Chapter Text
“It’s been five years already. Why are you still so upset?”
Qi Qingqi whacks Liu Qingge right upside the head, since she knows Shen Qingqiu is too nice to do it himself. How laughable, to use the phrase ‘too nice’ when talking about the one and only peak lord of Qing Jing Peak, Shen Qingqiu. Qi Qingqi certainly wouldn’t have used it to describe him seven years ago, but she also wouldn’t be sitting content in the beautiful Bamboo House, enjoying Shen Qingqiu’s favorite blend of jasmine tea seven years ago. Some greater force of the universe conspired to forcibly erase every aspect of Shen Qingqiu’s original personality with his last qi deviation, and now Qi Qingqi is forced to admit that she rather enjoys his presence. They’re friends even. And friends beat up annoying, insensitive brutes for each other.
Qi Qingqi lifts her fist and Liu Qingge actually flinches. “Some of us care more than to just beat up our disciples everyday. Let him mourn all he wants!”
“Qi-shimei,” Resident pacifist Yue Qingyuan chides in that all too familiar tone of a tired father trying to wraggle his kids into getting along. He sips his tea, the small slice of osmanthus cake Shen Qingqiu had quietly served him sitting untouched on his plate. A gift from his Xiao-jiu. Obviously it’s much too precious for him to eat. Qi Qingqi guesses he’ll take it back to Qiong Ding Peak and place it in the ‘Shen Qingqiu’ shrine she’s fairly certain he has hidden somewhere in his rooms. The dessert will join the likes of other treasured trinkets; a lock of Shen Qingqiu’s hair, maybe one of his used socks–who knows. Qi Qingqi is beyond trying to understand the slight freakish tendencies of her Zhangmen-shixiong when it comes to Shen Qingqiu.
“This one is fine, and appreciates the concern of Liu-shidi.” Conversely enough, Shen Qingqi is not offended by Liu Qingge’s words. He is one of the only peak lords given the privilege of speaking like a normal person with the War God of Bai Zhan, free from the endless beatdowns he subjects the other peak lords to when they dare to approach him with something outside of official Cang Qiong business. He knows how Liu Qingge’s mind operates. This is just his way of showing he cares. Shen Qingqiu hides his smile with a practiced lift of his fan. Ah, Liu-shidi. How sweet of him to worry. Even though he’s hardly the muscle bulking, battled hardened tough guy Shen Qingqiu envisioned when first reading Proud Immortal Demon Way, Shen Qingqiu still adores him. And it’s not just his pretty face, as much as Shen Qingqiu adores that too. It’s his loyalty. Shen Qingqiu finds it so oddly endearing. There was a time he was going to count on that loyalty to save his life. Now it’s just an extra little bonus he gets to carry around and show off. Look at that, peak lords! The War God of Bai Zhan likes him the most. He’s tamed the beast!
“He’s literally in love with you!” Qi Qingqi wants to scream whenever she sees a smug Shen Qingqiu parade around the peaks with Liu Qingge on his arm. Scenic walks along Cang Qiong, invitations to watch him trample his poor disciples into the ground, gifts of rare, beheaded beasts left on the front porch of the Bamboo House–it’s astonishingly really, how Shen Qingqiu has yet to realize he’s being courted.
Mu Qingfang clears his throat and everyone turns to listen. His wisdom has always been well respected among the peak lords. “Grief manifests itself in many ways. We should allow Shen-shixiong to process his feelings on his own. We will offer our continued support for as long as Shen-shixiong needs it.”
That’s a fair assessment, as expected of Mu Qingfang. Shen Qingqiu nods approvingly. “This one will seek help if it is needed.”
“But it is true that Xiao-jiu has seemed more mournful as of late,” Yue Qingyuan can’t help but to mention. It’s what everyone is thinking. No one on Cang Qiong mountain could have imagined that after five years, Shen Qingqiu’s grief over the events of the Immortal Alliance Conference would have become worse.
Luo Binghe was an adored disciple. That much was obvious to anyone who managed to stay in the presence of the master-disciple pair for more than five seconds. As a hoarder of their Shizun’s attention and the sole recipient of headpats, Luo Binghe was once the envy of all the disciples of Qing Jing Peak. Now, no one even dares to utter his name.
Half a decade–Luo Binghe has been lost to the Endless Abyss longer than Shen Qingqiu has been his teacher. At first, it was a relief when Luo Binghe didn’t come for him. Going off the Proud Immortal Demon’s Way timeline, Shen Qingqiu should have already succumbed to his original, pickled fate. With all his limbs intact, his home safe, and his fellow peak lords and disciples alive and well, Shen Qingqiu knows he should be happy. But he isn’t. And he doesn’t know why.
Okay, that’s a lie. He absolutely does know why, but he had too much pride to admit it.
