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Chapter Text

“Junshang, all of the seventy-two noble clans are present.”

Tang Chunhua dares not raise her head, keeping her gaze locked on the palace’s stone floors. The sounds of a brush halts, then there is the telltale sound of writing materials set aside. The chair creaks.

Tang Chunhua can feel herself trembling under the dense, heavy qi circulating around the room. It feels gentle– it always does, like a father’s reassuring touch or a mother’s loving caress– but she does not lower her guard. She cannot.

She has heard the tales, the rumors. She has heard of how demon clans were wiped out within a single night, their entire lineage and history gone, left to be forgotten. No matter how gentle the Emperor may seem, she cannot let herself be deluded that he is truly a harmless being.

“Ah.” A soft hum, light fabrics fluttering in the air. “Very well then. Miss Tang can raise her head; there is no need to be so formal.”

Tang Chunhua breaks into cold sweat. That does not sound like an order, but she does not want to risk the Emperor’s ire in case it was indeed one. She also cannot risk disrespecting him. With a pale face, she looks up.

The Emperor truly is a peerless beauty. With all the demon subspecies and their different cultures and values, it is unavoidable that some will be revered as beautiful in their clan while disdained as weak and ugly in others. With the Emperor, however, his beauty is undeniable; he neither meets the bull demons’ standards of being muscled and large, nor the snake demons’ standards of iridescent scales and curly hair, but he is truly, truly...!

Black silks and engraved jewels adorn his body, a crown of obsidian and jade resting on loosely flowing hair. There is a sword sheathed by his hip– no one has ever seen it drawn and lived to tell the tale– and a familiar painted fan covering half of his face. It does not do anything to hide how lovely he is.

The Emperor pats her head. “Miss Tang does not need to be afraid,” he says, gentle and patient. “If she has not done anything to harm this one, then there is no need for me to retaliate, mhm?”

She nods her head before she can even process the words. “Yes, Junshang,” she says dazedly. The Emperor’s face breaks into a soft, barely-there smile, and her heart catches in her throat.

She does not even feel the Emperor leaving the room. It is only when the doors to the throne room fall shut that Tang Chunhua collapses gracelessly on the floor. She touches her warm cheeks. Now she understands why the Emperor is beloved in the demon realm!

For the record, Shen Yuan wants it known that he does not want to be an emperor! He neither has the skills nor the wit to successfully lead a country, especially one as chaotic and wild as the demon realm. He doesn’t even know how to handle the inventory of a grocery store, how can he possibly handle an entire empire by himself?

It doesn’t help that he’s the scum villain, who’s supposed to be the fear-mongering tyrant that the protagonist will defeat. The no-good, lecherous demon emperor who pretended to be a human disciple and spread vile rumors about the protagonist. The scum who tried to destroy the protagonist’s reputation and isolate him from the entire sect, only to be thwarted when his demonic heritage is exposed. Since then, it’s a saga of the protagonist hunting the villain down to kill him in the most gruesome way possible–

Shen Yuan shudders.

Beside him, his dutiful attendant watches. Probably thinking of how weak he is, Shen Yuan thinks. A demon who cannot regulate his own temperature? Who can fall prey to the harshness of the abyss? How can a demon like that possibly become the ruler of the realm?

“Is Junshang unwell?” Ming Fan asks, hovering and uncertain. “The meeting can be postponed to a later date. Junshang should not push himself.”

Shen Yuan waves a hand. “This one is fine.” He smiles thinly. Surely, he doesn’t seem that anxious? Like he does not have the courage to face seventy-two demons who could kill him without lifting a finger?

It is too late to postpone the meeting, anyway. Shen Yuan is the one who pushed for the meeting to be held as soon as possible; it wouldn’t do for the boss to suddenly take back his words after inconveniencing his subordinates. Sure, he’s going to die horribly in the future, but he at least wants it to be along the lines of ah, it can’t be helped, the old must be removed for the new instead of finally, that fucking bastard is dead.

He is a little amazed that all seventy-two clan heads came at his request. He was prepared to be ignored, but then again, a villain has to at least be powerful so there’s the reader satisfaction of reading him get beat down by the protagonist.

He exhales softly. His only goal is to make the best demon empire possible for the protagonist to take over, and remove all the thorns in his path. He’s already solved the lackluster management of resources, traitors, and corruption in the empire. He can still feel the migraine behind his eyelids whenever he looks at the documents on his desk.

His next objective is to form a stable communication process between the emperor, the nobles, and the citizens– then, if he is fortunate, the unspoken barrier between the northern and the southern lands. If not, then the protagonist will be able to solve everything with a bit of papapa, anyway.

The eyes of seventy-two ravenous demons all focus on him, and Shen Yuan carefully keeps his body lax, his face calm. The fan is still closed in his hand– he carries it around just in case he needs it to hide his expressions– but he suspects he will need it during the discussions.

Fuck. He can do this. He can do this.

[Act I: ‘Gain the approval of the seventy-two demon lords!’ of Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm’ has started! ヽ(>∀<☆)ノGood luck, User002!]

Chapter Text

Jiuchong-Jun has been under the rule of two emperors, one when he was still a fledgling and another after he fought and won the position of lord in his clan. A third is just a matter of course. He has prepared for any possible eccentricity, from the previous emperor’s obsession with human novels featuring sweet, tooth-rotting words or another emperor’s tendency to get his subordinates to kill each other for his amusement.

He carefully angles his body towards where the Emperor stood, observing him with a critical eye. He can’t sense any signs of anxiety or discomfort– there isn’t the wild fluttering of a heart, or the smell of sweat on skin, or even raised hackles like he commonly saw in his prey. No, he seems calm, a fan– now isn’t that interesting, a human trinket made to fit the demon realm’s harshness– covering part of his face, like his expression isn’t inscrutable enough for his taste.

He quickly withdraws the qi he’s been using to enhance his senses. He is certain that the Emperor has felt it, but he had hoped that his qi would blend in with the others’ methods of ascertaining the Emperor’s condition. 

The Emperor does not seem to pay it any attention, flowing through the introductions and the meeting’s agenda with ease. His attendant stands dutifully by his side, a young demon by all standards, but of great skill in his work, it seems. There is a story about how the Emperor has saved the fledgling, but Jiuchong-Jun does not know the full details yet.

When it comes to the first topic– a communication channel using the arrays the Emperor personally designed himself, supposedly– it sparks an argument between the lords. Something about privacy, something about not wanting filthy demons having access to them at all times; Jiuchong-Jun tunes them out, and focuses on the Emperor instead.

He has witnessed one of the culling– there is no better word for what transpired over the past few months, really. Aggressive, mindless demons put down like common livestock. The Emperor, despite his soft, ethereal appearance, has never looked more demonic when he sent his tamed and trained monsters to devour whatever was left of the demons he killed.

He was smiling, back then. Gentle, but never quite reaching his eyes when Jiuchong-Jun dared to take a glance. He is smiling, now, carrying with it a faint flicker of irritation as the clans butted heads and cursed like wild beasts.

Jiuchong-Jun takes a metaphorical step back from the discussion. He chooses to keep his silence, keeping one hand on his most trusted confidante’s back as a warning. A quick glance around the room confirms his suspicions; barely a fifth of the lords refrained from speaking, eyes avidly following the Emperor’s each and every move.

Jiuchong-Jun’s two hearts calm down, beating evenly. He takes note of the lords, trying to scrutinize which ones are silent out of cowardice and those out of observance. Perhaps this is a test, he considers. The Emperor is the type to conduct nonviolent yet unnerving tests for his subordinates, creating an eerie sense that you are being watched and scrutinized of your worth and your life’s value in the grand scheme.

A fan snaps shut.

Jiuchong-Jun straightens instinctively, controlling his breathing to remain impassive as the most delectable qi circles the room, forcing even the most unwilling of demons to fall silent and take it in. There is a thinly veiled threat there, how the Emperor’s qi could easily turn hostile and gut them where they stand. 

A temptation and a threat. It fits the Emperor, he thinks.

He can parse his thoughts later, when he is not on the verge of his control snapping, leading to a surely gruesome death.

“It looks like the lords have many concerns,” the Emperor says, his voice feeling like luscious, sheer silk on smooth skin. He smiles down at them, slightly larger than the time he killed a clan of one hundred jackal demons, and Jiuchong-Jun knows that it is not meant to reassure. “Please, feel free to bring them up.”

No one dares to speak up. The Emperor tilts his head, shifting from his calm, firm stance to something that can only be described as sultry– all lines turned to sensual curves, eyes a most bizarre color through long lashes, fangs peeking through as he speaks.

“Oh?” He sounds amused. “Have the lords come to a decision, then? How sudden.”

Jiuchong-Jun finds it in himself to breathe. “Junshang,” he says, barely able to speak through the heavy cloud of qi weighing down on them. “We are, of course, in favor of the implementation of the channels.” A chorus of agreement, thankfully. “It is just that we are– concerned, over the access of such channels? And the verification process?”

The qi lightens, and Jiuchong-Jun barely manages to keep himself upright. The Emperor carries a glimmer of approval in his expression, his fan now tucked away and out of sight. Jiuchong-Jun can only hope that that means well for him and his clan.

“Very well,” the Emperor says. “An explanation and a demonstration seem to be in order.”

Meetings are, in Shen Yuan's humble opinion, the worst way to make a consolidated decision. The logistics are one thing– deciding the venue, date, and time of the meeting– but the discussion itself is another. Twelve people should be the maximum number of people allowed in a meeting, Shen Yuan decides. Seventy-two is too much.

He allows that irritation to rise, pushing down the instinctual fear in the face of stronger, bloodthirsty demons in front of him. As a Heavenly Demon, he is naturally immune to many poisons and various side effects; the downside is that when he is affected, he is truly affected– as in weeping in death's throes, miserably begging for peace kind of affected. 

He does not want to risk it. The protagonist has gone through many hardships in the Demon Realm arc, including some events that only his protagonist halo could've survived– a poisoning attempt that had millennium-old venom capable of killing even a god, an attempt to undermine his authority by creating nonsensical, borderline impossible trials... 

Shen Yuan, as the scum villain, will surely die if he faces them.

His fan sways lightly in front of his face. He makes sure he is as composed as the original ought to be, watching as the demons nearly tear each other apart in their arguments. He suspects they're only letting their fights be verbal in his sight, then, as soon as he turns around, a murder or two will occur.

Oh, hell. They are definitely going to kill each other once he leaves the room.

Shen Yuan contemplates the ethics of leaving purely so he'd come back to a reduced number of participants. If he were truly a demon instead of a human thrown into a demon’s body, perhaps he’d do it.

Still. He snaps his fan shut.

The sudden complete attention on him nearly makes him flinch back. He hasn’t been this focused on since he was five and won a piano competition, and his mother kept bringing it up to his father’s relatives.

System! Is there, like, an ability for this? Like in the transmigration novels?

A cheerful beep. [There is none! User002 is advised to keep it natural and act as he wants!]

Oh for fuck’s sake–

He tries to emulate his oldest brother’s words as much as possible, then his second brother’s manner of speaking. His da-ge had a talent for diplomacy, and his er-ge a talent for shutting people up with a well-placed smile. Gods, he hoped some of their innate talent rubbed off on him.

He! Does! Not! Want! To! Be! Emperor! Is being an NPC too much to ask? Even a random one in the countryside or the borderlands is more preferable!

At least he’s given the opening to discuss how the communication array works. If he’s confident about anything, it’s that. He forms the array with a hand, manipulating his qi into the precise amount needed for it to work. At least being a Heavenly Demon has its benefits, and also, the Endless Abyss has many beasts he can pet and study.

...Nah, he’d still take the random NPC option, if he could.

Ming Fan shifts behind him. Shen Yuan knows he’s being a mess, okay? No need to make it more obvious!

He feels indignant, suddenly. He deserves compensation, and maybe a very long vacation or two. He never asked for this. Why is he stuck doing this? He feels as if he hasn’t felt anything but deep-seated panic and anxiety ever since he woke up in this world, and the protagonist isn’t even after him yet!

He finishes his explanation. Luckily, the lords don’t seem to be confused, nodding amongst themselves. Maybe they can move on to the next agenda, then. Hopefully.

Who was the one that spoke up earlier? Jiuchong-Jun? Shen Yuan has to give him a gift or something for saving him from the awkwardness of having to maintain a conversation by himself.

[Act I: ‘Gain the approval of the seventy-two demon lords!’ Progress: 15%! \(★ω★)/ Keep up the good work, User002!]

Chapter Text

Linguang-Jun leans back, observing the other lords coolly. It’s been a while since they’ve all gathered in one place, without escalating into severe violence. It’s a little boring. He refrains from shifting, keeping his posture firm.

Beside him, his attendant stands as still as she can possibly be. She’s one of the few who can be trusted not to run her mouth, so he brought her along, and his infernal brother’s brat, too. As the interim lord– oh, how he detests that– he has no choice but to bring the child with him, as is his right as the actual leader of the clan.

Annoying, really. Linguang-Jun rests a heavy hand on the child’s shoulder, turning his attention to the proceedings with a critical eye. Another emperor, more ambitious than the last. He would not have cared if it were just some demon claiming the lands Tianlang-Jun’s imprisonment left free for the taking, but this emperor wants the north, too.

He disguises his sneer. For centuries, his clan ruled over the north even before the first Heavenly Demon was cast down from whatever pedestal they stood on. The previous leader– an incompetent weakling at best, disgusting vermin at worst– was awfully subservient to Tianlang-Jun, giving up the territories that rightfully belonged to them for some stupid treaty.

He tightens his grip around the child’s shoulder. His brother’s spawn, already showing signs of being cut from the same cloth. It’s a shame that Huan Hua Palace wasn’t able to get rid of him completely. Linguang-Jun could’ve had a clear path of inheritance with both father and son out of the way.

He can’t help the surge of anger. Mobei-Jun. It is truly unlucky that his clan insists on handing the child the title. Not that it matters, he’ll get rid of the brat before then.

The Emperor might be a good start, he considers. If anything, he has proven himself ambitious and clever. If Linguang-Jun receives his support, it’s likely that his clan will give in and grant him the title as the lord of the north. Linguang-Jun will be indebted to him, which is unpalatable, but a relationship can go both ways. The Emperor will use him, and he will use the Emperor in turn.

A private conversation, perhaps? Linguang-Jun considers it. He gestures at his attendant, who follows his order quickly. “An invitation, to the Emperor,” he murmurs in the north’s distinct language. He does not want to risk it.

His attendant nods, and steps back. Mobei-Jun shifts beside him, and Linguang-Jun belatedly realizes that the child has heard and understood. A little suspicious– only those of the main lineage in the clan are taught the language, and with his father gone, Mobei-Jun should only have his uncle to teach him.

Linguang-Jun thinks, and decides that it’s not that important. What can the brat even do? All of his father’s trusted men are moved away or demoted to some insignificant position. The child’s only hope is to defeat him in combat and present his head to the council for judgment and approval, and he’s far too weak to accomplish that, anyway.

A little irritated, he turns his thoughts away from the brat.

The Emperor closes the discussion of the communication channels. A rather ingenious idea, in his opinion. The arrays are somewhat similar to Huan Hua Palace’s, but the Emperor’s are more stable and resilient, fit for the demon realm’s environment. 

Now, if only Linguang-Jun can persuade him to create a private one only accessible for the both of them, then...

His attendant bows her head. When this meeting ends, she’ll surely manage to find wherever the Emperor will be. If she gets killed while doing so, then it’s her fault for not being strong enough. Linguang-Jun will just have to find another way to contact the Emperor.

Mobei-Jun is tense, eyes looking on straight ahead. Linguang-Jun lifts his hand from the child’s shoulder. He has to find a way to deal with this brat, too.

It is difficult to talk when there is a glowing, bright blue box intent on blocking him from seeing the people he’s talking to. Shen Yuan blinks, ignoring the system for a moment as he attempts to finalize a decision, as agreed upon by the lords.

[A new quest has appeared! Accept Quest: ‘The True Lord of the North’?]

He hasn’t even finished his current quest, and also the last five ones!

[Completing Quest: ‘The True Lord of the North’ is a prerequisite to completing Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm.’]

Shen Yuan would really, really like a break right now. At least the meeting is over, and everything that should be discussed has been discussed. He’ll have to arrange for the construction of the communication arrays, but that is a problem for another time.

He waits until all of the lords are gone before he finally lets himself untense, his body going loose and lax. “Finally, that is over,” he murmurs, a sigh escaping him before he can stop it. 

Ming Fan hurries to cover him in one of his soft, fur-lined cloaks meant for comfort. He smiles at his attendant– Ming Fan is nothing like the novel says! Instead of the cruel bully who only fought the weak, the boy is actually very sweet and caring. “Ah, thank you, Ming Fan.”

Ming Fan clears his throat, looking away. “Junshang, two people reached out,” he says after casting the muffling talisman Shen Yuan taught him. “Both from the northern lands– Linguang-Jun and Mobei-Jun. The invitations came separately.”

“Oh,” Shen Yuan hums. The battle for the northern lands wasn’t quite a prominent arc; the novel only mentioned it in passing. When the protagonist came and established himself as the new emperor, Mobei-Jun had already gotten rid of his uncle.

He supposes that, as the emperor during the battle itself, the scum villain would have dealt with that. And true to his scum villain tendencies, the original must have sided with Linguang-Jun, considering how quick Mobei-Jun was to turn against him.

Shen Yuan considers it.

“Accept both invitations,” he decides. “Arrange them at separate times. Entertain Mobei-Jun first.”

[Quest: ‘The True Lord of the North’ accepted! Quest Progress: 10%!]

[Act I: ‘Gain the approval of the seventy-two demon lords!’ Progress: 50%! User002 is doing very well (Φ￣▽￣)Φ! This system is very happy.]

Chapter Text

Mobei-Jun drums his fingers on the table, then stops. He folds his hands primly, fists unclenched, as he waits for a response. His uncle had left earlier, citing an important work business, although Mobei-Jun is well aware that his uncle’s invitation is likely accepted by the Emperor.

It would be... difficult, to say the least, if his uncle were to gain the Emperor’s support. Majority of his clan remained neutral about the succession, preferring for a duel of strength to determine the clan’s lord. Unfortunately, Mobei-Jun was, and still is, young and inexperienced and a little weaker than his uncle.

It is by a stroke of luck– and his father’s men’s support– that he received his title, as per tradition, rather than his uncle. He supposes he does have the weird human to thank for how he managed to keep the title after years of his uncle’s act as interim clan lord.

His thoughts grow muddy, as they always do after thinking about that human. Shang Qinghua, he’s been told. A courtesy name after he’s been made head disciple of... of An Ding Peak? It’s his new name, and he refused to tell Mobei-Jun his birth name.

Mobei-Jun supposes that that’s fair. He never told Shang Qinghua his birth name, anyway. He contemplates why he feels a particular stab of irritation, something very different from the disdain he feels for his uncle and the annoyance he feels whenever things are being annoying.

Mo Yi arrives, pulling Mobei-Jun from his thoughts. “Mobei-Jun,” she greets, bowing appropriately, then moves on just as fast. Straightforward. Mobei-Jun likes dealing with her. “The Emperor has accepted both invitations.”

A fissure of tension bleeds out of him. Mobei-Jun hasn’t even realized that he’d been holding himself tightly; he’ll have to rework that and train it out of his system.

“Did he say when to meet?” Mobei-Jun asks; he hadn’t specified a date and time, leaving it to the Emperor’s discretion. Even with his title, he is rarely allowed to dabble with the clan’s businesses and workings. Not that that has stopped him.

Mo Yi’s lips turn into a thin, rather helpless line. “Now, Mobei-Jun.”

Ah, that explains it. As Shang Qinghua puts it, when he’s busy scribbling over many sheets of papers with strangely arranged brushes and what he calls a ‘notepad’, he’s cooked.

...did he use that term correctly?

“Will Junshang be resting in the garden or in his room?” Ming Fan asks. Shen Yuan carefully does not point out how his attendant is, in the most technical of terms, forcing him to take a break. It is reassuring that, at least, Shen Yuan has garnered enough good will for Ming Fan to see to his comfort rather than pushing him to the next item in his schedule.

