Chapter Text
So maybe he got a little sloppy over the years!
Sue him! Why does Cucumber-bro get to gallivant and relax in eternal honeymoon paradise with his golden-halo son while he's stuck running two kingdoms and managing spy duties?!
Maybe not as much as before, since much of his An Ding responsibilities have finally been delegated to his disciples after being promoted to consort (Shifu, shifu! Please, let us disciples take on your work so you don't work yourself into another qi deviation again!) and his extensive spy network meant others did the spying for him, but still!
Shang Qinghua tried to rub the Immortal Binding ropes against the stone walls and only chafed and irritated his skin. The gag muffled his cursing and attempts to call for his king. He'd joke that the gag was kinky, but he was starting to doubt his time left to live.
It started with a letter that he didn't recognize from any of his chapters, leaving him bereft of information or foresight. With so many years having passed since Shen Qingqiu bent his son, it was only natural that the world began to leave the confines of the original story; there was only so much source material written before he died. Though plotlines and familiar faces popped up, he'd come to rely on his intuition rather than author knowledge these days.
So, he decided to take the job on himself, as if you want something done right, better do it yourself before some cultivator came sauntering in, messing up the entire process, thinking their method is "more efficient". Damn Bai Zhan disciples.
Shang Qinghua tried wriggling free again. He refrained from banging his head against the wall in frustration.
In all his years of spying, he only got caught twice: when Shen Qingqiu threw him under the bus, and this. He tried pulling some lines from the original goods to weasel his way out, but when they brought the Immortal Binding cables out and tossed him into the dungeon to await a verdict, he had a feeling it did more harm than good.
His poor spy network. Nobody will be left to run it if he's dead.
He sighed and thumped his head against the wall, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
He missed Mobei-jun. No doubt, he was tearing apart the Demon Realm looking for him. Shang Qinghua tried his best to lie down, wincing as he more or less fell onto the cold stone floor, scabbed wounds along his back stinging. He bit down on the gag and screamed in frustration.
Fuck. Being without spiritual energy absolutely sucked. How the hell did he live like this before?
"Consort Shang." He glared up at the demon walking by the cell door, cursing her with every creative insult he could remember from Cucumber-bro's comments. "For your transgressions against the Demon Realm and betrayal to the Mobei Clan, you will be executed tomorrow morning." Her eight eyes curved upwards. "I heard they're sending a special invitation to the king. Maybe he'd be the one to execute you!"
Shang Qinghua snarled around the gag, but with him lying on his side, he looked more pathetic than threatening. The demon laughed and walked away. He curled up the best he could and tried to ignore the aching down his whole body.
Even after all this time, he could not escape the fate of the original goods.
~~~~~
After a terrible nap, Shang Qinghua groaned as he was woken up by the screech of the cell door. Bright torchlight was waved in front of his face before a large clawed hand grabbed him by his arm bindings and hauled him to his feet. His muffled protests and yelps of pain were ignored as they dragged him out of the dungeon.
Not even Mobei-jun was this rough with him when they first met!
Unceremoniously tossed onto a stone dais, Shang Qinghua winced as the back of his robes were yanked up, forcing him into a kneeling position.
"Shang Qinghua, Consort of the North, has admitted guilty to running an entire spy network across several territories!" A collective gasp echoed through the room. Hushed whispers and angry accusations erupted. "He has been planning to undermine us demons and take over the Demon Realm for himself!" Shang Qinghua tried to not roll his eyes.
As if he had such power. Xin Mo was destroyed long ago. The only other person with such power was busy living his best life as a house husband.
Ignoring the crick in his neck, he cracked open his eyes and raised his head a tiny bit.
Mobei-jun stood at the front of the audience. His pupils were pinprick slits, brows furrowed deep and a terrifying scowl on his face. A concoction of the worst emotions stormed through his eyes. His fists were the only part moving, trembling with barely contained rage by his sides. Even if he wanted to call for his husband, the damned gag still sat in his mouth.
"The Northern Kingdom has been tricked!" Mobei-jun's glare snapped to the executioner demon. "Consort Shang used Mobei-jun to take over the North! He has used his position as Consort,” the claws shook Shang Qinghua, the ropes chafing and scraping against his already raw skin, “to get his spies all across the Demon Realm. And when the moment was right, he was going to poison Mobei-jun with this!” The demon held up a little container. Opening it up, they spilled the thick liquid onto the ground. It dripped clear and odorless.
