through the various knick knacks on display as he walks.

“Pssst,” he hears from behind him.

Shen Yuan turns around and is pleasantly surprised to find Zhao Jiahao, face half-obscured behind a shelf. The young man holds a finger to his lips and beckons Shen Yuan to follow him.

Shen Yuan trails behind Zhao Jiahao as he weaves through the maze-like assortment of shelves. They reach a secluded area surrounded by tall racks on all four sides save for a narrow opening for passing through.

“What are you up to? Was it your idea to have Luo Binghe come here?” Shen Yuan asks.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Zhao Jiahao says, taking Shen Yuan’s hands in his. “Trust me.”

Shen Yuan snorts. “I’m not in any danger!”

Zhao Jiahao gives him an incredulous look reminiscent of his Er-ge when he thinks Shen Yuan is being stupid. Shen Yuan decides to ignore it.

Zhao Jiahao is in the middle of demonstrating a gold-detecting device to his captive audience of one when Luo Binghe finds them, followed closely by Zhao Gang.

“What business does Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao have with this Lord’s personal attendant?” Luo Binghe says. He gives Shen Yuan a stern look. “I told you not to wander off.”

Oh sh*t, Shen Yuan got carried away with the lab tour and forgot to return to where Luo Binghe left him! He starts sweating buckets. Before he can mutter an apology, Zhao Jiahao steps in front of Shen Yuan, shielding him from Luo Binghe’s view.

“It was this Deputy Sorcerer’s idea to tour Shen Yuan around the Royal Alchemical Research Facility,” Zhao Jiahao intervenes. “It is fortunate that Lord Luo could come at our request, as this lowly sorcerer would like to discuss a matter of importance concerning Shen Yuan.”

Luo Binghe crooks up a brow. “Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao may continue.”

“First of all, as Lord Luo is aware, the Sorcerer Clan is currently making every effort to improve the accuracy of the summoning spell. We believe that Shen Yuan, an anomaly who has been summoned twice, may hold the key to our goal. We hope to achieve a high degree of precision by factoring in his presence in the summoning circle.” Zhao Jiahao pauses, nodding towards Shen Yuan. “To this end, we recommend that Shen Yuan’s person be kept pure and free of external influences, such as Lord Luo’s blood mites.” He brings his gaze back to the Emperor. “Lord Luo may ask Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang to verify this claim.”

Zhao Gang, who is standing beside Luo Binghe, lifts his chin in agreement.

Zhao Jiahao gives Zhao Gang a nod of acknowledgement and continues. “Secondly, it has been this lowly sorcerer’s observation that Shen Yuan shows an aptitude in the talismanic arts. Lord Luo has no doubt witnessed his talent in the southern forest.” He bends his back in a deep bow of supplication. “This Deputy Sorcerer therefore requests that Shen Yuan be transferred from his current duties and taken under this Zhao Jiahao’s wing to be trained here at the research facility in the alchemical arts. In this manner, Lord Luo will have more use of Shen Yuan and his innovations for the benefit the kingdom.”

“First request granted,” Luo Binghe replies. “For the second request, however,” he levels the still bowing Zhao Jiahao with a hard look. “Do not presume to understand this Lord’s wants. If Shen Yuan wants to play at being an alchemist, he may do so at his own leisure.”

Zhao Jiahao’s lips press into a thin line but he dips into another respectful bow. “This lowly sorcerer yields to his Lord’s wisdom.”

“Is that all?” Luo Binghe says.

Zhao Gang brings up a hand and speaks up. “There is one more thing. We requested Shen Yuan’s presence to conduct tests and measurements for ascertaining his affinity with the summoning spell.” He pauses to retrieve a yellow-colored gemstone from his belt. The gemstone glows under his hand, and soon after, they hear hurried footsteps approach.

A teenaged-looking apprentice emerges, holding several contraptions on a tray that he sets down on the table. Zhao Gang points to a cylindrical glass object reminiscent of a large liquid motion bubble timer, and instructs Shen Yuan to place his open palms on the top of it. The apprentice stands by, scroll and brush for taking notes in hand.

Colored bubbles zigzag from the top of the glass cylinder to join their counterparts at the bottom. At first they move lazily along but gradually pick up speed in a flickering motion. Several minutes pass by, yet the falling colored bubbles show no sign of stopping, as if an endless supply fuels their descent. If anything, their pace picks up.

Zhao Jiahao clears his throat from beside Shen Yuan. “Surely, that is enough? The entire process should have been over in a minute or less.”

Zhao Gang’s face sours. “The O-wave particle detecting device must be faulty. Move on to the next instrument.”

The apprentice hands Shen Yuan what looks to be a mercury thermometer in the size and shape of a T-square. In Shen Yuan’s hands, the mercury line steadily rises, only stopping when it reaches the top.

He is next told to press his forefinger into a contraption with a circular gauge. The pointer flails wildly before settling into a clockwise spin, seemingly in perpetual motion.

By the fourth device, a visible vein pulses on Zhao Gang’s forehead. “Enough!” He barks. “When was the last time these instruments were calibrated!? How can you expect to gather any useful data from this!?” He glares at the apprentice, who visibly recoils. “Conduct the measurements and calculations manually,” he orders the boy.

Zhao Gang informs Luo Binghe that manual measurement would take time better spent in exploring the facility in-depth. He instructs Zhao Jiahao to lead the tour and the three of them depart, leaving Shen Yuan alone with the apprentice.

The apprentice heaves a dramatic sigh of annoyance and begins roughly prodding at Shen Yuan’s wrist, as if it were his fault their equipment was shoddy. “Calculating this is going to take forever,” the boy grumbles with a scowl.

Luo Binghe can’t quite make up his mind about whether to kill or to spare Shen Yuan’s life. The scrawny mortal is irreverent, audacious, and absolutely terrible at his job. Luo Binghe often finds himself having to straighten the robes put on by his personal attendant. Even Shen Yuan’s cleaning skills leave something to be desired, with Luo Binghe often finding a thin layer of dust where he has seen him wipe before. At the same time, the puny human has a way of getting under his skin, stirring up some long-forgotten things that set Luo Binghe’s teeth on edge.

That an insignificant man could have such an effect on him is baffling. Luo Binghe has long thought of himself above mere trifles. All the more reason to keep a close eye on Shen Yuan.

It had been a rash decision to appoint Shen Yuan as his personal attendant. He had fired and imprisoned the previous one for spying and treachery. The option of having one or more of his wives attend to him remained, but in truth he felt even less enthusiastic about the prospect. Once upon a time, the constant mental calculations to appease egos and prevent frivolous harem disputes provided a game-like thrill—a point of pride for him, even. But now? Just the thought wears him out.

With Shen Yuan, he can sit back and relax in comfort. After all, Shen Yuan is an outsider with no ties to anyone. Even if the human did try something, he is so laughably weak and easy to read that subduing him would be easier than squashing a fly.

In fact, Shen Yuan is so easy to read, Luo Binghe can practically hear the thoughts buzzing in the human’s head, like right now.

They’re in the throne room. It’s the first time Luo Binghe has brought Shen Yuan out in public. Court is in session and as is customary, a dozen or so of his wives are in attendance. The Qin sisters are draped on both sides of the armrests on his throne. Qiu Haitang waves a large feathery fan to his left. On his right, Liu Mingyan stands holding a tray with a fruit platter and wine while Sha Hualing busies herself feeding him peeled lychees.

His other wives are displayed in a line behind the throne. The message is clear: Gaze upon the almighty, virile, and all-powerful Emperor of the Combined Realms. Witness his boundless riches, his harem of peerless beauties, the grandeur of his palace. Covet but do not touch, for all this fortune belongs to only one Master.

Luo Binghe is used to the covetous stares most people cast his wives. The more audacious petitioners even dare to direct those lustful gazes at him. He relishes in their jealousy, feeding off the resentment they no doubt feel knowing they could never have a tenth of Luo Binghe’s fortune even if they lived for several lifetimes.

Shen Yuan though? The man is practically bubbling over with excitement. His eyes dart around, not-so-subtly inspecting this or that wife of Luo Binghe’s with an almost manic glee. It’s not a look of lust or envy—Luo Binghe is intimately familiar with those. Rather than desire, Shen Yuan looks at each wife with a naked look of awe and curiosity.

It’s a look of childlike wonder, and for once it’s not directed at Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe stomach sours like pickled radish. “Advance forward,” he commands Shen Yuan. Once Shen Yuan has moved enough that he would have to crane his neck backwards to glimpse a single wife, Luo Binghe orders him to stop. “Kneel,” he says next.

Shen Yuan whips his head at the Emperor, trepidation written on his face. Wisely, he keeps his mouth shut and shakily lowers his legs. He winces as his bony knees bump on the hard marble floor.

Luo Binghe feels a smug curl of satisfaction at Shen Yuan’s grimace as the human attempts in vain to find a more comfortable position on the unforgiving surface.

Luo Binghe directs his attention to the audience. “Begin the hearing of petitions,” he declares.

Two hours and several courtiers presenting their case later, a demonic nobleman appears bearing a tall vertical object draped with black velvety cloth. “On behalf of the Yi Clan of the Upper Yellow River, this loyal subject and envoy Yi Rong would like to present a rare and unusual treasure to His Highness Luo Binghe,” the demon says in a booming voice. He tugs on the black cloth with a flourish. “Behold the Crystalline Looking Glass!”

The black velvet falls away, revealing a standing mirror held together by a dark wooden stand.

The rest of the audience ooh and ahh at the mirror. Its polished surface is so clear and smooth it reflects everything before it with stunning accuracy, far surpassing even the best-polished bronze mirrors in the palace. Some people crane their necks, attempting to get a closer glimpse, while others back further away, muttering about how such a bewitching artifact might steal their souls.

Luo Binghe gives the demon noble a short nod of acknowledgement. His eyes scan the enthralled and curious faces of the crowd, before landing on Shen Yuan. Rather than being captivated, Shen Yuan’s face contorts into a scowl, radiating open hostility towards Yi Rong. Oh? Intriguing, Luo Binghe thinks.

“What is Shen Yuan's opinion on Envoy Yi Rong’s gift?” Luo Binghe asks.

Shen Yuan visibly startles at hearing his name, but quickly composes himself even as he remains kneeling on the floor. “Ah—though the Crystalline Looking Glass is indeed an unusual artifact in this world, I believe one should practice due diligence and investigate its origins. Who knows—something sinister may be hiding behind such an offering.”

“How dare a lowly servant insinuate such things of the noble Yi clan!” Yi Rong erupts, his face contorted in rage. “As if we would stoop to such underhanded tricks! Do not compare us to the likes of you!” He draws his sword and points it at Shen Yuan. “On my family’s honor, face me in a duel, lying bastard that you are!”

The side of Luo Binghe’s mouth twitches. Finally, something interesting to stave off the day’s gray monotony. “Challenge to duel accepted,” he says.

Shen Yuan snaps his head towards the Emperor, a shocked look of betrayal written all over his face. He opens his mouth to speak. Luo Binghe smirks, and before Shen Yuan could say anything, the Emperor plants a booted foot on his back and kicks him towards the demonic nobleman.

Shen Yuan nearly skewers his face on Yi Rong’s sword but manages to change trajectory at the last nanosecond. Stray hairs fall from his head where the demon's blade had grazed.

WTF!? This black-bellied Protagonist! What a low blow, tossing Shen Yuan to the wolves like that! What does a fuerdai like him know about duels? He doesn’t even have a weapon! It’s not like he carries an arsenal that could mark him as a terrorist all the time!

Someone flings a sword to the floor in Shen Yuan’s direction. The crowd cheers, no doubt looking forward to the bloodbath. SY scrambles towards the sword, his bruised knees and half-asleep legs from hours kneeling on the floor making him repeatedly tumble to the ground before finally reaching his only lifeline for survival.

He grips the sword’s handle with one hand but doesn’t manage to make the weapon budge. He switches to using two hands to lift the sword up like a lever. Under Shen Yuan’s scrawny arms, the sword’s tip doesn’t even leave the ground. Ugh!? Why is it so heavy!

Yi Rong swings his blade. Shen Yuan drops the sword with a clatter and ducks away. Yi Rong attacks again, which Shen Yuan evades with a barrel-roll.

Shen Yuan cries tears of blood in his heart. Whatever had he done to deserve this!? He was only trying to prevent Luo Binghe from suffering headaches and losses from that evil mirror!

Shen Yuan remembers this PIDW chapter by heart—The Mirror of Duplicity. Though the Crystalline Looking Glass was gifted to the Emperor as a unique wonder of craftsmanship, in truth it was one of a pair. The two mirrors were connected to each other, and with the use of a spell, could be used to watch and hear what was happening around the other mirror. It worked much like a xianxia nanny cam.

The other copy remained in the Yi clan’s possession and was used to spy within the inner palace. An insider moved the mirror around at calculated locations such as the strategy room, where Binghe and his generals discussed battle plans. This resulted in a series of unexpected losses in the battlefield, which only stopped when Binghe himself took over his flagging generals at the frontline.

The Emperor had help, though. A lady general from the Yi clan caught one look at Luo Binghe’s manly visage in the heat of battle and instantly decided to cast away her family ties and tie herself to the Emperor instead. Luo Binghe was charmed and touched at her dedication—she freely spilled her clan’s secrets, including the truth about the duplicitous mirror. The insider and several key members of the Yi family were swiftly arrested and executed, the mirror locked away, and the former lady general wedded and bedded—wife #421.

Shen Yuan couldn’t help shaking his head at the shockingly unfilial nature of wife #421. He didn’t blame her for wanting to marry a paragon of masculinity, but for her to be so casual about damning the rest of her family? She never asked her newly-minted husband for clemency on their behalf or a truce at least, and that rubbed Shen Yuan in the wrong way.

Moreover, the Crystalline Looking Glass that started the whole fiasco was far from unique or special—looking at the actual mirror, Shen Yuan was sure he could buy several of its ilk on Taobao at rock-bottom prices.

Shen Yuan is interrupted from his musings by the broad swing of Yi Rong’s sword that narrowly misses his arm. f*ck! Shen Yuan doesn’t have the leeway to reminisce about PIDW’s sh*tty wife plots! He has a much more immediate problem—and he still doesn’t have a weapon to defend himself!

Shen Yuan’s qiankun pouch slaps against his thigh as he nimbly evades another of Yi Rong’s attacks. He’s grateful for all the exercise he’s gotten running to and from his Suncatcher patch for his show of speed and cardio endurance.

“Stop running away and fight back, you gutless coward!” Yi Rong rages, lunging at Shen Yuan as one might at an evasive co*ckroach.

Believe me Mr. Crazed Demon, I’d fight back if I could! Shen Yuan wails in his heart. But wait—he’s not entirely defenseless, is he? He has his talismans, and more importantly, the horn of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake! The talismans by themselves are useless to a squib like him but combined with the horn’s help, he has access to qi to activate the talismans just like any other cultivator! Theoretically.

The problem is that Shen Yuan had never actually tested that theory out. The horn’s qi reserves had been depleted when he slew the Abyssal beast using its own qi. In the past few weeks, Shen Yuan had been harvesting qi from the Suncatchers and storing it in the horn to top it up, but hadn’t gotten around to using it.

No time like the present. This is for science! Shen Yuan thinks as he whispers a prayer to any gods listening and grabs the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake’s horn from his qiankun pouch. Yi Rong pounces. In a panic, Shen Yuan’s hand gropes the inside of the pouch and pulls out a random talisman. He senses the zing and crackle of qi from his horn-wielding left hand course through his body, traveling through his veins until it reaches the talisman in his right hand.

He flings the talisman towards the demon closing in on him. The talisman sticks to Yi Rong’s forehead and ignites. Shen Yuan sees a momentary look of enraged shock on Yi Rong’s face before the demon lets out a sharp cry of agony.

Yi Rong clutches a hand to his forehead. When he tears his hand away, there’s a bright red and angry-looking burn mark where the talisman had touched.

Holy sh*t—had Shen Yuan used a heating talisman on him? He had made a prototype to use for boiling water. He mentally cheers. The qi reservoir in the horn works!

Shen Yuan’s celebration is cut short as a dagger whizzes past his ear, cutting a shallow gash on his cheek. An audience member howls in agony as the errant dagger finds an unsuspecting victim. The room erupts into further chaos. sh*t, sh*t, sh*t! Seems like Yi Rong has switched to long-range attacks. Shen Yuan quickly grabs another random talisman and flings it in his opponent’s direction.

An impressive jet of water gushes out in a wide arc from the talisman. Unfortunately, it also misses its mark by a wide berth. Shen Yuan forgot that he lacked the dexterity to target his talisman’s trajectory with precision. Not that the water spray would have done any damage even if it aimed true—Shen Yuan had developed that specific design to water his demonic garden!

The water bounces on the floor with a loud splatter and showers several members of the audience. “Pathetic,” Yi Rong sneers. His boots squelch on the wet surface and damp patches stain one side of his robes from the backsplash, but he’s unharmed. He throws another dagger at his opponent.

Shen Yuan evades to the side. Unfortunately, that also put him on the path of a stray puddle from his previous water attack. His foot slips on the wet patch. A cry escapes his lips as a sharp spike of pain flares from his ankle where he twists it as he crashes to the floor.

The audience roars in delight. Shen Yuan hears shouts of “Finish him!” This is it. This is how it’ll end for Shen Yuan, how he'll exit from this dream—skewered like tanghulu on some third-rate villain’s blade. He contemplates taking the easy route and giving up. What else did he expect as a cannon fodder character in PIDW? Shen Yuan had been foolish to think that someone as insignificant as him could make a difference.

In Shen Yuan’s dazed state, he catches a glimpse of Luo Binghe seated on the throne.

The Emperor watches the scene before him with lively eyes sparked with amusem*nt and a smug smile on his infuriatingly pretty face. He looks like a kid at a circus show.

Shen Yuan’s vision turns a hazy red. This blackened Protagonist! Does he find Shen Yuan’s suffering entertaining!? Shen Yuan had risked his neck speaking up about that accursed mirror because he wanted to protect Luo Binghe from malicious attacks. He had hoped that exposing the threat would give the Protagonist a modicum of peace, that perhaps it would make Luo Binghe even just the slightest bit…happy.

Luo Binghe’s flippant reaction to his personal attendant’s life-or-death predicament splashes like a bucket of ice cold water on Shen Yuan’s head. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise in righteous indignation. Even with nothing to back up his confidence, he vows to survive and win this fight if only to spite the Protagonist.

He takes stock of his opponent. Yi Rong looks laid-back and unhurried, his right foot standing in a puddle of water a few meters away. “Miserable fool,” Yi Rong sneers in the haughty tone of one assured of victory. “A lowly servant like you should know better than to speak out of turn. How dare you attempt to sully our clan’s good name? Slandering the Yi family in front of the Sainty Ruler is an unforgivable sin. On my honor as envoy of the Yi clan, I swear to avenge this grave insult to our ancestors…”

On his hands and knees, Shen Yuan eyes the long streak of water on the floor. The spill follows a curved path starting from Shen Yuan’s position and ending in a big puddle where Yi Rong stands. Go on with your villainous monologue, you cannon fodder, Shen Yuan thinks through gritted teeth as he wipes his wet hands on his robe and carefully fishes out a talisman from his qiankun pouch. He gives it a quick glance to make sure it’s the correct one—he doubts he’ll be able to pull the same stunt twice.

“…For your transgression, I hereby sentence you to death!” Yi Rong ends his speech with a shout and a fling of a dagger at the same time that Shen Yuan slams a talisman on the wet floor and dashes away. Crackling energy travels on the water-slick marble towards the demon's direction. In a split second, a whoosh of chilly air sweeps through the audience chamber, followed by a steely ziiip and a blinding, ear-splitting bolt of thunder that strikes Yi Rong where he stands.

All is silent for a long moment, the audience blinded and deafened by the display. Acrid smoke combined with the smell of barbecued pork rise up from Yi Rong’s charred corpse still standing on the floor. After a beat, it collapses into an ashy pile of singed meat and bone.

Luo Binghe slowly claps his hands in applause.

Shen Yuan limps behind Luo Binghe as they walk the corridors back to Luo Binghe’s private quarters. After Yi Rong’s defeat, Luo Binghe had dismissed court for the day and ordered the cleaners to dispose of the demon’s charred remains.

Luo Binghe turns his head back to glance at Shen Yuan behind him. “Keep up,” he says. He doesn’t slow his long strides.

Shen Yuan grits his teeth. This imperial nanny is trying! But the adrenaline that powered him while battling with Yi Rong had dissipated and his sprained ankle is killing him. He speeds up to a light jog and mentally recites the original 151 Pokemon to forget the pain, all the while cursing Luo Binghe in his heart.

Luo Binghe watches as his personal attendant prepares the tea. He expects Shen Yuan to gloat after his spectacular victory against Yi Rong, but instead the human works with a scowl on his face like he wants to stab someone’s eye out. When Shen Yuan arrives to serve the tea, he stomps towards Luo Binghe (impressive given he’s dragging one leg) and sets down the tray with a petulant clatter.

Luo Binghe studies his attendant’s stormy face. “Is there something on Shen Yuan’s mind?” he inquires.

Shen Yuan’s steely glare could crack glass. “Do you find it so funny to bully me around? I nearly died there!” he hisses.

Luo Binghe co*cks his head to the side. “This Lord is under the impression that Shen Yuan doesn’t give much value to his life, given that he thinks this all a dream. Has he changed his mind?”

Shen Yuan shakes his head, red staining his face in poorly contained rage. “That’s not the point! If I wanted to off myself I could have done it in dozens of ways. I may not be afraid to die, but I’d want to choose how to go about it!”

“Shen Yuan provoked a dangerous demonic nobleman.”

Shen Yuan’s face turns even redder somehow, like a bomb about to explode. “I was trying to help you, asshole!” he seethes. “That mirror is bad news! But instead you threw me like a bone to a pack of hungry dogs. Not cool!”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Luo Binghe snaps. He’s never relied on anybody, at least not after he entered the Abyss. Nobody’s continued generosity and loyalty is guaranteed. All he has now, he acquired by himself with his own hands.

Shen Yuan lets out a weary sigh like a pricked balloon, as if the fight has suddenly left him and he’s resigned to his fate. “You should treat people trying to help you better—weren’t you one to repay a good deed a hundredfold?”

That’s what Luo Binghe of old would have done. But he’s older and hardened now. People who make a show of helping others tend to have ulterior motives.

“Why is Shen Yuan so upset when he triumphed over Yi Rong in the end? In an impressive display of cunning and power, may I add.”

Shen Yuan’s face reddens even deeper, although it’s hard to tell if it’s from indignation or embarrassment at being praised. “I was defenseless! I really thought it would be the end of me!” he sputters.

Luo Binghe gives his attendant an assessing glance. “But Shen Yuan wasn’t weaponless. He can manipulate talismans even without the spiritual core of a cultivator. This Lord also finds it clever how Shen Yuan took advantage of the conductive properties of water to smite his opponent.” Luo Binghe is not so small-minded that he fails to acknowledge talent and wit when he sees it.

Shen Yuan mutters something that vaguely sounds like “…common sense for anyone familiar with modern electricity,” although his cheeks remain flushed a deep pink.

Luo Binghe shuffles some papers in his hand and hands one to Shen Yuan. “This Lord just received a report that the Crystalline Looking Glass may not be what it seems. It’s been confiscated and the Yi family put under investigation.” He gives Shen Yuan an appraising gaze. “Shen Yuan is indeed knowledgeable about many things. This Lord is pleased,” he says honestly.

Shen Yuan’s face flares so brightly it could burst like a tomato. Cute, Luo Binghe’s brain supplies without his accord.

“I-if you’re not going to apologize, and if y-you think I did that well…” Shen Yuan sputters, “You should reward me instead!”

The request is not entirely unexpected. Luo Binghe is used to people seeking favors for their own gain. He raises a brow. “And what reward does Shen Yuan seek?”

The human fidgets under the Emperor’s scrutinizing gaze. “Zhao Jiahao hasn’t seen his dad in over a month and it’s making him sad. I know you’re upset that the summoning project didn’t go well last time, but isn’t it a bit too much to lock up the person in charge and not even give his family visiting rights?” He looks at Luo Binghe with pleading eyes. “Please allow them to see each other.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow. This is Shen Yuan’s chance to ask for anything—riches, better accommodations, freedom. Yet he uses the opportunity for another person instead. Irritation stirs in Luo Binghe’s gut. “Is Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao your lover? You seem strangely invested in his happiness,” he snaps.

Shen Yuan shoots him a look as if Luo Binghe had told him the most ridiculous joke. “L-lover!? What are you talking about? He’s my friend!”

Luo Binghe has seen Zhao Jiahao carry Shen Yuan around like a newlywed bride and could recognize the look of possessiveness anywhere. To think that Shen Yuan is still in the dark about his “friend’s” intentions….

“Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao is indeed an unfortunate man,” Luo Binghe concludes with a shake of his head. It earns him another bewildered stare from Shen Yuan. Suddenly feeling magnanimous, he adds: “One day. I will allow Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao to visit Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Ming in the underground prison, but for one day only.”

Shen Yuan’s face lights up, all traces of anger vanishing. He thanks Luo Binghe profusely and resumes his duties, this time minus the tantrum.

Later in the evening, Luo Binghe watches as his personal attendant limps away to his own quarters. There’s never a dull moment with this man, he muses. Just when he thinks he’s seen it all, Shen Yuan springs him with another surprise. All the more reason to keep him close then. The human could provide some passing diversion to color the monochromatic days until he reunites with the kind Shen Qingqiu.

Wait for me, Shizun. You’ll be in my arms soon.

Chapter 6: ⚗️ Sorcery and Alchemy

Chapter Text

“Shen Yuan, I can’t thank you enough,” Zhao Jiahao says as the two friends descend into the depths of the underground prison, flanked by guards on either side. “You managed to do the impossible and allowed me to see my father. I only wish that it didn’t happen in such an unfortunate manner,” he says, eyeing the bandages on Shen Yuan’s left foot and the xianxia version of a Band-Aid on his friend’s cheek.