“The garden,” Shen Yuan says, taking his fan from the holder sewn on his belt. “Are the repairs already finished? That’s quite fast.”

Ming Fan puffs up, and Shen Yuan hides his smile behind his fan. The boy’s obvious pride is endearing. “Yes, Junshang,” he answers brightly. “We’ve also managed to integrate the design for a ‘fountain’, as you called it, into the pathways!”

“Oh?” Shen Yuan asks, curious, and prods Ming Fan for more details.

As Ming Fan talks, he leads them both through the winding halls of the emperor’s palace. It’s a good thing that his attendant knows where they’re going, Shen Yuan thinks. He has only stayed in his bedroom, the study, and the library; he hasn’t explored the palace in its entirety. If left to his own devices, it’s likely that Shen Yuan will get lost and end up somewhere he’s definitely not supposed to be.

The path Ming Fan chose seems to be the scenic route, where the windows of the palace open up to the distinct, exotic flora of the demon realm. Humongous venus fly traps that could fit five demons and still have room for a plump cat, flowering plants that look like a mix of knotgrass and lily of the valley, dark red vines that had luminescent fruits in the shape of clumps of berries.

It is a sight Shen Yuan still marvels at, to this day.

A passing demon startles badly when they see them, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch the tray of... oils before it can crash to the ground.

They flush. “Junshang– oh, I’m so sorry! This lowly one wasn’t, I, I’m sorry!!”

Ming Fan gathers the washcloths that slipped from the tray, fixing them in place. He glances at Shen Yuan, presumably to plead for the demon to not be punished for a little mistake.

Was the scum villain really that tyrannical that a simple mistake won’t go unpunished? “It’s alright,” Shen Yuan says, patting the demon on their head. The hair of most demons is soft, which is strange, considering the demon realm’s weather, but eh, more fluff for Shen Yuan to pat when he gets the urge. “Be more careful next time.”

Ming Fan hurries them along, and Shen Yuan feels slightly disappointed, but he guesses they do have a tight schedule. With two back-to-back meetings and the important matter of not letting Mobei-Jun or Linguang-Jun see each other, they have to finish the preparations as quickly as possible.

The rest of the walk is uneventful. Ming Fan unlocks the gates to the garden– which accounts for the central courtyard and a bit of the east and west courtyards– with a flourish. Shen Yuan spends a moment admiring the revamped arches and stone columns, sunlight peeking through the domed glass roofs. It is a beautiful sight, and one that is incredibly rare in the demon realm, with the demons’ tendency to live underground rather than on the surface.

Ming Fan watches him, pleased, already finished with the seating area and the refreshments. “It’s beautiful,” Shen Yuan praises, smiling. “Well done.”

His attendant brightens, smiling brilliantly, and does his work with a clear upward shift in his cheer. It’s enough to make Shen Yuan relax into the cushioned seats, fur cloak over his shoulders like a weighted blanket. Ming Fan offers him tea, procured from the human realm. Shen Yuan appreciates it a lot, smiling in gratitude.

It would be paradise, if it weren’t for the fact that Shen Yuan can sense demonic qi reminiscent of frigid ice heading their way. A little early, perhaps, but then again: time and secrecy are of essence. Best not provoke Linguang-Jun too early in his reign.

Shen Yuan pauses, blinking. His reign? He really has to tone that back; his instincts are practically snarling to claim the demon realm as his. No, no, this empire is for the protagonist, not Shen Yuan, no sirree!

Mobei-Jun is led inside. He is definitely handsome, perfect as the protagonist’s second-in-command! He has that icy beauty that the author was raving about for many paragraphs in the novel, to the point that Shen Yuan had to write another analysis.

“Welcome, Mobei-Jun,” Shen Yuan greets as dignified as he can, even when he’s currently the xianxia version of a blanket burrito. “Please, help yourself.”

Mobei-Jun bows, not as stiffly as the novel described him to when the original goods was on the throne. “Junshang,” he says, short and succinct. “This one has a request to make.”

[Quest: ‘The True Lord of the North’ Progress: 30%!]

[Act I: ‘Gain the approval of the seventy-two demon lords!’ Progress: 55%! ♫.(◕∈◕).♫]

Chapter Text

Ming Fan stands to the side, tending to the growing flora, and keeps a careful ear out in case the Emperor needs assistance. He rearranges the Blood-Thinning Vines so they grow upward against the reinforced stone walls, instead of haphazardly wrapping around one of the Ancient Ashwood Trees. They are known to be incredibly temperamental plants, the Emperor once told him, so it is advised to treat them with the respect intended for royalty.

In his peripheral vision, he can see the Emperor’s face, lifted into that familiar, gentle smile. He cannot see the demon noble’s expression, but there is a distinct lack of tension in their body. That is just how the Emperor is, Ming Fan thinks consideringly– gentle rather than harsh, kind rather than cruel.

There is a sharp contrast between the rumors and the Emperor in front of him. He took the rumors seriously at first, and kept his distance. But then– that happened–

After, when the servants murmured their fear of his temper, Ming Fan was left wondering what temper; he’d never seen the Emperor so much as raise a hand to hit someone. When the servants warned him of keeping himself as unobtrusive as possible, the Emperor took him aside and asked if he was uncomfortable with anything, and vowed to solve it if he was.

There was a time when the Emperor left, and came back months later as a gentler, more patient version of himself– or so he’d been told. He came and returned with young demons back then, filling his court with those whose skill he personally witnessed and approved of. 

Ming Fan considers himself lucky to be included in that court. He considers himself a rather lucky person, in general. Born to the horned bear clan, he did not have much value with his mediocre strength and agility. He excelled intellectually, of course, but there was no place for that in his clan, which prioritized hunting over logistics and planning.

The Emperor visited their clan, the ends of his robes bloody but his hands clean. It sparked disdain among his clan. There was a duel, one that Ming Fan was too lowly to witness, but he knew that the Emperor won both the duel and the clan’s approval.

He saw Ming Fan during the celebration afterward, cowering behind a barrel and watching enviously at his clansmen feasting on the food the Emperor provided. Ming Fan still does not know what the Emperor saw in him or heard in his answers that proved him worthy of standing by his side. He is grateful, still, for the chance to grow and bloom with the skills many demons consider useless.

Ming Fan knows that that is not a common sentiment. Already, he’s heard of complaints of the Emperor being too soft-hearted, too undemon-like to possibly be the one to lead them all. Kindness is a weakness for demons, of course, especially in a place and culture where only the strongest can survive.

Privately, Ming Fan thinks the Emperor powerful for it. Is kindness not a luxury only the strongest can give? Is mercy not a gift only the most powerful, the most secure can offer? The Emperor is already the strongest, capable of destroying any and all enemies who wish to harm him, so is it not natural for him to turn away from violence because he can afford that vulnerability?

He is shaken out of his thoughts when Mobei-Jun passes by. They share a somewhat awkward nod, then the young lord straightens up and walks himself out with the quickest pace Ming Fan has ever seen. A little odd, sure, but he supposes that it wasn’t so bad.

He checks the time. It’s only been a quarter of a shichen. Enough time to prepare for Linguang-Jun, then.

Ming Fan hurries back to the Emperor’s side.

Shen Yuan lets the cloak fall from his shoulders, arranging his posture to be more formal. Mobei-Jun has already left after he finished providing a summary of his clan’s current political situation and securing Shen Yuan’s word on keeping his stance neutral. In hindsight, neutrality is an admission of support for Mobei-Jun– as the rightful inheritor of the clan’s lordship– and an indirect snub at Linguang-Jun’s claim for the position.

Shen Yuan has to find a way to word it properly for Linguang-Jun not to take offense. He sighs, tilting his head back. He is not built for anything political, seriously. He had a stint as student council president in high school, but that is the most experience he has in a position of authority.

Why is he even trying to do things diplomatically here? Aren’t demons all about strength and power? If Linguang-Jun voices his displeasure, shouldn’t Shen Yuan just beat him to submission?

...yeah, that doesn’t feel right. This transmigration experience of his has been a solid three out of ten. Two points for the demon realm’s creatures, and a point for its plants. A negative one thousand for the stress this whole ordeal is giving him.

If he were to transmigrate a second time, he requests to be a human! Not a demon, especially if it’s without the mindset of one. Gods, it took him a very, very long time to stop gagging at the sight of rotten flesh.

[This system has received User002’s request! ヾ(n▽n) This one will keep it in mind for the future.]

...that is very ominous. Shen Yuan very carefully does not dwell on it.

Ming Fan hurries to refill his cup with tea. Shen Yuan inclines his head in thanks. With a hum, he releases enough of his qi to drown out whatever signs there are of Mobei-Jun’s presence. He made that mistake once, and never again.

Incubi and succubi are surprisingly territorial. It was never mentioned in the novel, so Shen Yuan just assumed they weren’t. Ugh. Never again.

Now, to deal with Linguang-Jun...

[Quest: ‘The True Lord of the North’ Progress: 80%! Almost there, User002!（●＞ω＜●）]

[Act I: ‘Gain the approval of the seventy-two demon lords!’ Progress: 65%!]

Chapter Text

Ming Fan fusses over their dinner preparations as Shen Yuan looks over the meeting notes. He had tasked one of the literate demons to write what is essentially a meeting minutes, and he’s pleasantly surprised to find it concise and straightforward. He goes over the agreement of the lords, noting the dual signatures of Mobei-Jun and Linguang-Jun for their clan. He knows it would take some time before they can sort that out.

Speaking of... He frowns, considering. Did Mobei-Jun already make contact with Shang Qinghua? The traitorous peak lord was one of the reasons why the protagonist encountered so much trouble in the earlier parts of the novel. As Mobei-Jun’s subordinate, and by extension the original goods’, Shang Qinghua had followed the instructions to make as many problems as possible for the protagonist to solve.

Well, Shen Yuan is the scum villain now. He’s not going to make that much trouble for the protagonist, unless the system makes him do it...

[Yes, User002? (~‾▿‾)~]

Best to not jinx it.

Anyway, the discussion with Linguang-Jun was surprisingly easy. Shen Yuan didn’t even need to say anything! All he did was sit there, offer a hum or a vague response or two, and Linguang-Jun would continue prattling on, pleased. Shen Yuan feels like they’ve been having two separate conversations at the same time.

Well, at least it’s over. Just in time, too, since Ming Fan was starting to look constipated the more Linguang-Jun spoke.

[Quest: ‘The True Lord of the North’ Progress: 100%! Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Reward: +20 B-Points!]

Only 20 B-points? Shen Yuan frowns. Stingy.

[Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm’ has 10000 B-Points in total. User002 is encouraged to finish all of the subquests to receive all of the rewards! ヽ(°◇° )ノ]

Okay, so, 10000 B-Points is definitely a lot. It does make sense for the world-building– a prequel to the novel, really– to have many little details that Shen Yuan is filling. His goal is to make everything make sense, and not in the ‘plot armor’ or ‘eh, it happens’ kind of way. 

He hums, setting the meeting notes aside. He’s a little more optimistic now! Surely, after the meeting, building a solid communication system with the clans will get easier, right?

Absolutely fucking not.

“Why,” Shen Yuan says, scathingly, “are they being so difficult, now ?”

He has enough awareness to draw his qi back in, knowing that polluting the palace with hostile, volatile qi is just asking for trouble. He doesn’t see the servants very often, but that doesn’t mean he wants to frighten them! Who knows what kind of rumors they’ll spread once the protagonist arrives, ah!

He’s rather attached to four working limbs and no pain at all.

Ming Fan is still. Shen Yuan worries for a moment, wondering if he scared his attendant enough that he can’t even tremble. Then, Ming Fan offers him another cup of tea, the soothing one they only had a few tins of.

Okay, dial back, scale back. The annoying thing about Heavenly Demons is that they get strangely emotional over things. It’s like being a human is having a scale of one to one hundred, but being a Heavenly Demon only gives two choices: zero or ten raised to fucking infinity.

Shen Yuan is perfectly happy with remaining at zero, thank you. His stress levels are high enough as they are. If he has to deal with more demonic instincts, he might end up destroying half the realm. If this is what the original goods went through, he can sympathize. That doesn’t excuse even half the shit he pulled, though.

“Okay,” Shen Yuan decides. If being diplomatic doesn’t get good results, then he can just strongarm his way through. At least he can tell the protagonist that he tried, but he just had to find another way? He can ruminate on that later.

He has mountain ranges to destroy, dangerous monsters to kill, and clans to terrify to submission.

...he’ll definitely regret this later.

Okay, he definitely regrets it. He knew keeping his qi tightly contained would be bad for when he decides to use it; it’s like filling a bucket with so much water that it’s close to bursting, then tossing in potassium. Lots of potassium.

The area where the mountain once was looks very sad now. It’s not like he chose this place for no reason; the mountain was home to a curse that made beings with so much as a lick of demonic qi go insane, and would be one of the sources of destruction in the Great Demon War.

Well, if the curse’s tether is destroyed to ashes, then it would simply cease to exist. Problem solved. Crisis averted.

Seeing Ming Fan avoid his eyes makes Shen Yuan ache a little, though. He resolutely does not think about it.

The results speak for themselves. He bets they’ll have the arrays established in no time.

All of the communication arrays are accomplished and activated. Shen Yuan tests it out, sending a letter requesting a response to ensure that the arrays are working as intended. To his delight, there are seventy-two responses on his desk in a matter of minutes. That solves the communication barrier between the demon clans and the emperor, then.

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Important things must be said three times! Act I: ‘Gain the approval of the seventy-two demon lords!’ completed! Reward: +100 B-Points!]

If a single act is only worth a hundred points, Shen Yuan is afraid of how many acts there will be in total. Given that he has... what, five years? Ten years? Before he does the greatest (not really) human espionage heist of all time, then he can see so many missions in the foreseeable future.

He wants a refund.

Ming Fan offers him another cup of tea. He does that so often, these days. Shen Yuan is beginning to think that making tea is a trauma response or something. He really has to give Ming Fan a long vacation. Or a friend.

Didn’t Jiuchong-Jun request a visit soon? Maybe Ming Fan could befriend Sha Hualing, or maybe that would be a disaster of epic proportions considering that Sha Hualing belongs to the protagonist’s harem, and Ming Fan already had a death flag with that incident with Ning Yingying...

Well. Friends! Just friends. Really, that’s all it is. For friendship!

Fuck, Shen Yuan wants a friend.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ of Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm’ has started! Parameters needed: Agriculture (50/100) | Economy (29/100) | ...]

So not the time, System.

Chapter Text

The day-night cycle in the demon realm is harder to identify than in the human realm. It has to do with the weather phenomena and the demons’ tendency to live underground rather than on the surface, which made checking the time even more difficult.

There was an invention, a couple of centuries ago by another demon emperor, that ensured that the palace had a constant display of time. Rather than relying on sundials or pendulums, the emperor opted for a series of sand hourglasses that flipped over every year, month, week, day, and so on. Complicated and flashy.

It does fit that emperor’s personality, judging by the transcriptions of his letters when Shen Yuan was tasked by the system to research his predecessors. It’s a complex web of intertwined arrays, so much that Shen Yuan doesn’t dare mess with it.

It does its job well, anyway. The day is nearing its end, and the palace grows quiet during these hours. Despite the differences between human and demon physiology, they both still require rest. Some less than others, but still, everyone opts to retire for the night rather than work a little bit more.

“Okay so,” Shen Yuan says aloud, in his bedroom. He’s alone, of course. There are guards stationed nearby– calling them guards is a bit... well, he doesn’t have any other word for it, and there are servants listed for night shift, but they tend to stay away from his personal quarters. Perfect for when Shen Yuan decides to indulge his inner modern self and lounge in a very un-emperor-like manner.

“What does agriculture mean, exactly? Like, farming and livestock rearing? And, what does economy entail? The demons don’t have a set currency; they rely on a bartering system... also, education? What?”

[The parameters are analysed and taken from the greatest empires in User002’s world. They are adapted to the demon realm’s standards and environment.]

Shen Yuan resists the urge to rub his forehead. “You do understand that I majored in literature, right? I don’t know how to run an entire empire!”

[...]

[User002 is encouraged to do his best! v(・∀・*)]

Shen Yuan barely manages to bite off the purely hateful curse, instead flopping down on his bed. He refused the traditional, firm shelf beds and intricate porcelain pillows, opting for the soft bedding and pillows he made from a cotton-adjacent material in the demon realm. He does not regret it one bit, sinking down into the softness as he glares at the floating, bright blue screen over his head.

[(；人；) User002 can purchase Guided Mode for Act II!]

Shen Yuan squints. “How much does that cost?”

[...100 B-Points.]

He knew it. It’s a scam. It’s just taking all of the points he earned from the previous act to accomplish this one!! At this point, he’s not going to be able to save anything at all.

[Failure to complete Act II results in the termination of User002’s account! (人ゝд∩)]

One of these days, that will no longer be a deterrent for Shen Yuan. One day. “Ugh, fine,” he groans. He did plan on stocking up as many points as possible so he can at least opt out of the missions regarding the protagonist, but... “Purchase guided mode.”

[Guided Mode purchased. Enabling Guided Mode for Act II...]

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 10%! Reward: +100 B-Points lowered to +50 B-Points.]

“What?! Wait, no, you never told me about that– Refund!”

[Purchases cannot be refunded. You can do it, User002! (＠＾◡＾)]

Wang Jianyu keeps his head lowered, focusing on making sure that the stack of papers he’s carrying doesn’t tip over. He hurries to the Emperor’s study, hoping that his personal attendant would be waiting outside for him, so he does not need to enter the room himself.

He does not envy the Emperor’s attendant one bit. Sure, Ming Fan is competent and seems well-taken care of, but to stay composed when faced with the Emperor’s qi throughout the entire day? He cannot fathom just how much control the attendant possesses.

That isn’t to say that the Emperor’s qi is vile. In fact, it is on the opposite side of the spectrum. Too opposite, if that is a thing. It caused rumors of how the Emperor can’t possibly be fully demon; demonic qi, by nature, is aggressive and abrasive and rough, not the alluring temptation the Emperor’s qi is.

Wang Jianyu doesn’t know when it started, but the rumors have taken a massive shift lately. It used to range from the Emperor being part-spirit to his infatuation with a clan of succubi. Now, it was more on the lines of how powerful he is to what he likes for dinner.

That likely can be significantly attributed to the demon standing in front of him.

“Senior,” Wang Jianyu greets hastily, nearly dropping the papers from his hands. Ming Fan thankfully takes them before Wang Jianyu can possibly shame himself even further. “Um, uh, is that all...?”

Ming Fan inspects the papers first, before nodding when he presumably finds them satisfactory. It took a lot of time to secure that much paper, so Wang Jianyu is relieved to find them pass the attendant’s standards.

“Here,” MIng Fan says, offering a plate of light brown balls. They do smell appetizing, at least to Wang Jianyu’s somewhat diminished sense of smell. The presentation can do more work, though.

Ming Fan waits. Wang Jianyu, with trepidation, takes one. He does not know what he’s supposed to do with it.

“Try it,” Ming Fan says. “The Emperor wants to know if it tastes good for all demons.”

Wang Jianyu does not know what to feel about that, but if it’s for the Emperor, well... He pops one into his mouth. He crushes it with his teeth, although there’s no need to use that much force; the ball is soft and tender on his tongue. It tastes really, really good.

“It’s good,” Wang Jianyu says in amazement. “It reminds me of the flesh my sister had on her, uh, celebration.”

Ming Fan hums. “That’s good to know. Many thanks for your cooperation.” He pauses, tilting his head. “It’s from a plant the Emperor cultivated. He’s planning to produce it en masse, so there’s a stabler form of sustenance. There will be, ah, what he calls ‘taste testing’ every other day. Do with that information as you wish.”

The door to the study opens and closes. Vaguely, Wang Jianyu can hear the Emperor’s gentle, soothing voice, but he can’t parse out the words. He licks his lips. The taste of the food lingers on his tongue.

He has to tell his sister about this as soon as possible.