“What kind of poison is that?”
“Look, it would be nearly undetectable if he put it into the king’s food or drink!”
“Cowardly! What underhanded means!”
"Qinghua—!" Mobei-jun surged toward the dais, roaring as no less than ten demons lunged and pinned him down, forcing him to his knees. "QINGHUA—!"
Shang Qinghua smiled. Ah, at least his king understood. That's all he could ask for.
They both knew that the little vial didn't contain a secret lethal poison.
It was hand lotion, made specially for him. The cold temperatures of the North easily dried his skin out, doubled by his frequent handwashing to get ink stains off his fingers. The container itself was one of many gifts from Mobei-jun. Shang Qinghua carried it in his sleeves wherever he went. It had no smell because he knew demon noses were more sensitive, so he experimented until he made a version that wouldn't irritate his husband, nor freeze at low temperatures.
Sometimes, when Shang Qinghua fell asleep at his table, he'd wake up to Mobei-jun rubbing it onto the backs of his hands, where the skin cracked the most. His eyes narrowed, lips pursed in concentration, using just enough strength to work it in, but not crush bone. A free hand massage was one of Shang Qinghua's favorite things to wake up to.
Mobei-jun roared and flung the demons off with three swings. The audience yelled as the demon clans called to restrain him down, fire demons leaping forward and lighting a barrier between the dais and him. Black ice shards formed in the air. Mobei-jun snarled, ready to tear his way through and pummel the judges into pulp.
Shang Qinghua shook his head the smallest bit. Mobei-jun froze.
He knew Mobei-jun was willing to throw away the entire Northern Kingdom for him. The amount of demon heads and severed tongues in the dungeons collected during court was evidence enough.
But if Shang Qinghua was to survive, what good would it be? His spy network was already destroyed. His reputation as the unassuming, human toy was gone. The cleanup and future struggle to keep the North in good graces was insurmountable. He was already apologizing to his assistants for the hell that negotiations will be in the upcoming days.
If everything was blamed on Shang Qinghua, then the Northern Kingdom was safe. An Ding Peak can survive without him.
Yes, he was a power hungry, lying, scheming human.
Yes, he betrayed the Demon Realm and Mobei-jun.
Yes, it was all his and his fault alone.
A ring of fire relit around Mobei-jun. More demons restrained him back down to the floor. He remained staring at Shang Qinghua, fangs bared, claws twitching, willing to walk through fire. Shang Qinghua shook his head again.
If Mobei-jun got himself tangled with this as well, then who was to rule? To waste all the work his wife had put in to made sure the North thrived and prospered, with or without his presence. If he survived, then said work might come crashing down regardless. Nobody would trust the North with a known traitor. Relations between the demon and human realm would also deteriorate, as long as he was the ambassador.
Somebody had to take the fall. Shang Qinghua was more than happy to.
Mobei-jun lowered his head, gritting his teeth. Crystalline tears leaked out the corner of his eyes, mixing with the beads of sweat. His claws left gouge marks in the floor as he held himself still, relenting to Shang Qinghua's decision.
He would think about how pretty his king looked when he cried, if it didn't break his heart so.
The executioner wrenched Shang Qinghua's head down onto a pedestal. The axe's edge rested on the back of his neck.
He was very sorry that he cannot follow his king anymore, but at least he did follow him for all of his second-life.
And if he could, he would apologize to Shen Qingqiu, as he will be the only transmigrator left. Unfortunately, he cannot send such a message now. He'll find out when it’s revealed they need to appoint a new An Ding peak lord. He hoped his head disciple won’t be too mad at him for the short notice.
This afterlife was nice while it lasted.
The axe came down.
[SYSTEM ERROR: UV001 DATA CORRUPTED!]
[SYSTEM ERROR: UV001 DATA CORRUPTED!]
[SYSTEM ERROR: UV001 DATA CORRUPTED!]
[ERROR_001: UV001 backup data not found!]
[Warning: Author cannot be removed from the story!]
[Attempting data restoration…]
Mobei-jun summoned an ice wall as soon as he sensed the spike of power in the air, eyes wide as the thick barrier shattered like glass. The demons around screamed and scattered as they were all blasted back by the shockwave. The fire was extinguished in an instant. The executioner was a smear of red on the dais.