He misses Luo Binghe.
Of course he does! Who wouldn’t miss such a perfect white lotus? Those big, starlight eyes, those curls that sprung and bounced under Shen Qingqiu’s fingers, that stickiness, the endless adoration, the cooking–oh the cooking. Luo Binge would probably be proud if he saw the way Shen Qingqiu could hardly stomach anything that’s served to him now, despite Ming Fan and Ning Yingying’s best efforts. He’s lucky he practices inedia, otherwise he would’ve shriveled up into a big pile of nothing by this point.
Of course, Shen Qingqiu missed Luo Binghe the moment he pushed him down in the Endless Abyss, but he had lived with the belief that he would see his disciple again. Perhaps not on the best of terms, but they would be reunited. It is written into the laws of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s universe; Luo Binghe will repay any slights done to him tenfold–a hundredfold! Either way, Shen Qingqiu was screwed. But he wasn’t–isn’t. Over five years have slipped by, the time in which it took Luo Binghe to find his golden finger Xin Mo and escape the abyss, and Luo Binghe is nowhere to be seen. No rumors of the unification of the Demon Realm under a new Heavenly Demon ruler, no reports of a new Head Disciple at HuanHua Palace. It’s almost as if–
As if Luo Binghe truly died in the Endless Abyss.
When Shen Qingqiu first came upon this realization a few weeks ago, he was a bedridden wreck. What happened to the almighty Protagonist Halo? Did Shen Qingqiu mess up his transmigration that badly that he altered the rules of the universe completely? He knew he ruined the harem bit somehow, as a then seventeen Luo Binghe had not the slightest inkling of interest in any of his future harem members. Shen Qingiu was decidedly fine with that at the time. It’s not like Binghe needed those hundreds of women anyways. None of them were good enough for him; there’s a reason Luo Binghe had countless wives but no Empress. This way, Luo Binghe was ‘trimming the fat’ with all his spouses, no doubt saving himself the hassle of living through the innumerable chapters of harem squabbles that Shen Qingqiu was forced to trudge through while waiting for great master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky to finally write something palpable.
Shen Qingqiu had begged the System for answers, but the Siri voiced entity (god? Shen Qingqiu still has no idea) was silent. Shang Qinghua was no help either, but that was to be expected of the little, good-for-nothing rat.
“How can you write a novel where the protagonist can die?”
“I didn’t Cucumber-bro, I promise! At least, I don’t think I did.”
Useless! Shen Qingqiu had beat him with his fan until he felt better, and has been rotting away in his bed ever since. He invited his martial siblings over as a means of assuring them he was quite fine while simultaneously feeling the exact opposite of that. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough to fool them.
“Is there anything we can do to help Shen-shixiong?” Mu Qingfang presses.
“Do you want to spar? Go beast hunting?” Liu Qingge’s solution to everything always has to include violence somehow.
“Does Shen-shixiong need a change of scenery? Come teach guqin to my disciples again. They enjoyed having a guest.” The all female peak was delighted by Shen Qingqiu’s presence a few weeks ago. A beautiful man, playing a beautiful song on a beautiful instrument, what was not to like? They’ve been pleading with their master to have Shen Qingqiu return. Qi Qingqi isn’t against the idea.
“Is the current peak lord workload too strenuous for Xiao-jiu? Shang-shidi can surely take some of it–”
“Would you like me to prescribe you a new medicine, something to aid Shen-shixiong with lethargy and–”
“This one believes,” Shen Qingqiu has to interrupt before his head explodes from the sheer force of their good intentions. A scum villain isn’t used to such support! “This one–” he sighs. Enough with the honored speech. “I– I believe I need time away from Cang Qiong.”
“A trip.” Liu Qingge nods. “I’ll go with you.” He drains the rest of his tea in one gulp and stands up as if to leave to get an early start on his packing. Shen Qingqiu stops him with a tug of his sleeve.
“I need time away from Cang Qiong alone.”
Liu Qingge drops back into his spot with a definitive frown. “It’s dangerous.”
“What about Without-A-Cure?” Yue Qingyuan asks, worry etched into every word.
Shen Qingqiu hadn’t considered that. Time to bullshit.
“Mu-shidi. I will be well for at least one month after having my meridians cleared by Liu-shidi, correct?”
Mu Qingfang thumbs at his teacup. “Theoretically yes, but flare ups can still occur between treatments, especially if you are pushing yourself–”
“One week. That is all I ask.” Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know where he’ll go. Just anywhere but here. The ghost of Luo Binghe hangs in every doorway–taunting him, torturing him. He would’ve knocked the Bamboo House down already if it wasn’t home to his good memories of Luo Binghe as well. The Bamboo House, the Zheng Yang sword mound, the fake Guanyin pendant; it’s all he has left of his disciple.