Chapter Text

Wang Daiyu does not know why her brother suddenly came into her room and started ranting about something delicious. She patiently tunes him out, waiting for him to finish so she can ask him what is wrong with him.

Wang Jianyu, her annoying other half or twin or whatever (a public nuisance), notices her lack of attention and begins poking and pinching her like a child. She kicks him in return. What happens after is not entirely on her, but the pained scowl on her brother’s face is definitely her doing.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, unbothered. She picks up a fine brush and continues documenting the changes in the palace– a task the Emperor gave her, changing her designation as a servant to a scribe. He seems pleased with her work so far, and her doubts regarding the permanence of her promotion fade away with each head pat and soft delight.

“There’s food!” Wang Jianyu says, repeats. “New food. You really have to try it, it tastes amazing–”

“The food Ming-xiong was sharing?” Wang Daiyu interrupts. She refocuses on her writing. A new order of– venom-cast bloodwood? It’s not her place to question the Emperor’s actions, but she can’t help but wonder what he is planning to do with such a dangerous object. “Mhm. He already gave me some earlier.”

Wang Jianyu stops. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Wang Daiyu rolls her eyes. “I would have, but you were so busy gossiping with Tang-mei that I couldn’t even get a word in.”

Her brother pouts. It looks a bit ridiculous, with the scales covering most of his cheek and forehead, and the recently sharpened teeth peeking out of his mouth. Wang Daiyu resists the urge to flick his forehead, like she usually does.

“There’s a lot of demons coming and going,” Wang Jianyu changes the topic as easily as breathing. He’s hilariously bad at hiding his curiosity, although that may be because Wang Daiyu has known him since they were fledglings running away from Black Moon Rhinoceros Pythons. “They’re carrying lots of things too, and there isn't a pattern to them. Like, bloodwood and luminescent spirit silk? Those two things don’t have anything in common.”

“The Emperor is planning something,” Wang Daiyu tells him, almost feeling pity for her brother’s barely-contained glee at receiving an answer. “A grand library, for one. Food, and livestock. I’m not sure how he’s planning to raise nine-headed white junglefowl without them killing everyone in the vicinity, or how he’s turning them into edible food, but eh.”

She raises her head, finishing a page of the records. “No,” she warns. “Don’t spread that around.”

“But I need to tell Tang-mei something!” her brother whines. “I promised I’d have new news ready.”

Wang Daiyu sighs. She calculates the odds of Wang Jianyu leaving her alone if she doesn’t say anything, and finds her chances a nice, even zero. “Fine. Jiuchong-Jun– yes, one of the southern lords, you heard it correctly– is visiting soon with his daughter.”

Wang Jianyu gasps, all dramatic and wide-eyed. Wang Daiyu has a feeling that while she took over most of their logic, he took both of their proclivities for drama. “The Emperor is starting his harem? Really? But he’s a Heavenly Demon though, don’t they usually avoid that kind of stuff?”

Well, he’s already making up stuff and scenarios on his own. Wang Daiyu feels like she’s given him enough wood and flint for him to start a fire, so she returns to her work. Maybe she’d have a blessed moment of silence soon.

“Ooooh, do you think he’s not actually a full Heavenly Demon? Were the rumors true? Is he, like, part-divine spirit? How would that even work? Then again, there’s that heavenly blood, so, you know–”

Or not.

Shen Yuan is relieved that most of his plans are going well. ‘Well’ is a bit of a stretch, but so far, no wars were waged, no massacres and atrocities were committed, no occurrences of distinctly unnatural disasters were reported, and no mass extinction of beasts was mentioned, so he considers it as good progress.

Guided Mode does make everything infinitely easier, but he’s unsure if it was worth the one hundred B-points he used to purchase it, and the fifty points he lost in the reward for completion. The beast rearing manuals are definitely the most helpful, especially since they were never mentioned in the novel and Shen Yuan couldn’t find it in the palace’s (admittedly lacking) library.

Having a full, functioning library seems to be enough to fill the education parameter. That says something about the demon realm, but Shen Yuan doesn’t know where to begin unwinding that. 

The agriculture part is trickier, considering it encompasses a wide range of subcategories, so he’s tackling that slowly. The flesh fruits are a good start– he still has no idea why they’re called fruits when they’re a root crop and potato-adjacent– and they’re easy to plant en masse. The soon-to-be livestock are a nightmare.

Shen Yuan hasn’t pulled this many all-nighters since his finals week in junior year with three papers all due on the same day. He’s read so many domestication manuals that the words are all jumbled in front of him now.

“Oh,” he sighs, accepting the offered cup of tea. It seems to be made with some rejuvenating powder or pollen, since his mind perks up immediately after a couple of sips. “Thank you, Ming Fan.”

“This lowly one dares not intrude, but perhaps Junshang should take a brief rest?” Ming Fan suggests politely, his gaze aimed at the growing mound of papers on Shen Yuan’s desk. “The cooks created a new dish for Junshang to try.”

Shen Yuan blinks, in the middle of massaging his sore wrists. He glances at the paperwork. “I suppose Ming Fan can bring the food here,” he offers.

Ming Fan wilts. Aha! Shen Yuan thinks, perhaps a little delirious by now. So it was a ploy to get him away from the study. “Very well, Junshang,” he says, defeated.

His attendant is truly a sweet, caring boy. Shen Yuan wonders what happened to him to turn him into the one-dimensional, scheming bully in the novel. He thought it was because the protagonist demoted him, or it was because of jealousy and Ning Yingying, but maybe it was something else.

Loyalty to the original goods, perhaps? Shen Yuan immediately casts that thought away.

He can have an existential crisis later. He has a lot of work to do.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 20%! (⌒‿⌒) This system is happy that Guided Mode is significantly helping User002!]

Oh, just rub it in, would you.

Chapter Text

Sha Hualing watches as the tamed fire bison beasts sluggishly move forward, carrying large, wooden boxes of seeds the Emperor formally requested. Her father has been in high spirits lately, though the enthusiasm is starting to wane, replaced by a current of nervousness. It grows more and more pronounced the more they arrive closer to the palace.

She’d been young when Tianlang-Jun was imprisoned. It was a period of turmoil, a few decades of chaos and infighting. There was a point of we need to rescue Tianlang-Jun and get revenge, but without avid supporters, it faded. Tianlang-Jun was an absentee ruler, her father told her when she questioned him, and without the lifelong loyalty retainers had for their lords, the call raised for revenge was just for show.

Demons were generally self-absorbed creatures. They cared for nothing but themselves, or so the humans in the great sects proclaimed them to be. Sha Hualing certainly sees the justification behind their reasoning, although she’d seen enough close-knit groups and families of demons to say otherwise.

Demons are certainly as dangerous and destructive as the tales portrayed them to be, though. Sha Hualing feels it in herself, the urge to fight and fight and claw her way out to victory. She hungers, for something grand, for something that will put her in the legends spoken by fearful demon tongues, for something more.

Her father understands that much, even if he doesn’t feel the same. Jiuchong-Jun’s hunger manifests in the safety of his clan; an oddity, even among the many, many demons of the realm, but one that made her great-grandmother grant Jiuchong-Jun the title. He’d given her much leeway when she instigated fights with the littlest provocation and beat others to pulp on her travels.

That leeway apparently does not extend to letting her sit this boring travel out. Already, she is itching to fight, the urge burning in her veins. Jiuchong-Jun tsked and forbade her from starting fights, in fear of delaying them even further. Sha Hualing grudgingly agreed; Jiuchong-Jun is, despite his annoying nagging, still her father.

There were only a few stray beasts that attacked them on the way, courtesy of some protective array the Emperor created. The beasts were strong, sure, but easily dealt with with some artifact the Emperor lent them. Already, Sha Hualing detests him.

Not that she would show it outwardly.

Sha Hualing pauses briefly, a wild idea sprouting in her mind. Her father had promised– in exchange for her cooperation on this trip– that he would ignore a fight she’d instigate in the palace, and would even assist her in covering it up in front of the Emperor. What if she decides to ask the Emperor for a– what do humans call it again– friendly duel?

Surely, it can’t be that bad. A Heavenly Demon is surely powerful; she’d heard the tales and seen the wreckage and ruins they left behind in their wake. As the Emperor, he must be very powerful to push those haughty, highbrow demon lords into submission. Sha Hualing has the capability to word her request so there will be no harm directed at her clan should there be fallout.d

It is a good idea. The best one she had in years. Carefully, she ignores the distinct part of her screaming that this is the worst idea she ever had, fueled by days of boredom and absolutely nothing bad happening.

Jiuchong-Jun’s hand lands on her shoulder, both grounding and restricting. “Don’t,” he says genially. “No.”

...certainly, there is someone in the palace strong enough for a fight that will quench her thirst for victory worth noting.

Shen Yuan’s eyebrows knit together as he rereads the letter for the third time. Mobei-Jun had sent him a warning beforehand that his uncle will be sending requests for military aid, and asked for either a refusal or a clear delay for the help to arrive. His plans are already underway, Shen Yuan notes, given the reports his– lookouts had on the northern territories.

Calling them spies is... well, it’s making him feel like he’s part of a terrible spy action movie his oldest brother liked to watch and dissect for fun. Anyway. He’s not calling them his spies, thank you.

He puts down the letter. Shang Qinghua will be arriving soon, he writes in shorthand on the corner of his to-do list. It was a flashback somewhere in the first thousand chapters, of Shang Qinghua meeting Mobei-Jun and swearing fealty to him, under the watchful eye of the original goods.

Watchful eye is the correct term, because Shen Yuan will be watching him very, very well during his entire stay in the demon realm.

“Junshang, here is the compilation of the responses,” Ming Fan says, behind a stack of papers. His attendant places it gingerly on the long table Shen Yuan had ordered made, for things like these. “And these are the latest reports on the library’s renovations.”

Shen Yuan accepts the reports. He skims through them, humming at the price. It certainly costs more than he expects it to, but nothing to worry about– the coffers could handle more than a hundred of these libraries. The money is from his predecessors, but now that Shen Yuan wears the mantle of emperor, he figures he can use it as he pleases.

“Oh, nice,” Shen Yuan says aloud. “Almost done. That was quick. We can fill the shelves sooner than expected.”

Ming Fan blinks. “Should I put in an order for books from the human realm, Junshang?” he asks cautiously.

Shen Yuan waves a hand. “No need. I have copies of books from the southern palace, and Mobei-Jun agreed to send me a copy of the books in the northern palace. I have books from my travels as well. They’re certainly enough.”

Considering he emptied the shelves of abandoned ruins and spirit caves, and on one memorable occasion, received the books of an ancient fae, he should have enough. He didn’t have the time to browse through all of them, with his workload, but now that all his plans are set to motion, he should have time to read them thoroughly and cast the unqualified ones aside.

Think of all the lore present in those books! Shen Yuan thrums with excitement. He found a few books covering Heavenly Demons, theories of their true origin, history, and physiology. It’d be an interesting read, even with his knowledge from the novel. There were even encyclopedias of plants and animals!

“Do I have anything set for tomorrow?” he asks, fiddling with his spatial ring. “Ah, right. When is Jiuchong-Jun arriving?”

Ming Fan is in the middle of pouring him tea. Shen Yuan accepts it, still a little amused that his attendant’s main go-to action is to make tea. “Anytime tomorrow or the following day, Junshang,” he answers dutifully. “We haven’t received reports from the scouts, nor has the array picked up foreign qi signatures.”

Hm. So if Shen Yuan manages to finish all of this work, he can cram a few peaceful hours of browsing his books.

Mind set, he takes a sip of the tea, and works through the paperwork with fervor.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 40%! (o´▽`o)]

Chapter Text

The Emperor’s palace is both different and similar to the southern palace. The southern palace was built underground, with wide stone entrances and hallways to accommodate the many half-beast demons of varying sizes in the south. It generally was hot in the southern lands, so Tianlang-Jun sourced cooling talismans from the human realm and appropriated it into the palace’s barriers.

Now that Tianlang-Jun was gone, there was no one left to maintain the barriers, and the palace... it did not quite fall into disarray, but it definitely looks more abandoned than lived in.

When the rumors of a new Heavenly Demon spread, Jiuchong-Jun expected them to seize control of the southern palace. It held no owner as of the moment, and was a good place to start a conquest. As months passed by without a Heavenly Demon coming to claim the palace as their own, Jiuchong-Jun pushed the matter aside indefinitely.

It was a surprise to hear that the new emperor, whoever they were, chose the abandoned palace directly located between the northern and southern borders. It was a tricky area; it was where hot met cold, where two distinctly different energies collided. It did not have many demon clans around, as the borders were avoided for strange phenomena and overall difficulty of survival.

The palace was a wreck, worn down by time and inhabited by opportunistic demons, when Jiuchong-Jun visited it when he was still young and out for experience. It is still a surprise to see it standing, even after the meeting the Emperor called them for. Then again, he did not have the time to sightsee; he was rather distracted by many important things.

With a sigh, Jiuchong-Jun pauses, taking the sight in.

Looming blackstone walls perch atop the raised terrain, the tall, wide gates swung open to accommodate the coming and going of servants and messengers. The stone statues, arches, and floors in the entrance were recently cleaned and polished, overgrown vines and grass cut and trimmed away. Engraved arrays glow and pulse every few seconds, flickering in and out of sight as a massive amount of qi powers them and keeps them functioning.

The palace feels alive, especially with the hustle and bustle around it. Demons with horns, antlers, wings, many eyes, one eye– they carry wood and metal in, chattering with each other as exasperated servants direct them to where they can put down their load. In the distance, Jiuchong-Jun can strain his eyes and see floating fires lighting the courtyards and hallways up, no doubt fueled by the Emperor’s near-bottomless qi reserves.

Waving a hand, he instructs the men he brought with him to unload their cargo. Servants are already waiting for their arrival, so the process is made significantly easier.

The Emperor’s attendant is waiting for them by the palace’s grand hall. Jiuchong-Jun remembers him from the meeting, as graceful and put together as his master.

“Junshang is waiting for you,” he says, after greeting them with a bow. “Please, follow me.”

Jiuchong-Jun lays a hand on Sha Hualing’s shoulder, firmly halting her from demanding a challenge from the guards stationed at the palace’s front gates. “Many thanks,” he says, ignoring Sha Hualing’s affronted gaze.

The attendant leads them to a courtyard, the one with a sprawling, magnificent garden. The Emperor sits in one of the designated sitting areas, with tea and refreshments at the ready.

Jiuchong-Jun removes his hand from Sha Hualing’s shoulder. “Junshang,” he greets, bowing, with his daughter obediently following. The Emperor nods at them, smiling. 

Taking that as both invitation and permission, they take their seat.

Sha Hualing is beautiful, as expected of one of the protagonist’s wives. The red fabrics and silver jewelry serve to accentuate her beauty, the melodic sound of a bell ringing every now and then when she moves. It’s almost difficult to believe that she was such a ruthless wife, the one who fought over the protagonist’s attention viciously and made trouble for all the other wives.

She sits gracefully, every inch of her a dutiful daughter to her doting father. She only answers questions when her father gives her the signal to; they clearly have anticipated the small talk and gentle questioning Shen Yuan would start their conversation with.

They wrap their business up quickly. All fifteen non-poisonous plants from Jiuchong-Jun’s territory are harvested of their seeds. In exchange, Shen Yuan gives them enough food to hopefully solve their chronic food insecurity. A fair deal, as far as both of them are certain of.

“May this lowly one ask a question, Junshang?” Jiuchong-Jun asks, just before Ming Fan leads them out of the garden to explore the visitor-approved areas in the palace. When Shen Yuan nods, he continues, “Is Junshang planning to take an Empress anytime soon?”

What.

What?

As Shen Yuan pauses, disbelieving, the system takes the time to cause a whirring sound, followed by a cheerful tone.

[A new Quest has appeared! Accept Quest: ‘Start the demon emperor’s harem’?]

What the fuck. What the fuck.

No, no! No! Shen Yuan yells in his mind. No! Reject reject reject!!

[But User002, Quest: ‘Start the demon emperor’s harem’ is worth (╯✧▽✧)╯ +1000 B-Points!]

I don’t care! No! What would the protagonist think if Shen Yuan took his harem members away from him? Absolutely not! I’m trying not to get killed here!

As if to prove his point, Sha Hualing, behind her father, throws him a dirty look. So you want to take me from my fated one, Shen Yuan’s panic-stricken brain informs him, prepare to face death!

Oh shit. No. Absolutely not.  

“Father,” Sha Hualing hisses.

Somewhere, Ming Fan makes a strangled noise.

Jiuchong-Jun simply looks at Shen Yuan, waiting for an answer.

What is he supposed to say? I’m sorry, but no? I’m not going to be emperor for long, so no need, haha! Teehee, no need to worry, your daughter will be married to the protagonist!!! Who is!!! Infinite times more cooler and stronger and everything!!!

Jiuchong-Jun, did you make this same offer to the original goods? Is this why Sha Hualing was so incensed against him???

[Perhaps User002 would like to change his mind and accept Quest: ‘Start the demon emperor’s harem’... (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b]

No. Nope! Not accepting that. A complete, utter rejection! Shit, how do I reject them??? System!

[+1000 B-Points!]

Fuck. The system is of absolutely no help at all.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 50%. There would be a 40% increase if User002 accepts!]

No!

[( ; ω ; )]

Chapter Text

The Emperor is silent for a long moment, clearly taken aback by the question. Jiuchong-Jun supposes that the topic of consorts and heirs has not risen up yet; the Emperor is still, to put it simply, at the early stages of his reign.

Sha Hualing digs her claws into his arm, but Jiuchong-Jun ignores it; if Sha Hualing really, truly dislikes the thought of being the Emperor’s wife, then he can pass it off as a mere query rather than probing for a potential marriage candidate for his daughter. And it is– well. It is, admittedly, a little hilarious to see both the Emperor and his attendant freeze up from a simple question.

“No,” the Emperor says, sounding a little off. He clears his throat, then clarifies, with some sort of extreme adamance, “No, I am not planning to take an Empress– or consorts– anytime soon.”

Jiuchong-Jun nods. That is understandable.

Heavenly Demons do tend to only have one consort in their entire lives. The emperor in his fledgling days had a husband, a skilled and renowned general of the emperor’s army. The husband had died a terrible death from the humans’ ambush during the celebration of a human-demon treaty, and the emperor had lost himself in his grief.

The resulting war was the longest, most brutal, and most catastrophic war in history books, so much that there is little to no information left about it at all. Jiuchong-Jun was born just before the war ended, and his tenth year celebration was offset by the news of the emperor killing himself to return to his beloved’s side.

It took some time for Tianlang-Jun to rise into power, particularly because the Heavenly Demon did not seem that enthused about being emperor at all. He spent most of his years in the human realm, where he– rumors, of course, but Jiuchong-Jun thinks they were at least partly true– fell in love with a human cultivator of a great sect.

Now, that also ended in disaster; with Tianlang-Jun’s imprisonment after his paramour tricked him.

Really, this is why demon lords have their misgivings whenever a Heavenly Demon falls in love– it always ends in death.

The bright side is that it does make things simpler, to not have to deal with harem politics in court. However, it does beg the question of where an heir will come from, especially after many instances of the realm falling into chaos and war without a proper figurehead to restrain them.

An emperor will be a great fit as his Hualing’s husband, setting her future in stone. Political backing, an endless number of enemies for her to fight. Maybe it can also temper the tendencies of the Emperor’s lineage, too. However, if the Emperor follows the same base instincts of his kind as all the emperors in the past, then Jiuchong-Jun can only lament and accept the circumstances.

“Does Junshang already have a plan for his heir, then?”

The Emperor blinks at him. It reminds him of a black-bellied horned python contemplating if the prey in front of it is worth the effort of leaving its lair. 

That, or a confused furred lamb-cat. 

“Not quite,” the Emperor says, showing the first signs of a crack in his impenetrable composure. “I have not thought of it before.”

So I do not want to continue this conversation, goes unsaid.

Jiuchong-Jun nods, knowing when to back off. “Many thanks for answering this lowly one’s questions,” he says, bowing as they take their leave–

“This lowly one has a question, too,” Sha Hualing says, fire in her eyes. Jiuchong-Jun resists the urge to cover her mouth. He does not know how he manages it; that feels like a reflex at this point... “Junshang, is there a space dedicated for sparring here?”