“Awww, it’s no big deal!” Shen Yuan says, scratching the back of his neck. Zhao Jiahao had been livid when he found out about what happened at the audience chamber, calling Luo Binghe all sorts of creative names as he patched Shen Yuan up with a medical kit. Fortunately, the boy immediately brightened up when Shen Yuan told him about the deal brokered with Luo Binghe as reward for Shen Yuan’s victory over the demon noble, although he kept giving Shen Yuan guilty glances.

They reach the lower levels of the prison. Shen Yuan is suddenly beset with an ominous feeling. He hesitates before entering a poorly-lit corridor, so narrow it would be a squeeze for two people to walk abreast. The guard bumps into him from behind, leaving him no choice but to trudge forward.

The party arrives at the end of the corridor. It opens up to a dark, cavernous space lit up by a single torch. The air is damp, stale, and musty. It irritates Shen Yuan’s nose and makes the hairs behind his neck stand on end. The two guards position themselves on either side of the cell on one end of the room. No doubt they will be keeping watch and reporting whatever happens in this chamber to Luo Binghe.

They hear the shuffling of feet from behind the shadows of the prison bars. “Who’s there?” a scratchy masculine voice calls out.

Zhao Jiahao quickens his steps. “Father! It’s me, Jiahao!” he says with a cry. His hands grab the prison bars as he leans against them.

“My son…?” Zhao Ming says in a trembling voice. He extends his arms outside the iron bars, grabbing around Zhao Jiahao’s chest and shoulders, until his hands reach the boy’s face. Zhao Jiahao reaches as far as he could inside the cell and clutches his father in a fierce hug.

“But how…? Lord Luo allowed you….?” Zhao Ming says as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing with his own eyes. Zhao Jiahao briefly lets go of his father and turns to his companion. “It’s all thanks to Shen Yuan here,” he says with a bright smile, beckoning his friend to come closer. “Let me introduce you to each other.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t actually feel like approaching the prison cell. There’s something that feels profoundly wrong about the place, something that makes his stomach squirm like leeches in his gut. But he’s come all the way down here and it would be impolite not to at least say hello.

Shen Yuan steps closer. He catches sight of auburn hair salted with white, clear gray eyes like Zhao Jiahao’s, and the tall figure of a man swathed in dark robes. Shen Yuan tries to summon a smile, but freezes when he glimpses the inside of the cell. In the dim light, he gleans a small aqueduct trickling water into a narrow sewer, rows of short, vertical grooves etched into the prison walls, and uneven bumps littering the floor

Shen Yuan can’t breathe. He can’t think. He can’t hear anything save for the roar of his pulse beating like drums in his ear.

He’d already exited this part of the dream. He shouldn’t be here. He can’t go back. No. No no no no no no.

“—Yuan? Shen Yuan? Are you there? Answer me, please!” Zhao Jiahao’s voice manages to cut through the blank fog in Shen Yuan’s mind. The boy is clutching Shen Yuan’s shoulders and shaking them.

Shen Yuan snaps out of it and meets his friend’s panicked eyes. “I—,” he starts, but his throat is too parched to continue. Zhao Jiahao breathes out a visible sigh of relief and draws him into a bear hug. “Gods, I’m so stupid. I shouldn't have brought you here. I should have known…”

Shen Yuan melts into his friend's embrace, but feels too shell-shocked to move or reply. Zhao Jiahao mumbles something to the guards and they call a backup to escort Shen Yuan away from the prison, leaving Zhao Jiahao behind with his father. Shen Yuan’s feet move mechanically as he and the backup guard ascend to the surface.

On the bright side…hopefully Zhao Jiahao gets to make most of the time with his dad.

It’s Shen Yuan’s day off and he’s hanging out at Zhao Jiahao’s personal lab.

“I’m really sorry about the other day,” his friend says, sounding remorseful. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories…”

Bad memories…? Shen Yuan shakes his head. That…that was just a bad dream. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to be affected and ruined the mood. “Let’s put that behind us,” he says, although his breath comes out a little shaky. “More importantly—How was your meeting with your dad?”

Zhao Jiahao’s face breaks into a bright smile. “My father wanted to personally thank you. He and I both.” He pauses before continuing in a bitter voice. “His imprisonment was so sudden none of us were prepared when it happened. I didn’t even get to say goodbye before Luo Binghe had him dragged away.” He traces a finger over the sleeve at the underside of his wrist, seemingly lost in thought. “But…now we’ve managed to see each other and communicate, and it makes such a huge difference.”

“I’m glad,” Shen Yuan says. If there was one good thing to come out of that clusterf*ck of a duel with Yi Rong, it was this.

“Hey, wanna check out this new accuracy talisman I’m designing?” Shen Yuan says as he withdraws a pocket knife and a talisman from his qiankun pouch. He charges himself with qi from the horn of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake, then aims the knife at the dartboard hanging on the other side of the lab.

The knife sails toward its target with a zing and the clang of metal scraping against metal. It embeds itself about an inch outside the perimeter of the dartboard.

“Needs improvement, but much better than I could manage without,” Shen Yuan notes.

Zhao Jiahao looks at the knife sticking to the wall with a thoughtful look on his face. “So, it’s supposed to hit a bulls-eye regardless of the wielder’s skill level?”

“That’s the plan,” Shen Yuan confirms. “My duel with Yi Rong made me realize that even if I could finally use talismans thanks to the horn, it’s useless if I can’t even hit my target! I’m not dexterous enough nor have the time and talent to practice marksmanship, so I need an assist.” Well, more like a buff and cheat in one, really. But Shen Yuan isn’t above using all the advantage he can get when his ass is on the line.

“I think I saw a scroll somewhere in the library about the art of talisman throwing,” Zhao Jiahao says. “Why don’t we have lunch then head over there? The scroll might prove to be a useful reference.”

“Good idea,” Shen Yuan says as he goes to retrieve the knife sticking to the wall. On a table to the side, he spies a curious-looking wooden box, half-open and containing what appears to be a small collection of four glass vials carefully labeled and numbered. However, the writing is too small and Shen Yuan’s eyesight is too poor to read them.

Zhao Jiahao abruptly reaches out to close the wooden box. “Let’s go,” he says.

The two friends arrive at the mess hall, which is divided into a serving and dining area for servants, as well as a separate section reserved for court staff and officials. They briefly split up to collect their meal trays. After they reunite, Zhao Jiahao sneaks Shen Yuan into the court staff dining area.

Shen Yuan spots a few harem members having lunch in the same section—Liu Mingyan with three identical-looking nuns at the same table, engrossed in conversation. He often sees them at the palace library, but has never mustered the courage to approach, beyond the first time Liu Mingyan led him to the library. What if people mistook him for making a pass at Luo Binghe’s wives!?

Shen Yuan stares at his meal tray in dismay. “Is it just me, or is the food worse these days?” he grumbles. He pushes his spoon around the watery congee. “There’s hardly any meat or vegetables in here.”

Zhao Jiahao gives Shen Yuan an entire chicken leg and a generous serving of fried rice from his tray. “Here, have some. Court staff receive the same meals as officials. I heard our head chef also manages the kitchen for Luo Binghe’s harem?” He purses his lips, looking thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think the meal quality has declined, but I remember there used to be a bigger spread and variety of food when I first arrived here.”

Shen Yuan says, “I’m jealous. The cook at the servants’ kitchen is a massive cheapskate.” He bites on the chicken leg with zero finesse and chews on it as if it had personally offended him. Chicken juice trickles down the side of his mouth.

Zhao Jiahao chuckles and brings up a napkin to wipe the juice from Shen Yuan’s chin. “You should start joining me for lunch more often. I’ll get extra servings for you.”

Shen Yuan suddenly feels the pinprick of eyes on him. When he looks up, he sees Liu Mingyan and the triplet nuns curiously peering at him and Zhao Jiahao from across their table. What’s so interesting? Is there something on his face? If there was, Zhao Jiahao would’ve told him, surely? Liu Mingyan’s eyes crinkle into crescents and she sends Shen Yuan a friendly wave. Shen Yuan awkwardly waves back.

Weird, ah.

The two friends finish lunch quickly and head to the palace library.

“…Therefore, to ensure a high degree of target accuracy in talisman throwing, certain parameters must be compromised, such as: speed, power, or range,” Shen Yuan reads aloud from a library scroll. “Huh, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Should’ve known that there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

“It works on the same principle as a summoning circle,” Zhao Jiahao says, looking up from his seat at the wide table stacked with books and scrolls, brush and notes in front of him. “Sacrifice commensurate with desired gains. It’s a fundamental tenet of transmutation: the law of equivalent exchange.”

Shen Yuan’s ears perk up. Is it a shock that his dreaming chuuni brain would take a page from Fullmetal Alchemist and cook up such an outlandish crossover scenario with PIDW? The GOAT anime paired with the GOAT Protagonist!? This makes one hell of an AU!

“So….” Shen Yuan starts, coming to a realization. “When I was summoned here, a ‘toll fee’ had to be paid, so to speak?”

“Naturally,” Zhao Jiahao replies matter-of-factly. “Hundreds of chests of gold and jewelry, holy relics, rare artifacts, and other priceless treasures. I was present for the synthesis of both sacrificial exchanges, and each time the hoard filled the entire summoning chamber up to the ceiling,” he demonstrates, waving his arms upward in a wide circle.

“Wow…” Shen Yuan lets out a low whistle, genuinely impressed. “What a shame all that cool swag only managed to summon me, of all people. No wonder Luo Binghe was upset.”

Zhao Jiahao gives him a stern look. “Shen Yuan, don’t lower yourself for that asshole. Don’t you see how valuable you are? You’re worth an entire kingdom’s treasury twice over!”

Shen Yuan shakes his head and shoots his friend a wry smile. “Aiyah, no need to flatter me.” He decides not to push his argument that his summoning was all a funky mistake, as the circ*mstances surrounding the summoning spell seems to be a touchy subject for the boy. It would be best to leave the subject alone, but the revelation niggles something at the back of his brain—

“Who is Luo Binghe trying to summon?” Shen Yuan asks, curiosity winning out.

Zhao Jiahao stiffens and looks furtively around. Seeing no one nearby, he leans in close to Shen Yuan’s ear and whispers, “This is confidential information known only to Luo Binghe and the Court Sorcerer so keep it quiet… He’s trying to bring Shen Qingqiu to this world.”

Shen Yuan nearly falls off his seat in shock. The scum villain Shen Qingqiu, of all people!?

“That can’t be right,” he says in a hissing whisper, leaning in closer to his friend. “Isn’t Shen Qingqiu dead? Turned into a human stick and killed by Luo Binghe’s own hands? Why would he want to bring him back?”

“Believe me or not, I have it on good authority,” Zhao Jiahao whispers back.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Shen Yuan argues, this time in a normal speaking volume and leaning away to settle back into his chair. “Why would Luo Binghe use up so much time, effort, and resources just to summon someone?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” a feminine voice, soft and melodious, interrupts their conversation. Liu Mingyan approaches the two friends from one of the nearby shelves. Her eyes sparkle bright and sharp over her veil as she gives them a considering glance. “What else could bring a man to search the ends of the earth, ruin nations, and exhaust riches from all three realms?”

Caught off-guard by the newcomer’s sudden appearance, Shen Yuan and Zhao Jiahao gape at her, mouths opening and closing uselessly like goldfish. They scramble to give her a bow appropriate for her station as a Primary Wife, but she waves a hand to stop them.

“What else could be so priceless that bereft of it, even the wealthiest man on earth is reduced to a mere pauper?”

The two friends stare at her, too stunned to speak.

“Love,” Liu Mingyan continues in a lilting tone, answering her own question. “Only love could drive a person to such lengths.”

With that, Liu Mingyan departs as quickly as she arrived, leaving behind a lingering floral fragrance, her soft pink and lilac robes fluttering in her wake. Shen Yuan watches her retreating back, a sense of wonder and confusion swirling within him.

First, he’s told it’s Shen Qingqiu; now the motivation is love!? Shen Yuan wants to bang his head on the desk. That’s even more illogical! The only reason he can think of for summoning Shen Qingqiu is so that Luo Binghe can have his revenge all over again. Hasn’t the black-bellied protagonist had his fill of that?

As for love—really? It’s not like Luo Binghe is lacking in that department! The man literally has hundreds of wives who adore and worship him. As if Luo Binghe will stoop to begging for someone’s affections—anyone the Emperor wants in his heart falls for him and opens their bosoms (and legs) of their own accord without fail. It’s just the rule of this world!

Unscientific!!!

He shakes his head, dismissing the wild theories proposed by Zhao Jiahao and Liu Mingyan. Surely, Luo Binghe must have a worthier person to summon, and he wouldn’t do it for such a trivial thing as romance. Romance that he doesn’t even need in the first place as the man is drowning in wives and lovers right here in the harem, available at any time.

They gather their notes and leave the library. Zhao Jiahao escorts him to Shen Yuan’s room before they part for the evening. He pauses at the doorway and asks, “Is Shen Yuan planning any excursions outside the palace grounds in the next few weeks?”

“Hm? No,” Shen Yuan replies. He’s still technically Luo Binghe’s prisoner, and his Master has yet to invite him to explore the world beyond the palace walls.

Zhao Jiahao hands Shen Yuan the library books he had been carrying for him. “That’s a good thing. I heard there’s some…unrest in a few of the territories. It’s better for you to stay at the palace to keep safe.”

Well, it’s not like Shen Yuan has much of a choice in the matter.

The two friends bid each other goodnight, and Shen Yuan retreats to his bedroom.

A few weeks later, Shen Yuan is combing Luo Binghe’s hair for the night when the Demon Lord makes an announcement.

“This Lord will travel to the Far Western Territories from tomorrow and will be away for about a week. Shen Yuan will be relieved of his duties during that time.”

Shen Yuan’s curiosity is piqued. The Far Western Territories was the most intriguing locale Airplane wrote about in his novel. He’d always wished that the author expanded more on the exotic flora and fauna of the region instead of relegating them to a throwaway papapa plot device. Not to mention, Zhao Jiahao was from around those parts and often spoke of magical plants and creatures endemic to the area that Shen Yuan would break a leg to see.

“C-can I go with you?” he asks.

“No,” Luo Binghe replies immediately, face impassive on the bronze mirror.

“Please?” Shen Yuan tries again. “I promise I won’t get in your way.”

“That place is dangerous. Shen Yuan will only be a liability.”

“I can defend myself! You’ve seen me fight.”

Luo Binghe gives him a stern look. “Those gimmicks of yours won’t suffice. No means no,” he says with finality.

It stings, knowing how Luo Binghe still sees him as useless baggage despite all of Shen Yuan’s efforts to prove the contrary. He may not be as strong or OP as the Protagonist, but he’s quite capable of looking out for himself! Shen Yuan huffs out a frustrated sigh and quickly finishes his tasks for the night.

Deep in the bowels of the palace dungeons, Zhao Ming hunches in the shadows, sleeves pulled back and eyes trained to the underside of his forearm, his back to the prison bars.

He feels a telltale heat on the skin just below his wrist. Faint slivers of light emerge on his forearm from where the heat touches it, slowly forming characters that glow in the darkness of his cell before disappearing:

In three days’ time.

A clandestine message from his son. Zhao Ming’s shoulders slump down in a sigh of relief. For the first time since he was thrown into this hellhole, the crushing feeling of despair has been replaced by a ray of hope. All thanks to that young man Shen Yuan who allowed him the opportunity to see Jiahao. At the same time, he feels a pang of guilt, knowing that the innocent victim of the summoning circle he designed is now the one inadvertently helping him and his family.

When Luo Binghe appeared at the Sorcerer Clan’s encampment in the Far Western Territories nearly a year ago, Zhao Ming had been wary of the Emperor’s intentions but kept things civil. Having witnessed how quickly the neighboring regions were razed and subjugated by the demonic conqueror’s army, he was painfully aware of how outpowered and outnumbered their clan was against the invaders. Cooperating with the Conqueror of the Three Realms had been the best course of action to protect his tribe.

Luo Binghe, having heard about their clan’s proficiency in the mystic arts, had approached Zhao Ming asking for help in summoning a person.

“So the Emperor wishes to bring back Shen Qingqiu from the dead?” Zhao Ming asked to confirm his request.

“Do not be mistaken,” came Luo Binghe’s steely reply. “This Lord does not wish to raise a corpse back to life. The Shen Qingqiu I want is not my former teacher, and neither is he from this world. He is someone whom this Lord has encountered...in a mirror dimension.”

Luo Binghe’s claim sent a frisson of shock and dread through Zhao Ming’s spine, but he did his best to keep a calm demeanor. The Emperor wanted a specific Shen Qingqiu… One that differed from the man he had murdered with his own hands? Truly, Zhao Ming would have far preferred it if the Emperor had asked him to perform necromancy. Summoning the deceased is a far simpler affair than crossing dimensions and plucking a person’s living body and soul from their plane of existence.

“It would help us greatly if Your Highness could provide some clues that could pinpoint the Shen Qingqiu he seeks,” Zhao Ming said.

Luo Binghe then handed him a set of tattered disciple robes and invited him and a few other sorcerers to the dream realm to share a patchwork of memories from that other world.

“This is very little material to work with,” Zhao Ming said honestly. “But the Sorcerer Clan will do its best,” he quickly added, before Luo Binghe could fly in a fit of rage.

Zhao Ming only knew of two instances of interdimensional travel from the Sorcerer Clan’s long history. One case was a portal opening to the underworld where it was said the keeper of worlds and fates dwells, and another was through the use of a summoning circle to bring back extinct beasts and long-lost relics from another dimension.

Of the two, the summoning circle had the greatest chance of success. Their ancestor who used the portal to the underworld had gone through it and never returned, so there was no assurance that they had been successful in their goal.

Regardless, either of the two methods required a staggering amount of qi and resources to work.

Zhao Ming and his team of sorcerers were stupefied when they worked out the calculations for the summoning spell. They were expecting a high toll, but not to the extent of their summations.

“My Lord, the summoning spell requires months to years of concentrated effort and resources the Sorcerer Clan is incapable of providing,” Zhao Ming reported. Once he outlined the cost and strain the spell would entail, surely Luo Binghe would think twice about the project?

They had recomputed again and again, but the answer was the same every time: the Shen Qingqiu that Luo Binghe wanted carried a summoning price that could bankrupt an entire country several times over.

Unfortunately, Luo Binghe could not be easily dissuaded. “Then it would be best for the Sorcerer Clan to move to the capital and make the imperial palace their base of operations,” he declared.

Zhao Ming bowed his head. “Yes, My Lord.” It’s not like their clan had the luxury of refusing the Emperor’s request.

Fearing the worst, Zhao Ming decided to plant himself some insurance. He opened a portal to a hidden pocket realm, the Sorcerer Clan’s original homeland only known and accessible through a spell known by the current head of the clan. From there he took some potentially useful plants such as the Purple-tongued Beanshooter, Cherry Bomb and other rare mystical flora.

In truth, Zhao Ming’s predecessor had reiterated time and again that the pocket realm was a holy place that should not be touched at all costs, but Zhao Ming was desperate. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to bend the rules a little for the sake of their clan?

He also called forth the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake, a creature native to the pocket realm, hoping to use its horn to store massive amounts of qi that could be used as offensive in the event his family needed to escape. Furthermore, at Luo Binghe’s estate on the edge of the Southern Forest, he buried Suncatcher seeds alongside the God-killing Dagger of Sorrow, a relic passed down from one head of the clan to the next over generations.

Unfortunately, tragedy struck before Zhao Ming could complete his plans. During the interminable period of his incarceration, Zhao Ming had despaired of ever seeing his family again. Which was why Zhao Jiahao’s visit to his prison cell was nothing short of a miracle—in the scant hours that father and son were together, they managed to stealthily cast a communication spell under the watchful eyes of armed guards. He can now relay strategies and issue orders all while imprisoned.

Back at the prison, Zhao Ming brings a sharpened fingernail to the underside of his forearm and traces a single word, scratching the skin just enough to draw blood.

Proceed.

The strokes burn away in little pinpricks of light, signaling the receipt of his message. Zhao Ming furtively covers up his sleeve and resumes his lonely vigil.

They need to stop Luo Binghe before he destroys their clan and the rest of the world, all for his futile quest.

What Luo Binghe’s intentions are with the other world’s Shen Qingqiu, Zhao Ming doesn’t know. However, only one thing is certain:

Luo Binghe has gone mad.

Chapter 7: ⛰️ Playing Hero

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe leaves for the Far Western Territories the next day, trailed by a caravan and a small contingent of soldiers.

Shen Yuan prowls behind the tall ornamental bushes decorating the palace gates, carefully observing the comings and goings of the carriages and caravans transporting soldiers and supplies for Luo Binghe’s army. Once he gets a general idea of who and what goes where, he slinks to the back of the caravan and stealthily slips into one of the enclosed wagons carrying grain.

Nobody notices him.

Look, Luo Binghe just gave Shen Yuan a week-long break! f*ck if he was going to waste the opportunity and stay cooped up in one place! It’s high time Shen Yuan got a vacation to see the world of PIDW beyond the stuffy palace walls, no matter what his killjoy of a Master says!

He’ll just hitch a ride with the rest of the caravan and be back at the palace in time for the Emperor’s return, and Luo Binghe will be none the wiser.

Satisfied with his plan, Shen Yuan settles into the cramped space, bags of flour and grain surrounding him. Presently, the wagon lurches as the caravan departs. In the dark, the only light seeps through the wagon’s loose canvas flap that rocks and sways to the bumps on the road and the stray breeze. After about an hour’s journey, Shen Yuan is tempted to peer through the flap but wisely stops himself. He doesn’t want to get caught so early on his tour.

The journey is uneventful. Sprightly demonic horses pull the caravan, trotting along at a tremendous speed. Late into the night of the third day, the wagon stops and Shen Yuan hears people outside talking about setting up an encampment. They must have reached their destination, then. He finally dares to take a peek through the flap to survey his surroundings. When he’s sure that no one else is around, he jumps away from the wagon and dashes into a nearby copse of trees.

He sprints away from the caravan, pushing towards the direction of a nearby mountain until he reaches a small, secluded clearing. Satisfied that he has put sufficient distance between himself and Luo Binghe’s party, he collapses, panting, into a heap on the grass.

In the middle of the clearing, Shen Yuan breathes deep lungfuls of air as he lays on his back and gazes up at the night sky. The grass beneath him is soft and pillowy, the air crisp and clean, the sky strewn with stars. Here at the edges of Luo Binghe’s domain, the merger of the realms is only partially complete. Red, orange, and purple-hued clouds slowly creep across the dark starry sky like the bloom of an ink wash in a watercolor painting, in contrast to the more prominently reddish-purple night sky back at the heart of Luo Binghe’s territory.

It’s so beautiful… Shen Yuan thinks, transfixed by the sight above and around him. Finally, he’s out here in the pure, unadulterated world of PIDW!

Shen Yuan leaves the clearing before dawn breaks. He finds himself at the foot of a mountain and explores around it. Presently, he stumbles upon a curious-looking cave and goes inside to take a look. Bioluminescent plants cling to the cave walls, faintly lighting the way. The bluish glow from the plants isn’t bright, but Shen Yuan’s eyes have adjusted to the dim light so he doesn’t feel the need to fire up a torch. The cave leads deeper into the mountain.

After a few minutes of walking, Shen Yuan arrives at a forked path. Does he go left or right? Now this is a real adventure experience! Giddy with excitement, he takes out a piece of cinnabar from his qiankun pouch to mark an “S” on the cave wall and takes the path to the left. He encounters a few more junctions where the road splits into three or more separate directions, and for each choice he makes, he marks his trail with cinnabar.

The winding and twisting path takes him deeper and deeper into the mountain until he finds himself in a cavernous space. Here, the vegetation is thicker, the bioluminescent plants so abundant that their glow lights up the whole cavern. It allows Shen Yuan a clear view of his surroundings. Despite being cut off from all sunlight, the place is lush as a meadow, the green lichen soft beneath his feet, the flowers and plants on the cave floor illuminating the space with their ethereal glow.

Shen Yuan looks up at the ceiling, an awed “Whoaaaa…” escaping his lips. The roof of the cave extends high as a cathedral, with scaly stalactites hanging from the stony roof, some of them encrusted with glittering stones. A few stray vines cling to the ceiling, their leaves shimmering and sparkling like a chandelier. Further into the cave, light bounces from the surface of a natural underground pool like a mirror.

Settling himself beside a large Snowdrop Lantern Plant, Shen Yuan takes out his scroll and brush and begins to sketch.

Shen Yuan is busy digging up a bioluminescent plant to transplant it for later repotting when he hears a strange noise.

He’d been working in silence for the past several hours, barely stopping to eat or drink, so the noise took him off-guard. It sounded strangely like…a human cry? Curious, he walks towards the direction of the noise. It seems to be coming from a small opening on one side of the cavern.

As he approaches the opening, he hears another noise, this time one that definitely sounds like a cough. “Hello? Is anybody there?” he calls out, but the wind rushing out of the crevice carries the echo of his voice away. He contemplates going inside to investigate, but hesitates.

Entering the opening could be dangerous, but what if somebody was lost or needed help in there? He spends a few minutes waffling by the tunnel entrance then hears another cough, fainter this time. Worry and curiosity win out over trepidation and he slips into the opening, carrying a few stalks of Snowdrop Lanterns to light the way and a Cherry Bomb hanging on his belt in case he needs to defend himself. The tunnel’s walls close in on him, and he soon finds himself needing to crawl on all fours. He keeps hearing the occasional cough or shuffling noise and that gives him the motivation to continue trudging along.

He eventually makes it to the end of the long tunnel, but the exit is so narrow Shen Yuan has to shimmy and slide to get out. It deposits him at another cavern, smaller than the one he’d been in previously. Stalactites and stalagmites litter the floor and ceiling, more than a few of them meeting halfway through and creating a sort of maze-like corridor. Here, the strange bioluminescent moss grows thicker and denser, subtly shimmering in hues of purple.

The shuffling sounds echo clearer as they bounce off stone and Shen Yuan sets off in their direction, taking care to tread carefully so as not to alert the other person of his presence. He may have come all the way down here out of concern, but he’s still not suicidal enough to announce his arrival to what could be a dangerous enemy! Gripping a Cherry Bomb in one hand and his Snowdrop Lanterns in the other, he rounds a corner and stops dead in his tracks.