Something on his face must convince his martial siblings. Shen Qingqiu did feel strangely close to crying, but he doubts the tears of a decrepit old man would move anyone. They allow this trip of his. One week, and one week only. If he’s so much as an hour late, they’ll start to storm the entire cultivation world looking for him. Shen Qingqiu almost scoffs. Right. As if any of them have time for that.
(They don’t. But for Shen Qingqiu, they do.)
Shen Qingqiu spends the next day drafting lesson plans for his disciples in his absence. He won’t allow them to slack off! Not on this peak! In his writings, he warns that Liu Qingge will make daily visits to Qing Jing to ensure they’re on task. Anyone whose work is found to be unsatisfactory will spend the remainder of the day on Bai Zhan, fighting for their lives against a particularly grumpy Liu-Shishu.
“You’re going to be like a lost puppy without him here, won’t you?”
Liu Qingge isn’t very good at lying, so he ignores Qi Qingqi instead as they walk back to their peaks after tea at the Bamboo House. But she’s right. He will miss Shen Qingqiu. And he’s going to make that everyone else’s problem.
When the time has come for him to embark, Shen Qingqiu hugs a crying Ming Fan and Ning Yingying to his chest. Xiu Ya at his waist, the qiankun pouch Liu Qingge so thoughtfully packed for him in his sleeve–he’s all ready to go.
“Shizun promises to return?” Ning Yingying, sweet as sugar, unknowingly wipes her snot all over Shen Qingqiu’s robes. He rubs at her quivering back. Ah, this crybaby. It’s as if she’s still that tiny, little child Shen Qingqiu met when he first transmigrated.
“It’s only a week,” Shen Qingqiu reminds his ducklings. He doesn’t see why it’s a big deal. He’s gone into seclusion for longer than that! Sure, there was a demon invasion that took place at the time, but at the end of the day they were fine.
Ning Yingying clutches onto Shen Qingqiu tighter, as if to trap him in place. Keep him from leaving. “Shizun is in such frail health, are you sure you’ll be okay?”
Frail health?! He’s mourning his favorite character, not dying! Although sometimes, those two do feel the same. That's besides the point!
“This master will be fine. He will return with many souvenirs for Ning Yingying.”
That does the trick. Ugh, how did Shen Qingqiu allow her to become so spoiled? The promise of gifts has her tears drying already.
“I look forward to Shizun’s return!” Ning Yingying chirps, face wet and ruddy. Shen Qingqiu pinches her cheek. Darling thing.
“Shizun!” Ming Fan isn’t nearly as cute as Ning Yingying as he cries, but Shen Qingqiu still finds something to love in those blotchy tears of his. “This disciple will keep Qing Jing in order in your absence!”
Shen Qingqiu pats at his head. “I know you will.”
Robes wet, and spirits lifted, Shen Qingqiu departs.
✾✾✾
‘One week. What the hell am I going to do for one week, huh?’
Shen Qingqiu sits at the Luo riverbed, eating a meal he doesn’t need because he’s that bored already. Three days into his travels and he’s already wondering how he’ll fill the time. If he were in the demon realm, or maybe even the Endless Abyss, he’d have so much research to do he could easily fill an entire year’s worth of time. But as it stands, he’s stuck in the human realm with beasts and fauna he’s long since seen and studied before. He happened upon a small village earlier today and helped them with the Scarlet Sun Hound infestation they were struggling with. The red fur beasts are no more dangerous than any other feral dog, if not for their natural defense instinct. When a Scarlet Sun Hound feels threatened, their coat begins to emit scorching hot temperatures as a means of scaring off predators, but when too close to civilization, they can burn grown men and women to death in seconds, or light aflame entire houses. They were easy to kill. Xiu Ya’s brilliant blade tore straight through their fur and into the vulnerable skin underneath. It was more of a matter of putting the wild dogs down before they managed to turn the entire village to rubble. The task was nothing but a warm up for a phony cultivator like Shen Qingqiu. He never trained for these abilities. Hell, he couldn’t even do a cartwheel in his past life! It's nothing short of a miracle that the body of Shen Qingqiu has long since memorized the skill of an immortal cultivator. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have to do anything but let his new body take control. It’s quite the perk. The original goods was one talented man.
But talent can only go so far against Without-A-Cure.
Shen Qingqiu senses the approach of the three figures behind him long before they make themselves known. ‘Demons,’ he notes as he reads the foreign signature of their qi. He’s far from any demon-human realm passages. What are these three demons doing so far into human territory? And to bother a cultivator, at that! Well, it’s not like Shen Qingqiu had any plans for today anyways.