The Emperor eases back into gentle lines and patient slopes. “The renovations for the training grounds are complete, yes,” he answers. “Miss Sha can use it–” Sha Hualing’s eyes brighten. “–should she find a willing partner. Ming Fan?”

The Emperor’s attendant nods. “Please, follow me,” he implores them.

Jiuchong-Jun is a little relieved, in all actuality. He thought, for the briefest moment there, that his daughter would request a match with the Emperor. He’s glad that it did not come to that.

Then, on the way, his daughter tells the attendant, “If I defeat you in a spar, you have to get the Emperor to fight me.”

“What? Fight Junshang? That– I wasn’t even– Miss Sha, I am not going to fight you, that would be inappropriate and a violation of the wor–”

“Are you not going to face me? I thought that the Emperor chose his people well... but I guess even he makes mistakes, hm.”

Jiuchong-Jun slaps his forehead, watching the haughty, goading smirk on Sha Hualing’s face. “Attendant Ming, my daughter is just–” he attempts.

The attendant bares his teeth, eyes already tinged red. “Oh, fuck you. ”

“Heh.”

Oh well. Jiuchong-Jun guesses this is the one fight he promised his daughter when they left.

Shen Yuan buries his face in his hands.

[Waiting confirmation. Reject Quest: ‘Start the demon emperor’s harem’?]

I already said I’m not going to start a harem! Yes! Reject it! Never gonna happen! Nope!

[(｡╯︵╰｡) Quest: ‘Start the demon emperor’s harem’ rejected. Uploading Quest to the waitlist...]

“What waitlist?” Shen Yuan asks, slumping down the cushioned seats. His tea is growing cold. “What do you mean waitlist? System!”

[Quests on the ‘waitlist’ can be accepted at a later date. σ(^○^) In case User002 changes his mind or the required conditions trigger it!]

“ Trigger it? Listen, I do not want a harem– are you trying to get me killed by the protagonist?”

[Harem members do not need to be the protagonist’s wives! Or wives at all!]

What kind of harem is that? A fake harem? Shen Yuan bangs his head on the table, suddenly grateful that Ming Fan is not around. “Just... no.”

[(´-ω-`) User002...]

Shen Yuan sits up, desperate to remove the thoughts from his mind. “Progress!” He waves a hand. “What’s my current progress?” 

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 55%. Parameters: Agriculture (70/100) | Economy (35/100) | ...]

[Congratulations! Education (100/100) achieved. Completion requirement: open the Great Library to the public!]

Shen Yuan groans. The library’s opening is ready and all, but he needs to deliver a speech. Why does he need to deliver a speech? It’s just really embarrassing at this point.

Oh well. He needs to destress. An hour or two with his adorable sheep (who are sweet and cuddly and not threatening at all!!!) would solve that nicely.

Chapter Text

Demons are like beasts. Disgusting, filthy creatures born and bred for violence. There is nothing worse than the curse of being born a monster, and there is nothing better than the blessing of freedom to do as you please.

If the label of ‘monster’ is attached to him by virtue of his birth, then shouldn’t he live up to their standards and become a horrendous, terrifying monster they warn their young about?

Wu Yanzi grins, the song of bloodthirst running wild through his lips, and beheads the fool who tried to bargain for his life with the lives of his martial siblings. Truly an idiot, that one. Even a fledgling would know better than to trust one of Wu Yanzi’s ilk; human cultivators have to be pampered and spoiled rotten for them to trust a demon.

With a grunt, he hefts the bag of his goods, slings it over his shoulder, and begins the long travel to the south. He does not bother with cleaning up the mess– better leave the menial work to the poor souls tasked to find the missing villagers. Maybe they’d hide the fact that they were easily bested by one demon. Maybe they’d start a witch hunt for whoever the demon is, and end up causing more damage than Wu Yanzi ever did to their numbers.

It doesn’t really matter. He won’t be coming to the borderlands for quite some time, since his haul should last him for at least a year, barring emergencies. Plenty of time for the pesky cultivators to find another topic to focus on while he prepares his next trip to the human realm. 

Locating one of his many safehouses is easy enough. He dumps all of his cargo and seals it in a qiankun container with a cooling talisman. One of the many things he learned and stole during his travels. Ha, travels. A planned, calculated murder spree, more like.

It’s times like these that he mourned the loss of his little disciple. He could’ve shoved the task of curing their food to the little twerp, no matter how much it makes his face curl in disgust. Bartering with other demons, too. Wu Yanzi has an unfortunate reputation that makes even his own kind hesitate to interact with him.

Well, having an emperor for a disciple is more beneficial than having a glorified errand boy, he supposes. He did make a deal to leave the boy alone if he became emperor and gave Wu Yanzi many, many leniencies. Wu Yanzi didn’t expect his disciple to go out and actually accomplish it, but, oh well. A deal is a deal.

He should see what he’s up to. He’s sure that his disciple is still scared of him, as he should be, no matter how powerful and deadly he becomes. Wu Yanzi ensured that. However, it’s been... a long time since he visited the little brat and demanded payment for essentially saving his life and propelling him to greater heights. Oh, and to watch him hide behind vicious glared and barbed words, too. He’s always so amusing.

He’s close to a nearby settlement, he recalls. He should gather information first before going on his way to bother his beloved disciple. He stretches, shifting, until his unique physiology responds to him and changes the way he wants it to.

Taking on the form of a succubus is one of the things Wu Yanzi detests, but it is helpful in gathering information. Lust is an easily manipulated emotion, after all. He finds some targets, and sends out some qi first to muddle their minds.

Three demons, all guards. Not quite warriors, but decent enough to defend their turf. Wu Yanzi could take them out easily. He sends two to a deep sleep; he only needs one, for now.

“Oh!” Using a soothing voice, he pitches his tone high, “Oh my, dear warrior, you must help me!”

The demon guard jolts, eyes wide, before Wu Yanzi’s qi sets him and sends him to a half-awake, very suggestible state. “Yes, miss?” he asks, almost worried. “What is the matter?”

“The Emperor, he, he...” Wu Yanzi tilts his head to incite the demon closer. “He is... one of this one’s paramours he promised to marry. Please, what is he doing now? He can’t have forgotten me already!”

The demon in front of him is obviously charmed, the lustful gleam in his eyes giving him away immediately. “Miss, the Emperor would have to be blind to forget you!” His eyes go wide as he catches himself. “That is, I mean...”

“There is no need to worry, I appreciate your kind words.” Wu Yanzi barely resists the urge to sneer. “So, is the Emperor... what has he been doing?” 

“Oh, you know,” the demon says breathily, in a daze, “the Emperor is just... making some changes...”

Wu Yanzi eases up the hallucinatory effects of his qi, letting a bit more coherent thought enter the demon’s head. Stupid little things. “Oh?” he croons, hooking a finger around the statement collar around the demon’s neck. “What did the Emperor do?”

There is a flash of fear there, hesitation perhaps, and Wu Yanzi notes it with great interest. Just what is his little disciple doing to spark this kind of uncertainty?

“Threatened the lords, as they’ve all said,” the demon says, confused but eager. “They have some sort of array in their own houses now– probably for spying on them or something. Blew up a mountain when they refused, I heard.”

Oh. Wu Yanzi can appreciate that. It’s truly something his disciple would do– someone as cutthroat as him would want to keep everything under his control. Not that he’d ever manage it. Not when Wu Yanzi is still around to tug at his pet emperor’s leash.

“He’s been sending some sort of food, too... Of course, I haven’t been able to taste it yet because I’ve been very busy, but it’s a new delicacy. A bribe of sorts, perhaps?”

Really, staying for a few more days to observe that little spitfire of a slave was absolutely worth it. Wu Yanzi had not a clue that he was a Heavenly Demon, with how well his bloodline had been sealed. Whoever put him there as a slave must really have scathing, burning hatred towards demons, ha! Instead of killing the demon, they left it there to suffer.

“And there was something about a bartering system, and a sword?”

Foolish, foolish. All demons know is how to bite back, even the hand that feeds them, if they aren’t trained properly.

“Oh! I remember– Miss, you must immediately go to the palace! The Emperor is opening the library to the public, you can definitely make it in time to confront him! Of course, if you want to stay, we always have space for you here–”

Wu Yanzi is not a fool. He had made sure his disciple was properly and thoroughly trained, of course. Maybe he should pay a visit to ensure that.

[Education (100/100) completion requirement achieved! Reward: +50 B-Points. (^○^) Keep up the good work, User002!]

Shen Yuan steps down from the podium, pleased to see demons already looking through the books of the library. Wan Mei– one of the literate demons– is in charge of the library’s management. Already, she’s doing a fine job, even without Wang Daiyu’s assistance.

He does have to solve the literacy issue, but that’s a problem for the future. Right now, all he’s focused on is completing his missions before the system penalizes him for dawdling.

...he did make and add picture books to one of the shelves. Maybe the demons would enjoy that?

“Junshang did very good!” Ming Fan says, beaming. He’s already carrying three books to borrow, flipping through the one on top of the pile. Shen Yuan smiles at him, having dismissed Ming Fan from his duties to enjoy the library to his heart’s content. He suddenly feels like Ming Fan would be a good fit for Qing Jing Peak– if only he weren’t a demon.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 75%. （●＞ω＜●）User002 is alm]

Shen Yuan blinks, a little startled.

[Warning! Warning! Warning! A major plot deviation has occurred! Issuing Hidden Quest: ‘The First Teacher’. Failure results in immediate account termination!]

[User002, please be careful (ಥ﹏ಥ). Character: Wu Yanzi is]

Shen Yuan draws back in alarm when a hand gently grasps his shoulder, dragging him away from the crowd without anyone noticing. He struggles, pushing the hand away with such force it’s a miracle no one has turned to them in alarm and the palace hasn’t crumbled to pieces.

“Oh my.” Dark eyes, curled horns. A smile that makes his skin crawl, that makes him want to bare his teeth and claw that face off of his sight. “Is my disciple not going to greet his shizun properly?”

Chapter Text

Wan Mei picks up one of the skittish, moon rabbit demons and sets them on a chair, rather than the top of the shelf. They blink at her slowly, arms wrapped around an impressive set of books. Upon closer inspection, they seem to be compendiums of the demon realm’s flora, handwritten by the Emperor himself. It would be helpful for them, she thinks, considering the gradual decrease of prey in their territory.

She leaves them alone after ensuring that they’d stop climbing higher surfaces. A quick inspection of the room shows two more troublemakers she has to handle: the Emperor’s attendant and the daughter of one of the demon lords. Granted, they aren’t physically fighting per se, but the book in the attendant’s hand will soon bend out of shape due to how tight he’s gripping it.

“–wrote it himself,” the attendant is saying, “from his travels, of course–”

“Huh,” the demoness says. She at least has the consideration of retracting her claws when she skims over a book on the table. “All of these?”

“Yes,” the attendant insists, sounding deeply offended. 

Wan Mei slows her pace, observing the interaction. The poor book is gently placed on the table– hm. One of the bestiaries the Emperor wrote, numbering a staggering twelve. Wan Mei had overseen the process herself, and wound up in the position of an active listener as the Emperor discussed the beasts at great length.

Wan Mei has learned many things since then, one of them bringing work with her whenever she visits the Emperor, just so she can work as he talks with genuine excitement. It makes for good background noise.

The two demons are reading, no longer disruptive, but she leaves a warning, just in case the peace is offset by a stronger, fiercer argument. “Careful with the books,” she warns. They both nod, the attendant more vigorously than the demoness.

Satisfied, she turns her attention elsewhere. Although the opening of the great library is a well-publicized fact, it remains that demons generally prefer honing their strength than reading books. Select clans, like the moon rabbit and sun fox tribes, are known for hoarding knowledge and their collection of books, but they still remain a minority. They are the ones Wan Mei is cautiously optimistic of seeing often; the numbers of library goers will definitely go down after the initial wonder has faded.

She waves to Wang Daiyu, who immediately understands and moves to handle her duties. Wan Mei smiles, pleased, and picks up the stack of books she’s been meaning to organize before the opening ceremony was conducted.

The innermost parts of the library are still closed, not having met the Emperor’s standards just yet. Then again, Wan Mei doubts anyone will ever find a use for the complicated books the Emperor found in his travels– especially those written in ancient languages. Best not expect anything in that regard.

Her arms strain a little, so she puts the books down on the floor. As she bends down to pick one up, her ears catch a stilted conversation. She pauses. The area is deserted; she made sure of that. So, just who...?

“Leave,” the Emperor’s distinct lulling voice is gone, replaced by something frigid and disdainful. “That is an order.”

“My disciple shan’t be so heartless.” A teasing voice. Already, goosebumps rise along Wan Mei’s skin. “This teacher of yours has journeyed for so, so long, and this is the greeting you give him?”

“I do not have a teacher. Leave, before you force my hand.”

“Tsk. Feisty as always. Perhaps you are in need of a re–”

Wan Mei is already halfway there, three thick tomes in hand just in case she needs to knock someone out. Not that the Emperor needs help in fighting, but it still is best to be prepared. Two men, as she had suspected.

The Emperor is without his usual smile, his demonic features more prominent than the carefully controlled, human-like appearance he wears on a day-to-day basis. The man with him is also a demon, but something about him just makes Wan Mei recoil in overwhelming disgust.

“Junshang,” she begins, eyeing the man with great distrust. He only smiles at her, calculated and practiced enough to make her skin crawl. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” the Emperor says, sounding just a little off that made Wan Mei’s nerves spark. “Wan Mei, return to your duties. Leave us be.”

Wan Mei wants, perhaps, to refuse, but in the end, this is her emperor. She cannot go against his order directly. “Yes, Junshang,” she answers, bowing. She has an attendant to fetch– or perhaps, he and his companion can cause a ruckus severe enough to warrant the Emperor’s attention.

She bristles, then quickens her pace.

“You should’ve ordered her to not speak a word of it to anyone,” Wu Yanzi says, donning the face of a disappointed teacher. Shen Yuan glares at him, stepping back to create a wider distance. Undeterred, Wu Yanzi steps forward, almost mockingly.

“My disciple is so uncouth,” Wu Yanzi says. “Not greeting his teacher, telling him to leave at first sight, purposefully letting a servant get in the way of our conversation... has A-Jiu forgotten his manners already?”

Something in Shen Yuan screams. Who the fuck is A-Jiu? Is that the original goods’ name? The novel never mentioned it, only the courtesy name he received from the protagonist. Cang Qiong’s sect leader did call him a name other than Shen Qingqiu , but it was always cut off before it was finished.

“Ah,” Wu Yanzi says, soft. “Has my disciple forgotten his own name? No one has been calling you with anything so familiar, hm? Junshang. Ha. You already let the power get to your head.”

A hand cups his cheek and Shen Yuan wrestles it away with great force. Nope! No, thank you! Everything is already so weird, no need to add this thing to his pile of worries!

Wu Yanzi’s smile freezes into something crooked. “A-Jiu,” he admonishes. Shen Yuan’s qi flares threateningly, and he can feel the smooth skin of his hands turn into sharp claws. “Ah.”

The sound is one of realization, and Wu Yanzi’s smile fades. His expression is tight. Whatever lingers of the original goods reacts with fear that Shen Yuan is trying his best to force down. What did Wu Yanzi do to evoke this kind of reaction from a Heavenly Demon?

If that is the case, then, maybe, Shen Yuan should get rid of him–? (He’s afraid. Why is he afraid of some NPC? He’s the demon emperor! This makes no sense! He’s not afraid.) He hates killing, but if there is absolutely no choice, then, perhaps–

[Warning! Warning! Warning! Character: Shen Qingqiu will not kill Character: Wu Yanzi before he receives sufficient motivation.] 

Well, fuck. There goes that plan.

“I will not say it a fourth time,” Shen Yuan says, quietly. Here’s hoping he looks threatening enough, and not like a cornered stray animal. “Leave.”

System, I thought the OOC restrictions were removed!

[User002 unlocked the OOC restrictions for characters who are not familiar with Character: Shen Qingqiu.]

So Wu Yanzi is really the original goods’ teacher? Why on earth would he accept someone like Wu Yanzi? Why would the original goods need guidance from him in the first place? Isn’t he a Heavenly Demon? Being born as one is like being born as royalty! Emotionally unstable, universally hunted royalty with the power to destroy the realms, but still.

Wu Yanzi looks at him, dark and unreadable, and Shen Yuan thinks that they might have to fight, after all– then Wu Yanzi disappears. Right into thin air. Like a ninja or something.

Shen Yuan waits a beat, making sure that Wu Yanzi is truly gone, before slumping against the wall. He really needs a moment to process everything. How exactly did the original goods encounter...

[User002 is advised to finish Act II and Act III so he can gain access to Quest: ‘The Demon Emperor’s Past’ ◝( ･’ω’･ )◟!]

Okay. Okay. Shen Yuan takes a deep breath. Sure, he can do that. Just finish all the missions, right? Nope, he’s not thinking about this. Not at all. He’s just filling up the plot holes– hey, it does make sense for the scum villain to have some sort of tragic backstory, instead of him being born evil.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 75%. Hang on, User002! o(〒﹏〒)o]

Chapter Text

Ming Fan gently closes the door behind him, balancing a tray precariously with one hand. The Emperor doesn’t greet him, still too engrossed in his work; Ming Fan has taken it upon himself to bring him meals, rather than obeying whenever the Emperor has a request for the kitchens.

He makes his footsteps loud and heard, bowing as well as he can with the tray still in his hands. “Junshang,” he says, waiting for the Emperor to twitch and turn to him, startled. That has been a worrying trend these past few days– the Emperor’s inattention and excessive focus on his work. “I’ve brought food.”

“So soon?” the Emperor asks, his attention shifting back to the document he’s been working on. “Haven’t I already eaten earlier?”

Ming Fan places the tray on a table, refilling the Emperor’s cup with tea. “It’s been four shichen, Junshang,” he says respectfully. “It’s already early in the morning.”

“Ah.” Something flickers in the Emperor’s eyes, and he finally puts down his brush and pushes the papers aside to make room for the food. “Ming Fan should still be resting at this hour.”

“How can this lowly one dare to rest when Junshang isn’t?” Ming Fan prods, withholding a sigh when the Emperor only blinks at him confusedly.

The Emperor shakes his head. “Ming Fan should rest. You have been working too much these past few days. You’re relieved of your duties for the day; send one of your assistants to stand in your stead.”

Ming Fan busies himself with reorganizing the papers and books. “Junshang has a meeting later,” he says, delicately worried, “I’m afraid that Wang Jianyu is not quite up to par yet.” Or more like, not quite capable yet of shutting his mouth when he really, really needs to.

The Emperor smiles unexpectedly, hiding a short laugh behind his fan. “He is enthusiastic and energetic,” he allows. “Very well. This meeting, then Ming Fan has the afternoon off.”

Ming Fan nods. “Yes, Junshang.” A result better than he expected; the Emperor rarely goes back on his word– when he says something, it is final. He must be more tired than usual if he is indulging Ming Fan’s insistence.

The Emperor eats, going through the notes he’d written for the meeting. Every so often, Ming Fan has to prompt him to continue eating, either with a trivial query or purposefully cleaning by the Emperor’s desk.

The envoys are waiting, already. Ming Fan waits until the Emperor has finished all of his food, and begins the preparations of ushering them to one of the sitting rooms. It’s better that the renovations in the palace are close to finished; Ming Fan prefers it when the Emperor does not have to share his garden with anyone else.

He fusses over the Emperor’s guan, and he is indulged once more. Ming Fan feels a pit of concern well in his chest, when the Emperor doesn’t even pretend to scold him for dallying. Perhaps they do share a disdain for the envoys present, or Ming Fan needs to start running interference with every other servant on board.

A hand gently lands on his head, disrupting his thoughts, and brushes through his hair. “Ming Fan need not worry so much,” the Emperor says, gentle, and gives him a final pat before moving on to meet the envoys.

It is unfortunate, Ming Fan fears, that he will always feel that thread of worry, especially on days like these.