A large man sits sprawled on the cave floor, dark blood flowing from his open wounds and seeping into his robes. Even in his injured state he exudes a menacing and imposing aura. Long, dark wavy tresses obscure most of the man’s face, but Shen Yuan would know this person anywhere—

“Luo Binghe!?” he cries out, rushing to where the Emperor is slumped on the floor.

Before he could get closer, Luo Binghe thrusts Xin Mo towards him, missing Shen Yuan’s neck by a hair. Shen Yuan freezes. “Who are you!?” Luo Binghe growls.

“It’s me, Shen Yuan! Your personal nann—attendant!” Shen Yuan squeaks, bringing the Snowdrop Lanterns close to his face so Luo Binghe can get a good look.

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow. “My personal attendant is back at the palace. Show your true self!”

What, does Luo Binghe think he’s some shapeshifting demon!? “I swear it’s really me!” Shen Yuan cries out. How can he convince Luo Binghe? Thinking on his feet, he pulls out a talisman and the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake horn from his qiankun pouch. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Shen Yuan charges himself with qi as he holds the talisman in Luo Binghe’s direction. In the next moment, the talisman dissolves into a small jet of water that sprays Luo Binghe in the face.

“Shen Yuan…?” Luo Binghe says in an astonished tone as water drips from his hairline. He drops Xin Mo. “What are you doing here?”

Shen Yuan breathes out a sigh of relief and steps closer to Luo Binghe. “First things first,” he says as he crouches down to be at eye level with the injured Emperor and fishes out a hand towel from his qiankun pouch. He carefully wipes the wetness on Luo Binghe’s face and scalp. Luo Binghe goes rigid, but remains quiet.

When Shen Yuan deems Luo Binghe sufficiently dry, he helps him take off his tattered upper garments and takes stock of his injuries. Deep gashes crisscross Luo Binghe’s chest and back, many of them still oozing blood. There’s one deep puncture wound at Luo Binghe’s side that seems to be causing him the most pain.

“Aiyah, who could have done this to you?” Shen Yuan mutters as he dabs at the blood. At this point in the narrative, Luo Binghe should be practically invincible! What sort of enemy could be powerful enough to reduce the Emperor of the Combined Realms into such a sorry state? Shen Yuan gropes around inside his qiankun pouch for the medical kit he’s sure Zhao Jiahao had stashed in there.

Luo Binghe remains silent, his mouth set in a grim line. Finally, he says, “Shen Yuan still hasn’t answered this Lord’s question.”

“Ahhhh—oh, you mean why I’m here?” Shen Yuan says as he takes out a roll of gauze. “Uhmm, well… I thought it would be nice to go out on a stroll for a breath of fresh air…” he says, not meeting Luo Binghe’s eyes.

“…thousands of li from the palace?” Luo Binghe deadpans.

“I hitched a ride on one of the carts!” Shen Yuan says. He’s already been busted so may as well come clean.

“Yet again, Shen Yuan defied this Lord’s orders to stay put.”

Shen Yuan’s brow scrunches up. “It’s my week off—I’m going where I damn well please!” He presses ointment onto an open wound with a little more force than necessary. Luo Binghe winces, but his grimace of pain is gone so quickly as to be almost imperceptible. Shen Yuan dabs at the wound again, this time more gently, and covers it with a gauze bandage. He heaves out a sigh and continues, “Let’s just be thankful that I’m here, okay?”

Luo Binghe remains silent as Shen Yuan works on cleaning up and bandaging the remaining gashes. However, a thought nags at Shen Yuan. “Why don’t you use Xin Mo to teleport away from here, get patched up and call for reinforcements?”

Luo Binghe’s gaze falls to the demonic sword lying at his side on the ground. “Xin Mo…is temporarily out of service,” he says through gritted teeth.

Shen Yuan nearly bowls over. The Protagonist’s golden finger, out of commission!? What’s next? Liu Qingge coming back to life and Luo Binghe announcing his engagement to the scum villain? But before he can ask further questions, they hear the clopping of booted feet—an army of them from the sound of it—entering the cavern.

Luo Binghe co*cks his head towards the noise, his face hardening. “Rebel forces,” he says, voice carefully low as he holds Xin Mo’s hilt in a white-knuckled grip. “Shen Yuan should escape while he still can.”

sh*t, Shen Yuan thinks. Is Luo Binghe being hunted down? Is that why he’s injured? He hurriedly packs up the medical kit and slings a supporting arm around Luo Binghe’s waist. He moves to get up. As he does so, Luo Binghe snarls, “What are you doing!?”

Shen Yuan shoots Luo Binghe an incredulous look. “Escaping, like you said?”

“…Leave this Lord be. Shen Yuan has a better chance of escaping alone.”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. You’re coming with me.”

Stubbornly, Luo Binghe refuses to cooperate. “This Lord can handle this by himself.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Shen Yuan hisses.

Luo Binghe’s protest is cut off as the sound of footsteps draws nearer. “There’s a blood trail here!” A voice shouts.

Shen Yuan ignores the belligerent Protagonist’s protests and herds him, an arm still slung across his waist. They both hurriedly stumble through a shaft going the opposite direction of the voices. The passage winds and twists like a maze and Shen Yuan has no idea where they’re going, but he keeps trudging forward, heart in his throat.

Sounds of dogs barking bounce off the walls. Bloodhounds? Someone bellows, “On his scent! He won’t escape!”

f*ck, how are they going to lose a pack of hunting dogs? Shen Yuan wills his legs to go faster.

They reach several forks in the tunnel. Shen Yuan chooses blindly, left, right, left, left, right, right… anything to lose their pursuers’ tail. Shen Yuan has never run so fast and for so long in his life.

The footsteps and barking close in. If this were a thriller movie, 10/10 Shen Yuan would be gnawing on his fingernails.

“Found the Demon Emperor! He’s with someone!” Someone shouts from behind. Shen Yuan risks a glance backwards and sees armored men fill the other end of the passage, their swords drawn.

Haha, the only way this chasing scene could get more cliché is if Shen Yuan suddenly trips on a rock from nowhere.

A projectile whizzes by, narrowly missing Shen Yuan’s face. With a bang, it hits a stalagmite ahead of them, smashing it to smithereens.

Rubble from the crushed stalagmite tumbles at their feet. Shen Yuan trips on one of the stones rolling on the ground. Shouting a curse, he crashes to the floor, bringing Luo Binghe down with him.

I triggered that death flag. f*ck this sh*t!!!

Before Shen Yuan could get his bearings, Luo Binghe abruptly extricates himself from his attendant’s hold and stands up by himself. He turns to face the rebels, the inert Xin Mo clutched in a death grip. “Go. This Lord will manage this,” he says, eyes trained on the approaching men. He doesn’t spare a glance at his companion still sprawled on the floor.

The rebel forces continue streaming through the narrow passage, quickly gaining ground. The sounds of heavy boots clacking and of dogs yapping ricochet off the stone corridor. Heart in his throat and pulse thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings, Shen Yuan weighs his options.

Luo Binghe’s offer is enticing. If Shen Yuan is captured, he will likely be tortured then killed like the cannon fodder he is. Luo Binghe with his Protagonist armor might be roughed up a bit (adds to the drama!) but ultimately come out unscathed.

If Shen Yuan runs and leaves Luo Binghe behind, Luo Binghe will buy him time to escape. Shen Yuan is surprisingly nimble, and the cave has many small, hidden crevices he can hide in to lose their attackers.

“Shen Yuan. This Lord orders you to go!” Luo Binghe barks out, snapping Shen Yuan from his reverie. Only a few meters separate them from their pursuers.

Shen Yuan finally gets up, legs shaky from shock and adrenaline.

Look, it’s not that Shen Yuan thinks Luo Binghe would lose against the rebels. The Protagonist has faced worse odds, against fiercer and more dangerous opponents in the Endless Abyss. Luo Binghe may have been (temporarily) dismembered, or his skin torn to shreds, or faced all sorts of unimaginable agony both physical and mental, but he always prevailed in the end. That’s how the narrative works.

But as Shen Yuan looks at the grim yet determined set of Luo Binghe’s brow and his strained face from what looks to be a combination of pain from his wounds and exhaustion, he finds himself…unable to bear it.

Hasn’t the Protagonist suffered enough!? There’s no need to flog a tired horse, okay!?

Coming to a decision, he hardens his heart, tugs at the Cherry Bomb hanging from his belt, and flings it towards the advancing men. At the same time, he grabs Luo Binghe’s arm to drag the Emperor with him deeper into the tunnel. The Cherry Bomb detonates with a loud bang, stirring up clouds of dust and shaking the length of the stone passage. They hear panicked shouts as parts of the tunnel’s walls and ceiling crumble and collapse over the rebels.

There goes Shen Yuan’s spotless criminal record…

Shen Yuan flings another Cherry Bomb behind him for good measure. Eh, after manslaughter, what’s another felony or two? Another tremendous explosion, and this time, rocks and stalactites start raining over their heads. One of the crashing spear-like stone formations almost pierces Shen Yuan before Luo Binghe manages to pull him back at the last second. They dodge the falling stalactite and keep running straight ahead without pause.

A few rebels emerge from the rubble and stay in hot pursuit. A shout: “Don’t let them get away!” Shen Yuan barely manages dodging another projectile as he and Luo Binghe sprint for their lives.

It seems the Cherry Bombs significantly thinned out the enemy, but the remaining pursuers with their bloodhounds are relentless. Shen Yuan can almost swear he feels the shadow of a dog’s bite snapping at his heels.

How long will his adrenaline-fueled burst of speed hold? Shen Yuan's chest feels like it's about to explode. They need to lose their attackers, and none too soon.

Not wanting to make the entire mountain fall over their heads, Shen Yuan forgoes the Cherry Bombs and instead fishes out a couple of talismans from his qiankun pouch. “Close your eyes and cover your ears!” he tells Luo Binghe. Charging himself with qi from the horn of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake strapped to his hip, he flings the talismans in the direction of their pursuers. The tunnel is narrow enough that Shen Yuan doesn’t have to worry about his aim. A large jet of water gushes forth, immediately followed by a blinding crackle of electricity.

As human screams and animal howls of electrocution recede in the distance, they hear a confused shout of “How is he able to use qi!?”

Shen Yuan sure hopes PETA doesn’t exist in PIDW…animal rights activists tend to go rabid about canceling people over injured dogs.

Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe sprint away without looking back. After what seems like hours of frantic running, they’re finally confident that they’ve lost their attackers. Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe both slump against the bumpy wall, trying to catch their breaths. The cool, soft, purple moss cushioning their backs is a welcome relief from the hard stone.

Shen Yuan takes a peek at his companion. Luo Binghe pants heavily from exertion, his face sheet-white and contorted into a grimace. Blood seeps through the gauze bandage that Shen Yuan had previously applied on Luo Binghe’s side. The puncture wound there had been particularly deep.

Luo Binghe coughs, then spits out a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red on his cheek.

“A-are you okay?” Shen Yuan frowns.

Luo Binghe closes his eyes and pauses, seemingly trying to calm down by breathing through his nose. “The rebels’ blades were poisoned,” he says, sounding strained.

Cold dread sinks into Shen Yuan’s gut. The way Luo Binghe is acting isn’t normal. The Protagonist shouldn’t be this affected by a few cannon-fodder human villains. “Aren’t Heavenly Demons immune to poisons…?”

“Shen Yuan…ever since I entered this mountain, my qi has been cut off,” Luo Binghe heaves out a tired sigh. He slowly slides from the wall to slump on the ground. “Spiritual and demonic, both.”

Shen Yuan gasps. So that explains the sorry state Shen Yuan found the Protagonist in. And the inert Xin Mo. The Protagonist without his golden finger, without his cultivation, without his Heavenly Demon blood. Even his demonic sigil has lost its radiance and looks more like a dull and faded face tattoo.

Luo Binghe reduced to a mere mortal—how the f*ck is it possible!? Are they even in PIDW?? Make it make sense!

Shen Yuan spies at Luo Binghe again. The Protagonist’s eyes remain closed as he sits on the floor and tips his head back against the wall. Even with his face pale as a ghost and sweat beading on his brow, he looks like the picture of a tragic hero aesthetically ravaged by consumption rather than a haggard fugitive.

Without the healing properties of Heavenly Demon blood, Luo Binghe must be feeling the full brunt of his injuries. The poison in his veins should be affecting his organs by now, exacerbating his condition.

Oh gods, is the Protagonist going to die!?

Not on Shen Yuan’s watch! “We should get you healed first…” Shen Yuan says as he crouches down beside Luo Binghe. “I have extra qi available in the horn—could we use that to flush the poison out, at least?”

Luo Binghe meets Shen Yuan’s eyes and nods. He instructs Shen Yuan how to direct the qi to flush out Luo Binghe’s poisoned meridians. The qi circuits first through Shen Yuan’s veins before channeling into Luo Binghe’s. Shen Yuan thinks it’s like navigating a river with many branching streams. He rows his boat, finds the stream or riverbank that needs attention, then wills the qi to flow from the horn. Presently, Luo Binghe’s pallid cheeks begin to regain color.

“It’s strange…Shen Yuan is able to manipulate qi, while any qi this Lord produces in his body is quickly drained like a water keg with a hole in it,” Luo Binghe says, looking pensive. He strokes Xin Mo’s hilt with his thumb. “The rebels also seemed surprised that Shen Yuan was able to use qi for his talismans.”

Strange, indeed…Luo Binghe had said that his problem started ever since he entered the mountain. In contrast, Shen Yuan has never felt any different since going in. He observes the cave walls surrounding them, trying to search for a clue. The purple-colored moss dotting the cave glow softly, bathing the space with an eerie light.

Shen Yuan reaches out a free hand to touch the soft purple moss growing on the cave wall and brings his face closer for a better look. Upon inspection, he realizes that the moss is actually of two different colors: pink and blue.

Realization hits Shen Yuan like a bolt of thunder. These two species of moss… the Blue and Pink Qi Devouring Lichen, were the very same plants he had written a lengthy tirade about in PIDW’s comment section! The moss had appeared in a special worldbuilding extra released by Airplane and stuck to Shen Yuan’s mind for a very important reason: the Blue Qi Devouring Lichen absorbs any and all sentient demonic qi within a 3-meter radius, while its Pink counterpart does the same but for sentient spiritual qi.

With the two species of moss combined, wouldn’t they be a game-changing and game-breaking addition to PIDW-lore? In fact, the plants would make a perfect offensive against Luo Binghe’s demonic and spiritual qi!

Shen Yuan had expected a riveting chapter detailing how Luo Binghe would cope with an unprecedented challenge. With such a major handicap, how will the Protagonist prevail? But in the end, the OP plants were mentioned only once in a chapter extra about a hidden mystical realm, then never heard of again. Luo Binghe himself did not appear in that extra, so why mention such amazingly game-breaking plants without making use of them and forgetting their existence in the next chapter!?

A single patch of Blue or Pink Qi Devouring Lichen would not be enough to drain a demon or cultivator of qi. However, the interior of the mountain is overrun with them. Pink and blue moss cover the tunnel and cave walls to the ceiling, with some patches even dotting the ground they walk on. No wonder Luo Binghe’s qi is depleted. The entire mountain is one massive qi-draining complex!

Shen Yuan explains his discovery to Luo Binghe as he brings his focus back on healing the Protagonist’s injuries. “The Qi Devouring Lichen only reacts to sentient qi. The qi in the horn isn’t sentient, and I don’t produce my own qi since I’m a squib. That’s probably why I can use qi here and you can’t,” he says.

“A squib…?” Luo Binghe raises an eyebrow.

Shen Yuan scratches his cheek with a finger. “Ah…just a term from my hometown that means a person with no magical, err…spiritual ability.” He inspects the deepest stab wound, which is now almost fully closed. “I think that’s enough for now. Do you think you can manage? The qi in the horn is almost depleted.” Topping up the horn with qi from the Suncatchers is painstaking work, and the horn wasn’t even a quarter full when Shen Yuan brought it out with him so he didn’t have a lot of qi reserves in the first place.

Luo Binghe stands up and stretches his arms over his head. “Yes, this Lord feels much better now.” A pause. “Good work, Shen Yuan.”

They resume advancing through the tunnels, senses alert for any enemy movement. After a while, Shen Yuan notices a red S mark on the wall, the same one he had previously left using cinnabar. “This should show us the way out!” he says, excited at the prospect of leaving this qi-draining mountain of death.

Luo Binghe doesn’t share the same enthusiasm. “The rebels should be guarding all exits from the mountain. Once we resurface, we will be hunted like sitting ducks.”

“Ahhh, you’re right,” Shen Yuan says, deflated. “How can we escape, then?”

“This Lord would like to find a spot with as little of the qi-draining lichen as possible and try cultivating to regain some qi back.”

Shen Yuan’s face lights up. “I think I know just the place!” He leads the way, tracing a path opposite to the S markings until they arrive at the cavernous expanse teeming with vegetation that Shen Yuan had discovered earlier. Indeed, here the purple moss is much thinner, crowded out by the different kinds of flora scattered across the landscape.

After securing the entrance and exit with traps and tripwires to alert them of any approaching enemies, Luo Binghe finds a spot at the middle of the cavern far from any qi-draining moss and settles himself into a meditative lotus position.

The Protagonist will likely take some time to recharge, so in the meantime Shen Yuan busies himself with walking the perimeter of the underground pool and cataloging the plants he missed previously, munching on the snacks Zhao Jiahao had packed into his qiankun pouch for emergencies.

After hours pass, Shen Yuan grows bored. He settles a few paces away from Luo Binghe and watches the Protagonist who remains deep in meditation, eyes closed. The Protagonist's face, now smoothed into a placid calm, takes on a boyish, almost pure and innocent appearance: soft and harmless as a lamb.

What would Luo Binghe have looked like as a young disciple? Back at his apartment in the waking world, Shen Yuan collected all official merch of Binghe White Lotus version and displayed them in a place of honor on his shelf. However, Shen Yuan is certain that the real deal would have put all those artistic depictions to shame.

Luo Binghe slowly blinks his eyes open. Shen Yuan feels his cheeks heat at having been caught staring.

“When the rebels came…why didn’t Shen Yuan leave when he was ordered to?” Luo Binghe asks as he meets Shen Yuan’s eyes. He doesn’t get up from his sitting lotus position.

“You were hurt! No way I was going to leave you alone out there!” Shen Yuan averts his gaze as he fidgets with his sleeve.

“Shen Yuan unnecessarily put himself in harm’s way trying to assist this Lord. Assistance which this Lord did not need in the first place,” Luo Binghe says, voice stern. His eyes narrow. “What’s in it for him?”

Mr. Protagonist, you literally had a hole in your stomach! He talks big, but Shen Yuan had seen first-hand how severely nerfed he was! Shen Yuan stops fidgeting to gape back. “Look, is it so hard to believe that I just…don’t want you to suffer?”

A pause. Luo Binghe’s eyes widen a fraction. He gives Shen Yuan a considering look, like one might an interesting bug. “What was Shen Yuan doing before he came upon this Lord?”

“As I told you before…I was just exploring…”

Luo Binghe brings up a hand to gesture at the cavern, his voice steady and deliberate. “The entirety of this mountain was meticulously rigged to target my weakness. This was not the work of amateur rebels but rather a concentrated and deliberate effort spanning weeks or months.” He drops the hand, and looks at Shen Yuan in a way that is neither hostile nor friendly. “This Lord merely finds it intriguing that Shen Yuan is so knowledgeable about the mountain and the mechanisms of the rare plants growing in it.”

What, does Luo Binghe suspect him of somehow having a hand in the ambush!? Like some sort of criminal mastermind!? It’s almost flattering. “You know as well as I do that this is the first time I stepped out of the palace! I told you before, right? I know a lot about this world, hidden lore and all!” Shen Yuan says, indignant.

“How? Is Shen Yuan a scholar?” Luo Binghe prods.

“Not a scholar per se…” Unless you count authoring 90% of the PIDW wiki as an academic endeavor. “But I like exploring and learning about this place as much as I can…” Shen Yuan’s eyes light up with unbridled wonder and excitement as he stands up and waves a hand at their surroundings.

“Look around! Isn’t this world amazing?” Shen Yuan’s gaze sweeps through the gem-encrusted stalactites, to the chandelier-like vines hanging from the ceiling, to the field aglow in soft blue and green tones, before finally settling on Luo Binghe. “Isn’t it the most beautiful thing?” He says, breaking into a wide smile.

Luo Binghe stays silent but holds his gaze for a long moment, face neutral. The staring contest goes on long enough that Shen Yuan begins to fidget at his robes and feels his ears burn. In a desperate bid to break the tension, Shen Yuan takes out a pineapple bun from his qiankun pouch and shoves it in Luo Binghe’s face.

“Here. Looks like you could use it,” Shen Yuan says. Who knows when was the last time Luo Binghe had a meal since he entered this mountain of death. “I got it from the Palace kitchens. It’s good!”

Luo Binghe takes the offered sweetened bun and bites into it. His expression visibly softens as the sugar melts on his tongue. Shen Yuan hands him a flask of water and another bun, which Luo Binghe accepts without protest.

Feeling bolder, and with nothing else to fill the silence, Shen Yuan deigns to ask, “How’s it like, being an Emperor?”

Luo Binghe continues eating and doesn’t seem to acknowledge the question. For a nerve-wracking moment, Shen Yuan thinks he made a grave mistake and that Luo Binghe is snubbing him. However, the Emperor eventually answers, “…Troublesome.”

Hm. Not that surprising. Shen Yuan doesn’t envy the workload and surprise assassination attempts. “Even if it gives you trouble, do you…enjoy it? Ruling over the three realms?” Shen Yuan can’t help but prod.

This time, Luo Binghe gives him a sideways glance. “Shen Yuan, governing is not something this Lord does for fun.”

Shen Yuan tilts his head and gives Luo Binghe a thoughtful look. “If you had a choice, would you still do it?”

Luo Binghe slowly shakes his head. “What is the sense of talking about hypotheticals? What is important is the here and now. This Lord has an empire to run—it’s not a matter of choice or want.”

But Shen Yuan has found an opening and doesn’t want to let go. This is his chance to ask his burning questions! “Just treat it like a game!,” he says, waving his hand around. “If you could walk away from your current life and didn’t have to be Emperor or a Heavenly Demon, and could just be a normal guy, what would you like to do?”

Shen Yuan had always wondered what Luo Binghe would have been like if he had entered another Peak or cultivation sect. He would have been recognized as a genius, received a first-class education and become a top cultivator of his generation. Maybe his demonic nature would have been repressed for longer, if not for life. Of course, with his dashingly good looks and debonair moves, he would leave a trail of broken hearts among the Peaks, if not the entire jianghu. Maybe he would live in the capital, or become a traveling cultivator. He would still have multiple wives, but with a cultivator’s salary, his spouses would not reach near the digits afforded by an Emperor.

Shen Yuan is busy imagining this relatively mundane yet still spectacular life for the Protagonist when Luo Binghe’s next words catch him off-guard.

“Supposing that this Lord…that I…could choose to redo my life,” Luo Binghe begins, sounding careful and strangely vulnerable, “I’d live in a small, quiet bamboo cottage in the mountains. I would raise sheep, maybe run a modest food stall at a nearby village.”

The hardcore Protagonist dreams of a cottagecore fantasy!? Shen Yuan reels and his eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. He grasps a nearby outcrop of rock to steady himself.

Luo Binghe’s gaze shifts, past the glowing rushes, past the shimmering underground pool, all the way to the dark and jagged stone wall. “When I go home in the evening, I have a special someone waiting for me. I cook for us and we eat dinner together, talk and laugh until late into the night, then tuck each other to bed,” he says, as if tracing the memory of a faraway dream. “We have petty fights sometimes, but in the end we forgive and indulge one another.”

The corners of Luo Binghe’s lips curve into a small smile, but to Shen Yuan it seems sad and bitter. Luo Binghe continues, voice tinged with melancholy, “We stick to each other through the good times and the bad. And wherever I go, they’re always beside me.”

For a while, Shen Yuan is left speechless. No aspirations of glory and grandeur, not even a harem of wives, but a singular “special someone.” Is this really the Protagonist’s deepest hope and dream?

That forlorn look, that strangely bitter smile… Shen Yuan has seen those on Luo Binghe before. Whenever Luo Binghe came back from a meeting with the Court Sorcerers about the summoning spell, and while Shen Yuan was handling that mangled braid. He knows he shouldn’t pry, but the thought of it buzzes around his brain like a persistent fly.

He blurts out, “That person you want to go home to… Are they who you want to summon into this world?”

Luo Binghe drops his gaze into the distance, ducking his head to stare at the hands on his lap. He doesn’t reply, but Shen Yuan sees him clench his fists into his robes.

Uh-oh, was that the wrong question to ask? Shen Yuan is sorry, Mr. Protagonist! Please don’t sic him or anything!

The Protagonist finally ends his brooding. He stands up, dusts his robes and says, “This Lord’s qi should be sufficiently replenished by now. Let’s get out of this mountain as quickly as possible.”

They emerge from the cavern, their way made efficient by Shen Yuan’s cinnabar markings guiding their path. The purple moss thins out as they approach the surface. In no time at all, they see sunlight filtering in from the end of the tunnel.

Shen Yuan stays back several paces as Luo Binghe exits the cave. The Emperor is met by a hostile army, their swords and spears drawn and aimed. The rebels had anticipated a significantly weakened Luo Binghe to emerge from the mountain. They did not expect a none the worse for wear Emperor wielding a fully-powered Xin Mo to swiftly decimate their ranks.

Only after the sounds of fighting and shouting fade does Shen Yuan cautiously step out of the cave. Backlit by the early morning sun glowing from behind, Luo Binghe’s silhouette stands proud and tall in the middle of an open field, the ground around him awash with blood.

Shen Yuan watches, mesmerized, as a stray breeze glides past and artfully lifts Luo Binghe’s wavy tresses, exposing his demonic mark in full view. The sigil on his forehead pulses a radiant red amidst the shadows. As Luo Binghe angles his face towards the light, Shen Yuan catches a glimpse of his lips curling into a smile.

Their eyes meet across the clearing. Luo Binghe raises Xin Mo and cuts a tear into reality. “Let’s go home,” he says as he extends Shen Yuan an open hand.