“How may this humble one help you?” Shen Qingqiu says without turning around. He finishes the last bite of his melon, tossing the rind behind his shoulder where it lands with a splat onto the chest of the nearest demon. He hears their indignant grunt. Snapping out his fan, he finally deigns to face his enemies.
‘Canon fodder.’
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t have made more generic looking demons even if he tried! A world with Black Moon Python-Rhinos and Ghost Head Spiders, and he gets stuck fighting humanoid looking demons. How dull. At least the Scarlet Sun Hounds from earlier were a bit interesting!
Like everything else, this is all Airplane’s fault.
“Great immortal master, your beauty enthralls us lowly demons.” One male demon with long braided hair and two horns jutting out from his head does his best to smile. It’s more of a grimace, or maybe it’s just his fangs that are too big for his mouth. The other two are the same demon in different fonts. Black claws, red eyes, dark hair, pointed ears–you get the gist. Shen Qingqiu could fall asleep just looking at them.
“Fake flattery will get you nowhere,” he sighs.
“Great immortal master offends us by refusing our sincerity,” another demon drawls, long tongue flicking from his mouth to wet his lips. Gross.
This must be a rehearsed script because the third demon continues with, “Great immortal master is very captivating indeed.”
Shen Qingqiu could laugh. Him? Captivating? Sure, the original goods isn’t anything too horrible to look at. In fact, he is rather handsome, but there are many more captivating maidens in this world that easily outshine an old man like him. But then again, anyone of noteworthy beauty is all but guaranteed to be a part of Luo Binghe’s harem. Does the same apply if he is…if he’s no longer around? Who will the wives flock to then? Do any of them have a purpose besides gratuitous papapa with the protagonist? Surely there are exceptions, like his Ning Yingying, and the ever graceful Liu Mingyan. But the others–surely these demons could make better use of their time capturing the unclaimed beauties of Luo Binghe’s lost harem instead of pestering the likes of Shen Qingqiu.
“What do you want?” Shen Qingqiu has already grown tired of this game. He’s going to make this quick; one gleam from Xiu Ya and he’d have demon npc one, two, and three running away with their tails between their legs–they actually do have tails. All three of them.
Or so that was the plan.
The demons appropriately cower behind one another as Shen Qingqiu stands and draws his sword, but suddenly the bountiful torrent of spiritual energy in Shen Qingqiu’s veins comes to a sluggish stop, because of course it does. Of all times to have a Without-A-Cure flare up. Xiu Ya is now nothing but a heavy hunk of metal in his hands. Sure, it can still do some serious damage, but not against demons and their armored skin. It would be like throwing pebbles against a mountain and expecting an avalanche. Shen Qingqiu considers bluffing. Nothing fancy. Just a ‘Leave now and I’ll spare your life’ kind of thing. It tends to work well on low IQ characters like these.
“Great immortal master is poisoned!”
Not low IQ characters then! Could’ve fooled Shen Qingqiu.
“What do you want?” he groans. If it’s money, he’s got plenty. Yue Qingyuan refused to let him leave Cang Qiong without first stuffing his pockets with enough coins and spirits stones to fund his own sect. Do demons even have a use for human currency? What’s the exchange rate between human and demon currencies? Is he going to cause an economic collapse in the demon realm by letting these half brainless goons rob him dry? Answers Airplane, answers!
One demon grabs at a satchel around their waist, digging around until they reveal a hefty coil of red immortal binding cables. “Us humble servants are bride hunting for the upcoming battle tournament. We would like great immortal master to come with us.”
“We are sure he will fetch a high price.”
“With his beauty, he may be the selected bride of honor!”
Shen Qingqiu scratches at the inside of his ear with his pinky. Did he hear that right? Bride hunting? Exactly what about him screams ‘bride?’ He can’t even find a bride of his own!
But a battle tournament. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t remember reading anything about that. Could be interesting. That’s reason enough to get kidnapped. Shen Qingqiu shrugs. He doesn’t have to be back at Cang Qiong for another four days. He can figure out an escape plan by then. The three demons stare at Shen Qingqiu with an almost adorable type of confusion as they watch him sheath Xiu Ya and lift his hands in surrender. “Okay then. Do your worst.”
✾✾✾
He should not have told them to do their worst.
Shen Qingqiu really wasn’t all that upset about being kidnapped. Well, does it count as kidnapping if he gives himself up freely? Irrelevant. What matters is that this way, he gets to see the demon realm first hand! If only his trio of escorts hadn’t gagged and cuffed his hands. He could be taking great notes right about now! And surely, these lovely gentlemen–gentledemons?–could have answered any questions he had if they let him talk. What a shame. Maybe another time, another kidnapping.
After wrapping him in one too many layers of immortal binding cables, the demons had Shen Qingqiu take a seat in their creaky wooden carriage, pulled by a single Dark Shadow Steed; a horse-like creature made of, you guessed it, shadows. Brilliant, Airplane. Truly.