[Agriculture (100/100) completion requirement achieved! Reward: +50 B-Points.]

[Economy (100/100) completion requirement achieved! Reward: +50 B-Points.]

[Military (100/100) completion requirement achieved...]

Shen Yuan tunes out the successive notifications from the system, closing his eyes. His head throbs, and no matter how hard he tries, circulating his blood or his qi doesn’t seem to fix the problem.

He glares at the papers on his desk in irritation. What kind of Heavenly Demon gets a migraine out of nowhere? What kind of Heavenly Demon doesn’t have a body impervious to illnesses and most poisons? Refund! Shen Yuan wants a refund! The one thing he counted on since he had transmigrated was that he would no longer suffer from a headache and the common cold. Good riddance, he told himself. Clearly, this whole ‘Heavenly Demon’ shtick is one massive lie!

[User002, this world is based on ‘Proud Immortal Demon’s Way’ and follows its rules for Heavenly Demons...]

“Then why am I suffering right now,” Shen Yuan grumbles, dabbing his brush at the inkstone with too much force. He glares when the inkstone breaks, resisting the urge to bang his head on his desk. “Headache! Look at me, the demon emperor is going to be felled by a simple headache! That’s, like, the most pathetic way to go! Especially for the scum villain.

Okay so, maybe not the most pathetic way to go, but it definitely is one of the pathetic ones.

[User002 should take care of his body more often! ╰(*´︶`*)]

“This is stupid,” Shen Yuan says, staring at the paper he’s signing. It’s a report. It does not need to be signed. “Aren’t Heavenly Demons supposed to be invincible? A couple of all-nighters can’t be all that it takes to defeat them! What, if the protagonist locks me in a sleep deprivation chamber, I’ll just keel over and die?”

[Heavenly Demons are not invincible! They are simply blessed with stronger physiques that can withstand great amounts of pressure and extreme conditions, coupled with the ability to adapt to the environment much quicker than other beings. However, like all creatures, their bodies still require sustenance and rest.]

Interesting. Much better than how the novel depicted them. It usually was a series of he’s a Heavenly Demon, that’s why this doesn’t work blah blah blah he’s a Heavenly Demon, that’s why he can do this... It left Shen Yuan so frustrated that he stayed up a whole three hours drafting a long comment.

“Lots of pressure and extreme conditions,” Shen Yuan says aloud. “What part of this is an ‘extreme condition’? I’m being pampered well here! This doesn’t make any sense.”

[ఠ ͟ಠ]

????? What kind of kaomoji is that? Shen Yuan frowns.

[Never mind. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This system knows when to give up!]

For some reason, Shen Yuan feels insulted. He straightens up from his slouch, narrowing his eyes at the glowing blue interface.

[Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ Progress: 95%. Just one last push, User002! (ノ*°▽°*)]

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan stretches, exhaling in relief. He’s done! Officially done with Act II! The demon realm is no less worse than it was before Shen Yuan swooped in and forced his will onto the realm’s inhabitants, so he counts that as a win. 

The protagonist won’t find any malicious fault in him, too! At best, he’ll be branded as a well-meaning, incompetent emperor. At worst, he’ll be known as an incompetent emperor. Better that than an intentionally vindictive and spiteful tyrant who did as he pleased without any regard to the people under his rule.

He’s feeling particularly cheerful as a servant brings him his meal. They don’t seem against it when he pats their heads as gratitude– ah, their hair is really soft and fluffy. Now that he thinks about it, their hair is a lot softer than it was before Shen Yuan took over the palace. Perhaps the improved working conditions made them more willing to take care of their appearance? He sure hopes so.

Still riding on the feeling of accomplishment, he eats his meal happily. Thankfully, they don’t serve him rotten flesh– ew – anymore, and chose to use the produce and ingredients he procured from grinding the agriculture stat to a hundred. It’s definitely more appetizing and delicious than rotten flesh, not that he’s ever taken a bite out of that.

It is refreshing to leave the study, all done with his work. The fresh air that smells mildly of sulfur! The plants that can kill him if he handles them wrongly! The beasts that can and will bite his fingers off if they aren’t fed on time! Absolutely wonderful.

Huh.

Servants are standing in front of the study, looking shifty on their feet. Shen Yuan hopes that this is not an ambush.

“Junshang!” they cry in unison, scrambling to bow. He only nods and smiles at them, wondering if he just caught them attempting to kill him. Which is, well, understandable, but shouldn’t that only happen when the protagonist incites them to rebel? The protagonist is nowhere near the demon realm the last time he checked.

Oh dear, is this why the demons were reluctant to side with the protagonist? Because the original goods made an example of those who did try and failed? Uh, Shen Yuan would like to avoid killing anyone, thank you.

The servants delve into rapid, long explanations. They came in to clean the study. Okay, feel free too. Then something about not being able to clean the room because they did not want to bother him? Shen Yuan is sure he has never told anyone to go away whenever he’s in the study, so... oh! Maybe they’re just being considerate. Yeah, that’s definitely better than planning his death.

“It’s okay,” he tells them, a little amused at how they deflate. Unable to resist, he pats their heads. “This one will be in the garden should anyone ask for me. Be careful with the arrays.”

“Yes, Junshang!” they chorus, looking brighter than before. Definitely not planning his death. 

Unless?

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Important things must be said three times! Act II: ‘Establish the demon empire’ completed! Reward: +50 B-Points!]

This, Shen Yuan thinks, is the best part of transmigration. A nice garden, lots of books, mythical beasts that Shen Yuan can pet and not get killed for his audacity...

He sighs, petting his sheep happily. It bleats at him, and on rare occasions, makes this delighted rumbling noise that reminds him of tigers and lions more often than not. Well, his sheep are carnivorous demonic sheep. It makes sense for them to have features that differentiate them from normal, regular sheep.

“What, no Act III announcement yet?” he asks aloud, patting the sheep on his lap one last time before letting it down. It bleats at him sadly, before nuzzling his leg and trotting off to its brethren with a distinctly smug air. 

[User002 hasn’t reached the requirements to unlock Act III! (*^.^*) This system advises User002 to take this opportunity to enjoy himself!]

Shen Yuan is enjoying himself. He has everything he could ever want in here! His sheep, his books, his garden.

Okay, it still feels wrong to call anything in this palace as his. Especially the servants. His family did have housekeepers and caretakers back in his world, but there is a huge difference between a maid being paid fairly to clean the house and a servant working under the threat of death.

Not that Shen Yuan has ever threatened them to do their job; in fact, they seem quite enthusiastic as they putter about and dust the shelves and statues. Ming Fan had reassured him that they were being paid fairly for their services, and offered to bring an itemized summary to ease Shen Yuan’s worries.

Now that he thinks about it, he really needs to give Ming Fan a raise. Or the demon realm equivalent of a raise, which would be– rotten flesh? He grimaces. He really, really does not like the sound and sight of that.

[(＃￣ω￣) User002 is advised not to stress!]

Shen Yuan is not stressed. In fact, he feels the most relaxed he has been in a long while now. He rests his head against the cushioned wall– an upgrade he has asked for, knowing that he would be spending many, many afternoons here. He opens his book, flipping it to the page marked with a bookmark.

Yep, he is definitely not stressed.

Until, well...

“Junshang, when are you going to hold your coronation ceremony?”

Shen Yuan barely manages to not spit out his tea, lowering the cup calmly on the table. “I apologize, I did not quite catch that.”

The demon in front of him– the lord of a small, but still sizable territory– puffs up, her scales rippling. Shen Yuan is pretty sure they’ve been talking about food shortages just a minute earlier, and not whatever that was.

“Junshang has been acting as the emperor of this realm for many moons already and has done many great things,” she says, somehow combining both eagerness and delicacy into one. “Previous emperors have been crowned for less. Junshang should really hold his coronation ceremony soon!”

[Act III: ‘The demon emperor’s coronation’ of Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm’ has started! Time left: 60 days. Warning: automatic failure when Act III is not completed before the deadline.]

But I’m already the emperor! Why do I need a ceremony for that! What does that even need???

[Guided Mode costs +200 B-Points for Act III!]

What– no, I’m not going to purchase that! System!

[Good luck, User002! (✿╹◡╹)]

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua squeaks, barely able to stop the scrolls from falling out of his arms. “My King!” he greets, a well-honed reflex at this point; Mobei-Jun likes to pop up in his office every so often just to see if he’s planning on betraying his king. Shang Qinghua likes his head where it currently is, so no grand plans of triple agent-ing and betrayal here, haha!

Now, if only Mobei-Jun understands that a) Shang Qinghua is not in a position where he can afford to think of doublecrossing his king willy-nilly, b) Shang Qinghua is currently running on two hours of sleep, an energy elixir he nicked from Qian Cao Peak, and sunflower seeds, c) Shang Qinghua has, like, fifteen different things he has to personally work on, and d) Shang Qinghua is, against all odds, attached to his life– and so, he doesn’t really have the time to plan any betrayals here!

...well. When Mobei-Jun isn’t beating him around, he can be good company. He listens! Not that his martials siblings never listen to Shang Qinghua, they just... well, they have their own problems. He understands that! He wrote this entire world and drafted their backstories. He knows what they’re going through!

Apart from being a good listener (or more like forced to listen to Shang Qinghua prattle, because he gets very anxious when the people around him are silent and Mobei-Jun is always silent), his king always brings back gifts! Souvenirs, perhaps, from the demon realm. There’s the weird food– Shang Qinghua never had the courage to ask where those came from, but luckily, his king doesn’t bring anything twice so he doesn’t have to reject them– and lots of books.

Lots and lots of books.

His king drops a stack of books on one of his free tables, and Shang Qinghua has to hurry to support them before they can topple over and ruin the papers on the floor. He really has to reorganize his office, and maybe add a plant or two to liven up the space. One day, when he has the time. 

Ha! 

If Shang Qinghua gets free time, he’s going to use it to collapse on his bed and sleep the entire day, not do housework.

“My king?” Shang Qinghua asks warily. “Uh, do you want me to summarize these, or find the publishers, or...?”

Mobei-Jun grunts. “No need.” He casts a wary gaze on the mess that is Shang Qinghua’s office. At least he’s not judging Shang Qinghua, like some of his marital siblings do whenever they visit An Ding Peak. Bright sides and all that. “You have... more.”

Shang Qinghua looks to where he’s staring, and he has to laugh nervously. His king is looking at the bribes Shang Qinghua’s been getting from the merchants. Silly, the whole lot of them. They don’t even know what Shang Qinghua likes!

See: boxes of jewelry. When is he going to need those? They’re just going to be annoying for him and distracting for his disciples when he goes out to personally oversee things. 

Lacquered wood, and not the good quality, even. Shang Qinghua can get better. 

Painted fans. Pff, who do they think he is? Shen Qingqiu? Not that they’d know who Shen Qingqiu is, considering it’s, like, five years too early for the plot, but still. Does Shang Qinghua look like he can afford to carry a fan around when he carries that many scrolls?

Cultivation artifacts. Some of them are cursed, and Shang Qinghua had to call his shimei from the artifact peak. Honestly, are they even trying? Hey, Shang Qinghua is still part of Cang Qiong! They have artifacts and treasures with greater worth than an empire. Sort of.

The point is, those are subpar bribes! His king shouldn’t be looking at them! Shang Qinghua is not going to be bribed (although he appreciates the effort) with something as meagre as those!

He’s not going to be bribed at all.

Well, if his system offers to give him free control over his life and lets him change the plot, then he’ll probably do whatever mission it gives him, but probably not even then.

Mobei-Jun finishes giving the bribes the stink eye, and turns to the books he brought stiffly. “Books about monsters in the demon realm,” he says. “Prepare. You’ll be coming with me for the coronation.”

The scrolls actually fall from his arms this time. He yelps when they hit his foot.

Mobei-Jun eyes him, but doesn’t say anything as Shang Qinghua hastily picks them up again. “Uh, coronation?” Shang Qinghua squeaks. “What coronation?”

“The Emperor’s coronation ceremony,” his king says, like it’s a very normal and regular thing to say. “He’s passed all the requirements for a coronation. Surpassed them. Hm.”

Holy shit, what? Shen Qingqiu? That Shen Qingqiu, receiving approval (approval!) from Mobei-Jun? Shang Qinghua knows he wrote his king despising his villain son! What is this?

System! System, is this the plot deviation you were talking about???

[User001 does not have the required authentication level to view this information.]

Holy shit, so that really was the deviation! Wait, fuck, does that mean that Shen Qingqiu’s invasion of the human realm is going to happen earlier? Fuck, Shang Qinghua hasn’t finished his preparations yet–

“I will be part of the Emperor’s court,” Mobei-Jun says, ignoring the sheer amount of panic he’s dropped on Shang Qinghua. My king, please give this poor author a break! “You will come with me to meet him before the ceremony.”

“Uh, I– of course, my king! It’s just, uh... when is this meeting? What do I need to keep in mind? And what do I need to bring?” Shang Qinghua hurriedly takes out his notepad to write his reminders in shorthand that no one but him knows. He knows better than to leave behind evidence of his traitor-ing.

“No need,” his king says. No, please, give this author a bone! He really needs it. “...books. Bring books.”

Okay, okay. Shen Qingqiu likes books. Shang Qinghua could probably bring over some classics and not get mauled. “Okay! Uh, anything else, my king?”

Mobei-Jun looks contemplative. Then, in a decisive tone, “Throw away those things.”

The boxes of jewelry? What a waste. Shang Qinghua could’ve melted them all down, collected the jewels, and refashioned the gold, silver, and jade. Well, if his king says to throw them away...

“Everything,” Mobei-Jun insists.

“Of course, my king!” Shang Qinghua writes down a reminder for him to throw away the current bribes and hide the future ones somewhere his king can’t see.

His king apparently deems that satisfactory, because he sits down on one of Shang Qinghua’s guest chairs and reads. Since he knows better than to refuse the opportunity for a break, Shang Qinghua picks a book to read, too.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan closes a book and opens another one. The history of how basilisks evolved into demonic python-scorpions is riveting, of course, but it does not contain what he needs as of the moment. The intricacies of soul weaving– mhm, okay, that will be very helpful. Shen Yuan sets it aside. Again, not the thing he is looking for.

He feels frustration bubbling up. His coronation. He has no idea what to do with that. He doesn’t even know that a coronation ceremony happened! How was he supposed to know that there was something else that made the emperor the emperor? 

...well. Maybe he should have, in hindsight.

Shen Yuan releases a frustrated sigh. There is nothing about an emperor’s coronation in these books. There was nothing said about a coronation ceremony in the novel, not even for the protagonist. Probably because the protagonist was cool and awesome that he didn’t need to go through something like this!

He frowns. Maybe he should visit the southern palace and do a quick search of Tianlang-Jun’s study for records or notes. Even a crumb would be appreciated, at this point. 

He finishes through his last stack of books, rising with a soft sigh. There are two books with the mention of a coronation ceremony, so hopefully he gets more information than ‘get a crown placed on your head’ which certainly does not match the setting. Then again, PIDW was not known for its historical accuracy, anyway.

“Wan Mei,” Shen Yuan calls, and the librarian looks up from where she's been staring down a lokathere, a demon with wide, golden eyes that only blink once per day. There was some shitty plot regarding that, one that Shen Yuan still sort of seethes about. One for the naming sense, which is basically just look at there crammed together, and the entire plot itself.

A story for another day.

“Are there any books that detail the coronation ceremony?” he asks, once Wan Mei is close enough. “I haven't found any records.”

She considers his question for a moment. “Coronation ceremonies tend to rely on what the current emperor wants,” she answers. “I don't recall there being any scribes in Tianlang-Jun’s reign– in official capacity, that is. Perhaps there were some from my clan who had taken down notes; I'll ask.”

Shen Yuan deflates. Good thing he's not wearing his usual robes and opted for something lighter and more comfortable. Otherwise, the demons will surely notice how un-emperor-like he's acting, and the protagonist will arrive to more unsavory rumors spread about Shen Yuan's character and competency.

“Many thanks to Wan Mei,” he says, waving a hand to release his qi and return the books to their proper position. Wan Mei blinks at him, suddenly showing a spike of interest. “Mhm, I'll send a written version of the technique later. Perhaps an overhaul of the library's sorting system...?”

A little late, considering the library has been opened to the public already, but better late than never. With how much Wan Mei is nodding and insisting on setting up a time and place for a meeting, Shen Yuan is fairly sure she’s on board with the overhaul, no matter how late it is.

[Act III: ‘The demon emperor’s coronation’ Progress: 1%... You can do it, User002! <(￣︶￣)>]

...read the room, System.

The Emperor is as beautiful as they describe him to be, Keeper thinks. Objectively beautiful, with skin of flawless jade and hair of waves of ink. He is kind; that much is clear, with the gentle slopes of his smile that come off as genuine than forced, and posture that is trained out of its natural inclination to comfort and into one of authority.

Keeper lets their too stiff, too old back bend in greeting, reaching out to push their overexcited hound down. “Greeting to the Emperor,” they say, not trying to disguise how hoarse their voice has gotten with disuse. “Has he come to ask for the coronation ceremony?”

The Emperor looks perfectly at ease, not blinking an eye at their awareness. It does make sense, Keeper thinks. A being such as the Emperor has as much knowledge as he has power, and spends not too long thinking of what others know about him.

“Yes,” the Emperor says, and then, kindly, with the smile of moonstars, “May I ask for your name?”

A confusing request. “I have no name to speak of,” they say. “I am called Keeper, for I keep this palace and ensure it does not rot.”

“Very well,” the Emperor allows. “This one will be in your care, esteemed Keeper.”

“Oh no, not esteemed,” Keeper chokes out. “This lowly one does not have the right to call themself esteemed.” 

They do not let a word of rebuttal come from the Emperor's mouth, and direct him to the southern palace's library. “Ah, here we are, Junshang. These are the records I have collected in preparation for your arrival.”

The Emperor accepts the records, curiously going through them. Keeper knows that they are written in tongues far older than they are and will ever be. They do not know how to translate them completely, even after decades of scouring through these pieces of ancient knowledge. 

They blink. The Emperor is skimming through a rather comprehensive description of the coronation ceremony, one written in an ancient tongue that has so few left alive who knows how to decipher it. He seems perfectly at ease, reading through the words without a hint of difficulty. 

“Ah,” the Emperor says, delighted. He bows, and Keeper hurries to match him. “Many thanks to Keeper. They have helped this one greatly. Perhaps a reward can be...?”

“No,” Keeper says firmly. “No rewards.” The only reward they've ever accepted was Tianlang-Jun's company– the previous emperor loved books as much as Keeper did, and had both the knowledge and proclivity towards the ridiculous that made Keeper like him around. Perhaps, one day, this wound of theirs will no longer hurt. That is not today.

The Emperor does not insist. “I understand,” he says, carefully and gently. So at odds with Tianlang-Jun's brazen, carefree words. “I will be going now.”

Keeper watches him leave. The world goes on; time moves on. They return to their books, tending to them with care, and reads.

Chapter Text

An ascension ceremony is a rather boring affair. Nonetheless, it is necessary to cement his position and discredit whatever claim Linguang-Jun brings up, especially right after Mobei-Jun has established his hold over his clan. Majority of their neighboring clans have given their congratulations, but a select few have kept their silence, siding with Linguang-Jun still.

Mobei-Jun will have to reinforce the idea of his lordship with them soon. Perhaps after the Emperor’s coronation ceremony, when he is shown to have the Emperor’s favor.

Favor is a fickle thing, and not one Mobei-Jun can fully trust. Of course, it is not that the Emperor has proved himself untrustworthy– if anything, he has shown himself as the opposite. His neutrality over Linguang-Jun and Mobei-Jun’s dispute over the position of the north’s lord was as helpful as the men he promised to send to help with the increasing number of beasts attacking Mobei-Jun’s territory. 

It is just that relying on one man’s word to establish what would be decades long of lordship will be harmful to him in the long run. Mobei-Jun will have to carefully consider where and when he uses that apparent favor, and the ramifications should the Emperor decide him unworthy.