Chapter 8: 🌱 Fons Iuventutis Part 1

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan joins Zhao Jiahao once again at the lunch table in the mess hall, a few days after the incident in the Far Western mountain caves.

“Shen Yuan, I heard you followed Luo Binghe out of the palace?” Zhao Jiahao says, tone edged with worry. “And then…you were ambushed?”

“Yeah…” Shen Yuan says as he takes a bite of the xiao long bao Zhao Jiahao had gotten for him. The rumor mill sure works fast… Shen Yuan had thought that Luo Binghe didn’t leave any witnesses at the scene. “Not gonna lie, for a hot minute I thought we were done for when the rebels chased after us, but it all worked out in the end.”

Zhao Jiahao looks pained. “It’s safer for you to stay here at the palace. Luo Binghe is a grown man who can look after himself. He doesn’t need you trailing after him.”

Shen Yuan slurps at the soup seeping out of the xiao long bao’s skin. “It was just a coincidence that Luo Binghe and I met up. It was my idea to go out there and explore!”

“Shen Yuan…” Zhao Jiahao brings a hand to his face and heaves out a weary sigh. He places a hand on Shen Yuan’s shoulder to catch his friend’s attention and tilts his head so they see eye to eye. “If…if you’re out there, I can’t guarantee your safety. So please…no more excursions outside. And don’t get involved in any of Luo Binghe’s business.”

Why so serious! You get ambushed once… “Yeah, yeah…” Shen Yuan replies just to appease the worrywart, shoving another xiao long bao into his mouth.

“I’m serious, Shen Yuan,” Zhao Jiahao says, his clear gray eyes burning with intensity. “I’d like to keep you safe.”

“I appreciate it,” Shen Yuan says with a bright smile. He’s truly thankful to have a friend looking out for him, but why does Zhao Jiahao act as if Shen Yuan is about to yeet himself off a cliff? Eager to divert the subject, he says “Hey, have you heard the rumor? About a dozen of the senior palace staff resigning at the same time?”

“They were dismissed, is what I heard,” Zhao Jiahao says, settling back into his seat and picking up his chopsticks. At last, another topic that isn’t about Shen Yuan’s well-being or sense of self-preservation! Shen Yuan gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“Oooh, so they were fired after all?!” Shen Yuan rubs his hands like an old aunty chomping at the bit on the latest gossip. “Is it true that even Mobei-jun has been canned? Isn’t he Luo Binghe’s most loyal retainer?”

“Mobei-jun maintains his allegiance to Luo Binghe, but he has been given greater freedom to reign over the Northern and North-Eastern Kingdoms. He is no longer required to report daily to the palace.”

Shen Yuan purses his lips. “Do you know the reason for the layoffs?”

“I’ve heard whispers of it being due to wage disputes,” Zhao Jiahao says as he places a piece of braised pork on Shen Yuan’s plate.

“Word on the street and from the kitchen jiejies…” Shen Yuan looks furtively around and cups a hand to the side of his face, “…is that it’s because they haven’t been paid their salary. For several months now!”

“Hm,” Zhao Jiahao says noncommittally.

“I didn’t expect the Emperor to be so stingy,” Shen Yuan says as he takes a bite of braised pork. “Won’t it give him problems if so many people start quitting at the same time?”

“Luo Binghe has his own priorities, and evidently it’s not the people at the palace. In fact, I doubt if he even cares about the empire at all,” Zhao Jiahao replies as he stabs at a vegetable.

Harsh, Shen Yuan thinks but doesn’t say it aloud. The two friends say nothing more after that.

Luo Binghe is getting settled for breakfast at his chamber when his personal attendant comes bearing a potted plant.

“I think a touch of nature will brighten up this room,” Shen Yuan says as he holds up the plant for Luo Binghe to inspect. The vibrant green of its leaves pops out in the chamber’s dark and somber color theme. “Please consider this as a gift from your humble servant. Where would Lord Luo like to place it?”

Luo Binghe eyes the plant with curiosity, breakfast temporarily forgotten. “Where did that come from?”

Shen Yuan practically beams with pride. “It’s from that magical cavern with the bioluminescent plants where we took a break to recover you qi! I found a Belladonna of Happiness so I dug one up and took it home. I was afraid it wouldn’t survive the transplanting, but it’s taken very well to its new pot!”

“A Belladonna of Happiness…?” Luo Binghe says as he folds his arms and tilts his head to the side. Memories of the mountain where he had been trapped with Shen Yuan play in his head. His skin tingles where he recalls gentle fingers bandaging his wounds and passing him healing qi, and his chest flutters erratically at the memory of a wiry yet deceptively strong arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him away from danger.

Strange… Did the rebels’ poison leave lingering effects?

Shen Yuan holds the pot higher, showing it off like a trophy. “It’s a plant with detoxifying properties! It cleanses the air around it from sad or negative vibes.” Luo Binghe catches Shen Yuan giving Xin Mo, hanging on the wall, a surreptitious glance. “Much like a xianxia air purifier, ahahaha,” Shen Yuan laughs awkwardly, then glances about the room. “How about I put it on the tea table over there?”

Luo Binghe doesn’t sense anything malevolent in the plant so he nods in assent. Although it is sort of endearing how Shen Yuan thinks a tiny plant could somehow neutralize Xin Mo’s dark energies.

Shen Yuan puts down the pot. “This plant glows in the dark, so it can act as a night light.” He brings up a fist and coughs into it. “Also, it’s said that…after the Belladonna of Happiness absorbs all the sadness in the room, it bears fruit…and once that fruit is ripe, anyone who eats it will experience joy!” He points to the underside of a leaf. “Look–there’s a tiny green berry growing in there already!”

“Hm,” Luo Binghe gives the plant an scrutinizing gaze. One of those decorative but ultimately useless plants that the common people spin fanciful tales about, then. Still, he decides to humor his personal attendant. “How can one know when the fruit is ripe for picking?”

“Well, first it’s green but then it turns a deep purple. People think it’s ripe by then and consume it but that’s a grave mistake! The purple berry is highly toxic. You have to wait until it turns to a bright red. That’s when it becomes a Berry of Joy,” Shen Yuan explains.

“This Lord doubts he has any need for such fantastical berries,” Luo Binghe says as he turns his attention back to his breakfast tray. Wielding Xin Mo requires a fine control over his emotional state, whether it be happiness or sadness. Luo Binghe dictates his own fate and feelings, not some magical berry. But since Shen Yuan had gone through all the trouble to bring it back from the Far Western Mountains, might as well keep the thing.

“This Lord accepts Shen Yuan’s present. An indoor plant should be harmless enough to keep in the room.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Shen Yuan says as he goes to pour Luo Binghe tea. He gestures at the plant radiating life and freshness from its corner. “See, it improved the feng shui of the room already!”

Luo Binghe shakes his head minutely, a small smile on his lips, then says, “Shen Yuan may begin reading this morning’s letters.”

It’s a routine they’ve begun recently. Luo Binghe had decided to make use of his personal assistant’s scholarly knowledge and had him read aloud and summarize the morning mail while he ate breakfast, occasionally asking for Shen Yuan’s opinions.

“The first one is from Acting Court Alchemist and Sorcerer Zhao Gang,” Shen Yuan says as he takes the letter in hand. His brows scrunch up cutely as he squints at the words.

“…a request to retrieve the Chalice of Everlasting Youth. Every 60 years, the portal to the pocket realm of Fons Iuventutis opens and presents the opportunity to retrieve the chalice. According to current estimates, this rare treasure bears a significant karmic value amounting to the equivalent of 5 percentage points for the summoning spell.”

That piques Luo Binghe’s attention. According to the sorcerers’ latest calculations, the summoning spell’s accuracy and compatibility has been stalled at 92.8%. When Shen Yuan was erroneously summoned, it had been at 89.45% and 90.95% respectively. Obtaining this rare treasure worth 5 percentage points would catapult the summoning spell’s accuracy to an unprecedented 97.8%.

Luo Binghe could almost taste victory. He licks his lips, remembering the sweet taste of the kind Shen Qingqiu’s mouth, the heady smell of his breath, and the way he writhed on Luo Binghe’s lap. They were having such a good time before the impostor came barging into the Bamboo House.

Shizun, very soon you’ll be mine…

Luo Binghe brings his attention back to his personal attendant. “Where is the pocket realm located? And when will it open?”

Shen Yuan scans the letter. “At an area a bit further out from the Far Western Territories, outside the borders of Lord Luo’s empire. The portal opens in two weeks and will remain open for six days.”

“Hmm,” Luo Binghe hums in interest. “Then this Lord shall retrieve the chalice himself.” He doesn't trust anyone else with such an important relic. Better do the work himself to ensure that nothing goes wrong.

Shen Yuan’s face lights up like a lantern. “Can I go with you? Please? I won’t interfere with your work this time, I promise!”

Shen Yuan looks at Luo Binghe with such beseeching eyes that the Emperor finds it hard to say no. But deep in his heart, he knows the rational answer is to keep Shen Yuan in the palace and prevent him from putting himself in more danger. Even if the human had been a helpful ally, the risk doesn't seem worth it…

“Shen Yuan can go, but only if he promises to always stay by this Lord’s side,” Luo Binghe says before his brain catches up with his mouth.

Luo Binghe almost takes his words back, but then Shen Yuan’s glowing smile grows wider, so bright it almost rivals the sun. Luo Binghe finds himself having to avert his gaze as the dazzling sight does something funny to his lungs.

He really should visit the lab to recheck his veins for poison…

“Thanks so much, Lord Luo!” Shen Yuan chirps, his whole body visibly buzzing with excitement. “I promise I won't let you down!”

Luo Binghe tries going for a stern voice, but it only comes out sounding like a doting grandfather to his grandchild. “This Lord is serious. Shen Yuan is forbidden from wandering and must remain within this Lord’s line of sight at all times.”

Shen Yuan bobs his head up and down rapidly. “This Shen Yuan swears!” He looks back at the letter in his hands. “Oh! There’s a bit more info here… Any challengers are encouraged to arrive early as registration is required to accommodate the large influx of contenders for the Chalice of Everlasting Youth.”

Luo Binghe stands up from the table, breakfast forgotten. “We’ll have to go as soon as possible, then. To survey the competition.”

In the end, with Luo Binghe having to wrap up a few last-minute affairs, plus the long journey itself, they arrive at the village edging the portal to Fons Iuventutis a full seven days before it fully opens. The village is ready to receive the deluge of visitors, challengers and spectators both. The entire place has been set up like a festival, with colorful streamers, food stalls, shops, fairground games, and performances filling the inside of the village and its perimeter.

Shen Yuan had come up with some bullsh*t excuse about being busy with a project in his garden to explain his extended absence to Zhao Jiahao. The boy didn’t seem to suspect anything, occupied as he was with his work in the lab. Zhao Jiahao seems to be extremely busy these days—probably stress due to the increased workload from the recent round of staff dismissals. Shen Yuan had seen him self-soothing several times, absently running his fingers over the sleeve on the underside of his forearm.

Shen Yuan may as well get out of his friend’s hair for a few days to give the poor boy fewer things to fret about.

They line up at the registration area. Shen Yuan notices that all of the other participants are fully human… Does the chalice hold no interest to demons? The answer presents itself once it’s their turn to register.

“You’re disqualified,” the man in charge of the register says with a cutting glance at Luo Binghe’s pointy ears and demonic sigil. “Only humans can enter. Fons Iuventutis allows solely spiritual energy to be used within its borders. The moment it detects any trace of demonic qi, it immediately ejects the challenger.”

“That’s not an issue,” Luo Binghe replies. He smooths out his demonic features, retracting his claws and fangs, rounding the tips of his ears, and erasing the demon mark on his forehead.

This earns Luo Binghe a hostile glare from the registrar. “Fons Iuventutis won’t be deceived by such tricks,” the man says.

Luo Binghe gestures to himself. “Rest assured, this appearance of mine is genuine.”

The man at the registration desk scoffs.

Does he really not know? Shen Yuan thinks. It seems the man doesn’t recognize the Emperor of the Three Realms or his dual nature.

The registrar grumbles, “Just saying…the slot would be wasted on the likes of you."

Shen Yuan decides to cut in, “Look, are you going to register us or not? He’s human—I can vouch for him. We don’t have time to be dilly-dallying here all day,” he says as he gestures with his thumb at the long line behind him.

The registrar relents in the end despite his grumbling. Two people are allowed per slot, so Shen Yuan’s name is registered along with Luo Binghe’s, who gives out a fake name. Shen Yuan does a double take when he hears it, but keeps his mouth shut.

They manage to get a slot for late in the afternoon of the third day of the portal’s opening. On their way to their inn, where they paid silly money to get a spacious room with an adjoining servant’s quarters at the upper floor, Shen Yuan says, “This far out, the people here don’t recognize you.”

Luo Binghe shrugs as he walks by Shen Yuan’s side. “Not too surprising, considering this Lord has yet to extend his territory this far to the West.”

Shen Yuan looks around at the children playing in the streets. Some of them have light colored eyes and tawny hair reminiscent of Zhao Jiahao’s. The others have more familiar Oriental features. He sees a little girl with a round moon face, blue phoenix eyes, and bright auburn hair, and for a moment he wonders if she’s a relative of the Zhaos.

Luo Binghe enters a dress shop selling ethnic attire just outside the inn. “Regardless, being unknown might work out to our advantage,” he says as he peruses the ready-made clothes hanging inside the store. “This Lord would rather not give the people here the wrong idea about our purpose for coming. A wrong move could spark an unintentional war.”

Shen Yuan leans closer. “Is that why you registered your name as Shen Qingge!?” He says in a scandalized whisper.

Luo Binghe looks at him nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s convenient. We could be cousins.”

Luo! Bing! He! How in the world could people mistake the two of them to be related!? Even if they had the same family name, their physical appearances are about as similar as diamonds and dust! And that’s just the tip of the iceberg!

“Why Qingge?” Shen Yuan can’t help but ask.

Luo Binghe runs his fingers through the cotton fabric. “The Bai Zhan Peak Lord died—was killed in cold blood—when this Lord was very young. I never had the chance to see him much as I was a disciple at another peak, but my wife Liu Mingyan has told me tales of his heroism,” he says without looking up from his inspection of a tunic with colorful striped patterns.

“It’s such a shame Liu Qingge died so early,” Shen Yuan says in sympathy.

Luo Binghe looks up from the tunic in his hands, gaze oddly distant. “Although... there is a world where the War God lives on…”

“What do you me—” Shen Yuan starts, but is rudely interrupted by the shopkeeper barging in between them, eager to make a sale.

“Young Masters! You have fine taste! That tunic in your hand is made from the finest supima cotton!” The shopkeeper booms, rubbing his hands. “Buy 3 or more to avail a big discount!”

In the end, Luo Binghe purchases several sets of ethnic outfits with matching hats for himself and for Shen Yuan, to the shopkeeper’s delight. Master and attendant retire to the inn for the evening.

The following day, they leave the inn dressed in native garments. The outfits make them look like locals and allow them to blend into the crowd easily. To be discreet, they decide that for the duration of the Fons Iuventutis opening event, they will introduce themselves as relatives. They walk around the village, passing various food stalls, parlor game booths, and even a stage for plays and freak shows.

Shen Yuan is secretly pleased at being able to walk around in clothes that, while traditional, are closer to the modern ones he’s used to. Instead of the 5 to 6 layers he has to put on daily, he’s only in a single tunic that ends halfway down his thighs with a wide embroidered belt, a pair of loose pants, and a vest. He tops off the outfit with a circular black cap. The tunic’s light cotton material feels cool and airy in the warm climate of the Far Western Region.

Shen Yuan catches a whiff of some spiced delicacy. New sights, new smells, new people—It’s like taking a trip abroad!

Shen Yuan browses the market stalls. “I’d like to buy something for Zhao Jiahao, but everything here is too expensive!” he sighs. It seems every merchant in the village is taking advantage of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and jacking up the prices to astronomical heights. With Shen Yuan’s meager allowance plus the truly dismal exchange rate, even buying a stick of tanghulu is like buying a stick of pearls.

Luo Binghe stops his own perusal, brows deeply furrowed and looking like he had swallowed a jar of pickles. “Why is Shen Yuan purchasing Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao a present?” he says, voice sharp.

Why does Luo Binghe sound so scandalized? You’d think Shen Yuan said he was eloping instead of buying his friend a gift. “I just want to give him a souvenir, as thanks for all the help he’s given me,” Shen Yuan replies. “So I’m hoping to give him something nice and practical, but I think my money is only enough for a small trinket or two…”

Luo Binghe’s eyebrows furrow even deeper. He looks around the surrounding stalls and abruptly says, “Let’s try the festival game over there.”

Shen Yuan secretly laughs as they walk over to the festival games. Why is the Protagonist suddenly in the mood to play? Has the lively festival atmosphere loosened him up so much that he would like to reclaim his boyhood?

Shen Yuan stops laughing, however, once they reach the balloon darts stall.

“This L—… I want that prize,” Luo Binghe says, pointing to a large stuffed animal in full display inside the stall. He looks back at Shen Yuan expectantly.

Shen Yuan stares back, not understanding.

Luo Binghe helpfully adds, “I’m Shen Yuan’s cousin, so he should win it for me.”

Oh, they’re LARPing a happy family now!? Two can play this game. “So bratty and entitled…,” Shen Yuan says, clicking his tongue. “Yet you won’t even give me basic respect by calling me ‘Gege.’”

Luo Binghe pauses.

Shen Yuan gives himself a mental high-five. Take that, Luo Binghe! Even role playing, no way the Emperor would lower himself by calling him that.

“…Gege,” Luo Binghe finally grits out, each syllable falling from his lips as if he were spitting out a strange and exotic dish.

Shen Yuan nearly bluescreens. He didn’t expect Luo Binghe to rise to the bait. Ever the versatile Protagonist, Luo Binghe continues, “You wouldn’t want to disappoint this little cousin of yours, would you?” He flashes a smile with too sharp teeth. “…Right, Yuan-ge?”

What’s with the change in demeanor, Mr. Protagonist!? What little cousin!? According to Great Master Airplane, the only thing little about you is your refractory time! And stop baring your fangs like that! You’ll blow our cover!

The oppressive aura Luo Binghe is emitting makes Shen Yuan break out into a cold sweat. Did he even have a choice here? What the Protagonist wants, the Protagonist gets!

Shen Yuan lightly coughs. “Alright, your Yuan-ge will get it for you.” He turns to face the stall owner. “I’d like to try, please. My cousin here wants the giant toy panda.”

“Five darts for a silver coin. No use of qi allowed,” the stall owner says. He prepares the darts but doesn’t hand them over yet as he waits for payment. Several moments pass without silver changing hands. Shen Yuan looks at Luo Binghe expectantly.

Luo Binghe stands beside Shen Yuan with his arms crossed. He seems wholly uninterested in taking out his money pouch.

Shen Yuan’s shoulders droop as he takes out his own wallet in defeat. There goes his scant precious silver…

Shen Yuan aims for the red balloon, which the stall owner said he had to pop to win the top prize of a giant stuffed panda. He manages to pop a few balloons but not the red one. When his darts run out, he begrudgingly takes out another silver piece…and another…and another…

Why is this game so expensive, ah!? This is highway robbery!!!

Shen Yuan turns to Luo Binghe to silently plead for reinforcements, but the guy who could buy the entire stall plus the rest of the festival with change to spare is busy inspecting his nails.

Didn’t he want the toy panda!?

Taking pity on him, the stall owner takes out a handful of colorful silk ribbons. “Pick three. As a consolation prize.”

Well, at least the ribbons look pretty and he won’t go home empty-handed… Shen Yuan picks a couple of ribbons that are a lovely robin’s egg blue and a dark blue one.

Finally, Shen Yuan empties his wallet of its last silver coin, crying tears of blood in his heart. He’s on his last dart as well. His aim is a mess. Seems he won’t be able to get Luo Binghe that stuffed toy…

“Yuan-ge, would you like me to help you with that?” A hot breath suddenly tickles his ear. When had Luo Binghe creeped up behind him!? The Protagonist leaning over his shoulder is so close he could feel the body heat radiating from his back.

Without waiting for Shen Yuan to respond, Luo Binghe pushes him aside, taking the last remaining dart and flexing his arm forwards and backwards in an aiming and throwing motion.

The dart sails. It pops the red balloon.

Shen Yuan can’t help himself from clapping his hands and jumping up and down. “Hooray!!!” The stall owner shakes his head and shoots them a strained smile as he hands over the stuffed panda to Luo Binghe.

At least the Protagonist got what he wanted, even if he had to bankrupt his “cousin” for it, Shen Yuan thinks. I hope he’s happy. But then, his vision is suddenly crowded by a large, black and white stuffed toy.

“I don’t want it,” Luo Binghe says as he deposits the stuffed panda into Shen Yuan’s bewildered arms. Without saying another word, he walks away to another stall—a ring toss game this time.

Huh!? Wasn’t it Luo Binghe who said he wanted the toy which was why he strong-armed Shen Yuan to shell out all those silver coins? But now he doesn’t want it anymore!? WTF did Shen Yuan break the bank for, then???

Shen Yuan waddles after Luo Binghe, encumbered by the large stuffed panda in his arms. Luo Binghe visits each gaming stall methodically, this time paying his own way, and winning the top prize each and every time. For each win, he deposits the reward into Shen Yuan’s arms.

“Uhmm, what am I supposed to do with these?” Shen Yuan says as he stares at the growing pile.

“Since this L— this Cousin Qingge has no need of such commoner goods, he shall be magnanimous and bestow them upon Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe says as he drops an accordion to the heap.

“Uhhh…thanks but these are getting too heavy,” Shen Yuan says from behind the pile of toys and trinkets obscuring his face. “Wait a bit, will you? Good thing Zhao Jiahao lent me his qiankun pouch so I can stuff a big chunk of the prizes in there. I wonder if the stuffed panda will fit inside?”

Luo Binghe stops abruptly. Shen Yuan bumps into his back, spilling a few of the trinkets on the ground.

“Hey—!!” Shen Yuan protests.

Luo Binghe eyes the qiankun pouch hanging on Shen Yuan’s hip as if it were a writhing bag of rattlesnakes.

“Stop using that qiankun pouch. It’s unsightly,” Luo Binghe growls, then strides away towards the next stall.

A few well-meaning passersby help Shen Yuan by picking up the fallen trinkets. Thanking them profusely, Shen Yuan ambles away, trying to catch up with his Master.

Does Luo Binghe think Zhao Jiahao’s simple canvas pouch is so much of an eyesore he wants Shen Yuan to get rid of it? Canvas is sturdy and utilitarian! Not everyone needs their work tools to be fashionable, Mr. Protagonist!

Shen Yuan’s back and arms are straining by the time he catches up with Binghe at the final stall. A small crowd of onlookers has formed around them. The stall owner visibly starts sweating bullets when he sees Luo Binghe approach.

“How to win that qiankun pouch?” Luo Binghe asks, gesturing at the black velvet pouch beautifully embroidered with plant and flower designs in gold thread, displayed as the top prize.

“You need to toss the ball into the correct peg for 10 times!” The stall owner replies. The balls and pegs are color coded and the player is given 12 balls in total. Each is about the size of a ping pong ball and the pegs move erratically, up and down or sideways, through some mechanical means. It makes Shen Yuan dizzy looking at them.

Huh, surely this would be a challenge even for the Protagonist? Shen Yuan thinks.

He is proven wrong yet again as Luo Binghe nails each peg on the first try. The crowd of nosy onlookers hoots and cheers. Truly, this OP Protagonist has no limits.

Luo Binghe drops the black velvet qiankun pouch onto Shen Yuan’s pile. “When we return to the inn, dispose of Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao’s qiankun pouch and use this instead,” he says.

“Uhhh, thanks? But I have to say I’m broke now and won’t be able to buy souvenirs for anybody,” Shen Yuan says. Maybe if he gives Luo Binghe a hint, the Protagonist might spare him a silver coin or two to buy his friend a souvenir?

“Good,” Luo Binghe says simply.

Good? What’s good about being bankrupt, ah!? Shen Yuan cries tears of blood in his heart. This blackened Protagonist, scarily adept at making people part with their hard-earned money! Luo Binghe should open a casino—he’d make so much bank.

Chapter 9: 🐢 Fons Iuventutis Part 2

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe steps out of the inn, wondering where Shen Yuan had run off to. He had sent him on an errand, one that shouldn’t have taken over forty minutes, but it’s been well over an hour and Shen Yuan still hasn’t come back.

Not having his blood mites in his attendant is starting to be a hassle. Should he make Shen Yuan wear a tracking collar? An image flashes through his mind of Shen Yuan wearing a leather choker, a ruby engraved with Luo Binghe’s demonic sigil in the center of it. The dark leather and blood red gemstone would contrast nicely with the pale skin of his neck. Luo Binghe’s nether region inexplicably twitches. He swishes his head, quickly banishing the mental picture.

He walks through the village and its perimeter. Still no sign of Shen Yuan. He is about to give up and return to the inn when he hears someone call out: “Shen Qingge, my lad! Are you out looking for your cousin?”

It’s the balloon darts stall owner. He seems to be on the way to the river, baskets of laundry on his shoulder.

Luo Binghe nods in reply. “Have you seen him?”

The stall owner points to a small forest just outside the village. “I saw your ge go in there about an hour ago. Dangerous monsters live in that forest. I hope nothing bad happens to him.”

Luo Binghe’s eyebrows furrow into a scowl as he looks into the direction the man had pointed out. Why would Shen Yuan run off to that place? Is he attempting to escape from Luo Binghe? Just let him try…

He gives the stall owner a couple of silver pieces for his trouble and sets off into the forest.

Luo Binghe prowls the underbrush, silent and soft-footed as a cat. After a while, he hears a faint rustling and heads towards the direction of the sound.

At the edge of a small clearing, under an overhanging rock, lies a full-grown Three-headed Turtle Tiger. Not much further, Shen Yuan sits crouched on the ground, his unblinking eyes locked on to the creature before him.

The Three-headed Turtle Tiger resembles a giant land tortoise but with a Cerberus-like head and sharp and deadly claws for legs. Tiger stripes in black and orange decorate its hard shell. Though it is considered a common mid-level monster, its stealthy ways and lightning speed make it notorious for attacking unsuspecting cultivators and civilians alike.