It was a bumpy and boring trip to the nearest demon realm passage. They’re easy to miss if you don’t know where to look. What appears to be a dying tree is actually a portal, enhanced with special demonic talismans in order to appear as something so unassuming. The carriage groans its way towards the tree as if to plow straight into it, and instead disappears into the hidden portal. One slight nauseating moment later, and they’re through the passage and officially in the demon realm.
The air here is thin, yet somehow heavy. Shen Qingqiu feels the weight of it bare down on him as he struggles to breath in enough oxygen through his nose to not pass out. It takes a few minutes, but he gets used to it. His three demon chaperons did panic for a bit there when he started to hyperventilate. They began blowing at him like he was a birthday cake candle, thinking it would help any if they gave him their air. Bless their hearts–it did nothing but prove to Shen Qingqiu how rancid demon breath can be, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. These three may be canon fodder idiots, but now they are his canon fodder idiots. He’ll do what he can in the time he has to raise their IQ so they don’t meet their inevitable demise quite yet.
It would help if he could speak. Shen Qingqiu makes eye contact with one of the demons–he should really learn their names–and then looks down at the gag. He gets the message.
“Thank you,” Shen Qingqiu gasps as the gag falls to his neck.
“To help the great immortal master to breathe!” The demon defends to his two friends. “We can’t have him dying before the tournament.” The other two eventually acquiesce.
Shen Qingqiu flicks his hair from where it’s fallen in his face. “How should this one address his new companions?”
“Answering great immortal master, this one is called Two Horns.”
But…they all have two horns?
“This one is Two Fangs!”
“And this one is Two Tails!”
Ridiculous. Although, Shen Qingqiu supposes that if he looks hard enough, Two Horns does in fact have the largest pair of horns out of the three. Two Fangs’ fangs are indeed too big to fit in his mouth, compared to the other two. And two tails–okay, okay. He gets it now. Doesn’t mean it still isn’t stupid.
“You are kin?” Shen Qingqiu presumes.
“Yes, great immortal master.” Two Horn replies.
“Born the same day,” Two Fangs adds. Triplets. So that’s why they look so similar. Maybe his boys aren’t worthless npcs after all! They aren’t generic; they’re just near identical copies of one another. A gift of genetics, or Airplanes lazy writing? Who’s to say.
“I was born first.”
Two Tails’ statement sends his brothers into a denial frenzy. Apparently all of them are operating under the belief that they are the eldest. Shen Qingqiu shuts up their squabbling with one pointed look.
The sky is a depressing gray, the vegetation an even more depressing black, but it’s the demon realm and Shen Qingqiu intends to learn all he can while he’s here.
“Please inform this one about the battle tournament.”
Two Horns picks at the end of his braid. “These lowly demons are not at liberty to disclose such details.”
Fine, fine. Shen Qingqiu will learn eventually. The carriage ride continues in silence.
Ugh. Shen Qingqiu can’t hold it back any longer. “What are you staring at?” he snaps. Two Tails ducks his head guiltily. Do demons need to blink? He’s pretty sure Two Tails hasn’t blinked in the past ten minutes, too busy staring a hole into Shen Qingqiu’s face. That can’t be good for his eyes.
“Great immortal master will make a fine bride,” Two Tails croaks, cheeks flushing a putrid purple.
Aw. That’s actually, kind of sweet?
“Thank you,” Shen Qingqiu says, like he understands.
Two Horns yanks off a dark green fruit from a passing bush and tosses it to their Dark Shadow Steed as a snack. The beast gives a responding shriek, the pitch akin to what Shen Qingqiu always assumed an Oviraptor might have sounded like. “You will get yourself killed going after him,” he warns his brother.
“It would have been worth it.”
Sure, Shen Qingqiu would refuse the advances of Two Tails, but he wouldn’t kill him. Geez. He’s not that dramatic.
After an hour or so of Shen Qingqiu eagerly pointing out and demanding explanations of every new plant and beast their carriage comes across, they make it to their destination. A small camp perched on the outskirts of what looks to be a major demon city. Fur lined tents, no doubt made from skinning lesser beasts in the area, are lined in a less than perfect square with a group of bound individuals thrown into a kneel at it’s center.
“Apologies, great immortal master.” Two Fangs fixates the gag back over Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. The three brothers tug him out of the carriage. Shen Qingqiu complies for now. Dirting his pristine sage robes, he allows himself to be pushed to his knees alongside the other captives. Shen Qingqiu does a quick headcount. Humans, cultivators, even other demons, are among those captured.
Two Horns, Two Fangs, and Two Tails slip into the surrounding crowd.