Perhaps Shang Qinghua will have a broader perspective over the situation. The silly human always does; a product of his status, perhaps, as the An Ding Peak Lord? Mobei-Jun thinks that he has a good understanding of what Shang Qinghua does on a day-to-day basis, from the times he observed Shang Qinghua at work.

Although, it seems that he would have to improve his stealth even more, and practice reining his qi in. Shang Qinghua always catches him, even when Mobei-Jun is trying his best not to be seen, and it is not beneficial to Mobei-Jun’s attempts at understanding human culture. Something about bias...? The Emperor has said it before, when he’s discussing his books at great length.

Ah. People act differently in different groups of people. Shang Qinghua certainly acts a little more panicked in front of that other peak lord from Qing Jing Peak than with any other person. Different from how he acts around Mobei-Jun, too. Something to ponder on.

The Emperor does seem to have expertise on the subject of humans; Mobei-Jun has followed his advice of clearer communication (confusing, considering how Mobei-Jun is straightforward when he wants to express something) and less beatings (humans apparently have different courting practices). Shang Qinghua seems more at ease around him after Mobei-Jun has changed his courting strategy.

Gifts, he’s been told, are an essential part of courting. It depends on the human, but something helpful to them is generally considered a good gift. It was a shock when Mobei-Jun discovered that several other humans are courting his human, no matter how Shang Qinghua adamantly claims that there isn’t courting involved. Just bribery, he’d said.

Mobei-Jun is aware of how bribery works. There are usually food and weapons involved, sometimes even demons strong enough to qualify as warriors. The riches and trinkets in Shang Qinghua’s office are not bribes; they are courting gifts. Perhaps his human is lying to him (unlikely) or he is unaware of the other humans’ true intent.

Perhaps he’ll ask the Emperor if riches are truly used as bribes in the human realm. Then he’ll try to gauge if the Emperor is against having a human consort, just to see if he should start planning for a public wedding in the demon realm or an elopement. 

Ah, right. He still has to work on his territory’s matters. Hm. He’ll bring some of it to Shang Qinghua and see if the human has received more courting gifts. His uncle is currently forbidden to leave his home or talk to any of his men; surely, Mobei-Jun can stay a shichen in the human realm.

The records in the southern palace are the best thing that could have happened to him. Well, not really. Only in his current predicament.

A rather simplified summary of how a coronation ceremony goes is: a) choose a venue, preferably one of great import, b) invite people (lords are a must), c) on the day of the coronation, wear something culturally significant and grand, d) walk down the path to the throne like a bride on a western wedding, e) sit on the throne, f) appoint people on your royal court, and e) start the banquet. There is no crowning involved, thankfully, but there is some establishment of the Emperor’s imperial seal or something.

Shen Yuan is still working that out. He is a little over two seconds away from buying Guided Mode, except he isn’t quite ready to give up just yet. He isn’t going to let go of his hard-earned B-Points that easily! Hear that, System?

[Of course, User002! (*≧ω≦*) Guided Mode for Act III is worth +300 B-Points!]

Wait. Shen Yuan squints. Wasn’t it just two hundred points before? Did the system change the price? Could it freely change the price for any purchasable objects?

[Haha, no, User002! (・・;]

So it can change the prices. Shen Yuan files that information down. He doesn’t know how, but he will use that in the future.

The easiest problems first. Where to hold the ceremony? The palace, easy. Who will he invite? Everyone, maybe? Just so he doesn’t have to double check if he’s missed some important person, and if that hypothetical person takes offense, and if it will all spiral down to Shen Yuan being a very unattractive demon stick.

The things he does to avoid an untimely death. To avoid his death in general; all he is hoping for is an exile sentence so he can skip away to the sunset and enjoy all that this world has to offer. Then again, the protagonist takes control of all realms so... yeah, some of what the world has to offer is more accurate.

The communication array glows briefly. Shen Yuan picks up the letter, a little surprised to see that it is from Mobei-Jun. The demon lord seems to prefer talking with Shen Yuan over tea, asking this and that about humans, and sometimes even advice on how to deal with a problem. Which– holy, Shen Yuan is so proud! He became the protagonist’s right-hand man’s advisor! He’s so glad. Maybe Mobei-Jun would ask the protagonist not to skewer him when the time comes. 

He’s a much better option than Shang Qinghua, anyway– the traitor would likely try to lead Mobei-Jun into further trouble. Shen Yuan wouldn’t do that, no. Most of the demons Shen Yuan has met so far are very sweet and caring and capable, Mobei-Jun included. If only the protagonist met a much kinder demon to color his perception of demons... then maybe he wouldn’t be so distrusting and critical of the demon realm.

The letter is a simple request for tea, this time in the north rather than in Shen Yuan’s palace. Mobei-Jun insists that he wants to host this time. Mhm, perhaps Mobei-Jun wants to establish his lordship a little better?

It’s not a loss to him, either way. The north is an exciting place in the novel, and home to many exotic plants and beasts. A really, really cool place.

Shen Yuan writes his acceptance of the invitation, and sends it off using the array. It’s like sending emails. Maybe one day he can bargain with the system to buy some manga or something; he really misses his collection.

[Act III: ‘The demon emperor’s coronation’ Progress: 11%! Getting there~]

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua has absolutely nothing against Mobei-Jun choosing to appear through the shadows, out of sight and sense from any nearby cultivators of Cang Qiong. It’s for both of their survival, after all. More for Shang Qinghua (who will definitely be thrown into the Water Prison if he’s revealed as a traitor) than Mobei-Jun (who will definitely survive; he’s too plot-relevant to die!).

He will, however, appreciate a warning next time. Maybe Mobei-Jun can create a snowflake or something to alert him that he’s coming– if only to avoid situations like Shang Qinghua dropping everything he’s carrying or him shrieking in surprise and prompting one of his inner disciples to check on him or him fainting from sheer shock.

Oh well. There is a reason why Shang Qinghua has muffling talismans engraved into the array in his office and why his floors have soft padding on them. He’s adapted! Or at least adapting to it! He hasn’t fainted around Mobei-Jun for a while now!

Shang Qinghua is seriously considering pretending to faint. Not because his king is hideous or terrifying (he is scary, but not that scary), but because the demon realm is! The demon realm! Where Mobei-Jun is leading him to! The place full of dangerous beasts that can severely harm the protagonist, of treacherous creatures and fallen gods that use impossible tasks and puzzles to trap would-be heroes... 

Shang Qinghua is definitely not going to survive! All his work, doing all those missions the system assigned to him, all gone!

He clings to Mobei-Jun, his king barely even acknowledging his fear beyond a tighter grip on his shoulder, and shudders when they appear at the northern palace's grand hall. His anxiety spikes when he realizes that demons are staring at them both, before a grunt from Mobei-Jun snaps them out of their daze and returns their focus to their work.

“Uh, my king? Is there a reason why...?” Shang Qinghua trails off, nearly stumbling when Mobei-Jun directs him swiftly into a room. A lavish room, full of decorations and riches that would mark a demon very powerful indeed. “Um?”

“Wait here,” Mobei-Jun instructs. He turns to the servants, and they all move in a flurry of action, getting tea sets out with refreshments, replacing the barely-withered plants with new ones, cleaning the cushioned chairs one final time. “Don't be nervous. It's just Junshang.”

Just the Emperor, okay, Shang Qinghua thinks. Then, “What?! Wait! What? Now? The meeting's right now? I thought– wait, I didn't know– my gifts!” Thank the gods he already had them prepared. Wait, he didn't bring them, did he? “I didn't bring them!”

“Not necessary,” his king disagrees, and Shang Qinghua would love to scream and cry, if he's not currently overwhelmed with panic. “That is for the coronation ceremony. This is just tea.”

Shang Qinghua is a bit too out of it to ask if his king and Shen Qingqiu have regular tea parties, then stops when he thinks of tea parties and mouths parties to himself, then goes back to panicking. His king gets along with the scum villain! Help, isn't that a death flag on its own? The protagonist will surely execute Mobei-Jun without mercy! Fuck.

“Ngaeh,” is all Shang Qinghua can say. The system isn't subtracting B-Points yet, or assigning missions, and that is good because he can't handle another source of stress so soon–

[Misson: ‘The Emperor of the Demon Realm’ started. Objective: Survive the meeting with the demon emperor without arousing suspicion. Reward: +100 B-Points and Key Item: ‘Emperor's Key’. If User001 fails to meet the mission objective, Hard Mode will be activated.]

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Okay. Just great. O-kay, Shang Qinghua can do this. All he has to do is sit there and be silent and offer intel whenever prompted. Nothing he can't do. Unless Shen Qingqiu already knows that Yue Qingyuan is Cang Qiong's sect leader, then Shang Qinghua is double fucked.

“It's just Junshang,” Mobei-Jun repeats. Thank you for the words of comfort, my king, but this poor author is not comforted. A+ for effort, though. “He will not harm you if you do not wish to harm him.”

Okay, where did this misunderstanding come from? Shen Qingqiu will absolutely harm someone if they pose even the mildest of threats to him. It's in his character! It's in his backstory! Shang Qinghua may not be that much of a threat (privately, he thinks he's not a threat at all), but he is still one! He's not going to be able to complete the mission and Hard Mode looks like the recipe for a horrible death.

“This one understands,” Shang Qinghua says, defeated. His king makes a vague, indecipherable noise, then sits beside him. Shang Qinghua is not sure what that is supposed to accomplish. “When is, uh, Junshang–”

Three polite knocks. His king nods at him, straightens up, and Shang Qinghua follows his lead. The servants open the door, and like some shitty live adaptation of an equally shitty novel that tries so hard to raise the viewers’ anticipation, the Emperor walks in.

The northern palace is as stunning as the novel described it to be. It is winter in its harshest and most dangerous form; snow covering the mountains and fields in sharp white, and ice sheets over the wide, imposing lakes and lagoons. High stone walls to block off most of the wind, larger windows to maximize the sunlight, pathways designed to never freeze. It is clear that the north's inhabitants have long since adapted and thrive in the cold, having either increased thermal regulation or wearing specialized furs and wools to keep themselves from freezing.

As a Heavenly Demon, Shen Yuan is quite resistant to the cold. He does not technically need to wear more layers, provided that his blood and qi will automatically react to the environment and start cycling more heat through his body. He'll feel like it's a gentle rainy day rather than an extremely cold winter night.

He still wears one of the fur cloaks– oddly similar to the one he was wearing when he and Mobei-Jun first had tea, as Ming Fan pointed out. What, sue him! It's warm and comfortable and makes him blend in with the crowd. Well, except for the glowing mark on his forehead and the accessories Ming Fan insisted he absolutely needed to wear. An overkill, sure, but it's sweet that his attendant looks after him so well.

“Junshang,” one of the servants greets him, bowing low enough that Shen Yuan briefly worries for their back. “Everything has been prepared. Mobei-Jun is waiting for you. Please, allow me to lead you.”

Shen Yuan accepts, a little confused at the over-the-top reverence, but he supposes it has to be caution. Best to overdo it and degrade your dignity then underdo it at the cost of your life. Not that Shen Yuan is planning to kill them.

The sitting room in the northern palace is distinctly different from the sitting rooms in... well, his palace. Might as well just accept that it's his palace now. Shen Yuan has definitely modified it enough. It's colder here, so there is a fire roaring in one corner, and more warmly lit. There are also plants. Lots of plants native to the north– hm, maybe Shen Yuan can request to take samples before he returns...?

“Junshang,” Mobei-Jun says, as cold as he usually is. Shen Yuan has spent enough time with him to note his tension, however. “It is. An honor to have you here.”

Shen Yuan’s eyebrows raise at the sudden pleasantries. Mobei-Jun never does that, even when requesting for enforcements against a beast attack. “The honor is all mine, Mobei-Jun,” he says politely, sitting down opposite the lord.

He notices, then, the other person in the room. Pale, and looking at him with much horror. Shen Yuan blinks. He certainly looks familiar; perhaps from one of the demons he just met, but his qi doesn't have that demonic sharpness to it. Hm. He accepts the cup of tea offered to him and takes a sip.

“This is Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says straightforwardly.

Shen Yuan swallows before he can choke. “Ah,” he says. Shang Qinghua turns even paler. So that's the traitor of Cang Qiong and the demon realm. Shen Yuan will have to deal with him swiftly and firmly.

[User002 has unlocked Hidden Quest: ‘A Bro!’. Reward: A bro who knows! ( ᵘ ᵕ ᵘ ⁎)]

What kind of quest is that? Shen Yuan side eyes the system.

“And,” Mobei-Jun continues, trudging on despite their reactions, “he's mine.”

Wait, what?

Chapter Text

Shang Qinghua is fairly certain that he’s blacked out the past few minutes, because Mobei-Jun and Shen Qingqiu are discussing– blue-clawed jackals and snow hares? He isn’t sure when they started talking about snow hares. He isn’t even sure when he took a cup of tea, because there is one in his hands, and he doesn’t know how it got there.

“There are hares in the human realm as well,” Mobei-Jun is saying, “Shang Qinghua raised some.”

Shang Qinghua is not quite sure if he should be touched that Mobei-Jun remembers that he had rabbits when he was still an inner disciple, from one of the system’s missions that included sabotaging a senior disciple’s work, or alarmed that Shen Qingqiu’s attention is returned to him. He swallows. Yep. Definitely terrified. Not a threat all.

[Mission Progress: 10%. Suspicion Rating: 85%.]

Holy shit. Fuck! How did it get that high??? Shang Qinghua hasn’t even said anything! He was just sitting here! Blacking out! What did he do to earn that much suspicion?

[Suspicion Rating is within Character: Shen Qingqiu’s parameters.]

Not helping. Not helping at all!

“Oh?” Shen Qingqiu says with a gentle smile. What! OOC! OOC! Shen Qingqiu doesn’t gently smile or whatever that is! System, what is going on?

Ignoring Shang Qinghua’s justified panic, Shen Qingiu continues. Of course he does. “I am afraid I am not well-versed in the human realm’s beasts. Perhaps Shang Qinghua can enlighten this one?”

Liar liar, pants on fire, Shang Qinghua thinks. What not well-versed! Shen Qingqiu lived in the human realm! Although if his backstory is what Shang Qinghua believes it is, then it is somewhat truthful. Somewhat.

...he’s still smiling. System!!! This is terrifying!

[...Issuing maintenance check. Progress: 1%.]

Okay. Okay. You do you, System. Shang Qinghua puts on his best game smile.

“Aha, I’m not really knowledgeable about beasts in general.” Okay, that’s the truth. “That’s the specialty of my shidi–” Fuck, why did he have to add that? Put up a bigger target on Cang Qiong, why don’t you? “–and he shared some of his knowledge with me! Uh, I took care of rabbits, not hares. Rabbits are smaller than hares, and they live in groups, as compared to hares which tend to be solitary animals. But there are also hares in the human realm! Just more commonly found in the wild than domesticated.”

“Interesting,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Mobei-Jun brightens, looking pleased. “Your shidi must be Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Beast Peak Lord, then.”

Aw fuck. Busted. Looks like Shen Qingqiu already knows. RIP to this author. It was a good run.

“Haha, uh, yes!” Get it together, Shang Qinghua. Stop looking like a deer in headlights. “Uh, this one is Cang Qiong’s An Ding Peak Lord. My apologies; this one did not mean any offense.” There!

Mobei-Jun shifts, a little uneasy. Shen Qingqiu makes a point of softening, and Shang Qinghua watches with some amazement as his king untenses. What is this sorcery? System???

[Progress: 10%.]

It’s taking too long! Shang Qinghua is going to be one dead author if he doesn’t–

“May I have a private word with Peak Lord Shang?” Shen Qingqiu asks, all gentle lines and soft smiles, hiding all of his venom behind the vicious green of his gaze. Haha. Shang Qinghua is dead. There’s no surviving this one. 

“Um–”

“I give my word that he will not be harmed.”

Um? What? Wait, can Shang Qinghua actually survive this? Shen Qingqiu never goes back on his word! At least he wrote that. But his novel’s Shen Qingqiu has never smiled (!!!) so... He casts a panicked gaze at his king.

Mobei-Jun visibly hesitates, then nods in assent. “This one,” he starts, then stops. He looks at Shen Qingqiu like he wants to prove something, to carve his next words in stone that not even the ruination of time can erode it. “I trust him.”

Shang Qinghua is fairly sure he stopped breathing at some point.

Something in Shen Qingqiu sharpens. “That is why I need to make sure,” he says calmly. There is a brittleness and bitterness to him, one that Shang Qinghua knows is there, only present if the demon emperor’s history is laid out front. “I understand, Mobei-Jun.”

His king nods his head sharply. “Junshang,” he says, bowing. He hesitates, patting Shang Qinghua on the head— which is, what? “Shang Qinghua.”

Then he leaves Shang Qinghua all alone with his villain son, aka the demon emperor, aka someone who can and will definitely kill him.

Shen Qingqiu takes a sip of his tea, calm and slow, like a viper before the strike. Shang Qinghua drinks his tea so he at least has something to do.

Then.

“Proud Immortal Demon Way,” Shen Qingqiu says.

Shang Qinghua drops his tea cup. 

Aha! Shen Yuan looks on smugly as Shang Qinghua splutters. Another transmigrator! That’s why the system calls him User002 rather than User001.

[User002 did very well! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )]

“I– I– what!” Shang Qinghua blinks, then brightens up. “Wait, are you a fan? I never thought I’d find one here!”

Shen Yuan’s brain shuts down for a brief moment. “You’re Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky?! You wrote this absolutely shitty novel?!”

His demon instincts spark, leaving behind just enough coherence to cast an array to block intruders and sound. Then, despite all his efforts of control, the emperor of the demon realm flies into a rage.

“I can’t believe you– your settings don’t make sense! The demon realm is a lawless, chaotic place? Excuse you, it’s perfectly hospitable! There is an established culture and trade! The demon lords just go with what I say! The beasts are tame and not aggressive at all! The succubi cave you wrote in Chapter 1931 is just full of ill succubi because the flow of qi there is horrid! Why did the protagonist have to endure that many trials??? Why did he have to have sex so many times when he could just fix it by moving one misplaced rock? Everyone just accepted me without question, and hell, I’m even more suspicious because I don’t know which lineage I’m from! Why did the protagonist need to get two moonshine flowers from that cursed mountain when they grow like fucking weeds in the southern palace? That he conquered three chapters ago! Also, why was Ming Fan written like a horrible brat? He’s a sweet boy! Caring! Competent! How dare you–”

Shang Qinghua cowers for a moment– serves him right, he’s that shitty author who wrote a shitty, porn-infested novel of six thousand chapters with plot holes and character inconsistencies everywhere–

Then. 

“Peerless Cucumber?!” Shang Qinghua chokes, wide-eyed. “You’re Shen Qingqiu?!”

[Hidden Quest: ‘A Bro!’ completed! Rewards: a bro who knows! ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ Congratulations, User002!]

Chapter Text

Mo Yi’s blood runs cold when she feels the Emperor's qi surge, flooding the entire northern palace with such effortlessness. It isn’t quite true rage, but it is still close to anger. Annoyance, perhaps? Whatever the cause is, Mo Yi has a duty to do, to fulfill her late master’s wish: the safety of his child.

“Mobei-Jun,” she calls, her voice loud in the deafening silence. Not one servant is able to speak, still and tense under the Emperor’s vexation. To her relief, her lord is not in the room with the Emperor, waiting outside with growing agitation.

Mobei-Jun turns to her, barely, but the way his qi moves speaks of his restlessness. Ah. He had brought his intended with him– a rather surprising move, especially with the Emperor’s tolerance or intolerance of humans still unknown. If that is the case, then his intended is likely in danger, or under interrogation; Mo Yi feels a sliver of sympathy, but it is not like they can interrupt the Emperor.

Not just because of his position and power, but because of the strong array warding intruders off.

It takes a while for the Emperor’s qi to recede. Mo Yi straightens up– since when had she kept herself in a defensive posture– and cautiously stands beside Mobei-Jun. He does not say anything, but neither does he turn her away.