Luo Binghe watches in morbid fascination as Shen Yuan inches ever closer to the creature in a series of measured, noiseless steps. Even the dry leaves beneath his feet do not make a sound. With the same careful slowness, Shen Yuan begins to extend his hand…

Is he trying to touch the Three-headed Turtle Tiger!?

Luo Binghe’s body reacts instinctively. He leaps from the bushes, gathers Shen Yuan in his arms, and quickly darts away.

Almost as quickly, there is a flash as the Three-headed Turtle Tiger bares a single large claw, sharp and curved like scythe. With a zing, it slashes through the air and pounds straight into the ground where Shen Yuan had been crouching just moments before. Bits of rock, leaves, and dust fly from the spot its claw had pierced.

“B-binghe!?” Shen Yuan cries out. Luo Binghe ignores him as he trains his eyes on the Three-headed Turtle Tiger approaching them in a blind rage. He switches to holding onto Shen Yuan with a single strong arm and unsheathes his sword. The creature would be easy enough to dispose of.

A hand touches Luo Binghe’s sword-bearing arm. “No—don’t kill it, please!” Shen Yuan says.

The Three-headed Turtle Tiger bears down on them, flattening small trees and bushes in its wake. Shen Yuan’s fingernails dig into Luo Binghe’s arm.

In an act that Luo Binghe would later declare to be a moment of pure lunacy, he turns his back and flees from a foe he could defeat with the flick of a finger. The crash of the rampaging Three-headed Turtle Tiger and its piercing shriek echo throughout the forest, but Luo Binghe is swift and quickly puts distance between them. They hear a last inhuman cry before the sounds of rampage stop.

They’re now well out of the forest, but Luo Binghe keeps Shen Yuan nestled on his arm as he walks the path back to the village. With his strength, it’s no trouble for him—Shen Yuan is small and portable, the top of his head hardly reaching Luo Binghe’s chin, and keeping him close would prevent him from wandering off again. It’s certainly not because of the human’s warm, comforting weight against Luo Binghe’s shoulder and his intoxicating scent of ink, paper and cypress mixed with earth and sweat.

Luo Binghe wouldn’t mind parading Shen Yuan perched on his arm around town but the human starts wriggling to be let down once the village gate comes into view.

“What was Shen Yuan thinking, approaching and attempting to touch a dangerous creature?” Luo Binghe says, shooting his attendant a reproachful glance. “Is that what took you so long to come back from your errand?”

Shen Yuan flushes and bows his head, averting his eyes. “I—I’m sorry, it’s just that I heard a Three-headed Turtle Tiger was recently spotted near the village and couldn't miss the opportunity. And it’s not really that dangerous! If you approach it cautiously, it’s very cute and friendly.”

A monster that kills hundreds of victims every year is cute and friendly…?

Luo Binghe pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stay away from the forest, and any wild creatures for that matter. That’s an order.”

Shen Yuan pouts, but gives him back a reluctant nod.

Early morning a couple of days later, Luo Binghe is lounging in his room, waiting for his attendant to wake up and begin his duties when he hears a noise from the direction of Shen Yuan’s bedroom, the helper’s quarters adjacent to his own.

A voice? With his demonic hearing, he easily picks up Shen Yuan’s soft giggling…and… Is he cooing?

Did Shen Yuan bring someone into his room? Someone he shared easy laughter with, who petted his hair, murmured sweet nothings into his ear—s-someone who lay with Shen Yuan all night?

Before Luo Binghe could think twice, he breaks the doorknob with a flash and burst of qi and comes barging into the room. Shen Yuan whips his head in alarm and shrieks as he jumps from where he is crouched beside the bed. From the corner of his eye, Luo Binghe spots a movement by the pillow.

“The f*ck!?” Shen Yuan squeals.

“Where is he!?” Luo Binghe bellows.

Shen Yuan visibly freezes. He scratches his cheek with a finger, eyes darting around and looking everywhere except at Luo Binghe. “W-what are you talking about? Th-there’s no one else here!”

Luo Binghe narrows his eyes. He catches Shen Yuan’s wrist. “What is this!?”

A shallow gash cuts Shen Yuan’s forefinger, just underneath the nail. Shen Yuan seems surprised to see it there. A drop of blood oozes from the wound, trickling down towards his wrist. “Ahh…uhh… I-I just had a little accident when you came barging in and nearly gave me a heart attack!” Shen Yuan says.

For the second time in a week, Luo Binghe regrets not making Shen Yuan drink his blood mites. The wound would have easily closed itself otherwise. He instead tears off a corner of his sleeve and ties Shen Yuan’s finger with the cloth. “I can’t have you bleeding all over the sheets and the floor,” he grumbles as he secures the makeshift bandage. “There’s ointment in my nightstand drawer, so use that for the wound.”

Shen Yuan nods obediently. Luo Binghe isn’t done with him yet, though. “Shen Yuan, who are you hiding?”

Shen Yuan’s eyes widen. “N-nothing! I’m not hiding anything!” He vehemently shakes his head.

Luo Binghe looks around the small bedroom. He doesn’t sense any unusual qi or presence, but he remembers seeing a flash of movement underneath one of the large, fluffy, feather pillows. He strides towards the bed and reaches a hand for it—

“Noooo!!!” Shen Yuan yells, lunging to place himself between the pillow and Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe easily sidesteps him and lifts the feathery cushion. Underneath it, he finds—

…A small crab? Or is that a turtle?

Luo Binghe gives it a closer inspection. “I-is this a Three-headed Turtle Tiger?” he asks, incredulous.

“A baby Three-headed Turtle Tiger!” Shen Yuan emphasizes, placing his arms in a protective loop around the creature. “It just hatched! It’s innocent! Don’t hurt it!”

Luo Binghe tries to resist an incoming headache. “Shen Yuan… Why is there a Three-headed Turtle Tiger hatchling on your bed?”

“I picked it up in the forest! It was on the open ground… Maybe a predator dropped it? I tried to find its mom, and I was going to put the egg back into its nest when you found me…”

“So you brought the egg back home,” Luo Binghe concludes, eyebrow raised.

Red stains Shen Yuan’s cheeks, but he doesn’t remove his arms walled around the creature, which has started to explore its enclosure. “Well… You did forbid me from going back there. And I didn’t actually expect the egg to be viable…”

The Three-headed Turtle Tiger bumps into Shen Yuan’s forearm. Waving its pincer arms, it starts climbing up his sleeve.

Luo Binghe bristles and steps closer. “Newborn or not, it’s a dangerous monster and needs to be exterminated immediately.”

“No!” Shen Yuan cries, shrinking away. “This poor baby just hatched and now you’re trying to kill it!? Whatever did it do? It wasn’t its fault it was born this way!”

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe utters each syllable as if talking to a particularly slow child. “That thing is a demon, the likes of which kill hundreds of victims like you yearly. To humans, it is evil and intolerable. You’re lucky it only managed to give you a shallow cut on your finger.”

Shen Yuan shakes his head, sniffling. “How can you claim that Pebbles is evil and intolerable? Who has the authority to say whether she’s intolerable or not? She only lashed out because you startled her when you burst into the room!” He extends the back of his bandaged right hand towards the creature which had crawled up his upper shoulder, coaxing it to reposition itself on his other arm. It obediently moves, crossing the bridge of Shen Yuan’s fingers.

Heavens, Shen Yuan had already named the creature? And he’s letting it crawl all over him!? Even small, the monster’s sharp claws can easily slice off a finger or two!

Shen Yuan continues, a defiant glint in his eye as he looks at Luo Binghe. “Demons can be good or bad, just as humans too can be good or evil. But in this world, there is nothing intolerable to the heavens. This is true for a demon like Pebbles, as it’s true for humans.”

Luo Binghe… is struck speechless.

“Well then,” Luo Binghe finally says, “What does Shen Yuan plan to do with this not-evil but definitely still dangerous…Pebbles?”

Shen Yuan gives a considering look at the creature currently frolicking on the back of his hand. “I think… it would be best to bring her back to her mom…”

Luo Binghe nods. “A wise decision. I’m taking the creature to the forest, then,” he says, reaching out his hand to collect the critter.

Shen Yuan shrinks back. “Ah, but wait! Before we go, can I get Pebbles some breakfast first? The poor thing hasn't had anything to eat since she hatched,” Shen Yuan says. Instead of handing the creature to Luo Binghe, he gently places it inside the nightstand drawer. “Be good and wait here while Yuan-ge fetches you some fresh meat, okay?” he coos at it as he closes the drawer.

Shen Yuan has barely turned his back when the snick and crackle of the wooden nightstand being hacked to pieces pierces the room.

The newborn Three-headed Turtle Tiger stands atop the remains of the nightstand, emitting a trill and a clicking sound as it waggles its razor-sharp claws in the air.

“Poor baby,” Shen Yuan coos again. “Were you scared of being trapped, alone in the dark? Yuan-ge is sorry.” Luo Binghe nearly has a heart attack when Shen Yuan extends both open palms to the monster that had just cleaved through a heavy wooden cabinet. The Three-headed Turtle Tiger crawls into Shen Yuan’s hands. Luo Binghe’s eyes nearly bug out as the human crooks a fingertip to pet the creature’s many heads.

What would it take to faze this man!?

Shen Yuan clears his throat. “Luo B-binghe… Could you please do me a favor and look after Pebbles while I fetch our breakfast?” He looks at Luo Binghe with big, pleading eyes.

“…Fine,” Luo Binghe begrudgingly agrees. The sooner Shen Yuan does whatever he needs to do in that unfathomable mind of his, the sooner they can depart for the forest and leave this madness behind.

Shen Yuan carefully transfers the Three-headed Turtle Tiger into Luo Binghe’s cupped palms. “Thanks. I’ll be back soon!” he promises as he dashes away to the kitchens.

Luo Binghe raises his hands to be eye level with the critter. “…Pebbles…” he growls in a warning tone that has made more than one demonic envoy pee in their pants. “Don’t expect me to be as lenient as Shen Yuan. This Lord is not here to indulge you or play games.” He narrows his eyes. “Behave.”

Pebbles circles the perimeter of Luo Binghe’s cupped palms, clacking its pincers, then slowly shifts from left to right then back again, before stopping at the center. It stays unmoving for a few moments.

Luo Binghe is pleased. This is exactly how he wants his charges. Silent and inactive unless called upon.

A sharp shing pierces the air and before Luo Binghe knows it, the demonic creature has sliced several of his fingers, straight to the bone. He locks gazes with the many eyes of the tiny Three-headed Turtle Tiger, which is clearly unfazed and unafraid of the Emperor of the Combined Realms as it emits a sharp trill and brandishes its three-inch pincers in menacing arcs.

Luo Binghe’s heavenly demon blood knits the injury in no time at all, but he takes a deep breath and summons all of his willpower not to crush the insolent creature in his palm.

After all, he wouldn't want a disappointed Shen Yuan yapping at him if he pulverizes the thing, would he?

“…and thus the hatchlings leave their nest after gaining sufficient hunting experience, to repeat the cycle all over again,” Shen Yuan narrates as Master and attendant walk the path away from the village and towards the forest, Three-headed Turtle Tiger hatchling in hand. He looks over at Luo Binghe and seems to realize something, a flush blooming on his cheeks. “Ah, I’m sorry for rambling on and on… This is probably a boring topic for you.”

“It’s not a problem. Shen Yuan may continue,” Luo Binghe replies. Sure, Shen Yuan has spent the last thirty minutes detailing the life cycle and mating habits of the Three-headed Turtle Tiger, but honestly, Luo Binghe doesn’t mind. It’s not like there’s anything better to do. There’s something fascinating about the human’s melodious voice as he narrates, the way his eyes light up in excitement as he mentions a little-known yet intriguing factoid.

Luo Binghe can imagine himself listening to Shen Yuan talk about the life stages of the common tadpole for hours on end and not grow bored.

Shen Yuan says, “Uhmm, I’ve already talked too much.” He shifts his attention to the Three-headed Turtle Tiger in his hands that Luo Binghe has trapped inside a transparent ball of qi. After a while, he says, “By the way… Thanks for helping out. With Pebbles.”

“Mn,” Luo Binghe replies in acknowledgment, something strangely warm and satisfying stealing into his chest.

They continue walking in silence. “Does Shen Yuan have a pet, back home?” Luo Binghe asks after a few minutes, just to fill the quiet. It’s certainly not because he wants to hear his attendant’s voice again.

Shen Yuan shakes his head. “No… I like animals, but to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t want to keep one for myself…”

Luo Binghe raises both eyebrows in surprise. “How unexpected, considering how invested Shen Yuan is in this world’s creatures.”

Shen Yuan flushes pink once again. It’s a good look on him. “I’m allergic but also… When I was a kid, I lived with my grandfather for a time in the countryside. Yeye had a free range pet rooster in the backyard. I called him Trumpet, because that rooster would start crowing at 4:30 am and wake me up at an ungodly hour. But no matter how I complained, Yeye wouldn’t move Trumpet elsewhere.”

Shen Yuan sighs, “I really hated that rooster.” He pets the outside of the qi ball. Even if his fingers don’t reach the Three-headed Turtle Tiger inside, the creature basks in the attention, seemingly melting against Shen Yuan’s hand.

Luo Binghe gives him a considering look. “If it were me having my sleep interrupted daily, I would have staged a little…‘accident.’’

Shen Yuan whips his head at Luo Binghe in shock. “That’s—! Trumpet wasn’t all that bad, okay!? In the afternoons after school, we would play—I gave him bits of grain to make him follow after me, sometimes chasing him around the backyard. Did you know that chickens could fly if they really wanted to?”

“It’s rare but I’ve seen a few roost on low-lying trees,” Luo Binghe allows.

“Exactly. The first time Trumpet flew to escape me, it took me off guard, but I was so proud of him!” Shen Yuan says, breaking into a smile at the memory. “I still resented him though because everyday like clockwork, he would make a racket at the crack of dawn!”

“All the more reason to find creative ways to ‘lose’ the rooster then,” Luo Binghe says. He gestures at a nearby tree. “Involving some sticky hanging vines on the spot where Trumpet tried to roost, for instance.”

Shen Yuan shakes his head. “Aiyah—why so quick to violence!? Anyway, Trumpet roused me so early I had a lot of free time to study and play video games before school. Then one day, I woke up and the sun was already high in the sky. I missed the school bus—it’s uh, a horseless carriage. The next day went like that too, and the next.”

“Peace at last,” Luo Binghe comments with a sharp grin.

Shen Yuan lowers his head. “I’m ashamed to say it, but it took me a few days to realize that I hadn’t been hearing Trumpet crow in the mornings. I rushed to the backyard after school but couldn’t find him anywhere. So I asked Yeye and he told me Trumpet had to be sent away and wasn’t coming back…”

Luo Binghe is about to say something, but hesitates. After a pause, he says, “…Where did your grandfather say the rooster went?”

Shen Yuan gives him a wry smile. “Yeye told me he went to live on a farm, for good. But the moment I heard that, I burst into tears. I didn’t know how it happened, I thought I’d be happy not to be annoyed by a crowing rooster anymore, but instead I was extremely upset that I wouldn’t see Trumpet ever again…”

They reach the edge of the forest. Shen Yuan gently caresses the qi ball. The Three-headed Turtle Tiger has gone to sleep. Shen Yuan continues, “That night, Yeye cooked me some chicken in ginseng soup to comfort me…”

Luo Binghe hacks away at the underbrush with his backup sword. “If you were that upset, you could have just sourced yourself another pet rooster,” he says with a shrug.

Dead leaves crackle and crunch underneath their shoes as they walk deeper into the forest. Shen Yuan shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same. The new rooster wouldn’t have the memories I shared with Trumpet.”

Luo Binghe scoffs, unconvinced. “What if you procured another kind of pet instead, like a dog or cat?” he presses. “Make new memories…”

They arrive at the edge of the small clearing where they first encountered the adult Three-headed Turtle Tiger. Shen Yuan fixes his gaze on the overhanging outcrop of rock that serves as the monster’s nest.

“Maybe so…” Shen Yuan whispers, voice tinged with melancholy. “But it would feel like a betrayal. When I was with Trumpet, I didn’t appreciate him at all… But the moment he was gone, I…”

Shen Yuan is interrupted by the arrival of the adult Three-headed Turtle Tiger, holding the carcass of a large monitor lizard in its mouth. Master and attendant watch as it tears the meat into bite-size pieces and offers it to its brood. The hatchlings fight among themselves for access to the best morsels.

After the hatchlings’ feeding frenzy has calmed down, Shen Yuan asks Luo Binghe to release Pebbles from its qi ball cage. He repeatedly nudges it towards the nest and its mother, but the creature refuses to leave Shen Yuan’s side.

The mother Three-headed Turtle Tiger senses something in the air, and releases a sharp trill. Pebbles freezes, recognizing the sound, and finally starts crawling its way towards the nest.

Shen Yuan gives the critter one last pat on each of its three heads. “Go on, Pebbles. Your mama is calling for you.”

Shen Yuan stays silent, his eyes not straying from Pebbles until he’s sure that she has reached the nest safely and is welcomed by her mother and siblings. Only then does he breathe out a sigh of relief.

Shen Yuan says, eyes still trained on the nest, “If I ever get a pet, I want to make sure they’re loved and taken care of. But it seems such a big responsibility.”

“Or you could hire someone else to care for them in your stead,” Luo Binghe suggests. He himself has several fine horses receiving the best care from stable hands.

Shen Yuan shakes his head and finally shifts his gaze towards the Emperor. His eyes pierce Lou Binghe’s soul. “Luo Binghe… Remember this: you become responsible for what you have tamed. Forever.”

The days pass by in a blur. On the eve of the portal opening to Fons Iuventutis, Master and attendant sit at the edge of a dock by a small lake on the outskirts of the village. It serves as a good vantage point for seeing the fireworks show that will announce the portal’s opening.

They’ve been sitting and waiting in silence for a while, the croaking of the frogs and Shen Yuan’s munching on a meat bun they brought along the only sounds to be heard. Fireflies flit in and out among the rushes as a cool night breeze blows by.

After a few moments, Luo Binghe breaks the silence. “Last time, Shen Yuan asked me what this Lord would do differently in another life. How about Shen Yuan?”

Shen Yuan finishes the last bite of his meat bun and leans back, bracing himself with both hands behind him on either side. The position affords him a better view of the starry sky. “Ahhh… Being here is already like a different life for me. So in a way, I’m already living the dream.” He scrunches his eyebrows. “…Or is it the other way around? Dreaming the life…?”

“Shen Yuan does not wish to go back? What pleases you about this world so much?”

Shen Yuan flashes Luo Binghe a sardonic smile. “Not gonna lie, there are things I miss about the waking world, like indoor plumbing and the internet.” He quits leaning and sits up properly to wave both hands in a flourish at their surroundings. “But this world has so much to offer… Overall, I love being here!”

Luo Binghe’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. “You enjoy being a servant??”

Now that Luo Binghe puts it that way… Shen Yuan is a certified NEET and trust fund baby with staff on call in the waking world, okay? He’s never had to do menial labor in his life. Even months in, he’s still getting the hang of this personal attendant business. And yet… “It’s not that bad,” he finds himself replying.

Luo Binghe isn’t finished interrogating. “Shen Yuan would rather be imprisoned, beholden to a Master, and wait on someone hand and foot…rather than be free?”

Shen Yuan scowls. “You don’t have to say it like that! Sure, there were tough times, and painful times, times I wish I were back in my comfy bed reading trashy webnovels, and times I wish you weren’t so bitchy…”

Luo Binghe quirks up a single eyebrow.

Shen Yuan flushes. He drops the scowl and averts his gaze, choosing to stare at the fireflies flickering among the rushes. “But in the end, it’s all been worth it… B-because I get to be… with Luo Binghe.”

Shen Yuan deigns to look back. His words seem to have startled the Protagonist. Was that so weird? Anyone would be chomping at the bit to get up close and personal to Luo Binghe, the finest stallion of Zhongdian Literature! It was only natural!

Luo Binghe studies Shen Yuan with an intense expression, as if trying to figure out a complex puzzle. Suddenly, a whistling sound pierces the night air, followed by a boom and flash of light as a firework explodes in the sky, briefly illuminating their faces. Shen Yuan breaks his gaze and shifts it to the fireworks display. “The portal has opened!” he exclaims as another boom reverberates and sparks of color fill the inky black sky.

Shen Yuan watches the light show in silence. After a few minutes, a unique firework pattern appears. “Look, a spinning star!” He turns his head to catch Luo Binghe’s attention, and is bewildered to find the Emperor still staring intently at him.

Heat floods Shen Yuan’s ears. He’s thankful that the low light hides the redness of his cheeks. What could be so interesting about his face, ah!? Shoo! Shoo! Look at the fireworks instead, won’t you, Mr. Protagonist!?

Chapter 10: ⛲️ Fons Iuventutis Part 3

Chapter Text

On their scheduled day as contenders for the chalice, Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan stand waiting for their turn outside the portal to Fons Iuventutis. Challengers and spectators crowd around the perimeter, eager to see what would come out of the portal.

So far, not a single person has returned with the Chalice of Everlasting Youth.

Fons Iuventutis challengers are given an incense stick of time to conquer the trials and tribulations set by the pocket realm. No challenge is the same, and no one is allowed to see what happens inside. After the incense stick runs out, everything resets and the portal spills out all foreign elements within it.

The incense stick outside the portal fully crumbles into ashes. A moment later, a helmet, a boot, and an axe volley out from the opening. There’s a brief pause, after which Fons Iuventutis spits out a bloody, mangled corpse that splatters to the ground with a sickening squelch.

The crowd roars.

Luo Binghe’s fingers clench around their hold on Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “Shen Yuan, remember: you are not to do anything else but observe,” he says.

Shen Yuan nods. He plans to find a safe spot that would make a good vantage point for watching Luo Binghe conquer whatever trial Fons Iuventutis throws his way. This is all new to him, since Fons Iuventutis never appeared in PIDW.

Shen Yuan thrums with excitement. Way to go, dreaming brain! 10/10 original content that makes more sense than Airplane’s.

They’re next in line. Shen Yuan gingerly steps over the bloody corpse. The registrar from before places an incense stick on the incense burner and shouts, “Challengers Shen Qingge and Shen Yuan, ENTER!”

They step into the portal.

For a few seconds, wind rushes in their ears as they step through a hazy light and walk the featureless space between realms. In the next moment, Shen Yuan finds himself in a small room with a desk in the middle of it and two doors on either side. Well… That was anticlimactic. They approach the desk, which has an open scroll and several incense sticks propped up on top of it. Written on the scroll is the following:

All who enter are bound by the laws of Fons Iuventutis.
Up to two persons may enter.
Spiritual qi only.
Take one incense stick. Once it runs out, the trial will end.
If you agree, take the door to the right. If not, the door to left.

Shen Yuan takes an incense stick. Both he and Luo Binghe choose the door to the right.

The moment they step through the door, the tip of the incense stick bursts into flame. Shen Yuan hurriedly sticks it into the incense burner conveniently placed right near the entrance. He takes the burner with him. In front of them is a small lake atop which float a series of cascading waterfalls suspended in midair. No river connects to the waterfalls, so where does the water gushing down come from? Must be the result of some funky magical doohickey that only exists in this pocket realm.

A great, wide grassy plain stretches out in all directions from the lake. The place is hauntingly desolate, in the way that a fantasy world in a video game could be. In fact, Shen Yuan could imagine his in-game avatar exploring the landscape on horseback to look for level bosses to defeat, just like he did in one of his favorite video games.

At the very top of the uppermost level of a cascading waterfall, so high up as to be almost imperceptible, the golden Chalice of Everlasting Youth perches delicately on top of a clear pane of glass suspended in midair.

“Shen Yuan should take cover,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches the lake. He turns his head back to give Shen Yuan a stern glare. “And remember to stay put no matter what.” He hops onto his sword (an artifact from the palace armory as a substitute for Xin Mo) and flies towards the chalice.

Shen Yuan climbs a large outcropping rock a few meters from the edge of the lake and places the incense burner beside him. From his vantage point, he watches as Luo Binghe closes in on his target. Nothing stirs or stops him in his approach. Could the Chalice of Everlasting Youth be that easy to procure?

Shen Yuan spoke too soon. As soon as Luo Binghe begins to extend his hand towards the chalice, a blinding light flashes and a sharp slashing sound cuts through. In a blink, an enormous wooly mammoth emerges out of thin air, its long sharp tusks cutting through Luo Binghe and sending sprays of water where it pierces through a waterfall. An involuntary cry escapes Shen Yuan’s lips: “Binghe!!!”

He loses track of his companion. The wooly mammoth thrashes its head around. As it does so, it hits several curtains of water, clouding its surroundings in a fine mist. It’s impossible to know where Luo Binghe is in the fog. Did the monstrous creature harm him? Or did he manage to evade? Several moments pass. Heart thundering in his ears, Shen Yuan tries to squint with all his might. No trace of Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan’s eyesight isn’t the best even on clear days. But now, more than ever, he wishes he had his glasses with him.

Before Shen Yuan could spiral into full-blown panic, Luo Binghe mercifully emerges on his sword from behind the creature. A corner of his sleeve is tattered, but he looks otherwise unharmed. Shen Yuan releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Luo Binghe takes out another sword from his storage ring. He begins attacking the wooly mammoth. The creature is as tall as a 20-storey building. If it were to rear up on its hind legs, its height would exceed the uppermost waterfall. Shen Yuan nearly strains his neck staring at it in stupefied awe and terror. Dwarfed by the colossal creature, Luo Binghe looks as menacing as a fly flitting about. His sword may as well be a toothpick. Will it even penetrate the mammoth’s wooly hide? Shen Yuan gnaws on his fingernails.

Luo Binghe flies down near the creature’s legs and directs his attacks there. The mammoth tries to shake him off like one would an annoying mosquito. Luo Binghe circles around all four of the beast’s legs, but Shen Yuan doesn’t see how any of his sword attacks could injure, let alone defeat the creature. Then Luo Binghe retreats, putting some distance between him and the hairy beast.