Shen Qingqiu wonders what they’re waiting for. His legs are starting to grow numb when suddenly the audience around them parts. A stunning figure steps forward. Fine, white, alabaster skin, a willowy frame, and a sickening coquettish face. Dressed in deep, emerald green robes with the collar pulled down to reveal her shoulders, Madame Meiyin makes her first round around the collected victims. She raises a sleeved hand to her lips, eyes narrowed in thought. It’s not hard for Shen Qingqiu to recognize the infamous succubus from Proud Immortal Demon Way. Known for her numerous sexual exploits with the protagonist, she remained one of the few maidens of this universe to not join Luo Binghe’s harem. Not for her lack of beauty or experience. As a reader, Shen Qingqiu always assumed she wanted all the reward (the Heavenly Pillar) with no work (harem politics). He can’t say he blames her! It seems that in this universe, she is following the same path. Though, it is uncertain if she ever happened upon Luo Binghe before he–
Shen Qingqiu can’t finish the thought.
Stuck in the turmoil of living in a world without his beloved stallion protagonist, his little white lotus, his sticky sheep, Shen Qingqiu almost misses it when Madame Meiyin stops before him. Her red eyes are all aglow as she takes him in. Sweaty and travel-worn, Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure he makes the greatest first impression.
“Him.”
Two demons wearing some official looking armor clamor to Madame Meiyin’s side.
“Are you sure?”
“Have my fortunes ever been wrong?” Madame Meiyin’s anger flares to the surface in seconds, distorting her lovely face into something more savage, more demonic. “You asked for the best bride. It is him. Need I waste our time explaining why?”
“No Madame.” The two demons bow and Madame Meiyin floats away, back to her gilded palanquin where she’s carried off towards the city with her flashy entourage of demon guards and lower level succubi. In and out. A busy lady the Madame is, apparently. Shen Qingqiu barely got a look at her. Not that he really cared. She wasn’t the protagonist or anything.
The armored demons march to Shen Qingqiu and pull him back to his feet. “Who brought this one?” They shout to the crowd. The triplets stumble to the front. They look happier than ever. Shen Qingqiu later learns why, when he’s hauled into a tent and made to witness just how much money his kidnappers get for bringing in the winning gem. Bags upon bags of gold coins and shining jewels. Too much for even all three of them to carry at once.
“Thank you great immortal master!” They all drop into a kowtow once it’s just them left in the tent. Oh the theatrics. Just tell him what’s going on already!
After a long winded explanation in which the triplets took turns talking over one another, Shen Qingqiu thinks he understands the situation.
Every year this particular city in the demon realm is host to a magnificent tournament where participants are to battle for the right to wed the prized bride. And that prized bride is him.
Candidates for the role are hunted weeks in advance and are brought to Madame Meiyin the day before the opening ceremonies of the tournament. She selects the option she believes will garner the most interest. The one who will bring in the most demons to the tournament, who will inspire the greatest of battles, who will be the most treasured of spouses. Shen Qingqiu must clarify again that that bride is him? Somehow?
“But I’m a cultivator?”
Shen Qingqiu is tired of talking formally. Screw that.
“Demons admire strength in their mates!” Two Fangs explains. Right, that tracks. From what Shen Qingqiu remembers of what little was said about demonic courting in the original text, there is a great deal of bullying and beating up of one’s intended mate. It only makes sense that demons need someone strong enough to handle such a thing. To prove they’re worthy.
“But I’m unwell.”
“Great immortal master’s condition makes it so that he is strong, but not too strong that he will dominate his mate!” Two Tails helpfully informs. Okay. So they don’t want him too strong, or too weak. Who knew demons were so picky?
Shen Qingqiu pulls out his last resort. “But I’m just an old man!”
No demon in their right mind will ever find him so attractive that they are willing to lay down their lives to fight for the honor of marrying him. That’s just ridiculous. He’s no harem member. He can’t even hold a candle to any of those ladies, and there are over six hundred of them! Surely one can be found before tomorrow?
“Great immortal master is stunning!”
“Divine!”
“A peerless beauty worth waging war over!”
They sure are laying it on thick.
Unannounced, another one of those armored demons–city residents in charge of planning and overseeing the annual tournament, if Shen Qingqiu had to guess–comes barreling into the tent. She wordlessly holds up a necklace, ooh pretty, Shen Qingqiu quite likes it, and loops it around his neck. It’s a tight fit. More of a choker or a collar than a necklace.
“Can’t I get out of being the prize bride?” he asks as she fastens it in place.
“I’m afraid not, great immortal master. Not while you’re wearing that.” Two Horns points a black clawed finger to his neck.
“Hm? Why? What is this?” Shen Qingqiu fiddles with his newest accessory, only to realize he can’t take it off. There’s a sinister type of energy embedded in the black beading that keeps it locked in place. Even if he wasn’t suffering from a Without-A-Cure flare up, or wrapped up in immortal binding cables, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think he’d be able to pry it off. “Hey!” He shouts to the retreating female demon. She dutifully ignores him. “Hey, take this thing off, I don’t want it!”