Finally, the array glows, then dissipates. Mobei-Jun at least has the patience not to destroy the door in his haste, settling between opening it calmly and flinging it wide open. Mo Yi peers in, unashamed. There isn’t the smell of blood, or the sight of a one-sided fight. The room looks untouched; there is not a sign of the Emperor killing Mobei-Jun’s beau and discarding his body away.

The Emperor is scowling, his gentle features turned to one of displeasure. The human– Shang Qinghua, she’s heard Mobei-Jun use it as an excuse to leave the palace enough times– does not seem affected, looking sheepish instead of frightened.

“Junshang,” Mobei-Jun’s voice carries over to the hallway, sounding upset. “Is something wrong?”

The Emperor sighs, relaxing back into the seats with a rather undignified huff. “Nothing,” he says, then clears his throat. “My apologies for the disturbance. I was rather agitated of Peak Lord Shang’s subpar literary choices.”

The statement is emphasized with a glare. Shang Qinghua does not quiver, shooting up in indignation. “Hey!” he protests. “They were fine! The readers liked it!”

“Calling it fine is an insult to all literature ever created,” the Emperor sneers. “I was one of the readers, and I loathed it.”

“Yeah, but you’re a huge outlier, bro,” Shang Qinghua says, clearly possessing a spine of steel to talk back to the Emperor. “I’ve never had anyone write literal paragraphs expressing their disappointment, writing out theories, and gushing over– okay, okay! Shutting up right now! No need for violence!”

Mo Yi does not quite follow what their conversation is about. She is, first and foremost, a warrior, and that has left little time to explore other avenues of knowledge apart from combat. Still, Mobei-Jun is relaxing, seeming more at ease with each word uttered.

Mo Yi lurks for a little longer, then, upon finding that the danger has passed, she slips away.

“Bro,” Airplane says, once they’re alone after Mobei-Jun had official matters to tend to and left them with some sort of contentment. “I still can’t believe you’re Shen Qingqiu! Like, you were the one calling for his castration the most, and now you’re him!”

“Don’t remind me,” Shen Yuan grimaces, remember the vitriol he wrote and sent as a comment in one of the revenge arc chapters. “I still can’t believe you. Well. At least you’re a character destined to die, like I am.” He definitely would flip if Airplane transmigrated into someone like Mu Qingfang.

Airplane deflates. “Ugh. Right. Well, it’s not too bad these days, after I got over the initial missions. Wait, you have a system too, right? And missions?”

“Yep,” Shen Yuan says, checking over the system. “Mine is called quests, not missions. Speaking of which– do you know what a coronation ceremony is? For demon emperors?”

Airplane blinks. “Uh. Wait, really? You’re going to have a coronation ceremony?” he asks, disbelieving. Shen Yuan gives him a look. “Right! Well, my original idea was to have this ceremony that establishes the emperor’s power, yada yada, so they sit on the throne and wait if someone wants to fight them for the position. It got scrapped off because I didn’t know where to put it.”

Well, shit. Shen Yuan has to fight people? In front of all the demons? No thank you! Nope! Maybe he could scrap that off.

“Anyway,” Airplane continues, undeterred. “I am kinda surprised, ‘cause in my original draft, Shen Qingqiu never held the ceremony. That’s why he could be ousted that easily–”

“Wait, what?” Shen Yuan blinks. “Seriously? Wait, why do I need to do this, then? System!”

[('. • ᵕ •. `) Yes, User002?]

“Don’t play dumb! Why do I need to go through all of this if it never happened in the novel?”

[User002’s mission is to make ‘Proud Immortal Demon Way’ into a high-quality, magnificent, first-rate classic! ( • ᴗ - ) ✧]

That doesn’t explain anything at all!

[This system assigns quests according to User002’s decisions! Since the demon realm’s Satisfaction Rate is 81%, Act III: ‘The demon emperor’s coronation’ is given instead of Act III: ‘The demon realm’s unrest’, which requires a rebellion. With User002’s Satisfaction Rate, it is much more difficult to incite a rebellion than it is to hold the coronation ceremony!]

“Huh.” 

“Why? What did it say?” Airplane asks, curious.

Shen Yuan slumps over. “Turns out the satisfaction rate is high so it’s harder for a rebellion to sprout up.” He frowns. “What gives, though? I kept doing as I please without regarding any of their wishes. I’m pretty sure some of them are angry at me, considering how they kept trying to get me out of my office and give me weird plants and things– wait– stop laughing, you hack author!”

Airplane is howling. “Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Bro! Bro, I can’t believe this– so that’s why the demons kept like, looking at you so weirdly! And giving you food! That’s like, one of the courting pr– Holy– Cucumber-bro, did you start a harem?”

“What harem!” Shen Yuan is getting a headache. The hack author is still laughing. “Stop laughing!”

Shen Yuan smacks him with his fan, feeling sharp satisfaction when Airplane yelps. “What harem,” he grumbles. “How can it be a harem when they want to kill me, and they’re all for the protagonist, anyway–”

“Aw,” Airplane says. “Poor demons. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but poor them. Anyway, back to the important things: do you know how JJK ended? If not that, then how One Piece ended?”

“Yes,” Shen Yuan says, irritated. “They all die.”

Airplane blinks. “Huh. Wait, really? That doesn’t sound right at all.”

“I will tell Mobei-Jun that you’re a spy.” Shen Yuan wouldn’t. “I really will.”

Airplane shuts up. Then, “Bro, are you mothering my king so hard right now? Wait, does that make you the mother and me the father, since I created them and– ow, ow!”

Chapter Text

Ming Fan has many duties to attend to, among them a very irritating nuisance that is a cause of his many headaches. It is not to the point of disdain– regrettably– but it is still very annoying.

“I won the fight!” Sha Hualing is saying, face the picture of grievance. Ming Fan wants to tell her that it was a draw, considering he had his claws ready to rip her head off while she had a sword at his neck, but that would take more of his time. He’s running late as it is.

“Miss Sha,” he says, trying his best to muster the composure the Emperor possesses in spades. “Perhaps this can wait until later? I have to attend to Junshang.”

Sha Hualing scowls. “I know Junshang is not here! He’s in the northern palace. If you were listening to me, then you’d know why I came here!”

Ugh.

Ming Fan wishes he isn’t carrying scrolls so he can physically throw the other demon out of the window. He eyes the land with a calculative look; she’d survive the fall. Hm.

Sha Hualing seems to notice his inattention and stalks closer to him. “I won the fight,” she insists. “So you have to tell Junshang that I’m requesting a spar with him! He’s going to listen to you, ‘cause you’re, like, his son by now–”

“That doesn’t count!” Ming Fan protests, ignoring her senseless rambles. “I never agreed to your terms, only that I would fight you!” 

“Ugh! Why are you so annoying?” Sha Hualing looks a second away from ripping her hair out. Ming Fan will gladly do that for her. Bitch. “Just one fight! That’s all I ask! Is it really that hard to request something? You’re with him almost everyday!”

“I am not going to waste his time wit–”

“What, you’d rather have him be with those ridiculous things out there?” Sha Hualing snaps.

Ming Fan tries not to recall every horrible word that came out of those demons’ mouths and the pile of equally horrible gifts that reside in one of the storage rooms. Okay, so what if he’d rather have the Emperor fight Sha Hualing than entertain those... those parasites? That doesn’t mean anything, because the Emperor will never know that those demons exist.

Argh! Fine! Fine.

“Fine. On one condition,” Ming Fan says.

Sha Hualing opens her mouth, presumably to protest that he isn’t in any position to make demands. He is, in fact, in a position to make many demands. She’s the one who wants something from him. Well, from the Emperor, but through him.

“Fight those things out there,” Ming Fan says. “Make sure they don’t return. Say something like only those who can beat you can try to court Junshang. If anyone questions your authority, just mention that it came from me.”

The Emperor made sure that the palace defers to Ming Fan when he is away, trusting him wholeheartedly. Ming Fan is honored by that trust. He feels a sliver of guilt, knowing that he’s taking advantage of it– but it is for the Emperor. Better weed out the unqualified leeches before telling the Emperor about them. (Ming Fan is never going to willingly tell the Emperor about them.)

“Oh, that’s it?” Sha Hualing perks up. “Nice. I’ve seen some haughty lords in the line– that would be really funny. Okay, I’ll do that, and in return...?”

“I’ll tell Junshang that you’re requesting a spar with him,” Ming Fan sighs. “If he accepts is another story entirely. I can help you, but no promises.”

Sha Hualing nods decisively. “That’s all I am asking.”

She begins to leave, pauses, then walks back. “Okay so, I may or may not have borrowed all of the third and fourth volumes from the book series you’re reading– in my defense, if I actually did that, you were annoying.”

Ming Fan blinks, the scrolls still in his arms. Sha Hualing’s sprinting through the hallway before he finally processes her words. “B–”

The Emperor will understand if he takes one of the scrolls and beats Sha Hualing with it. He will. He certainly will.

Scowling, he turns to the meeting room with renewed purpose. Later. He’ll hunt her down and fight her with a scroll later.

Shen Yuan travels back to the palace with vigor. Airplane was very helpful; after he’d gotten over whatever it was that made him laugh like a dying banshee, he provided some much needed knowledge.

The good news is, he’s sure he can begin the preparations right away. With fifty-five days until the quest deadline, too!

The bad news is, he’s going to have to fight to prove his worth. In front of all the demons. Unless no one wants to fight him for the throne, which is highly unlikely, no matter what the system says about satisfaction ratings or whatever.

He may have to practice secretly, he thinks. Shen Yuan relied on his beasts for the most part, directing them to fight instead of going into the fray himself. It provides much needed enrichment for them, ensures that their skills and instincts don’t deteriorate, and feeds them for days. He very carefully doesn’t think about what they fed on.

Mobei-Jun might be able to spar with him, but he is also busy preparing for his ascension ceremony. Airplane is a Peak Lord, so surely, he can– well, Shen Yuan would rather not, because Airplane is currently human and unable to regenerate any lost limbs. Best to be careful of who he fights.

Worst case scenario, he’ll just practice on his own. Or hunt down some wild beasts left in the realm. He’d like to stay in the palace, though, because he still has a lot left to do. 

Well, better a problem he can solve than a problem he does not know how to tackle. Humming, he smiles as finally catches sight of the palace, bustling with movement. There is a sudden influx of visitors– he’ll have to ask Ming Fan what they’re there for.

[Act III: ‘The demon emperor’s coronation’ Progress: 20%! Hehe (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)]

Hehe? System, what the heck is that?

Chapter Text

“Zhangmen-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang greets. He looks over the table– ah. The rest of the peak lords are not yet present; Yue Qingyuan is simply early. “Perhaps you’d like some herbal tea? Qian Cao recently obtained a good batch from our greenhouses.”

Yue Qingyuan shakes his head, his affable and polite smile fixed on his face. “Many thanks, shidi,” he says kindly, “but this one has not finished the set of teas from the last meeting.”

Hm, that was a while ago. Perhaps Yue Qingyuan is not drinking them as often as Mu Qingfang likes, but then again, the sect leader does look better these days. His normally wan complexion is a little brighter, although the ever-present grief still weighs on his shoulders.

At least, Mu Qingfang thinks optimistically, he’s learning how to move past his grief. The months, no, years after Yue Qingyuan subdued Xuan Su were brutal. The sect leader is making progress, no matter how slow it seems.

Mu Qingfang nods and moves to his seat. It’s unlikely that they will have the complete roster today; Wan Jian is busy with their annual cleaning of their halls, Xuan Shu with the recent spike of marriage proposals to their flowers, and Qing Jing– well.

The Qing Jing Peak Lord has been absent for the last few months. Family matters, they've been told. With him being a rather distant man, they know little to which the extent that reason is true. Except for the sect leader, perhaps, but Yue Qingyuan doesn't seem that enthused to confirm their theories as he is to soothe their doubts with a few words and a well-placed smile.

The bell on Yue Qingyuan's side of the table rings. Mu Qingfang settles back and watches as the sect leader goes through the motions of formalizing the start of the meeting. He doubts Qian Cao Peak's assistance is required in any of the matters to be discussed, but he keeps an ear out just in case.

They're well into half of the meeting when Shang Qinghua bursts in, wild-eyed and late, but lacking the signs of anxiety Mu Qingfang has observed in his shixiong since their head disciple days. He stumbles over his excuse, dropping a pile of paperwork on the table, before sheathing his sword haphazardly.

Beside him, Liu Qingge winces at the uncoordinated display.

“Just in time, Shang-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says kindly. “Take a moment to calm yourself, we are just finishing up with Qin-shimei's presentation. Shimei, please continue.”

Mu Qingfang is already in the middle of preparing a soothing tea, driven by sheer instinct around Shang Qinghua. “Here, shixiong,” he offers.

Shang Qinghua accepts it, sipping slowly– Mu Qingfang is glad he's not downing it like one would with alcohol– as their shimei discusses her part.

When his turn comes, Shang Qinghua proceeds to the discussion with great enthusiasm. So great that Mu Qingfang feels how the peak lords’ qi fluctuates in surprise.

There is something about silk, then ink stones, then Mu Qingfang's request for extra glass bottles, then furniture for the newly constructed pavilion in Qiong Ding, and then Shang Qinghua pauses to check his notes.

“You are... chipper,” Liu Qingge notes. His eyes are narrowed in thought. “What happened?”

Shang Qinghua blinks at him, taken aback. “Ah? Oh, I just came from my leave–” Quality rest then, Mu Qingfang thinks. “–and I met someone.” Or maybe not.

Liu Qingge parses the sentence out. “You met someone,” he repeats. “Are you courting–”

“Oh, no! No!” Shang Qinghua vigorously shakes his head, a hint of his usual anxiety creeping over. Mu Qingfang gives Liu Qingge a look; his shixiong, thankfully, only bristles and settles back. “I just– well. It's an old friend of mine! I didn't think I'd ever get to talk about– well, talk to him again.”

The quiet nostalgia and longing disappears as quickly as it came. Mu Qingfang hands him another cup of soothing tea, taking the initiative to add a spoon of honey this time, as is Shang Qinghua’s preference. His shixiong thanks him and gulps the whole thing down, much to Mu Qingfang’s chagrin.

“Slowly. Slowly, Shang-shixiong,” Mu Qingfang instructs dryly. Shang Qinghua does this thing he calls a ‘thumbs up’, meant to indicate his approval or understanding. Gestures make communication faster– Mu Qingfang has appropriated it to his peak, especially for his disciples with long shifts.

“Right! Uh, where was I– oh, yeah, uh– the wood! Liu-shidi, your order from last time arrived. Is it possible to trouble some of your disciples to get it from An Ding?”

Liu Qingge nods. Part of his disciples’ training is carrying the materials and assembling their training dummies themselves. It teaches them to handle the dummies better, Liu Qingge explained. The disciples do learn, evidenced by the decreasing frequency of Bai Zhan Peak's requests for new training dummies, as Shang Qinghua's report goes.

“Oh, and zhangmen-shixiong, the porcelain vases–”

Yue Qingyuan's smile is dim. Mu Qingfang startles a little, unsure just when the misery rose on the sect leader’s face. Nonetheless, Yue Qingyuan's tone is patient and perfectly even. “Many thanks, Shang-shidi.”

Mu Qingfang prepares another cup of soothing tea. Decisively, he makes another. Keeping one for himself, he pushes the second cup in Yue Qingyuan's direction.

Everything is going swimmingly. The preparations are already underway, with the palace finally fully renovated. Shen Yuan rechecks the arrays to make sure they're working as intended, then adds a few more floating fire lanterns to make sure everything is lit up. They don't take much of his qi, anyway.

“Ming-xiong, which of these drapes should go in the throne room?” a passing servant asks, looking increasingly stressed. “The black ones blend too much with the stone, the red ones show too much, maybe the blue? Wait no, uh–”

“The dark red ones. They're in the other box,” Ming Fang answers. “The statues–? Oh, they're already polished. The carpets, where are they–”

Shen Yuan makes himself scarce. He really has to give Ming Fang a raise or a vacation. His attendant is truly capable and competent! For his part, Shen Yuan just has to ensure that the palace is virtually indestructible just in case someone tries to destroy it, and make himself presentable and ready.

His royal court is already signed, the members informed. Mobei-Jun looked pleased, and personally gave him a book of the past rulers of the north with their consorts. Shen Yuan is not sure what message that is supposed to send, but a book is a book, so he accepts it gratefully.

The training grounds are clear of any visitors, thankfully. With a sigh, he unsheathes his sword– a plain one the original goods was using before Shen Yuan woke up as him– and runs through some sword drills for a good shichen.

“Junshang!” Ming Fan's voice calls just as Shen Yuan sheathes his sword. A quick turn shows that his attendant is right outside of the ring meant for spars, eyeing the array on the ground warily. “I apologize for bothering you– but Miss Sha asked me to forward her request. She wants a spar with you, but she does understand if Junshang is too busy–”

Huh. Wait.

Sha Hualing want to fight him? Why? Shen Yuan didn’t push through with a marriage proposal! He's sure he didn’t do anything to offend her!

Also isn't fighting basically courting for demons? Why would Sha Hualing want to do that? Shen Yuan doesn't want to court her! She's a beautiful and smart lady and all, but she's one of the protagonist’s wives! Shen Yuan doesn't want that death flag, no thank you!

Although, that poses a risk with his coronation so close. If word were to get out, then wouldn't it cause trouble? Make people think that he's unqualified? He's stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

Okay. Well, he has no choice. As long as he makes sure that this is not a courting spar, then it should be fine. Hopefully.

“Okay,” he says. “Tomorrow at this time will be fine.”

Ming Fan blinks at him. “Ah. Yes, Junshang.”

Chapter Text

Sha Hualing grins with excitement, twirling the spear in her hands.

Ming Fan looks at her with the most annoyance she has ever seen from him, and because she routinely accompanies her father to meetings, she's seen a lot.

“One shichen,” he says. “Just one shichen of sparring. It ends when the bell rings, and not a second more.”

Sha Hualing huffs. “Yes, I understand. I heard you the first time.”

Ming Fan looks at her sternly. “One shichen,” he repeats. “Junshang still has to prepare for the coronation–”

Sha Hualing rolls her eyes, retracting her spear so she can sheathe it. “I know! I know. You've told me several times already. I get it. No destroying the palace intentionally and no asking for a longer spar. It's kinda touching that you think I would last an entire shichen with a Heavenly Demon, much less the Emperor, you know.”

Expectedly, Ming Fan bares his teeth. Its effect is diminished by the fact that he looks like a frazzled raccoon, clearly busy over the preparations for the coronation ceremony. Honestly, Sha Hualing had thought she would have to fight the Emperor during the ceremony itself. It's likely for the best that she doesn't.

“I hope you trip and eat shit on your way to the training grounds,” Ming Fan tells her.

“Aw.” Sha Hualing obnoxiously ruffles his hair, neatly avoiding the swipe of his claws. “Thank you for this, by the way! I'm going to give you so many books later! Wait for me at the library!”

Sha Hualing wants it known that she, in fact, did not trip and eat shit on her way to the training grounds. The journey there is pretty uneventful, her uncontrollably growing excitement notwithstanding. There is an obvious lack of servants and messengers coming and going on this side of the palace; the Emperor either has been using the training grounds frequently, or he has it cleared out in preparation for the spar.

A spar! With him! She's going to talk her father's ear off when she gets back. When, not if. She'll definitely lose, but she thinks she can struggle to survive whatever the Emperor throws at her. Hm.

“Ah, Miss Sha.” The Emperor's voice is calm and smooth. He is wearing less layers than usual– just two layers, in fact. The demons would have a field day over such a scandal. The Emperor was never seen without at least six layers on his person, not including his accessories.

Well. Sha Hualing does not care for that. She cares about fighting him, not ogling him like the ones Ming Fan has been trying to nudge her to kill ‘accidentally’. A rather violent display, coming from the normally level-headed attendant. Sha Hualing isn't complaining.

“My thanks for answering me on such short notice,” the Emperor is saying. His sword is still sheathed, but not hoisted on his hip like usual. “Whenever you're ready.”

Sha Hualing brings out her spear, readying it. “How will this go, Junshang? First blood?” she asks. Hopefully not first blood; it would be over too soon. She is going to make the most out of this.