Several loud explosions reverberate through the air. Shen Yuan watches in amazement as fiery balls of light flash around the mammoth’s legs in quick succession. One, two, three, four. All of the beast’s legs are severed above the knee. With a deafening trumpet of a cry, the beast slides down from the stumps of its legs and collides into the water with a resounding splash. The impact generates large waves that crash against the lake’s shore and nearly reach Shen Yuan’s feet on his outcrop of rock.

With the colossal beast immobilized, Luo Binghe peppers it with bomb attacks and sword strikes that penetrate deep into its skin. Unable to do much beyond thrashing its head and tusks, the wooly mammoth is easy prey for the Protagonist despite its enormous size. As expected of Luo Binghe! He can neutralize any enemy quickly and efficiently, even just using purely spiritual qi! Shen Yuan doesn’t know why he was nervous in the first place.

Due to the mammoth’s sheer size, it takes Luo Binghe several long minutes to plant all of his deep burrowing bombs throughout the beast’s body. Finally, he detonates all of them at once in one resounding explosion. The mammoth slumps into the water, wisps of dark smoke billowing from its carcass.

Luo Binghe directs his attention to flying up towards the chalice. Nothing is left to stop him.

But from Shen Yuan’s position on his outcrop of rock, he sees the black swirling vapors rise up like a swarm of locusts. The shadowy swarm flows towards the remains of the wooly mammoth’s fours stumps still left standing on the water. The hairs at the back of Shen Yuan’s neck stand on end. Luo Binghe is over halfway up the way to the chalice. In the blink of an eye, the dark smoke condenses and the wooly mammoth materializes again, healthy and whole.

“Binghe!” Shen Yuan manages to shout a split second before the beast lunges at Luo Binghe with its tusk. Startled by Shen Yuan’s voice, Luo Binghe manages to evade the attack by a hair. He pays the mammoth no further mind and flies straight to his goal.

Of course… Their purpose here is to collect the Chalice of Everlasting Youth. They’re not obliged to defeat any monsters in order to do so. As long as Luo Binghe can evade any attacks on his way to the chalice, surely he can earn the prize.

And yet as Luo Binghe’s hands are about to touch the chalice, another blinding light flashes. The shock wave is strong enough to push the Protagonist back several meters, straight through two floating waterfall curtains. As Luo Binghe tumbles in the air, the wooly mammoth stands up on its hind legs. A cannonball of light and energy condenses in its mouth. With a deafening roar, it spits the cannonball towards Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe narrowly dodges the attack.

WTF!? Is this one of those “defeat the guardian of the treasure first” scenarios? But Luo Binghe had already defeated the colossal beast! This is bullsh*t! Shen Yuan demands a refund!

Luo Binghe regains his balance on his sword and faces the wooly mammoth head-on. It seems he has arrived at the same conclusion as Shen Yuan—the chalice will only yield itself to the challenger who can champion against its guardian.

Luo Binghe changes strategies. Instead of targeting the beast’s legs for decapitation, he targets its neck and torso. He zips in and out to evade its energy ball attacks. He also targets its eyes. It’s significantly more difficult since they’re closer to the razor-sharp tusks. When Luo Binghe detonates his deep-drilling bombs, the wooly mammoth is cut vertically in three halves. Hooray! Its decapitated head crashes through a waterfall and sinks under the lake.

And yet the wooly mammoth regenerates once again. And again. No matter how Luo Binghe defeats it, the colossal creature rematerializes unscathed every time.

This is extreme! Does this level boss even have a weakness!? Why does it have infinite XP!?

Even Luo Binghe is now looking haggard from exhaustion, his wavy locks plastered to his face and skull with water and sweat. Shen Yuan’s gaze flicks to the incense burner. The incense stick is running low… He estimates less than five minutes left.

Things are not looking good. Shen Yuan clenches his teeth and fists. If only he can be more than a useless sidekick…

A black gecko scurries by on the rock beside the incense burner. Its bright white tail catches Shen Yuan’s attention. Something about the reptile strikes him as extremely familiar…

“Luo Binghe!” He shouts with all his might. If he’s right in his hunch, this could be their ticket to victory. Shen Yuan jumps around and waves his arms, motioning for Luo Binghe to come to Shen Yuan’s spot. Luo Binghe sees him and withdraws his attack on the creature to go to Shen Yuan’s side.

“What is it,” Luo Binghe growls, his tunic plastered to his body with sweat and bits of monster viscera.

Shen Yuan brings up a finger to the center of his forehead. “Target it here. Use your longest sword.” He speaks so fast he almost trips over the words. “No time to explain, but that should be its weakness.”

Luo Binghe doesn’t say anything but he looks Shen Yuan in the eye with a grim yet determined expression. He nods once, and departs on his sword.

He heeds Shen Yuan’s advice. Luo Binghe secures a foothold on the wooly mammoth’s forehead despite its thrashing. He grips the hilt of his sword with both hands. The moment he swings it upwards for momentum, a circular sigil activates beneath his feet. Luo Binghe adjusts his aim. He plunges the sword straight through the center of the glowing sigil, all the way to the hilt.

The activated sigil confirms it. Shen Yuan’s wild guess is correct! The white-tailed black gecko, plus the monster are straight-up plagiarized from the classic game Shadow of the Colossus! Victory guaranteed!

With a final roaring cry, the wooly mammoth crashes into the water, propelling a giant wave that crests as high as a mountain. Luo Binghe’s victory! But why isn’t he flying to collect the prize? As Shen Yuan squints his eyes, he is horrified to see Luo Binghe dragged into the water, the wooly mammoth’s long and spindly hairs wrapped around and trapping his body in thick ropes. What the—That wasn’t in the game!

Panic-induced adrenaline surges through Shen Yuan’s veins. From the corner of his eye, he catches the glint of the chalice as it topples from its perch in the sky. It falls straight towards the churning water as if in slow motion.

The incense stick dwindles to its last stub and threatens to disintegrate completely into ashes. Without flight from a spiritual sword, Shen Yuan won’t reach the chalice in time. In a split second decision, he grasps the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake horn in one hand, a handful of talismans in the other.

The incense stick crumbles into dust.

Fons Iuventutis spits Luo Binghe out, sopping wet, onto the floor of the small room they had been in when they first entered the portal.

He’s empty-handed.

He grits his teeth tight enough to crack. For the first time in very long, he feels inadequate, useless.

He’s been co*cky, neglecting his spiritual cultivation and leaning too much into his demonic nature. If he had his full Heavenly Demon powers, extinguishing the wooly mammoth would have been short work, even without Xin Mo.

He had spotted the chalice drop from the sky, the treasure he sought right before his eyes yet slipping through his fingers like water.

If only he was fast enough.

If only he was skilled enough.

If only he was strong enough.

Failing to procure the chalice means setting his plan back by several months, if not years. After the first two summonings, the palace’s coffers are near exhaustion, his store of treasures and the kingdom’s resources dwindling. The next summoning attempt could be his last chance to bring the gentle Shen Qingqiu into this world.

Fate once again deigns to conspire against him. Even after everything, after all he’s sacrificed, is he still not worthy!? Must he suffer and claw his way for every scrap of joy?

He hears the squelch of footsteps behind him. Shen Yuan staggers into the room, soaking wet from head to toe as if he had been dragged out to sea. His arms clutch his middle underneath his tunic.

“L-Luo B-Binghe…” Shen Yuan sputters. His shoulders wrack with convulsions as he coughs to expel water from his lungs. When the coughing subsides, he removes his arms from beneath his tunic, his hands clutching a large golden chalice encrusted with sapphires and emeralds. He presents it to Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe is struck speechless, eyes blown wide as he stares at the chalice in Shen Yuan’s hands. “H-how?” He manages, voice hoarse.

Shen Yuan coughs again and turns his face to his shoulder sleeve to wipe his mouth. Unfortunately, it’s as sopping wet as the rest of him. “Talismans,” he says. “A 1-2-3 combo of water jet, speed, and accuracy spells. I used it to propel myself into the lake and catch the chalice in the nick of time.”

Luo Binghe looks at Shen Yuan as if seeing him for the first time. All of a sudden, he feels as if a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. His chest soars, light as a bubble, and when a wide grin threatens to break out on his face, he doesn't try to stop it.

“Shen Yuan,” he breathes out as he strides across the room towards his attendant, giddy with emotion. He wraps his arms around Shen Yuan’s waist and lifts him up to spin him around the room. “We did it!!! We did it!!!”

Shen Yuan goes rigid in Luo Binghe’s arms as he is twirled around and around. His arms are awkwardly trapped in Luo Binghe’s embrace, still clutching the chalice to his chest. Finally, he also breaks out into a grin and says, “We did it!”

Luo Binghe twirls Shen Yuan one last time then sets him back on his feet. Without thinking, he cups Shen Yuan’s cheeks with both hands and gives him a peck on the lips.

Shen Yuan freezes, his pupils growing wide and his face rapidly coloring a violent red. It’s a lovely look on him. Luo Binghe is suddenly aware of the press of their bodies, of Shen Yuan’s wet clothes molding to his slender form, clinging to every curve. Of how perfect he feels cradled in Luo Binghe’s arms, like he was always meant to be there.

“This Lo—” he starts, but is interrupted when a chime dings from the direction of the desk at the center of the room.

A scroll floats on top of it, and as they approach, characters appear on it one after the other, as if seeing an invisible hand writing in real time.

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of one (1) Chalice of Everlasting Youth!
The following are the care and usage instructions:

The chalice is one-time use only. Luo Binghe skims the text, uninterested in the minor details as his sole purpose is to synthesize it to power the summoning spell. No person will be drinking from it to achieve immortality.

At the bottom of the page:

To return to the outside world, take the door to the left. To venture into the unknown, the door to the right.

They’ve achieved their goal here. No sense in dilly-dallying. They take the left door.

They hear a rush of wind in their ears as they step through the void between realms. They leave the doorstep of Fons Iuventutis behind and walk in the direction of the hazy light ahead, towards the exit leading to the village. Suddenly, a sharp zing accompanied by the noise of metal scraping against metal resonates from ahead. Dozens of arrows appear in their field of vision, all unerringly aimed towards them.

The portal’s final test? Or something else—?

Luo Binghe grabs Shen Yuan in his arms and swiftly turns to shield him with his back. With a burst of demonic qi, he repels the arrows. The laws of Fons Iuventutis activate and expel them even quicker from the portal, punting them from the opening like a cuju kickball. Luo Binghe keeps his hold tight on Shen Yuan as they volley through the air.

He gracefully lands on his feet, Shen Yuan still in his arms. The gathering crowd is quiet as they consider the state of the two challengers who emerged from the portal. Luo Binghe stands up and raises Shen Yuan to sit on his shoulders, the chalice Shen Yuan is still holding in his hands plain to see.

The crowd grows wild. They cheer and holler, “A winner! We have a winner!” Chants of “Shen Qingge!!! Shen Yuan!!!” are heard as the two victors are paraded through the streets.

A few hours later, Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan have changed outfits and sit beside each other at the banquet held by the village in their honor.

Shen Yuan leans close to Luo Binghe, a raised hand shielding his mouth. His ink, cedarwood, and earth scent is distracting. “Lu—Cousin Qingge, are you okay? You look a little pale,” Shen Yuan says in a low voice. “I saw an arrow pierce you on the shoulder. Did you get it checked by a healer?”

Luo Binghe nods. “Nothing to worry about.” The wound had already closed thanks to his Heavenly Demon constitution, but the poison in the arrow’s tip had been unusually potent. Luo Binghe suspects that anybody who isn’t a high-ranking cultivator or demon would have been killed on the spot. It’s been taking him a while to completely neutralize the poison, but a few more cycles of cleansing his meridians and the work of his Heavenly Demon blood should remove all traces of it within the next hour.

Shen Yuan looks a bit troubled as he pushes at the food in his bowl. “When the arrows came, I could’ve sworn that the sound—”

Shen Yuan is interrupted by the village mayor’s booming voice. “And now, in honor of our brave champions Shen Qingge and Shen Yuan, a fine example of cousins lending each other brotherly support and love, bolstered by their family ties…”

Luo Binghe drinks another cup of wine to drown out the mayor’s rambling and focuses his attention on watching Shen Yuan’s every minute movement and reaction from the corner of his eye. The way his lips pucker as he sucks the juice from a piece of mandarin orange, the bobbing of his throat as he gulps down his drink, the timing of his eyes going glassy, cheeks dusted a fetching pink as the servers refill his wine cup.

They return to their inn late in the evening. The moment they enter the room, Luo Binghe pounces like a tiger on its prey, pinning his attendant against the door. “Wha—” Shen Yuan mouth parts in shock, a disoriented look on his face. It gives Luo Binghe the perfect opportunity to cover Shen Yuan’s lips with his own and sneak his tongue inside.

Shen Yuan goes rigid against him, eyes blown wide. Luo Binghe pins both of Shen Yuan’s wrists beside his head and shoves his own knee between Shen Yuan’s legs. As Luo Binghe’s tongue continues to probe deeper, Shen Yuan drops all defenses and closes his eyes, melting under Luo Binghe’s ministrations.

“Nnggrrrhh,” Shen Yuan moans, the sound of it going straight to Luo Binghe’s co*ck. Shen Yuan tastes of the wine they had been drinking earlier and a sweet, earthy scent unique to him.

“Shen Yuan…” Luo Binghe groans as he laps at Shen Yuan’s saliva like a thirsty beast in a waterless wasteland.

Luo Binghe feels something hard bump on his knee. Oh… He’s not the only one excited here. Another groan escapes his lips and he starts rutting against their clothed erections, the electrifying thrill of it sending jolts of pleasure racing through his veins. He only breaks the assault on Shen Yuan’s mouth to give the man time to breathe before diving back in again.

They’ve only been kissing, fully clothed, but Luo Binghe has never before felt more turned on in his life. He takes a moment to lean back and cup Shen Yuan’s face with his hand to observe him: face flushed from wine and arousal, kiss-swollen lips parted and inviting as he pants softly, the irises of his half-lidded, guileless eyes blown wide. For a fleeting second, he is reminded of the Shen Qingqiu in that strange Bamboo House, lying soft and pliable beneath him.

The reminder of Shen Qingqiu drops like a bucket of ice water over Luo Binghe’s head. What is he doing? Is this the time for petty dalliances? Didn’t the sorcerers tell him that Shen Yuan must be kept pure and free of external influences in order to ensure the summoning spell’s accuracy? Just a moment ago, he had half a mind to make Shen Yuan drink his blood, take him right there at the door and fill him with his seed.

He’s so close to his goal… How could he let a fleeting attraction distract him? Luo Binghe is better than this. He abruptly drops his hold on Shen Yuan and steps back. Shen Yuan leans his back against the door, looking dazed. Looking enticing. Luo Binghe turns away, clenches his fists and digs his fingernails deep into the meat of his palm so as not to subject himself to temptation.

“This Lord…shall spend the night elsewhere,” he says, still with his back to Shen Yuan. His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. “Best to forget this momentary lapse of judgment ever happened.”

With a stunned and speechless Shen Yuan still blocking the door, Luo Binghe elects to leave through one of the wide open windows. He jumps from the ledge and lands on the ground, sure-footed as a panther. As he walks the streets, the cool night breeze helps him clear his head.

He’s still half-hard. He stops in front of a pleasure house, hesitates, but ultimately goes in at the beck and call of the ladies of the night. He asks to be taken to the entertainment area where courtesans sing and dance, all the while plying their guests with food and alcohol. He allows the ladies to cling to him and surveys their faces and bodies, looking for one who is slender and fine-boned, flat-chested, with wide guileless eyes, and of a height that reaches to the bottom of his chin.

Staying out the entire night, surrounded by countless peerless beauties that come and go, Luo Binghe still doesn’t find what he is searching for.

After Luo Binghe leaves, Shen Yuan’s back slowly slides down from the door until his butt touches the floor, knees weak.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, legs sprawled ungainly on the ground.

Just a while ago, his head was spinning from the liquor he’d been drinking all night, but at the moment he feels as if he’s been dunked head-first into a freezing pond. The shock had woken him up from his stupor with sobering clarity.

There are times where Shen Yuan starts to doubt that maybe he isn’t living in a dream after all. When the sensations of pain or pleasure feel much too sharp and real somehow.

But right now, he is convinced more than ever that this is all just a dream.

After all, despite how frighteningly 4D Luo Binghe’s body and heat felt against his own, his woodsy, earthy scent filling Shen Yuan’s nostrils, and how goddamn realistic it felt to have a hot and clever tongue down his throat, there was just no way that a stallion protagonist would have the hots for Shen Yuan.

First and foremost, Luo Binghe isn’t gay!!!

(…Neither is Shen Yuan. Right?)

OOC! OOC! WTF dreaming brain! Are you trying to send Shen Yuan a subconscious message? Should he schedule an appointment with his therapist first thing in the morning after he wakes up?

Second: Luo Binghe wouldn’t want him, anyway. He made that abundantly clear. In fact, the experience had been so horrible Luo Binghe had immediately wanted to erase it from his brain. The man had been so disgusted he even fled through the window.

A momentary lapse of judgment, Luo Binghe had called it.

Something sharp and jagged lodges itself in Shen Yuan’s throat.

That’s right. Th…the…incident which will not be named must have been the result of wires crossing somewhere. What does Shen Yuan have to offer that Luo Binghe can’t get from his thousands of wives and lovers? Luo Binghe deserves to be with someone worthy, someone beautiful and talented and amazing who could proudly stand beside the Emperor without embarrassing him. His special someone. Not a… defective, faulty caricature.

Shen Yuan folds his legs to his chest and hugs his thighs, burying his head on his knees.

They probably both had too much to drink at the banquet. Maybe ate something funny. An aphrodisiac?

Luo Binghe hadn’t meant to do that at all.

And what about you? Did you mean it? a tiny voice whispers at the back of his brain. Shen Yuan quickly tamps it shut.

He stares at his lap. His dick is still hard and angry even though the sensation of something obstructing his throat makes it hard to breathe. After a while of waiting and his erection not getting the memo to calm down, he gingerly slips his hand into his pants. His dick is sopping wet with precum, and he lets out an involuntary moan at the first slide through his fist. He tries to keep his mind blank, not wanting to think of anything but the buzz of mounting pleasure as he rubs himself. As his fist gathers speed, the slick sounds of friction echo through the room.

Unbidden, the image of Luo Binghe flashes through his mind, eyes hooded and looking at him with lust and want, kissing Shen Yuan so desperately as if he were the last drop of water in the desert, taking him so deeply as if he wanted to meld Shen Yuan to his bones.

With a strained, embarrassing cry, Shen Yuan spills in his hand. Rope after rope of cum shoots from his overwrought dick, seemingly without end, until he’s so oversensitive convulsions wrack his body. He’s never come so hard and so fast in his life.

He stares at the cooling white puddle on the floor before getting up on shaky legs to retrieve a rag.

It’s almost midday when Luo Binghe returns to the inn. He reeks of alcohol and women’s perfume. Shen Yuan catches smears of rouge around his collar. He involuntarily averts his gaze.

For some reason, Shen Yuan’s chest feels stuffy and his eyes sting. Taking a deep and fortifying breath, he ignores it and decides to focus on the task at hand.

True to his word, Luo Binghe never mentions anything about what happened the previous night. He asks to be drawn up a bath and to have his normal imperial robes prepared. He likewise instructs Shen Yuan to change clothing to his regular ones. They will depart for the palace later in the afternoon.

This time, Luo Binghe uses Xin Mo to transport them back directly. They materialize in front of the palace gates to announce the Emperor’s return.

The moment they step into the imperial courtyard, a teenager in midnight blue robes comes running towards them. Shen Yuan recognizes him as the apprentice who had previously taken his “O” and “S-wave particle” measurements at the royal labs.

The boy collapses into a kowtow. “Begging forgiveness for this lowly one’s rudeness, Lord Luo. But there’s been an incident at the Royal Alchemical Research Facility and his Majesty’s presence is required urgently.”

Luo Binghe’s demeanor instantly changes, his face setting into a hard line. “Take me there,” he says. He briefly turns to Shen Yuan. “Wait for this Lord at my personal chambers.” Then he’s off.

Shen Yuan deposits his various knickknacks and belongings from the trip into his room, then lets himself into Luo Binghe’s chambers. Nothing has changed since they went on their fetch quest to Fons Iuventutis, but he goes through the room with a feather duster. He spritzes the Belladonna of Happiness with some water (although it doesn’t really need it). The singular green berry on it hasn’t grown any bigger.

Hours pass and still no sight of Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan paces about the room and dusts the furniture a fifth time, gut twisting with worry. The Sorcerer’s apprentice had looked frazzled. Was the incident at the labs really that serious? What would that mean for Luo Binghe and the summoning spell? They’ve brought back the Chalice of Everlasting Youth so that should mitigate any problems, right?

Luo Binghe finally returns to his chambers late into the night. Shen Yuan rushes to meet him but stops in his tracks at the Emperor’s stormy expression and the dark, forbidding aura emanating from him. Before Shen Yuan could say a word, Luo Binghe thunders to his desk, lifts up both hands and sweeps them across the table, toppling scrolls, books, an inkpot, and a metal cup, sending them clattering to the floor.

Shen Yuan startles. He doesn’t know what to say or how to approach the temperamental man in front of him, so he busies himself with picking up the fallen books and scrolls, trying to prevent the spilled ink from staining them further. His hands fumble as he desperately tries to wipe away the ink with a rag.

After a long moment of silence, Luo Binghe speaks. “The Chalice of Everlasting Youth. It was all for naught.”

Shen Yuan stiffens and pauses his cleaning. “It didn’t work?”

Luo Binghe shakes head and clenches his fists. “The chalice was indeed worth 5 percentage points. However, while we were away, the accuracy and compatibility of the summoning spell went down significantly. From 92.8%, it plummeted to 83.7%.” He heaves out the weary sigh of a soldier coming home in defeat. “With the chalice, and after yielding to the Sorcerers’ unreasonable demands, it is now back up to 90.5%. Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang could not provide an explanation for such a significant fluctuation.”

90.5%… What a setback. The summoning spell is now at an even worse state than during Shen Yuan’s second summoning.

Shen Yuan finishes picking up the fallen books and wiping the ink off as best as he can. He places them back neatly on the table. He doesn’t know what to say at such a depressing announcement so he offers instead, “Would you like some tea? It must have been a long day.” Luo Binghe nods.

When Shen Yuan returns with a tray and teapot, he finds Luo Binghe changed into loose night robes and sitting in front the dresser, a desolate expression clouding his face. Luo Binghe wordlessly accepts the cup of tea and sips on it as he stares blankly at his reflection on the bronze mirror.

Shen Yuan has never seen Luo Binghe look this sad before. His defeated look pierces Shen Yuan like an arrow to the heart. “W-would you allow me to brush your hair?”

Luo Binghe nods in assent. Shen Yuan begins his routine brushing, taking extra care to be gentle and soothing as he massages Luo Binghe’s scalp with the comb. He works methodically from right to left, and as he reaches the final section of hair, something strikes him as unusual.

He buries his fingers deep into the wavy locks, parting the strands this way and that, but no matter how he looks he can find no trace of that scraggly old braid. Was it really gone? He had helped Luo Binghe with his hair in the afternoon before they left the village and it was definitely still there, so the loss of the braid must have been a very recent development.

No wonder Luo Binghe is so distraught. He treasured that braid so much. The one from his special person, whom he so desperately wants to bring into this world.

Shen Yuan bites his lip. He hesitates for a brief moment, then stealthily weaves a braid in Luo Binghe’s hair, on the right side of his head. He ties it at the end with a blue ribbon the shade of a robin’s egg.

The braid may not mean much, coming from him. However, he hopes, perhaps, it will provide some comfort to Luo Binghe.

Chapter 11: 🌋 Cataclysm

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan accompanies Luo Binghe in his daily hours-long meetings with the sorcerers for the next few days. Although he doesn’t have an active role in the meetings, which makes him wonder why Luo Binghe brings Shen Yuan to them in the first place, he tries to make himself useful. He diligently refills Luo Binghe’s teacup, grinds the ink for Luo Binghe’s brush to a perfect vantablack, and massages Luo Binghe’s stiff shoulders. His stomach twists with worry at what the recent developments could mean for Luo Binghe, the Sorcerer Clan, and the summoning spell.

Each new day brings increasingly distressing news.

“My Lord,” Zhao Gang reports, voice shaky, “the summoning spell’s accuracy meter has dropped once again. It is currently at 89.90% and steadily plummeting at a rate of one percent per day.”

Luo Binghe stares at the Imperial Alchemist, face impassive. “What could be the reason behind this?”

Zhao Gang visibly trembles. “Rest assured Your Highness, the Sorcerer Clan has been working day and night to identify the cause and mitigate the losses. But despite our efforts, we have yet to find a solution. However, initial investigation suggests a probable cause originating from the other world.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow as he gestures with a hand. “Elaborate.”

“Lord Luo,” Zhao Gang replies, taking a deep breath. “Please take into consideration that without access to that other world, everything this Acting Court Alchemist says is mere conjecture. However, we have reason to believe that there may have been… changes to the person His Highness seeks. Physical or status changes… which may have contributed to the increase in the exchange price.”

Shen Yuan blinks rapidly. So, something new and major happened to the person Luo Binghe wants to summon? And the change was profound enough to increase the summoning cost by a wide margin? What, did they die and transmigrate into a new role or something?

Luo Binghe scans the room where several court sorcerers are gathered, their faces etched with tension and trepidation. “With the increase in the transmutation cost,” he says, “this Lord would like to know of any alternative and actionable solutions to bridge the price difference.”

Murmurs erupt around the hall. A few sorcerers gather together, arguing in low tones. After a few minutes, Zhao Jiahao emerges from the group and comes up to Luo Binghe.

“Lord Luo,” Zhao Jiahao says. “There is an alternative currency that can be used to synthesize the summoning toll fee, but at the cost of dire social and political ramifications… That is to say, human sacrifices are possible at a current exchange rate of 0.01% percentage points per person, although the rate could go up to 10 times higher for people with a cultivation base.”

Shen Yuan’s hand rushes to cover his mouth and stifle a gasp. That would mean… exchanging 100 non-cultivators, or 10 cultivators, to increase the accuracy and compatibility by a mere 1%. Surely, that is madness!?

Luo Binghe stays silent, mouth pressed into a grim line. But before he could comment, a young man comes barging into the hall, his dark blue robes a flurry behind him.