In the center of the blast, Shang Qinghua still knelt. The axe was halfway in his neck, distorting in squares and shards, its form fuzzy, as if seen through ripples of water.
Lunging for the dais, Mobei-jun gasped as a crushing pressure slammed down upon the entire hall, demons stuck to the floor moaning in pain. Hollow bones and fragile limbs snapped under the weight like twigs. He managed to wrench an arm forward, clawing and dragging himself up the steps.
Shang Qinghua's body broke and pieced itself back together, emitting unnatural light. High pitched sounds rang, grating on Mobei-jun's ears. A panel of light appeared over Shang Qinghua's kneeling figure.
[Warning: Author cannot be removed from the story!]
[Data restoration in progress…]
[Loading…]
One second he is the Consort of the North, draped in blue and silver. Another second, the An Ding peak lord, dressed in yellow. A disciple. An advisor. A farmer. A son.
His hair, black instead of brown, was cut short, exposing his ears and back of neck. Donned in a strange garb that Mobei-jun didn't recognize that was long sleeved and baggy, colored a faded dark blue. Rectangular glasses, rather than the circular ones Shang Qinghua wore during long nights of reading, sat on his nose. Pants that ended midthigh, which he would be furious of other demons seeing, if they weren't all trying to suck in oxygen and wheezing against the weight of the sky.
His gums bled as he pulled himself another inch forward. Mobei-jun gritted his teeth and dragged himself forward again.
The axe fizzled, teleported above Shang Qinghua, blinked in and out of the air, and finally crashed to the floor in dozens of useless pieces.
[UV001 account restored!]
With a final burst of power, Shang Qinghua stopped changing, reverting back to his appearance at the start of the ceremony, tattered and dirty. He collapsed to the side.
The entire hall exhaled as the pressure disappeared. Mobei-jun leaped the rest of the distance and grabbed Shang Qinghua, tearing the bindings away. Cradling him into his arms, he pressed his ear against his chest.
A feeble heartbeat responded.
The panel of light appeared above them, eye searing. Mobei-jun snarled and swiped at it, but his claws only fizzled around the light. It felt as if there were needles pricking inside his skin.
[Warning! Otherworldly status exposed!]
[For the safety of the user, you will be sent back to your original world!]
Original world?
Shang Qinghua coughed, opening his eyes and raising his head just enough to read the panel. He grabbed and rattled it with a trembling hand.
"Didn't—you just said I can't be removed from the story!" he shouted, squinting at the words.
[As the author, you are bound to the story!]
[You may continue writing once re-entry is successful! Please be prepared!]
"Fuck—I don't—I don't want to go back!" Shang Qinghua shook the panel again, glaring at it the best he could while looking like he was on the verge of passing out. "Isn't there something else I can do?! My points—my points! They gotta be worth something, right?" Mobei-jun glanced between his rambling, agitated wife and the panel.
Shang Qinghua was choosing him over returning to his original world?
[Would you like to use up all your current points to purchase a punishment protocol?]
Before Mobei-jun could see the options, Shang Qinghua pressed a square.
[Verifying purchase…]
[Verifying purchase…]
[Purchase successful!]
[Thank you for your support! Downloading punishment now…]
Shang Qinghua shoved Mobei-jun as hard as he could and threw himself to the ground, right underneath the light. Mobei-jun lunged after him with a yell of indignation.
[Punishment protocol successfully downloaded!]
The demon audience watched as the king and the traitor fizzled and disappeared into unnatural light.
~~~~~
Mobei-jun blinked as he woke up in his palace.
It should not be so cold. Shang Qinghua would be absolutely freezing, even with the warmest furs he's gifted over the years. Who was in charge of the braziers? Why was the throne room so dark?
None of the decorations Shang Qinghua added over the years were present either. The ice flowers that adorned the pillars were missing. The Mobei clan banner hung above, stained and tattered, yet still displayed. No light shone through the windows, as they were frosted over. They were supposed to be stained glass, as Shang Qinghua had commissioned for their wedding. Blue torches burned away, casting long shadows across the floor.
He was sitting on his throne. It had none of Shang Qinghua's cushions. The armrests had deep gauge marks, where his claws, sharpened to a razor's edge, fit perfectly inside.
There was a blood trail.