“This cursed necklace ensures that great immortal master weds the tournament victor; it will lock your spiritual energy for now, and will begin to drain it once the tournament is complete. It can only be removed after consummating the marriage.”
That’s the stupidest thing Shen Qingqiu has ever heard. This is no doubt a plot device meant to guarantee a few chapters of disgustingly detailed wedding sex between Luo Binghe and whatever wife was originally supposed to be the bride.
So Shen Qingqiu’s options are to:
A). Continue his role as the battle tournament bride, marry and papapa with the victor demon who he hopes is a generic humanoid breed like the Horn, Fang, and Tail triplets and not some eldritch horror with three dicks. Though, there might be some merit to that. An unknown type of demon with strange, mildly nauseating attributes that he could study. For science, of course! No other reason! Moving on! Option B, option B!
B). Run away to Cang Qiong mountain sect and pray that someone there can take this necklace off before it manages to kill him.
Option B is the clear winner, if only it didn’t include Shen Qingqiu having to explain that he was kidnapped by demons. His martial siblings would never let him leave the mountain again! And what if they can’t get the necklace off? He’ll just die then?
Best to figure this out on his own. He can marry and consummate with whoever, as humiliating as it may be, and quietly divorce them by running away to the human realm–never to be seen again. No one has to know that he is technically married. Simple as that.
Two Fangs trots off to fetch dinner for Shen Qingqiu. He comes back some time later with a plate of inedible, brown slob. Shen Qingqiu accepts it with a forced smile, trying his utmost best not to gag. He’s never missed Luo Binghe’s cooking more than he does now. Forget the cursed necklace, one bite of this and he’s done for. Instant KO. He tells the triplets he’s too tired for dinner.
“Great immoral master should sleep then. Tournament preparations begin at dawn,” Two Horns advises.
True to his word, at dawn there are guests in Shen Qingqiu’s tent. Succubi. Minions of Madame Meiyin; stubborn little things that have no problem dragging out of his bed and into a waiting palanquin. It’s almost as grand as the one Madame Meiyin rode in the day before. A pagoda-like shape with glittering trinkets and charms hanging from its many eaves, a beaded curtain to hide him from view, and red horizontal poles for his bearers to lift upon their shoulders as they carry him into the city. Shen Qingqiu bows in thanks to the big, muscled, bull-like demons who are meant to hold his weight as he steps on board. A series of armed guards and the succubi from earlier take position outside the palanquin. With the bride secured, the procession begins.
Shen Qingqiu squints to make out anything past the curtain.
The sun in the demon realm is different to that of the human realm. It’s a blinding white, shocking out any warmth or color in the landscape. The sky is a dull grey-blue, like that of the ocean right before a storm. It’s beautiful, in its own way.
On their way to the city, Shen Qingqiu spots many more camps like the one he stayed at the night before. It would appear that the battle tournament brings quite the influx of demons to the city. So much so that they’ve run out of lodging. The stragglers have taken to pitching up tents nearby, attracting other traveling demons until they make their own seclusive pod, a community of their own. Some of these camps are celebrating the start of the tournament with feasts, music, and dancing. They’ve lit grand bonfires and arranged mini training grounds where it seems a few eager tournament participants are getting in some last minute practice.
Many demons stop to cheer for the bride palanquin as it passes. Shen Qingqiu kind of feels like a celebrity. They throw flowers at him, dazzling red buds who’s sweet perfume will stick to him all day. Feeling bold, Shen Qingqiu stretches an arm out the curtain and plucks one right out of the air. There’s an explosion of cheers and next thing he knows there’s an even greater onslaught of flowers coming towards them. Shen Qingqiu’s poor procession is being pelted left and right. One of the bull demons sends the palanquin teetering when they’re nailed right in the face.
It’s even worse when they make it past the city gates. An entire crowd stretching for miles upon miles awaits them. Shen Qingqiu’s ears are ringing, his lap piled with flowers, jewels, ribbons, and a million different goods by the time they arrive at their destination.
A modest palace, reserved only for the prized bride, sits at the back end of the coliseum where the tournament is to take place. They could probably host a Superbowl in that thing. Stacks and stacks of stone stands in a round formation, a sandy pit at the bottom for the battling contenders, and a special viewing box for the bride. There are minor demons running like chickens with their heads cut off to tidy up the whole place before the show begins. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t get to see much more than that. He’s whisked away to the palace by the succubi as soon as he steps out of the palanquin.