“Lord Luo, Acting Court Alchemist Zhao Gang,” the boy bows, voice breathless. Shen Yuan recognizes him as the apprentice that took his ‘S and O-wave particle’ measurements a couple of months back. “Begging forgiveness for the impunity, but this apprentice has astounding news! According to the result of this one’s calculations, Imperial Attendant Shen Yuan has a total of 98.79% accuracy and compatibility with the summoning spell!”

Shen Yuan’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t know what to feel about this latest development. He scans other people’s faces to look for a suitable reaction. Everyone is staring at him with bulging eyes, some with their mouths open in shock. Others have wide smiles on their faces, as if seeing the miracle they were searching for.

Frenzied murmurs once again erupt in the room, loud enough that Zhao Gang has to lift his hand and call out in a booming voice, “Silence!” He fixes his gaze on the young apprentice. “Those results are extremely irregular and unheard of. How can a single person, especially one devoid of cultivation, hold such high karmic worth? Before jumping to hasty and outlandish conclusions, it would be best to redo and recheck the measurements on Imperial Attendant Shen Yuan’s person.”

“This Lord agrees. Recheck and recalibrate your instruments, and recalculate the measurements on Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe scans the crowd, making eye contact with each sorcerer present. “This Lord also requests a list of all prisoners in the kingdom, as well as practicing cultivators and anyone with spiritual ability within the palace and beyond.”

Everyone in the room goes pale. Nonetheless, they murmur, “As Lord Luo wishes.”

Shen Yuan turns to look at the Emperor, mouth agape. Unlike the rest of the people in the room, Luo Binghe doesn’t even spare him a glance. His face remains cold and impassive as ever, but Shen Yuan catches a calculating glint in his eye. As if he were running mental summations, gambling on people’s lives. I-Is Luo Binghe really considering…?

Luo Binghe leaves the Summoning Hall with a swish of his dark robes, leaving Shen Yuan behind for the sorcerers to measure and inspect. Zhao Jiahao rushes up to meet him, taking Shen Yuan’s arm as he leads him towards the Royal Labs.

“We’ll have to do the measurements on you again, but there’s no need to worry. That result was definitely a dud, just as Zhao Gang said,” Zhao Jiahao says, even as his grip on Shen Yuan grows tighter and his voice rises in pitch. “Yes. No need to panic,” he mumbles. He brings Shen Yuan to a room with all sorts of strange gizmos and contraptions. Shen Yuan recognizes the measuring tool that looks like liquid motion bubble timer from the last time he came to the research facility.

Zhao Jiahao is called to attend to another matter so Shen Yuan is left behind with the young apprentice and another senior sorcerer. They poke and prod Shen Yuan repeatedly, making him hold this or that tool, and take his measurements multiple times. The furrow in the senior sorcerer’s brow deepens each time he scribbles into his notes.

Two days later, as Shen Yuan walks along the palace hallway, he notices more people crowding the corridor than usual, each and every one seemingly in a hurry to get somewhere. He spots many of Luo Binghe’s wives, trailed by their attendants, flitting in and out of the Great Hall. They look jumpy and jittery. Shen Yuan gets jostled as some of the servants bump into him, their field of vision obscured by the large boxes and piles of clothes and treasures they carry in their arms. Even as they mumble a quick apology, they refuse to meet Shen Yuan’s eyes before darting away.

Zhao Jiahao appears beside him. He takes Shen Yuan’s hand and places himself between Shen Yuan and the crowd. His towering figure makes it easier for passers-by to spot them and give them a wide berth. Once they escape the throng in the Great Hall, Zhao Jiahao herds Shen Yuan towards a secluded alcove.

“Hey, you didn’t have to do that. But thanks,” Shen Yuan says, squeezing Zhao Jiahao’s hand. He peers at his friend. “Is something the matter?” Zhao Jiahao looks spooked, his eyes darting around their surroundings.

“It’s the tyrant,” Zhao Jiahao spits out. “He’s gone mad. It’s an open secret that he’s gathering human sacrifices for his infernal summoning project. Prisoners and anyone with an ounce of cultivation or spiritual power in their veins are a prime target.”

So that explains the swarm of people then. A mass exodus from the palace? And the Emperor’s wives are the first to go? Shen Yuan bristles on behalf of Luo Binghe. Traitors, the lot of them. Weren’t they supposed to be here to support their Lord husband at this delicate time?

This time, Zhao Jiahao grasps both of Shen Yuan’s hands, his clear gray eyes boring holes into Shen Yuan’s soul. “Do you want to flee as well? I can help you get away from this godforsaken place. The palace is too dangerous now. You should escape while you still can.”

Shen Yuan considers. In recent days, the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Aside from that, Zhao Jiahao’s offer to take him to the outside world is a tempting proposition. But then… that would mean leaving the Protagonist’s side when so many other people have already left. Eventually, he replies. “Thanks for the offer. But I don’t think the situation is that bad. I’m staying here.” Surely, everyone’s worry is blown out of proportion.

Zhao Jiahao hardens his lips in a stern line. “Shen Yuan, I’m afraid about what might happen if you stay here. Can I really not change your mind?” At Shen Yuan’s vehement shake of the head, he sighs. “I think you’re making the wrong decision, but maybe there’s still time to come up with a better plan. For the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open. The moment that Luo Binghe tries anything, you know where to find me. We’ll escape together.”

Shen Yuan squeezes back Zhao Jiahao’s hands, touched by his dedication. But why does Zhao Jiahao look so unhappy? Shen Yuan would just be dead weight even if he manages to escape, anyway. Not that he has any plans of going anywhere. He doesn’t have cultivation, and without access to his Suncatcher patch, there is no reliable way to gather qi for his talismans. Outside of the palace, Shen Yuan is just a useless, talentless hack. Besides, this is his dream! Where else would he rather be when the action (and the Protagonist) is right here?

The next day, Shen Yuan has just finished clearing away the remnants of Luo Binghe’s lunch tray at the Emperor’s bedchamber when they receive a knock on the door.

Shen Yuan opens it to a harried-looking Zhao Gang. The Imperial Alchemist’s eyes are bloodshot and his robes disheveled, as if he hasn’t bathed or slept in days. He requests an urgent audience with the Emperor. Shen Yuan lets him inside.

“My Lord,” Zhao Gang says, face ashen and voice trembling. “There has been an unexpected development in the summoning spell. As of this morning, the accuracy meter has further dropped to 49%.”

Shen Yuan gasps. A drop of 36 percentage points, seemingly overnight!? Is the summoning spell still usable!?

Cold darkness flickers in Luo Binghe’s eyes. Shen Yuan hears him take a sharp breath. “Is Court Alchemist Zhao Gang certain?” the Emperor says, eerily calm.

Zhao Gang drops into a kowtow. “Lord Luo… This lowly sorcerer ascertained it multiple times, as he himself could not believe what he was seeing with his eyes. Yet even with multiple calibrations, the result remains the same. The summoning spell’s accuracy has dived down exponentially, and continues to plummet even as we speak.”

Luo Binghe’s face tightens. A dark oppressive aura emanates from his body. “Use any and all means necessary to revert the spell’s accuracy to its previous level. Begone and do not return until you have found a solution!” he bellows.

“Understood, your Highness!” Zhao Gang quivers before scrambling up from his kowtow and fleeing the room.

Luo Binghe stays silent and unmoving where he stands, his shoulders heaving from his heavy breaths. The oppressive aura intensifies, thickening like black tar.

Shen Yuan wrings his hands. He steps closer and tries to reach out to the upset Emperor. “Luo B—” he starts, only to flinch when the Protagonist abruptly turns to the nearest table and smashes both fists on its surface. The wood splinters with a sickening crunch.

He stomps over to his desk next and shoves the objects on top of it, sending piles of scrolls and documents clattering to the floor. The inkstone smashes to the ground, staining the carpet black. Shen Yuan scrambles to pick it up before the ink seeps further into the carpet.

Luo Binghe turns his wrath toward Shen Yuan next. “What are you standing there for!? Useless. All of you are useless!” He strides towards the bookshelf and begins tearing books from their spines. “This is why this Lord has no need for anyone! Never have and never will. So leave. Leave me alone!”

Shen Yuan stumbles backwards, stunned by the vitriol of Luo Binghe’s words. It’s probably best to give the upset Emperor some space; he wouldn’t be of any help here, anyway. Shen Yuan always seems to be in Luo Binghe’s way, preventing him from getting what he wants. Just like with the two previous failed summonings that brought Shen Yuan instead of Luo Binghe’s special person. He quickly turns on his heel and flees through the side door into the corridor. As he runs towards his own room, echoes of more objects being smashed reverberate through the walls.

Shen Yuan stays in his room, anxiety twisting his gut. Luo Binghe’s rampage continues for several hours. Every now and then Shen Yuan hears the distant echo of a crash, or of glass shattering, but those, too, peter out eventually.

It’s been over an hour since he last heard a sound from Luo Binghe’s bedchamber. He gingerly opens the door and stares at the winding corridor connecting his room to Luo Binghe’s. I-Is… the Protagonist alright? Luo Binghe seems to have calmed down at least, judging by the silence. Shen Yuan should probably go check on him. After all, it’s his job as the imperial nanny to make sure his employer is safe and healthy, right?

Shen Yuan briefly hesitates before knocking on the door to the Emperor’s bedchamber. “Shen Yuan here. Asking permission to enter and clean the room.”

No answer. He knocks again.

Silence.

That’s… concerning. Coming to a decision, Shen Yuan raps the door a final time and says, “Please excuse this servant’s impertinence. Shen Yuan will be letting himself inside.”

The door is thankfully unlocked. The moment he opens it, Shen Yuan is hit face-first by a heavy miasma of demonic qi. He almost reels back, stunned, but worry propels him to go deeper into the room to investigate the source of the oppressive black aura.

Amidst ceramic shards and remnants of broken furniture strewn about, he finds Luo Binghe slumped in a corner of the bedchamber, black qi emanating from him in heavy and erratic waves. The Emperor’s head is bowed, seemingly unaware of what is happening around him, although his body twitches as wave after wave of concentrated qi pulses out from him.

Is Shen Yuan witnessing a live, honest-to-goodness qi deviation?

“Luo Binghe…?” Shen Yuan calls out.

The Protagonist doesn’t reply.

Shen Yuan stares at him, worry and horror pooling in his gut. He tries to go nearer but a shockwave of dark qi repels him.

Since Luo Binghe is in the throes of deviation… Shen Yuan should probably go and fetch one of Luo Binghe’s wives, right? After all, in PIDW, that’s always how Luo Binghe managed to overcome qi deviations from Xin Mo’s backlashes—dual cultivation while in the healing and heaving bosom of a loving, doting wife (or three).

Shen Yuan leaves, making sure to keep the door locked, and runs straight to the entrance of the Harem Grounds.

“I-I need to talk…w-with…one of Luo Binghe’s wives,” he pants, breathless from running, to one of the guards at the gate.

“None of Luo Binghe’s wives are here now. They have all departed the palace for an extended leave,” came the curt reply.

What does that mean!? The Emperor has literally hundreds of wives. How can not a single one of them be in the vicinity?

Shen Yuan spots a dainty woman in shimmering golden robes exiting the gate and immediately recognizes her as Qin Wanrong. Hah! So the guard was lying after all!

Shen Yuan rushes past the guard to catch her attention. “Excuse me! Can I have a moment?” he says. He lowers his voice to avoid attracting attention to Luo Binghe’s currently vulnerable state. “It’s about Luo Binghe. He…needs you.”

Qin Wanrong takes one look at Shen Yuan’s face and shrugs him off, leaving without a word.

What the!? Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your Lord husband, esteemed missus?

Shen Yuan spots another wife passing by and tries to accost her but the guard catches up to him and grabs Shen Yuan to pull him away.

“Please,” Shen Yuan says, desperate. “I just need to talk to one of Luo Binghe’s wives. A single one will do.” He tries to take out a trump card. “It’s for the Emperor.”

The guard shakes his head. “It’s no use. Everyone has already made up their minds to flee. The women you saw were only coming back to pick up their belongings.”

Shen Yuan is dumbfounded. “Isn’t it your job to stop them!?”

The guard squeezes Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “I’ve been paid to turn a blind eye. Enough to set me and my family up for several generations. After today, I’m leaving this place.” He gently shakes Shen Yuan’s shoulder to emphasize his point. “You should leave too, young man. Take the chance while you still can.”

Shen Yuan stares at the guard in shock. “W-What about First Wife Ning Yingying? Noble Consorts Liu Mingyan and Sha Hualing?” Surely those three stalwarts who have been with Luo Binghe from the beginning wouldn’t drop him so easily?

The guard shakes his head. “They’ve been stationed at the Far Western Territories to handle the skirmishes and rebellions on the Emperor’s behalf. It would take several days for them to come here, even flying by sword nonstop.”

Shen Yuan walks back to the Emperor’s bedchamber, shell-shocked by the recent turn of events. How could these women who have sworn to love and to hold Luo Binghe abandon him at this most crucial time, when he needs them the most!?

The moment he opens the door, he is almost bowled over by the overbearing surge of demonic qi radiating from within. Bracing himself, he enters the room in slow, measured steps.

“L-Luo Binghe…?” he tries calling out. “It’s me, Shen Yuan. I’ve come back.” Was the Protagonist cognizant enough to know the person in the room with him?

As before, Luo Binghe doesn’t give any indication of having heard anything.

Shen Yuan draws closer, each step forward like wading through deep mud as the suffocating and crushing aura surges against him. He grits his teeth and pushes through despite the stifling pressure.

He finally reaches the Protagonist’s side. Crouching on the floor beside Luo Binghe, he reaches out a hand to touch him—

Only to yelp and quickly draw his hand away at the sharp sting of Luo Binghe’s erratic qi.

Nursing his throbbing hand, Shen Yuan stares helplessly at the Protagonist’s slumped form. What can he do about this situation? His plan to find someone for Luo Binghe to dual cultivate with has fallen through the roof. He looks around the ruined bedroom, trying to get his bearings, mind racing for possible solutions.

Xin Mo pulses and throbs from its perch on the wall, glutting on Luo Binghe’s misfortune. Shen Yuan feels something on his hip pulsating in the same rhythm. Looking down, he sees the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake Horn beating to the oscillations of the demonic qi emanating from Luo Binghe. As he observes the pulsing tusk, an idea forms in his mind.

What if… Shen Yuan could use the horn to absorb the excess qi, the way he does when harvesting from his Suncatcher plants? He presses the horn to Luo Binghe’s side. Demonic qi trickles into the tusk. So Shen Yuan’s hunch is right after all!

He waits for several minutes, but no matter where he holds the horn against the Protagonist’s body, the slow trickle doesn’t increase. At the rate the absorption is going, it’s not going to make a dent on Luo Binghe’s state! It’s akin to attempting to empty an overflowing bathtub with a teaspoon.

He needs a way to direct the excess qi into the horn. Right now, the flow of it is too chaotic and aimless. But to do that, he’ll need to direct the demonic qi and pass it through his veins first before it can be safely stored inside the horn. But how can he manage that when he can’t even touch Luo Binghe?

He gazes at Luo Binghe’s pallid face and brows furrowed even in unconsciousness. The Protagonist doesn’t seem to be recovering anytime soon. Taking a deep breath, Shen Yuan steels himself.

He reaches out his hand. The moment his fingers make contact with Luo Binghe, sizzling fire permeates his skin and travels through his veins. Gritting his teeth, he tries to recall the last time he cleansed Luo Binghe’s meridians—it was like navigating a canoe down a river with many branching streams. Only now, that waterway has become a raging river threatening to overturn Shen Yuan’s boat. But Shen Yuan refuses to give up. He rows with all his might, fighting the current, until he chances upon a stream small enough to control and redirect.

Slowly, carefully, from that small stream, he diverts Luo Binghe’s erratic qi and channels it into his own veins. The demonic qi circuits Shen Yuan’s body before being deposited into the horn, transforming the trickle into a gently gushing faucet. Hot and cold flashes travel down Shen Yuan’s spine, making him break out into a cold sweat. The flow is much better, but still not enough.

Shen Yuan takes out his other hand and wraps his arms around Luo Binghe. The greater body contact doubles the intensity of the demonic qi flowing through his veins. His skin feels like it’s being bitten by a thousand fire ants, and his veins as if acid and lava are flowing through them instead of blood. Shen Yuan stifles a cry but can’t stop the tears of pain from streaming down his cheeks. He bites the inside of his lip, his teeth sinking into flesh deep enough to break the skin.

The faucet transforms into a powerful, rushing stream. For the first time since Shen Yuan saw Luo Binghe qi deviating, the Protagonist reacts—a low whimper escapes his lips. Shen Yuan grips him tighter, his arms now fully encircling Luo Binghe. The stream intensifies as the horn rapidly fills with qi. The pain, too, intensifies—as if Shen Yuan’s insides were being gouged out—but he endures it.

Shen Yuan doesn’t know how long he stays holding Luo Binghe in his arms. Delirious and numb from agony, he finds himself running his fingers through Luo Binghe’s scalp, threading them through the soft, luxurious waves. The repetitive motion distracts him from the pain. The Protagonist stops his low whining with each pass of Shen Yuan’s fingers on his head, his eyelashes fluttering open for brief moments.

After a while, the rippling waves of erratic qi gradually recede and dissipate. Luo Binghe’s breathing evens out, his face shifting to a placid calm as he sleeps in the cradle of Shen Yuan’s arms. The horn at Shen Yuan’s hip is now brimming with qi. Shen Yuan breathes out a sigh of relief. It seems the worst of the Protagonist’s qi deviation has passed.

Shen Yuan somehow manages to haul Luo Binghe onto the bed, then takes stock of himself and the room. He feels raw, but surprisingly, he notices no other outward physical symptoms. He expects a few burn marks from where he had touched the Protagonist, but fortunately, he sees no other damage except for red rashes in the middle of his chest and lower belly.

He should probably take a break but the room is a hot mess and he wouldn’t want the already upset Emperor to wake up to a bomb site. That would just upset Luo Binghe even more. He mentally surveys his physical reserves—he’s a bit tired, but surprisingly still has enough left in the tank. May as well make himself useful. Taking a deep and fortifying breath, he pulls out a broom and dustpan from the closet, and begins the painstaking task of tidying up the room.

Luo Binghe wakes up to the view of a bare ceiling. Momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar sight, he sits up and inspects his surroundings. It must be past midnight, judging from the position of the moon in the dark, red-hued sky visible from the window. He’s alone in his bed, and though he recognizes the chamber as his, the absence of a gauze canopy and the bareness of his surroundings disconcert him.

What happened?

Memories flashed in and out. Of sweeping his arm across the desk, knocking down scrolls, tomes, and documents, sending them crashing to the floor. Of seething with indignation at the unfairness of it all, at how he had to fight tooth and nail when that impostor could easily have everything he ever wanted. Of ripping apart gossamer fabric and damask curtains, embers of his wrath fanned by the reminder of two botched summonings. Of smashing glass and ceramic against the wall, of sparks igniting, the blaze spreading like a forest fire in the burning coal of his heart, fueled by his fury at the world conspiring against him, keeping him constantly on his toes, never allowing him a single moment of respite.

Never allowing him a single moment of happiness.

He raged, and raged, and raged.

Without warning, he was knocked down like a houseplant from its perch, the terracotta enclosure shattering, its potting soil strewn on the floor. Xin Mo’s backlash, the strongest he had ever experienced.

The attack was so sudden, the intensity of it so vicious, that Luo Binghe knew he had no time to call for a dual cultivation partner. As he slumped to the floor, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, he wondered if this would be his end. Consumed by Xin Mo, just as all of its other wielders before him.

He briefly wondered if it would be better to give in, to allow himself to be devoured until nothing but darkness remained. Maybe then he wouldn’t want for peace or happiness.

And then, all of a sudden, the crushing pressure lifted. The strain on his spiritual veins from Xin Mo’s assault eased bit by bit as it was seemingly siphoned away by something (or was it someone?) cradling him, making him feel tranquil and warm. In the throes of delirium, vague memories of arms wrapping around him and keeping him safe, of gentle hands stroking his head and calming fingers running through his hair flitted through his mind.

Luo Binghe ponders on who or what could have saved him from a near-fatal qi deviation. Was he able to call for one of his wives after all? Did they dual cultivate? He heaves out a weary sigh. To whom does he owe the favor, this time?

Luo Binghe lays back down in his bed, replaying fragments of visions he saw in his delirium. Maybe he was truly nearing death to glimpse a moment of heaven. When was the last time he had felt so peaceful and protected? Accepted and cherished even in his weakest, lowest moment? He could only think of his long-gone washerwoman mother.

He goes back to sleep, dreaming of tender hands caressing his hair.

Shen Yuan tends to his attendant duties as usual. It’s been four days since Luo Binghe’s qi deviation, and while Shen Yuan was at first worried about any lingering effects from Xin Mo’s backlash, the Protagonist looks hale and healthy as a horse. Shen Yuan breathes out a sigh of relief.

The morning after the qi deviation, Luo Binghe asked Shen Yuan if any of his spouses had visited him the day before. Shen Yuan bullsh*tted something about a few wives (whose names conveniently slipped his mind) visiting the Emperor at his sickbed, wanting to spare the Protagonist’s feelings. He didn’t want to be the one to break the news to Luo Binghe that his harem had deserted him.

The only thing a bit unusual is a lingering and bone-deep tiredness that has been plaguing Shen Yuan for the past few days. Oh, and some muscle soreness and minor skin irritation on his chest and abdomen. It’s probably from all the stress of having to clean up the mess Luo Binghe made of his room, then coordinating with Accounting and Housekeeping to replace the broken furniture. A total nightmare.

Plus, Luo Binghe has been snippy and agitated recently. Sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, Shen Yuan catches him staring into space, only to lash out when you call his attention. What could he be daydreaming about, Shen Yuan wonders. Is it the day he reunites with his special person? Maybe the cost required by the summoning spell? Due to the nature of his attendant duties, he finds himself having to walk on eggshells around the Protagonist all the time.

He had carefully gathered up the Belladonna of Happiness, which was looking a little lopsided and wilting after having its planter smashed and its roots exposed, and placed it in a new pot. The plant would remain in Shen Yuan’s room for the meantime until it was rehabilitated. Fortunately, the little trooper continued to thrive despite the shock to its system. In fact, the green berry on the underside of one of its leaves had grown to the size of a cherry, showing faint traces of purple on one side.

Shen Yuan wonders how long it would take for the berry to ripen, excited at the prospect of seeing a Berry of Joy, bright red and ready for picking. But for that to happen, it needs to absorb more negative energy, wouldn’t it? Maybe he should start leaving the plant around the palace kitchens? The kitchen jiejies were always gossiping and complaining after all.

At least the plant is perky. Not like Shen Yuan, who is finding it increasingly difficult to get out of bed in the mornings. He scrunches his nose as he stares at his reflection in the bronze mirror. The half-moon bruises under his eyes are something else. Can eyebags have eyebags?

He unwraps the bandages covering his stomach and thighs. Just a little something he has begun to put on recently. The tight wrapping helps alleviate the muscle pain in those areas. Applying healing salve, he notices a change in his skin. Strange… yesterday, it was only a reddish rash, but now it was blue with a tinge of black. Was all that hauling around of broken furniture so grueling that it caused his muscles to bruise? Well, it had definitely been a workout. And it’s getting colder, the seasons on the cusp of change, which always makes Shen Yuan feel a bit under the weather. So, surely the weird aches and general fatigue are nothing to worry about!

Shen Yuan is on his way to bed when something catches in his throat. His back hunches as a violent cough suddenly wracks through his body, dislodging something from his chest. Covering his hand against his mouth, he feels something sticky and wet land on his palm.

Black blood.

Sobering clarity strikes like a knife the moment Shen Yuan sees the congealed blood, warm and dark against his hand. He recalls the fatigue, the strange aches, the skin irritation developing into dark bruises. The puzzle finally assembles, its last piece fitting into place.

Shen Yuan is dying.

There’s no need to see the doctor or go to Zhao Jiahao for help, because deep in the marrow of his bones, Shen Yuan knows without a doubt that there is no saving him.

In fact, he had already suspected it since two days ago, when the raw, red rashes started to appear on his lower torso. There was no way his mortal body, lacking in cultivation, could have channeled and circulated Luo Binghe’s deluge of demonic qi through his veins and gotten away with it scot-free. He just didn’t want to admit it.

It would be a waste of resources to try saving him anyway. Shen Yuan wasn’t some wife doted on by Luo Binghe. And any healing artifacts available would be best used to power the summoning spell instead of wasted on a nobody like him.

He goes to the sink to wash off the blood. While there, another round of coughing seizes him—the blood he heaves out stains the washbasin black.

He gargles and rinses his mouth, and washes off the gore from the ceramic bowl. He’s not even shocked or sad by the revelation, truly. He feels strangely calm. Like he's been preparing all his life for this. This is how it’s always meant to be. Shen Yuan has never had the best health, even in the waking world. Well, he’s had a good run, considering. No matter how long he fights it off, all dreams must come to an end, after all.

When he closes his eyes, he falls into a dreamless sleep.

Shen Yuan is jolted awake by loud and insistent knocking. Shuffling on his feet, he opens the door.

“Zhao Jiahao?” he mumbles, eyes blurry and more asleep than awake. Why is his friend at his door in this ungodly hour? “Is anything the matter?”

Zhao Jiahao seizes him by the shoulders. The aggressive movement snaps Shen Yuan awake.

“Shen Yuan, you have to escape from this place. Right this instant!” Zhao Jiahao says, eyes wild. “You’re in danger!”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Shen Yuan says, brain still booting up. Is there an attack on the Palace? Or—

“Haven’t you ever wondered why your talismans are so powerful and explosive? It’s because you have an extremely high ‘karmic worth’ in the world. I found out when the results of your measurements came out.” Zhao Jiahao’s explains, his grip on Shen Yuan’s shoulders tightening to the point of discomfort. “The tyrant is going to exploit you for his own nefarious goals. So come with me, and we’ll escape the Palace together!”

Shen Yuan peers at his friend’s face etched with worry. “I’m not going,” he says, voice calm.