Mobei-jun felt his body move on its own. He tried to move in another direction, but his legs kept on moving forward, stride heavy down the steps. As his eyes followed the trail, he howled, yet the throne room remained quiet, save for the haggard breathing of one human.
Shang Qinghua lied on the floor, dragging two useless bleeding, broken legs behind him. He was halfway across the throne room, gasping in pain as he tried to pull himself forward. His fingertips were raw and bleeding, scrabbling against the ice.
Mobei-jun tried to step back. He marched forward and pressed a boot against Shang Qinghua's ankle. It took barely any strength to snap it underneath him. Shang Qinghua cried out, globs of angry tears falling down his face, smearing with his blood. As he looked back, his eyes blazed harsh blue, teeth over bleeding lips.
He spat a glob of blood at Mobei-jun.
"Is that all you got?!" he yelled, voice cracking and hoarse. "You beat me harder than this before! C'mon, your Highness! Where's your cruelty?! Your sick mind, hah?!" he goaded.
A blade of ice stabbed through Shang Qinghua's thigh. He hissed between his teeth and clenched his hands, but he did not scream.
A panel of light flashed above them.
[Punishment loaded! We wish you good luck!]
Shang Qinghua blinked and looked at Mobei-jun with eyes of dark amber, trembling and teary.
"M-My king, my king please—" he whimpered. Mobei-jun raised a hand and dropped a icicle into Shang Qinghua's stomach, pinning him to the throne floor. He sputtered and coughed. Blood stained his chin and down his jaw.
"I should have known you were a rat," Mobei-jun snarled, in a voice only reserved for Linguang-jun before. "See how far you can run now." As Shang Qinghua tried to raise his hand, another icicle stabbed through it.
That was his writing hand.
None of Mobei-jun's howling were heard, nor his attempts to stop the ice formations. His body did not respond to his commands, only staring down at Shang Qinghua, pinned to the floor like a butterfly. Twitching and weak. His mouth curled up into a disgusted sneer.
"Pathetic. Utterly pathetic." Grabbing him by the neck, his claws easily fit around the throat. Shang Qinghua choked, more blood dribbling out his mouth. "Junshang was right. Humans, they lie and betray as easy as breathing." His thumb pressed down. The claw tip cut into the underside of Shang Qinghua's chin. Underneath, a bruised imprint formed.
Shang Qinghua's breath stuttered.
Mobei-jun now knew the exact amount of strength it took to crush a human's windpipe.
Dropping Shang Qinghua back onto the ground with a huff, he marched away, leaving the traitor's body to slowly bleed out. The body disappeared into the shadows. Mobei-jun remained.
Shang Qinghua stared at the ceiling silently, each breath more shallow than the last. His expression was strangely resigned and calm, weeping.
Mobei-jun fell to his knees beside him. His claws curled around the ice blades, feeling the ice formation. Too deeply gouged into the floor to rip out. If he shattered them, the pieces might get stuck inside Shang Qinghua. Would removing them even do anything?
Qinghua was already pale as the snow that stormed outside. Mobei-jun snarled in frustration, balling his fists at his sides and ignoring his own tears dripping down his face. He punched the floor, snarling at himself.
The first time he cried, it was clinging to his mother's dress, begging for her to stay, to not leave him, to not leave him at the mercy of his siblings.
The last time he cried, it was trying to reach for Shang Qinghua's disappearing form, his cheek tingling, a plea to stay just on the tip of his tongue.
A faint tug on his robe. He looked down, locking eyes with a wide-eyed Shang Qinghua. He slowly smiled, his remaining hand curling around the hem of Mobei-jun's robes. His mouth moved.
My king.
Mobei-jun cupped his cheeks, trying to wipe the blood and tears away, futile as his own kept on falling onto Shang Qinghua's smiling face. Blood bubbled and trailed down his chin.
Please, my king. A fluttering hand rested on his, trembling to stay up. Their tears both puddled the floor, spreading red across the blue tiles.
He pressed a kiss to Shang Qinghua's forehead and placed his hands on the side of his head. As Mobei-jun closed his eyes, he could feel the weakest of nuzzles against his palm, grateful.
The crack rang through the throne room.
He now knew how little it took to break a human's neck.
The ice blades melted away, sensing that their target was no longer alive. Cradling the limp body in his arms, Mobei-jun silently wept, only the howling winds and flickering blue torches as his company.