“We must get you ready for the presentation ceremony,” one succubi says as she drags Shen Qingqiu down a magnificent hallway lined with rich, purple, velvet rugs. Golden tapestries hang between the spiraling columns that stretch floor to ceiling every few feet or so. The ceiling is a mosaic of gems that Shen Qingqiu really wishes he got to look at longer. But there’s no time.
The room he’s led to is no less lacking in opulence. A canopied bed with gauzy curtains, a vanity laced with golden engravings of dragons and phoenixes in flight, a wardrobe boasting a frankly absurd amount of clothes and accessories, an incense burner infusing the space with a definitive scent of wealth–Shen Qingqiu can certainly get comfortable staying here. His back still aches from sleeping on a makeshift bed of fur pelts on the ground last night. That bed looks so cozy. Will they let him take a nap? A quick five hour nap that makes him forget his sense of space and time upon waking up? You know, the usual.
No time for napping, he's told. And no time for explanations either. The succubi plant Shen Qingqiu in front of the vanity, pull back their silk sleeves, and get to work.
One attempts taming Shen Qingqiu’s hair, another leans uncomfortably close as she applies makeup, and three others are fighting for their lives in the closet trying to find the perfect outfit amongst a sea of options. Shen Qingqiu is allowed absolutely no input on any manner of this makeover. Even though it’s his makeover. He makes an offhand comment that he prefers to wear green and the girls in the closet threaten to skin him. He very wisely shuts up after that.
“Worry not, we will see to it that you look your best for the presentation ceremony,” the young succubus painting his face assures. She’s very fetching with her sharp, red eyes and hair the color of a clear, midnight sky, but overall she’s nothing compared to Luo Binghe. No one can best the protagonist in anything. Not even beauty.
Shen Qingqiu has a pretty good idea as to what this presentation ceremony is. Given the name, it’s obvious he’s going to be presented to all the tournament participants. To motivate them, perhaps? No. No way. To convince them to quit and demand a refund because the bride is so obviously a man? Not only that, a tired, old man who will one hundred percent ditch them after the wedding? Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have the heart to tell these lovely ladies that all their hard work is wasted on him. They’ll be lucky to still have a tournament to hold after the demons get a good look at what prize they’re supposed to be fighting over.
The Horn, Fang, and Tail triplets somehow sneak their way into the palace to see Shen Qingqiu and are promptly shooed away by his glam team. They flee, but not without leaving a promise to see him again at the presentation ceremony.
A while later, the succubi announce they’re finished. Shen Qingqiu finally looks in the mirror.
The makeup is tasteful. A pale base to hide the imperfections his skin doesn’t have (perks of being a cultivator), faint dashes of rouge on his lips, cheeks, and eyelids, and a swipe of black khol around the eyes. They gave him winged liner! And worst of all, it looks good!
His favorite part is the red huadian painted between his brows. Binghe had one just like it, in that terrible last moment before Shen Qingqiu pushed down into the abyss. Recently revealed and flickering madly with distress; a bright beacon in the shadows, a promise of who Luo Binghe was to become. Shen Qingqiu tears his gaze away from his reflection. He doesn’t want any more reminders of that day.
His hair is down, all three feet of it, tumbling off his shoulders like free running water. It’s festooned with silver charms and chains that chime with every twitch of his head. He sounds like a handful of jingle bells. Maybe if he moves around a certain way, he can play a Christmas carol.
Overall, the hair and makeup is fine. Acceptable even. But the robes.
“I can’t wear this!” Shen Qingqiu barely has the courage to step out from behind the privacy screen the succubi graciously let him change behind. The robes, if they even deserved to be called that, are no more than sheer red drapings. He’s spared from complete indecency by the tight underlining that begins at his waist, perfectly opaque, until it begins to fade down to total transparency mid-thigh. An unnecessarily long train follows behind him with every step. His arms and shoulders are exposed in a way Shen Qingqiu isn’t quite sure is legal for a great master such as himself. No shoes, because apparently demons don’t care about his health. Don’t they know how many poisonous plants exist here? One wrong step, one small prick on the bottom of his heel and he’s onto his next life. Preferably one where he’s allowed to wear shoes.
Honestly, Shen Qingqiu is dressed no better than Sha Hualing! The succubi probably raided her wardrobe for this red number. Shen Qingqiu is suddenly oh so thankful that he’s in a different realm from his martial siblings. He couldn’t bear to face them again if he was seen like this.
The succubi all grab each other and squeal. “Immortal master looks incredible!”
Well, he doesn’t feel incredible. He feels like an idiot.
There’s a knock on the door. A message. The stage at the center of the city square is ready. The crowds have gathered. It’s time for the presentation ceremony. Shen Qingqiu’s hour of doom is upon him. He huffs, flicking away his trailing sleeves. Time to get this over with. It's just a bunch of no name demons he’ll never see again. What’s the worst that could happen?