Chapter Text
A bright full moon sat in the dark night sky like an emperor dressed in gold on his throne, casting onto the mossy ground of the forest an intricate pattern of speckles of light and heavy shadows from the tall pine trees and contorted oaks.
Shen Jiu’s eyes ran to the branches over his head, the earthy scent of decomposing leaves, rotten wood and damp moss surrounding him. Not even a breeze to clear the air. Everything was wrapped in a deadly silence. Not a rustle of leaves, not an insect. A perfect, still night for a hunt.
His right hand tightened its grip on the handle of his sword: an owl-panther wasn’t an easy beast to find, but he had to.
Maybe he was getting softer with age. Why risk his life for a sick child when the family couldn't afford his services? Perhaps... it was because of the child's mother’s eyes, reminding him of what he had lost because of Qiu Jianluo’s constant abuses.
An unpleasant feeling of emptiness crawled in his womb, but he forced himself not to indulge in the past or in that sensation.
His boots crunched softly on the carpet of dead pine needles and small twigs. It was as if he were the only creature alive.
As he moved forward, the labored gurgle of a stream reached his ears, alerting him. Where there was water, there was life. If he was lucky enough, the beast the peasants had told him about would be around.
Shen Jiu walked past a fallen oak trunk that partially blocked the passage, forcing him to squeeze between it and the undergrowth, then a roar from above made him shoot his gaze upward, his body stepping back as he assumed a defensive stance, his sword tracing a diagonal line protecting the upper part of his body.
The owl-panther’s silhouette, wings fluttering at a steady and fast pace, covered the moon for a few seconds, feathers and thick droplets raining to the ground. Shen Jiu watched the beast’s flight lower behind the sea of trees, then knelt to the ground to dip his left fingers in the fallen liquid.
His jaw clenched when he brought his hand under his eyes and a metallic smell made its way into his nostrils: blood. The beast was wounded. Someone was already chasing it.
A new shadow eclipsed the moonlight and when Shen Jiu gazed again at the sky, he saw a figure flying on a sword. Another cultivator!
He had to hurry!
He sprang up and hurried in the same direction as the beast and its pursuer, branches and leaves creaking under his steps and leaves rustling at his passage. This wasn’t the time to be silent anymore.
He opened himself a path in the undergrowth, swinging his sword as roars and growls grew in intensity with every step. The stream he had heard cut his road, but Shen Jiu focused his qi in his legs and feet and effortlessly crossed it with a jump, his white and green robes billowing around him in the night.
Before his eyes, the man and the beast were fighting in an open glade, the golden light of the moon shining on the sword the other cultivator was wielding, making it appear ominous and cruel.
The owl-panther stepped back, circling the man, then reared up on its hind legs, almost as tall as the surrounding trees, and spread its wings again, trying to leave the ground.
Shen Jiu rushed forward. He had to join the fight and argue for the kill. This was his opportunity to get the horn from the beast’s forehead: it was his only chance to make medicine for the child.
He was halfway through when the other cultivator jumped in the air with his sword bared and spun in the night like a whirlwind of white and silver robes, cutting one wing of the creature.
A thunderous growl of agony pierced his ears and his heart thudded harder in his chest as the realization hit that the other cultivator was likely about to kill the prey with the next blow.
Now!
Shen Jiu channeled his qi into his sword and sent it flying toward the owl-panther’s throat, slashing it without hesitation. A gushing sound of blood welling up fused with a dying growl and the beast collapsed to the ground.
A smirk crossed Shen Jiu’s lips. His kill, his prey.
The other cultivator landed on the ground and, when he realized that the beast was dead, sharply spun on his heel to face him, his features contorted with fury.
“How dare you steal my kill!?” His voice boomed in the open space.
Shen Jiu was not impressed and guided his sword back to his hand.
“It’s my kill now. I need the horn of that beast.” He pulled out a cloth from his sleeve and cleaned the blade of his sword before slipping it into its sheath.
The other man came closer with bared, prominent canine teeth, a strong alpha scent of cedarwood, musk and fresh mountain rain clinging to him.
Shen Jiu rolled his eyes: an alpha. His night was ruined.