[Punishment complete!]
[Returning UV001 to the author's account…]
He woke up on the dais.
Shang Qinghua lied underneath him. Mobei-jun quickly gathered him into his arms and draped his cloak over him, heart dropping as he saw black bruising over his throat. Mercifully, he still breathed, though shallow and weak.
Other than the bruising and the injuries he had before the execution, Shang Qinghua was alive.
The hall was empty, signs of a mass scatter evident. However, he could sense the presence of demons in the vicinity.
He failed to protect Shang Qinghua before.
He will make it up now.
~~~~~
The Demon Realm was up in a frenzy.
They all heard that the Consort of the North was charged with treason and execution. As a result, the king went on such a rampage, the old temple they used to decide punishments for crimes against the Demon Realm was now a black ice mound. All demons inside at the time of his rampage were written off as dead or frozen for the next millenia, as the ice showed no signs of melting.
It was said that Mobei-jun emerged back in his palace from the shadows, a mixed trail of blood in each step, knuckles raw and bloody, cradling the body of Shang Qinghua against his chest.
Some called for Mobei-jun's head, to have desecrated such a sacred place in demon history.
They also whispered that a heavenly deity, a god, a monster of the abyss, had interrupted the execution. An unnatural light that rang terribly in ears and searing to look at. That it whisked the king and the traitor away, for punishment or for blessings, nobody knew. Nobody could agree if Shang Qinghua was now alive or dead, nor which option was better. If they attempted to execute Mobei-jun now, the monster might come back and freeze the entire realm over in rage.
Shang Qinghua's assistants bit at their claws.
Negotiations were tense. Some had went in the direction of pleading, sending offerings and praise to the North in hopes to not anger. Some held their treaties in the air, unsure who to believe, awaiting the truth. A few voided their trade agreements instantly. The Demon Realm held an uneasy breath.
The servants fervently, quietly discussed rumors in passing halls and around corners, while scrubbing floors and cooking meals. Their rumors differed from the outside, for they watched Mobei-jun.
One was that Consort Shang was actually the god, having falling in love with their king and descending down from heaven to be with him. But because he fell in love with a demon, his powers were locked away, only appearing as a human cultivator. At the trial, he must have released his powers and had his soul sent back to heaven. In the process, he granted Mobei-jun godly strength, to make sure none could defeat him, ensuring his body was saved until his soul could come back.
A variation was that Consort Shang was a heavenly beauty that hid his true appearance as he descended down. When the axe struck his mortal shell, the light was his otherwordly beauty being revealed. The trial must had become a bloodbath as demons tried to steal him away for themselves. Mobei-jun, coming out victorious, was now hiding him away from the outside world, as if anybody laid eyes on Consort Shang now, they'd instantly fall in love. His rampage was a warning to others.
Another rumor was that Consort Shang self-destructed in a manner similar to Empress Shen years ago to save Mobei-jun's reputation. So stricken with grief and guilt of being unable to protect his wife, Mobei-jun was now repeating the actions of Luo Binghe, keeping his lover's body in a coffin of ice so it would be in pristine condition, awaiting Consort Shang's lost soul.
One theorized that Consort Shang was sick of the marriage, but couldn't bring himself to divorce Mobei-jun. Instead, he exposed his spy network on purpose to be executed and transferred his soul to a different body upon death. Empress Shen did it before, and it's rumored that Consort Shang was the one that prepared the spare body. He's probably fled halfway across the realm by now.
Said servant was sentenced to clean the dungeons for the next three moons for daring to have such an unscrupulous theory.
One final theory was that Consort Shang was the god's vessel. At the execution, the god was angered and took it out on the two, leaving Consort Shang weakened and fragile. Nobody knew the full extent of his influence and power, making this the perfect time for an assassination or kidnapping attempt. Paranoid, their king now tended to his wife personally, forbidding even servants and An Ding disciples from entering the family wing.
Regardless what rumor was true, the Northern Kingdom's halls were melancholy as their king disappeared in and out of shadows, expression in a permanent scowl and posture tense. He was twice as violent during court, glares thrice as cutting. Their An Ding allies could only deliver so much aid without the help of the shadow portals.
The servants gazed down the hallway.
For the sake of the North, they hoped their queen would return soon.