“Shen Yuan! Please!” Zhao Jiahao pleads, sounding desperate. “You’ll never be free of Luo Binghe’s clutches as long as you’re here. Let’s escape! If you’re worried about the tyrant tracking you down and taking revenge, there’s less worry for that since you haven’t drunk his cursed blood.” He pauses, face turning sheet white. “Or did he make you…?”

“I’m free of Luo Binghe’s blood mites,” Shen Yuan assures his friend. “But I’m staying here.”

Zhao Jiahao wraps his arms around Shen Yuan in a bear hug. “Why are you so stubborn!? If it’s that devil Luo Binghe you’re worried about, don’t mind him. I’ll protect you!”

Shen Yuan brings a hand to tap Zhao Jiahao on the side of his arm, although a little awkwardly because of how he’s trapped in his friend’s embrace. “I’m content to stay here at the palace,” he says. “Plus I don’t want to be a burden to you or your family.” What if the Protagonist decides to retaliate on the Zhaos or the rest of the clan? No, better to keep himself and Zhao Jiahao out of trouble. It’s not like Shen Yuan will be here for much longer, anyway.

“You’re not a burden!” Zhao Jiahao explodes, squeezing Shen Yuan tighter. It’s the first time Shen Yuan has heard him raise his voice. “Since you won’t listen to what’s best for you, I think I’ll just—”

“Jiahao,” a sharp voice calls from behind them.

Zhao Jiahao abruptly lets go of Shen Yuan to face the newcomer, who is quickly approaching from the other end of the corridor. Zhao Gang, the Acting Court Alchemist. Mouth downturned, he eyes Zhao Jiahao with a stern gaze. “What are you doing here? Your presence is required in the Summoning Hall.”

“My apologies,” Zhao Jiahao says with a curt bow. “This Deputy Sorcerer will tend to his duties immediately.”

“Then let’s depart. Together,” Zhao Gang says.

Zhao Jiahao turns and leans in, his breath ghosting against Shen Yuan’s ear. “Th-this isn’t over yet,” he murmurs.

A warmth spreads through Shen Yuan’s chest. He draws closer, wrapping his arms around Zhao Jiahao’s shoulders in a hug. “You’re a good friend, Zhao Jiahao. I’m glad to have met you. But I’m not changing my mind.”

“Don’t talk as if we’re saying goodbye. If you’re not leaving, then I won’t either.” Zhao Jiahao says, voice steel-sharp with determination. He whispers, “I’ll do all I can to stop Luo Binghe.”

Shen Yuan breaks their embrace to lean back and shake his head. “Don’t even try. Also, there’s really no need to put yourself in danger on my behalf.” Shen Yuan is a dead man walking, after all. Plus, this is all just a dream he’ll be waking up from soon. What hope does a canon fodder character have against the almighty Protagonist, anyway?

Zhao Gang loudly taps his foot from the middle of the hallway. Zhao Jiahao shoots a quick glance at his waiting companion.

“You don’t believe me. But I’ll prove you wrong, Shen Yuan,” Zhao Jiahao says ominously in low tones, before he turns away with a flick of his sleeve and departs together with Zhao Gang.

“You’re late,” Luo Binghe snaps the moment Shen Yuan enters the imperial bedchamber.

“Apologies, Lord Luo. This lowly servant has no excuse,” Shen Yuan says as he bends his body in a deep bow. The angle makes the bruises on his back and stomach twinge. He had fallen asleep again right after Zhao Jiahao’s visit. He must have been more exhausted than he realized because he slept through two of his alarm clocks, a contraption he jerry-rigged from his talisman experiments with Zhao Jiahao. It meant he was nearly an incense stick late for his morning duties at Luo Binghe’s bedchamber.

Luo Binghe huffs. “If Shen Yuan stopped wasting time on his ‘little projects,’ maybe then he’ll be able to pay attention to his actual work.” He throws Shen Yuan a scathing glance. “Now, prepare the tea.”

“Understood, Lord Luo,” Shen Yuan says. He shuffles towards the tea caddy and activates one of his custom talismans to boil the water faster. After the tea is brewed, he carries it to Luo Binghe’s desk. But as he extends his hand to serve the beverage, a sudden sharp pain stabs through his abdomen. He drops his hold on the teacup, the scalding liquid splashing onto the back of Shen Yuan’s hand as the cup shatters to the floor.

Shen Yuan instinctively cradles his burned hand, hastily wiping away the hot tea on his skin with his sleeve. Luo Binghe snarls, “First, you slack off, and now you can’t even do this right!?” Shen Yuan startles, his pulse quickening as Luo Binghe slams a hand on the table. “You’re nothing but a weak and useless human who can’t even cultivate properly!” His gaze flicks towards Shen Yuan, only to quickly shift away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at him. He keeps his eyes fixed on his fist as he continues, “You think your talismans matter, that they make you special!? They don’t! Nothing matters, because everything you do is useless!”

Shen Yuan crouches to the floor to pick up the broken teacup. His hands trembling, and stomach churning with pain, he nicks his finger on one of the shards. Thick, dark blood oozes from the cut. Ignoring it, he hurriedly sweeps away the remaining ceramic pieces and wipes the floor with a rag.

Shen Yuan has just finished tidying up and serving Luo Binghe a new cup of tea when they hear sharp and insistent raps on the door.

A familiar sorcerer’s apprentice stumbles through and announces, “The Royal Alchemical Research Facility has urgent news to report to Your Highness!” He bows quickly. “Repeated measurements and calculations on Imperial Attendant Shen Yuan’s person have confirmed the initial results: his accuracy and compatibility with the summoning spell indeed exceed 98%, and newer calculations now peg it at an even higher 99.89%!”

Luo Binghe hastily stands up from his desk, nearly knocking down his chair in the process. “Are you certain? What does Court Sorcerer Zhao Gang have to say about this?”

Zhao Gang appears at the doorway, breathing heavily and looking like he came running at top speed. “Th-This Acting Court Sorcerer could s-scarcely believe his eyes, but our calculations and the numbers do not lie,” he says, panting, dark circles hanging beneath his eyes. He ducks to bow his head. “Pardon the sudden intrusion, Lord Luo.”

Luo Binghe’s wide-eyed and open-mouthed stare flits between the two sorcerers and Shen Yuan. You’d think someone has just told him that the moon is verifiably blue and made of melty cheese, instead of the biggest news to come out in months. For the first time, Shen Yuan sees a look of bewilderment and hesitation marr the Protagonist's face.

Nobody speaks, tension hanging tight in the air.

Shen Yuan breaks the silence. “So, if I understand correctly… your calculations suggest that using me as ‘payment’ for the spell’s toll will guarantee success, right?” he asks Zhao Gang.

“That is indeed correct,” Zhao Gang confirms. “Transmuting Imperial Attendant Shen Yuan will deliver to Lord Luo exactly whom he seeks.”

Bingo. This is great news! Better than Shen Yuan could have ever hoped for. Finally, he can be useful to Luo Binghe. For a brief moment, his heart wavers, wondering what exactly transmutation in a summoning circle would entail. What will happen to him? Where will he go? But does that even matter when this is all a dream?

He straightens his back and faces the Emperor head-on. “Luo Binghe, you know what to do.”

Luo Binghe flinches as he gazes back at Shen Yuan, conflict and uncertainty warring behind his eyes.

This… this would not do. Whatever happened to the Protagonist’s steel-hearted conviction? His ruthless determination to achieve whatever he set his heart on?

“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?” Shen Yuan argues as he walks towards Luo Binghe. “No more need to gather prisoners or cultivators, collect rare artifacts, or exhaust the palace treasury. Using me for the exchange would neatly solve the problem of the summoning spell.”

Shen Yuan needs to convince Luo Binghe. Because Shen Yuan is dying anyway, so he may as well make his death worth it. In the process, not only will he make Luo Binghe’s wish come true, but also save thousands of other people’s lives, too. What a bonus. A win-win scenario.

Shen Yuan wouldn’t really be ‘dying,’ anyway, since this is all a dream! Yes, Shen Yuan understands it clearly now. This has always been his role here—to help Luo Binghe find happiness. Everything has been building up to this moment. His in-dream death must mean that he will be waking up soon.

Although sometimes, Shen Yuan thinks that the sensations in this realm are too vivid, too real to be a dream. The giddiness he felt when he managed to reach the chalice, the kiss against the inn’s door, the searing pain when he siphoned off Luo Binghe’s demonic qi. They all felt larger than life. He shakes his head, quashing that useless thought. There’s no way he could be living in a real-world xianxia fantasy, no way he’ll be so valuable to anyone that he can make overpowered talismans and hold ‘karmic worth’ exceeding an entire kingdom’s treasury and then some. And there would be no way that Luo Binghe would look at him as he does right now, slack-jawed and like a cornered, lost lamb, a turmoil of hope, guilt, and sorrow flitting across his face.

Shen Yuan stops in front of Luo Binghe, so close he has to tilt his head up to meet the Protagonist’s eyes. “You’re so close to your goal. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”

Luo Binghe sucks in a breath. He peers into Shen Yuan’s eyes for a long moment as if desperately searching for answers. Shen Yuan doesn’t flinch from that deep and probing gaze. He has nothing to hide.

Seemingly coming to a decision, Luo Binghe finally breaks eye contact and addresses the sorcerers with a nod. “This Lord will utilize Shen Yuan as transmutation material for the summoning spell. When can we perform the ritual?”

“Tomorrow,” Shen Yuan cuts in. He doesn’t know how long he has left. “Best to act in haste.”

Zhao Gang looks between the two of them and nods in assent. “Tomorrow, we will conduct the summoning.”

Chapter 12: 🌓 Summoning Spell

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan sits at the desk in his room, savoring the rare early dismissal from his attendant duties. He plans to make the most of it because this will be the final time he does this; Shen Yuan will wake up from this dream soon.

He will sacrifice himself for the summoning spell come tomorrow morning.

He pulls out a sheet of paper and a brush and starts to write. First, a letter to the kitchen jiejies, who have been so helpful in teaching Shen Yuan how to be a better personal attendant and who doted on him in their own way, even if they were snippy about it.

Another letter to the Library Master, who begrudgingly allowed Shen Yuan greater access to the library areas, including the Restricted Section, at Zhao Jiahao’s and Luo Binghe’s request. Though the old librarian is curmudgeonly, he knows his books, and Shen Yuan respects that.

Shen Yuan feels lucky to have the luxury of sending his final goodbyes and choosing his exact moment of departure. It’s not an opportunity afforded to most people. And, after all, it’s not like he’s going to die for real. He’ll just be exiting from this dream. Shen Yuan nods to himself. Yes, he’s going to wake up in the real world once this is all over. That’s definitely what’s going to happen. Because the alternative… He shakes his head, dismissing the idea. Best not to entertain useless thoughts.

Next, a long letter to Zhao Jiahao, his best friend here at the palace, to whom he owes so much. A smile creeps up Shen Yuan’s face as he remembers working on their experimental talismans together, their excursions to the Southern Forest, their efforts on the Suncatcher field, and all the cool things Zhao Jiahao has shown him about this world. Hopefully, Zhao Jiahao can continue the research Shen Yuan started. Zhao Jiahao would probably be lonely doing it all by himself, but Shen Yuan knew he could entrust him with his work, as well as tend to his plants in the Suncatcher field. After all, Zhao Jiahao has been trying so hard for Shen Yuan all this time. He can’t ask for a better friend.

And lastly, to Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan stares at the blank paper for several minutes. There’s so much he wants to say, but at the same time, he finds he has nothing to write. In the end, he settles for three sentences. It’s the shortest letter he has written by far.

He tends to the Belladonna of Happiness, spritzing it with water for the last time. He’s left care instructions for Luo Binghe’s next personal attendant. He’s a bit regretful that he won’t be able to see a fully ripened Berry of Joy after all, but hopefully, his replacement will be luckier. The little berry has grown a bit more in the last few days, with purple now coloring nearly half of the fruit.

Maybe, once Luo Binghe reunites with his special person, he can pluck the Berry of Joy and give it to them. Then surely, their happiness will be doubled.

He tidies his room, though there isn’t much to clean to begin with: just a few sets of robes, sheets of talisman paper, his inkstone, ink stick and brush, plus his black embroidered qiankun pouch from Luo Binghe which stores his most valuable possession: the horn of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake. He wonders what to do with it. Bequeath it to someone? Donate it to a museum? Destroy and throw it away? He can’t decide, so he leaves it be. Maybe Luo Binghe or Zhao Jiahao can decide later what to do with it.

Tidying up his space goes faster than he expects, leaving him with nothing to do. It’s late, and though there are still ten hours left before the summoning, he can’t sleep. Something itches at the back of his mind. He walks towards the side door connecting his room to the corridor to Luo Binghe’s bedchamber. For a brief moment, he has the crazy urge to walk through it and knock on Luo Binge’s door.

He stops. He fidgets with his robes. Tries to come up with a few lines, rehearse them in his head.

But what would he say? There’s nothing left to talk about.

He stares at the closed door for a while before turning around to flop on his bed. It’s going to be a long and sleepless night ahead.

Luo Binghe stares at the closed door of Shen Yuan’s bedroom for an indeterminate length of time. Why is he here? He has no recollection of leaving his bedchamber and walking the narrow corridor that connects their rooms.

The summoning ceremony is in five shichen, and the sorcerers have all but assured him that this time, success is guaranteed. But instead of excitement and elation at the prospect of victory, he is plagued by a gnawing unease that festers beneath his skin.

Tomorrow, he will sacrifice Shen Yuan to the summoning spell.

His breath catches, and his hands clench into fists. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It’s a hard decision, but Luo Binghe has chosen to do what he believes is right. Isn’t this how he has always achieved what he wanted in life? By using anyone and anything as a tool for the pursuit of his goals? Nothing has ever come easy for him—every victory has been hard won, fought tooth and nail.

He had asked the sorcerers what would happen to a person transmuted to power the summoning circle. Their answer was vague, but it all boiled down to the “exchange material” returning to the primordial soup in the crucible of the universe—back to its original state, where everyone and everything belonged since the beginning of time.

With sufficient time and refinement, it will eventually transform into the Magnum Opus, a higher state of being and enlightenment.

Luo Binghe didn’t know what to feel about that. After all, it was Shen Yuan’s idea to offer himself for the summoning spell—why should Luo Binghe feel guilty? He was just going along with Shen Yuan’s wishes. Shen Yuan, who somehow still thinks he’s dreaming, indifferent to his own fate and showing no care whatsoever for his own life.

Furthermore… hadn’t Luo Binghe sacrificed so much already, working tirelessly to bring the kind Shen Qingqiu into this world? Ever since his journey into the other dimension, he had dreamed of the day when Shizun would be in his arms—Shizun, who would stay by his side no matter where Luo Binghe went. Shizun, humming softly while threading gentle hands through Luo Binghe’s hair. Shizun, who would choose him time and time again when everyone else had abandoned him.

Luo Binghe doubts he will come across another opportunity as perfect as this one. Shen Yuan said so himself. Luo Binghe deserves his prize, and Shen Yuan… is a reasonable price to pay.

Finally, he raises his hand to knock but stops halfway. What use would it be to talk to Shen Yuan at this time? They’ve both made their decisions. Luo Binghe has already committed all resources to the summoning ritual. There is no turning back.

But what if you’re making a mistake? A tiny voice whispers in his mind.

He presses his forehead against the door, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within him. He half-wishes for the door to swing open, revealing a miracle, some hidden loophole that would give him what he seeks without having to sacrifice more than he already has. After a moment, he takes one last look at the door, turns on his heel, and walks away.

Shen Yuan enters the summoning hall. Sorcerers and court officials mill about, surrounding the summoning circle at the center that takes up most of the space in the center of the room.

He thought he’d be more nervous when the hour finally arrived, but he feels calm, heart placid as a frozen lake in winter. This is his choice, a sacrifice made gladly and willingly.

Four circles in total comprise the summoning spell: a large main circle with three smaller circles arranged in a triangular formation inside it.

Zhao Jiahao meets him a few steps from the door and escorts him towards the summoning circle. He doesn’t speak, his face unnaturally blank, but as he leads Shen Yuan into one of the three smaller circles lining the inside edges of the larger main circle in front of the dais, he briefly squeezes Shen Yuan’s shoulder and looks at him with a meaningful expression that Shen Yuan can't quite parse.

Shen Yuan stands in the leftmost circle, while across from him, the rightmost circle contains a small mountain of treasures and artifacts. Among them, he recognizes the Chalice of Everlasting Youth lying in the heap.

It seems Luo Binghe isn’t taking any chances—with the additional pile of treasures to fuel the transmutation, the summoning spell’s accuracy should exceed 100%.

Directly in front of him lies another circle, empty except for the elaborate symbols and inscriptions etched between the borders of the concentric rings that make up its inner design. Shen Yuan isn't entirely sure, but from his limited understanding, the inscriptions mirror those in his own circle.

Lastly, just behind the third circle, against the wall, a large gong stands at the center.

Luo Binghe is the last to enter, trailed by Zhao Gang. He meets Shen’s Yuan’s gaze, and for a split-second, Shen Yuan sees a fleeting hint of sadness cross Luo Binghe’s features. But it quickly vanishes, replaced by impassive calm.

Luo Binghe takes his seat at the dais behind Shen Yuan, to the right. Shen Yuan mourns the loss; with his back turned, he won't be able to catch a final glimpse of the Protagonist. He hadn’t seen Luo Binghe since his dismissal yesterday—which had been his last stint as an attendant.

He wonders who helped Luo Binghe with robes and hair this morning. A returning wife? A new servant? Shen Yuan only hopes that in his absence, they’ll take good care of the Emperor. Luo Binghe has very particular tastes, especially with his hair and how he likes his tea.

The room falls into a hush, the occasional swish of robes and tapping of shoes the only sounds breaking the silence.

“Begin the summoning,” Luo Binghe’s deep baritone rumbles through the chamber.

The sorcerers begin chanting, punctuated by the slow, measured beating of the gong. The chant starts in low tones, gradually rising in pitch and speed. The summoning circle lights up from the outer edges, the light traveling like a thin stream as it fills the symbols and inscriptions on the floor with an otherworldly glow.

The circle to Shen Yuan’s right activates first. He hears a low hum as the metal and gold in the treasure pile begin to vibrate in harmony with the gong’s resonating sound. Shen Yuan counts eleven beats of the gong, the hum now so loud it’s as if crickets have infested the summoning hall, drowning out the summoners’ chanting. The vibrations permeate Shen Yuan’s skin, a deep, resonant thrum that reverberates through his muscles and bones. At the twelfth and final beat, the mountain of priceless objects disappears in a blink, vaporized into thin air, leaving nothing but the sharp smell of ozone.

Shen Yuan’s stiffens, caught off guard. He’s never seen anything like it—there one moment, gone without a trace the next.

The loud humming stops abruptly and the room falls into quiet except for the sorcerers’ low and solemn chanting. The gong tolls once again. When Shen Yuan looks down, the symbols and inscriptions beneath his feet glow brighter.

Oh right, it’s his turn now.

He deigns to crane his neck backwards to catch a glimpse of Luo Binghe. The Emperor leans forward, hands gripping both armrests in a white-knuckle grip. He stares intently ahead, his whole attention focused on the third circle in front of the gong.

He doesn't spare Shen Yuan a glance.

Someone gasps. Shen Yuan follows Luo Binghe’s gaze. The gong tolls three times. Across him, a hazy silhouette begins to form inside the third circle. Shen Yuan feels a disconcerting tingling sensation beneath his skin. The gong tolls five times. The silhouette further solidifies, revealing a tall and graceful figure with long black hair spilling down their back like silk, dressed in pale green robes. They stand with their back to Shen Yuan, facing the gong.

I-Is this Luo Binghe’s special person? They’re taller than Shen Yuan had imagined, and their shoulders broader, too. Even with their back to him, they ooze refinement and sophistication. As expected of someone who has managed to capture Luo Binghe’s heart—they must be a calamitous beauty.

The gong tolls seven times. The tingly feeling intensifies, as if bugs were crawling in his veins. He dares to look down and is startled to see his body becoming semi-transparent, like a ghost. His time here is almost up, he muses, a rush of nostalgic memories flooding his mind. Meeting the Protagonist, his appointment as the Emperor’s personal attendant, their adventure in the Far Western Territories, the funfair in the village, saving a baby Three-headed Turtle Tiger, the epic battle with the mammoth at Fons Iuventutis—all of it are remembrances he will treasure forever. The beginning had been rough, and there were sad and difficult times, too, but in the end, he doesn't regret anything. This is how it’s meant to be. Shen Yuan feels honored to fulfill Luo Binghe’s wishes.

The gong tolls nine times. Ahead of him, the figure is now almost fully solid, even as Shen Yuan fades away.

The figure in front moves, an elegant sweep of sleeves and dark, silken hair. They turn their head and angle their body to look behind them. Shen Yuan sees a sliver of a gemstone-like face with an elegant cut and arch of a brow, a refined nose, and petal pink lips. His breath catches in his throat. The figure’s emerald gaze locks onto Shen Yuan’s, their eyes widening, lips parting in shock—or is it recognition?

Shen Yuan’s view is abruptly cut off as strong arms wrap around him and pull him away from the summoning circle. The figure blips out of existence like the screen of an old CRT television.

Before Shen Yuan can figure out what is happening, strong arms spin him around and his face collides with a broad and meaty chest. The grip tightens, squeezing tight enough to constrict his breathing. He wiggles in the embrace and manages a lungful of air—a familiar woodsy, earthy scent filling his nostrils.

“Luo Binghe!?” he cries out.

What happened to the summoning spell?

Luo Binghe crushes Shen Yuan even tighter into his chest. “I-I was wrong,” he says, voice tight, shoulders minutely shaking. “I thought I knew what I wanted. But I don’t care about that—about him—anymore.” He finally releases Shen Yuan and holds him at arm’s length, his eyes swirling with emotion. “I know better now. It’s you, Shen Yuan. You’re my—”

Before Luo Binghe can finish his sentence, Shen Yuan hears a familiar zing and the clang of metal scraping against metal. His body moves of its own accord—through sheer adrenaline, he manages to knock back Luo Binghe, even before he sees the metallic glint sailing towards the Emperor in his peripheral vision.

Several shouts erupt. For a moment, everything dissolves into a blur. When Shen Yuan comes to, he’s lying on the floor, the ivory hilt of a jewel-encrusted dagger spiked through his chest. It takes a second for the pain to register.

A frenzied cacophony fills his ears. The world darkens at the edges as numbing pain lances through his body. Delirious from agony, Shen Yuan thinks he hears Zhao Jiahao shouting his name, but his dimming vision only registers Luo Binghe.

He tastes metal as Luo Binghe slices his own wrist and pours his blood into Shen Yuan’s mouth. He feels the blood go down his throat, hot and tingly as it travels through his veins to staunch the blood loss and knit the wound.

But deep down, Shen Yuan knows it’s futile.

After a few moments, Luo Binghe’s face contorts, brows furrowing in anger and confusion. “Why isn’t it working?”

Shen Yuan wants to laugh, but when he tries, the movement makes the pain worse. Instead, he says, “S-Stop. It’s no use.”

Luo Binghe doesn't relent. “Poison…?” he whispers, then renews his attack. Shen Yuan feels the blood mites roiling under his skin, warring against the enemy.

Shen Yuan recognizes the dagger currently buried in his chest: the God-killing Dagger of Sorrow. Brave and clever Zhao Jiahao must have succeeded in collecting all four required essences, plus Luo Binghe’s personal treasure, in order to synthesize a poison potent enough to defeat even a god.

Which means that the poison in the dagger is specifically tailored against Luo Binghe and his blood mites. What hope does a mortal like Shen Yuan have against such a finely tuned weapon? Zhao Jiahao had even used the experimental speed and accuracy talisman to strike—Shen Yuan was only able to stop it because of his intimate familiarity with the talisman’s activation sound.

Truly, he’s underestimated the lengths his fellow cannon fodder-in-arms would go to. Zhao Jiahao wasn't kidding when he said he was going to stop the Protagonist.

Dark spots obscure Shen Yuan’s vision. He can’t feel his lower body. The poison is quick to react. Something wet drips onto his cheek like warm rain. His eyelids feel heavy, but he fights to open them.

Luo Binghe looks at him like a child unable to give his sick mother a final bowl of congee, like a battered disciple abandoned by the world, like a deity cast down to earth, the heavens crumbling before his eyes.

Shen Yuan summons the last of his strength to raise a hand and cup the side of Luo Binghe’s face. He hates seeing that stricken look. “Don’t… cry,” he says. Luo Binghe shouldn't be crying. Hadn't he sworn never to cry again, after his scumbag Shizun poured hot tea over him?

“Shen Yuan… I’m trying my best b-but my blood mites aren’t cooperating,” Luo Binghe says, voice trembling. “P-Please… hang on.”

Shen Yuan swipes a thumb over Luo Binghe’s cheekbone to wipe away a tear. “It’s okay,” he says. “My time here is up anyway.”

Luo Binghe shakes his head, his face further contorting into an anguished twist of despair. “No. This Lord forbids Shen Yuan from going anywhere but this Lord’s side. Th-That’s an order.”

Shen Yuan tries to summon a smile despite the sensation of ice freezing his skin. Since when has the Protagonist been this sticky? “I’ll be… waking up… soon. Where even Binghe… can’t follow.”

All Shen Yuan has ever wanted was to see Luo Binghe smiling. But in the end, all he gets is a sniveling Protagonist instead. This isn't how it’s supposed to go.

“I’m sorry… I couldn't make you happy.”

Somehow that just makes the Protagonist cry harder. Why does he look so devastated? Does the Protagonist secretly have faucets for tear ducts!? But even with his eyes red and puffy, Luo Binghe manages to make a sniveling face look aesthetic.

The weepy look suits Luo Binghe, but he shouldn't be crying at all. Shen Yuan really can’t stand that tearful face.

“There’s nothing… to be sad about,” Shen Yuan tries to reassure him.

Shen Yuan’s entire body has gone numb, he can’t breathe, and his vision is overwhelmed by static. But he gathers the last of his strength to stroke Luo Binghe’s cheek and whisper, “B-Binghe… is the loveliest dream I ever had.”

He takes a final strained breath before darkness claims him and he falls into the endless void.