"I drove it out from its nest, weakened and chased it! The horn belongs to my sect!" The cultivator swung his sword in a horizontal arc between them, as if to challenge him.
Shen Jiu had no time for this.
"Oh right, a sect. I guess an almighty sect is more important than a dying child with a high fever,” he mocked him, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head on one shoulder.
His words seemed to affect the other and the cultivator slowly lowered his sword with a more collected expression: despite himself, Shen Jiu had to admit that the stranger possessed quite handsome features when they weren’t distorted in threatening expressions.
"Other people are dying as well. With this horn, our healer can make a medicine to cure them and the child you're talking about." The cultivator insisted.
It was hard to believe that a sect would bother to save a child whose family couldn’t afford to pay for their services.
He walked past the man in white and gray robes and headed toward the dead beast, pulling out his sword again to cut, with a solid sound of bone breaking, the tip of the horn.
"I only need this much. Take the rest." Shen Jiu put his sword away for the second time and unhurriedly strode back to the man, determined to leave him and the beast’s corpse behind.
“Wait.” The man tried to stop him by moving in front of him.
Shen Jiu straightened his neck. “What do you want?”
“Are you a healer?” the other asked, sheathing his sword.
Savage. He didn’t even clean it.
Trying not to show his disgust, Shen Jiu wrapped the tip of the horn in the bloody cloth in his hand. “I am many things.”
"I'm investigating strange fevers in this region. I could use a guide… and a healer’s judgment." The other grumbled under his breath.
Oh, sure thing! Stuck with an alpha for days? No, thank you.
"Ask the healer of your sect." Shen Jiu narrowed his gaze, carefully holding the cloth with the horn.
"I would, if he weren't busy dealing with wounded disciples from a recent demon attack." The cultivator crossed his arms over his chest, his robes still clean and immaculate despite the fight.
What a pain! Even though… he could for once get over his dislike for alphas and focus on the prospect of a generous payment. Money meant books. And books meant knowledge.
“My services aren’t cheap,” Shen Jiu warned him as around them nature seemed to awake, and an owl hooted in the nearby trees.
"I don't care. My sect can afford it. I don't have time to waste." The man hit the grass a couple of times with his boot.
"Me neither. Take that horn and follow me. I'll give you an answer after I treat the child,” Shen Jiu ordered. “What’s your name?”
The cultivator’s face darkened. “Don’t give me orders! I’m Liu Qingge, Lord of Bai Zhan Peak from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.”
Despite himself, Shen Jiu slightly flinched. Liu Qingge? The infamous War God?
He had heard voices about him and many other members of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect but… he surely didn’t expect a man with such a handsome face. More like a bulky brute. Which he was: a brute who didn’t even clean his sword.
Not that this made any difference to him.
“I don’t care who you are, Liu Qingge. If you need my services, you’ll have to follow my lead or else fuck off.”
The indignant stare with wide-open eyes and dropped jaw that Liu Qingge gave him made Shen Jiu want to laugh in his face. Alphas. Simple creatures. Tug in a certain way at the strings of their pride and they fell for anything. But despite this, he stared impassive at the other.
“You’re lucky I’m in a hurry! I will follow you, but don’t you dare order me around again!”
Shen Jiu’s lips curled softly in a new smirk. “Or else? Do you have any other choice, since I’m the only healer around here?”
A growl erupted from the alpha’s throat. Liu Qingge balled his fists and Shen Jiu shifted his footing on the grass, ready to dodge him in case he wanted to punch him.
But Liu Qingge just marched past him without a word, unsheathing his sword: once in front of the corpse, the blade ignited with a light-blue luminescence and the alpha cut the rest of the horn at the base.
“Do you at least have a name?” he roared, turning toward him.
Shen Jiu’s gaze narrowed. He barely had a name, yes. A name branded with iron on his right shoulder, among whip scars. A name he hated, but the only one he had. The bitter taste of rage surfaced on his tongue and he swallowed it down his throat. He would not show any sign of emotion, of weakness.
“My name is Shen Jiu. Now let’s go before it’s too late.” He turned his back to him and proceeded on the way back, the steps of Liu Qingge following him.