The Emperor hums thoughtfully. “First blood,” he decides. Sha Hualing tries not to look disappointed. “You have a shichen; the spar does not end until you draw my blood or the bell rings.”

Oh? If it were any other demon, Sha Hualing would laugh and call them arrogant. Then again, this is the Emperor, and she has grown hearing stories of greatness and terror about Heavenly Demons. His own judgment, perhaps.

Sha Hualing just has to prove to him that she's worthy.

The Emperor draws his sword. It is a plain-looking thing, of common steel and adorned with a simple hilt. Not like a sword worthy of someone of the Emperor's stature at all. He curiously strikes it in the air once, a distinct oddness in his actions.

There is power behind the swing, and it is definitely practiced, but something about it seems off–

“I did not get many opportunities to use it,” the Emperor explains, still testing the weight of his sword. Ah. Well, yeah, Sha Hualing thinks. If the Emperor can level entire mountain ranges with a single swipe of qi and cause massive fires with a snap of his fingers, then he would not need to draw his sword at all. Huh. Wait, does this mean–

 “Forgive me if I am rather rusty.”

Hell yes! Sha Hualing could've cheered. She's probably one of the first to witness the Emperor fight with his sword and hopefully live to tell the tale.

“Whenever you're ready,” the Emperor repeats.

Sha Hualing takes that as an invitation and strikes first.

Holy shit! Sha Hualing, calm down a bit–

Shen Yuan is thankful that he isn't forced back by the power behind her strike, weaving to one side to dodge then counter her blow. She is definitely powerful and tactical. As expected of one of the protagonist’s top three wives! In terms of power, theoretically, and screen time.

She is enthusiastic and eager, too. Shen Yuan is hoping she doesn't get disappointed or something. He's far too used to using his qi instead of using his physical prowess. It's not his fault, okay. Qi techniques are just too OP! Especially when used by a Heavenly Demon. Why exhaust himself when he can just snap his fingers, manipulate his qi, and obtain the same result?

Okay, so maybe it's a teensy tiny bit his fault. Shen Yuan is trying to make up for those mistakes! He is doing his best! The original goods masqueraded as a spiritual cultivator, so it makes sense for him to focus on spiritual techniques!

Not focusing on the fight is a very bad mistake. Shen Yuan knows that, but he needs to distract himself from the fact that he's currently fighting one of the protagonist’s wives! In the novel, this is equivalent to a death sentence! As the scum villain, Shen Yuan already has many death flags raised, but what if this leads to a more horrible death?

Sha Hualing keeps aiming for his weak spots. Shen Yuan pivots, shifting his center of mass so he can dodge more easily. It doesn't seem fair if he uses his qi when she's only using her spear; demons might like to play dirty, but this is an honorable spar, not some life and death kind of battle–

The bell rings. Shen Yuan doesn't pause, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Bells ring. Not the one signaling the end of the spar– oh, how clever. “A sound-based technique?” he asks, curious. It doesn't seem similar to a siren's call or something a bird beast would use to disarm their prey, but it is almost successful in throwing him off balance.

Sha Hualing only grins at him. “Junshang is truly knowledgeable,” she says between lunges of her spear. Shen Yuan dodges. “Although, he seems to be underestimating this one since he's not using his qi.”

“Ah.” That must be a misstep, or an insult. Shen Yuan definitely didn't do it to offend her, really! He's just trying to practice fighting with his sword! “Miss Sha–”

“That's okay,” Sha Hualing smiles, her teeth all bared. “This lowly one will just have to force Junshang to use it.”

Chapter Text

Sha Hualing can sense that she's losing herself to her hunger for victory. It feels exhilarating, addicting; the way she can strike this way and that without overthinking, the way she analyzes her next moves and plans for new traps, the way she can employ creative tricks– the fight just goes on and on and on, without an end in sight.

She loves it. Her body screams at her for rest and to push herself further, her mind wanting for a chance to slow down and to act out a new tactic immediately. She is burning her qi through an alarming rate, and it is slowing her down, but she does not care. She grins, and she knows it looks feral; she feels feral, a beast uncaged and unleashed for the first time in its years.

The Emperor looks unaffected, as he always does– but there is a tension to him now, a slight furrow in his brow. He is, for most part, on the defensive, relying on his sword and physical strength to keep him at bay. She knows he can do more. She knows he can defeat her, soundly, and not waste a breath.

She knows she can force her to show more of his hand, not just this passive song and dance. She knows she can do it.

She throws her spear like a javelin and rushes forward, finally letting her demonic qi break through. Claws miss the Emperor’s arm, just barely, but she catches on to his sword. The blade is too weak to pierce through the hardened skin of her claws, so she uses it to create momentum and drags it forward. 

The Emperor breaks her hold easily, immediately attempting to put more distance between them.

Sha Hualing’s hand flexes. Behind the Emperor, her spear trembles, flickering in the air, then switches direction, aiming to return to her hand at incredible speed. A proper spiritual weapon, unlike the basic one the Emperor is using. Sha Hualing is not above taking advantage of that.

The Emperor catches on to her plan, and takes to dodging her spear first before refocusing on her. Sha Hualing uses that moment to lunge again, this time aiming for his chest– and she misses again, but the fabric is there, and if she hooks her fingers, she can grasp it then make him bleed–

The Emperor's qi finally moves, and he blasts her away. Not a complete victory, but a victory still. She grins, panting, and pushes all her power to one strike. It's been almost a shichen already. A final end to this, and a grand one.

She will keep her promise; she won't ask for a longer spar, but the destruction of the palace... well, a broken wall or floor is to be expected, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Junshang,” Sha Hualing is saying for the umpteenth time.

“It is alright, Miss Sha,” Shen Yuan repeats. “It is a spar. This is an expected consequence; it is my fault that I did not have the foresight of bringing a change of clothes.”

Sha Hualing purses her lips. Still, she can’t hide her exhilaration from the battle, glowing despite the bruises and nicks all over her body. Shen Yuan originally feels bad, but then he remembers the claws coming for his face and missing by mere centimeters, and promptly tells himself that it was for his own survival.

Sha Hualing did not get to make him bleed– luckily for him. She did, however, get him to use one of his qi techniques to prevent himself from falling apart under her claws and another to prevent her from smashing into and destroying a wall of the training grounds. That seems to be an acceptable conclusion for their spar, since Sha Hualing hasn’t complained.

She looks pleased. Hopefully, she isn’t internally dissatisfied by the spar. It was a good fight by Shen Yuan’s standards, although he isn’t an expert on judging fights.

“Will Junshang be amenable to indulging this one for another spar sometime soon?” Sha Hualing asks, clearly hopeful by the tone of her voice. A good sign, Shen Yuan thinks.

“If my schedule permits it,” he says. That sounds like a tactful way to say no, so he clarifies, “I would be delighted to spar with Miss Sha again.”

Sha Hualing smiles, clearly pleased. 

Shen Yuan tries to resist the urge, but her height and hairstyle makes it impossible to. He pats her head, taking great care not to mess up her braids. Not as soft as the servants’ hair, he absently notes. Then again, Sha Hualing likes to fight, and they just sparred.

“Mhm. Sha Hualing is free to request food from the kitchens, if you'd like. Sparring does take up energy,” he says. He fiddles with his robes, trying to work with the ruined fabric. Sha Hualing did not seem to notice in the heat of the spar, but she did tear through both layers, then accidentally ripped it even more when Shen Yuan dodged.

He looks indecent. Incredibly indecent. Shen Yuan huffs, giving up. This is the demon realm, anyway. He's seen demons wearing two pieces of fabric over the chest and crotch areas and no one said a thing! Not even a whisper of how shameless that is. They won't talk about this, either!

“I'm afraid I may not be able to escort Miss Sha around,” he says, apologetic. “I still have to...” He motions to his clothes, growing frustrated when the fabric gets tangled with each other. “Ah. I should not have done that.”

Sha Hualing huffs out a laugh, and Shen Yuan jerks in her direction. She mellows out quickly, shaking her head. “This one can escort Junshang to his room then, as the one who caused this situation,” she offers.

Shen Yuan is about to say yes, then remembers the implications of bringing an unmarried woman to his room, and blushes furiously. “No thank you,” he says as calmly as he can. “That is not necessary. Perhaps if Miss Sha can call for Ming Fan instead–”

Sha Hualing's lips tremble. “Of course,” she agrees easily. “My thanks once again, Junshang.”

Shen Yuan feels like he's lost.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan watches the curtains move, fluttering with the wind. It is a rare, calm day outside, with the roaring beasts and humming insects uncharacteristically quiet. He’s been informed that they are in good health, only that they are sensing a great change in the land and choose to pay their respects with solemnity and reverence.

A load of bull, if Shen Yuan dwells on it enough. He supposes it must have something to do with his qi; he had chosen to stop suppressing it since the day started. A warning, perhaps, or simple acceptance of what is to come. Either way, it is a relief to finally cast out the tight, strict restraints he kept himself in. 

It is still early in the morning, hours away from the ceremony’s start. The servants are bustling about, strangely quiet despite his best attempts to tell them that their chatter is much appreciated in these moments. He resists the urge to shift anxiously, keeping his body still as they pin his robes in place and smooth out the edges.

“Junshang...” a servant says, hesitantly. Wang Jianyu, he remembers, Wang Daiyu’s chatty, energetic, and troublemaking twin brother. He is normally so brazen with his words that his hesitance is much more alarming. “Please stop moving.”

“I’m not moving,” Shen Yuan automatically says. He really isn’t. He’d gone to many fittings for family dinners and other important events, under the scrutinizing eye of his family’s tailor and his eldest brother. He knows that he’s not supposed to move around much!

Though, his outfits, while customized to his measurements and preferences, aren’t as extravagant as this. His robes were found in a hidden room in the palace, near the emperor’s quarters. The original was kept preserved, as Shen Yuan insisted, but the duplicate was altered and adorned with more gold stitching and actual jewels. A complete overkill in Shen Yuan’s opinion, but the seamstresses were having fun, especially once the wages were distributed.

Artistic talent in the demon realm is considered one of a kind and incredibly, incredibly expensive, after all.

“Yes, Junshang,” Wang Jianyu says. Shen Yuan makes a point of staying still, only raising his arms when Wang Jianyu goes to fix his sleeves. The robes are black, darker than ink, making the elaborate, golden embroidery and red under layers pop. Black, red, and gold are the colors they’ve ended up with– now that he thinks about it, he is sure that the original goods wore green and white. Hm. He’s not sure what to do with that thought.

It’s been roughly four hours of this. His hair, which he thought looked absolutely fine and decent by the way, suddenly was abhorrent and the servants spent a good while just combing through it. The headdress was trickier, but they eventually ended up at something they at least thought was respectable since they moved on.

Shen Yuan couldn’t resist moving a little when the mianguan was fixed in place, liking the way the bead strings move. He stopped when he needed to dress– it was a little embarrassing to only be on his inner robes, but then again, this is the demon realm. Who cares if he just wears his inner robes? He regularly wore shorts and a basic shirt before he transmigrated here!

Wang Jianyu carefully attaches the jade pendants, then the necklaces, and the rings. All Shen Yuan has to do is sit still and let himself be dolled up. Easy. Now, his next task is to just walk to the throne all elegant and powerful while everyone is going to stare at him.

Here’s hoping he doesn’t trip, Shen Yuan wishes fervently. Or sneeze. Or walk too fast. Or stumble. Or do something so embarrassing he has to delete himself from the world to recover.

“There,” Wang Jianyu says, clearly pleased. He smiles, dimpled and bright. “You look magnificent, Junshang.”

“Thank you,” Shen Yuan says, walking carefully to inspect himself in front of the mirror. “You did an excellent job, Wang Jianyu.”

Wang Jianyu leaves to help with the other chores after he receives a head pat– strange, all servants seem to wait for that before leaving. Did Shen Yuan somehow condition them that a head pat is a sign for dismissal? Hopefully not. Maybe they just like head pats.

Shen Yuan takes the time to practice walking. It doesn’t seem like he’d trip over his robes, hopefully, or dislodge the mianguan. All ready, appearance-wise. Emotionally, he wants to hide in his room and not move for eternity.

Well. No can do. Shen Yuan heaves a breath, imagining himself exhaling all his tension. He steps out of the room, walking to the doors leading to the throne room.

“Cucumber-bro!” Airplane greets, looking a little frazzled. “So I gotta go really quick, but you’re doing great! The palace is amazing, by the way. And– oh, wow. Bro. Bro, you look amazing.”

“I feel like I’m going to trip and fall on my face,” Shen Yuan blurts out, then slaps his forehead, almost jostling the beads. “Ugh. I want this to be over now.”

Airplane snickers. “Just think of it as a red carpet event or something,” he says.

“This is worse than walking down a red carpet,” Shen Yuan says with feeling. “I’d know.”

Airplane stares at him for a brief moment. “Okay, I’m going to unpack that later,” he decides. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I got you books! Ceremony gifts. You’re going to love them.”

Shen Yuan looks at him. “I hope they aren’t p–”

“No, they’re not,” Airplane reassures him. “Well. Maybe. Anyway, I need to find my king now, good luck!”

Okay, okay, this is happening, this is actually happening– calm down!

[User002 is doing great! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡]

That would be helpful, if Shen Yuan has absolute trust in the system. Which he doesn’t. So he quietly panics as Ming Fan officially starts the ceremony. He has to walk out there. The doors are opening. They’re very cool doors, very Shen Yuan-approved.

Okay! Okay! Too many eyes! Focus on looking in front, not to the side. Haha. Look, cool drapes!

The great hall is wonderfully decorated. The servants have gone above and beyond, under Ming Fan’s scrutinizing guidance. Every inch has been scrubbed and polished to perfection. The drapes are a perfect shade of dark red that complement the stone of the walls and the gold of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Shen Yuan wants to see every detail they’ve added, even if the guests aren’t able to see and appreciate it.

He begins a calm, even pace.

There are many eyes on him, trailing as he walks with as much regality and dignity as he can muster. Okay. Stop looking at them. Look! The throne! A truly elaborate piece, restored to its pristine condition after decades of abandonment. He’s going to sit on that, then he’s the emperor of the demon realm. Officially.

Why is he walking so slow? He can’t walk faster now. He should be proud, right? Genuinely, he’s done so much for the demon realm. Although all of this is going to the protagonist one day, surely, Shen Yuan can cherish it when he can?

Hm. He’s strayed so far from his initial plan of making sure that the protagonist gets an A+ demon realm to work with that he got attached to the realm itself. That is not good. Abort. Abort. Abort!

The throne is so close. Well, here’s hoping no one wants to fight him. Hopefully.

As Shen Yuan sits down, his robes flowing perfectly, he feels... something. His qi resonates with the realm itself, and it feels wonderful. The demons bow, reciting the lines as tradition dictates–

Well, Shen Yuan is attached now. Maybe he should accept this emperor thing. Maybe.

He flicks open the scroll containing the names of his royal court, and reads.

Chapter Text

“Li-xiong, please, there’s no need!”

Luo Binghe smiles, angling his head so the sun bears down on his face instead of casting a shadow over his features. He keeps his lips curved, his expression set in that handsome, kindly look he perfected over the years. There is no need to put on an air of dignity, he thinks; he is here as Li Heng, a traveling scholar with enough knowledge of cultivation to get by, not as Luo Binghe, Cang Qiong’s Qing Jing Peak Lord.

“It’s alright,” he says, pitching his voice a little higher up to push the picture of a cheerful youth further in their minds. He ties his sleeves up, dipping his hands into the mud to help lift the cart wheel out of the unfortunate dip it’s been stuck in. “This one is able to help, so why shouldn’t I?”

Song Yi and Xia Mingzhu hurry to assist him, and Luo Binghe lets them. He lets his qi recede back, allowing their combined physical strength to pull the cart up. In his experience, working together to solve a problem leaves a steadier, stronger impression on others than if Luo Binghe were to solve their problem on his own. Good will is different from gratitude, after all.

“The wheel isn’t in bad shape,” Xia Mingzhu observes. “It can last until we arrive at the village! Although, it might be for the best to take some bags to prevent it from collapsing under all of that weight.”

Song Yi accepts her words easily, taking two bags. Following his lead, Luo Binghe takes two as well. No need to show off here– he has no captive audience, and it would only bring suspicion and cause a rift should Song Yi believe that he’s deliberately making him look lackluster. Xia Mingzhu takes one bag, and pushes the cart on.

“We can cut the travel time by three days if we use the shortcut through the tunnels,” Xia Mingzhu suggests. “The road will be a little rockier, but the cart should hold up still.”

Song Yi looks contemplative, clearly tempted to only travel for two days instead of five. Luo Binghe keeps his expression mild, showing a hint of worry but otherwise not saying anything.

“Li-xiong, is there something wrong?” Xia Mingzhu asks.

Perfect. “Ah, I am just a bit worried,” Luo Binghe tells them. “I’ve read of White-Tipped Scorpions and demonic moles and rats residing in this area; the main road has been reported as cleared of beasts, but I’m unsure if the shortcut is.”

“Ah,” Xia Mingzhu gasps. “That reminds me– there were people talking about–”

“The corpses down the river,” Song Yi says, nodding grimly. “It’s best if we stick to the main road. Good catch, Li-xiong.”

The sudden respectful tone takes Luo Binghe off guard. “It’s nothing,” he says, blinking. “I would join you still if you choose the shortcut.”

Song Yi shakes his head. “It’s best to stay cautious,” he says firmly. “Mingzhu, we’ll go on the main road.”

Xia Mingzhu doesn’t complain, agreeing easily despite her initial suggestion. Their travel remains peaceful, and Luo Binghe offers to cook, knowing that food is a good way to endear himself in people’s hearts. They remain in good spirits, even as they’re delayed by one day.

When they arrive in the village, Luo Binghe restrains his qi even further. It is a mixed village, one with both humans and demons coexisting in relative peace. The borderlands are home to many mixed villages, and it is in these villages that merchants get most of their herbs and beast parts from. Cultivators, especially sect cultivators, are infamously banned, due to their tendency to discriminate against those with demon lineage.

Luo Binghe is confident that he can mask himself well to slip under their radar. Apart from Song Yi and Xia Mingzhu vouching for him, he establishes his helpfulness by offering to do menial labor and teaching the children how to read and write. It is easy to make them warm up to him. It always is.

He finds the perfect opportunity to strike, during the demons’ seasonal travels to the demon realm. They are planning to leave earlier than Luo Binghe expects, but it’s fine– he’s already acted out his plan. All that’s left is to reap the rewards.

“Oh, Li-xiong, do you want to join us?” Xia Mingzhu asks, surprised. “I thought you wanted to rest before you returned to your family home.”

“Well, yes,” Luo Binghe admits, putting on that sheepish look that soothed any doubt of his genuineness. “But this is the demon realm! I’ve read so much about it– there are birds that can turn to dragons! Demonic phoenixes, carnivorous plants that sing to lure prey in, plus the different cultures and clans! Is it true that there is a library there?”

Xia Mingzhu’s smile is dimpled, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Yeah! Junshang had the library built and opened to the public. He’s even written books himself. A lot of them! Yi-ge, do you remember the books?”

Song Yi gives them a cursory glance. “Books about the demon realm’s flora and fauna. Comprehensive and illustrated. The library has a borrow and return system for duplicate books. You can borrow some, but after the ceremony.”

“Ceremony?” Luo Binghe narrows in on the word, internally wincing when Song Yi stiffens. “Like a test before I can enter the library? I’m not sure I could pass if it’s fighting, but maybe a knowledge test...”

“There’s no test at all,” Xia Mingzhu assures him. “They’re open to the public! Demons, half-demons, quarter-demons, spirits... and there was one human, too! I forgot their name, but Junshang seemed to like them. Tolerate them, at least.”

“The coronation ceremony,” Song Yi says, cutting Xia Mingzhu’s rambling short. His eyes are sharp, in that bloody red that spoke of his demonic blood, looking at Luo Binghe like they had stripped him of all his masks and found his wretched soul. “The demon realm will bear witness to a new emperor. All demons will be in attendance.”

“It’s so exciting, isn’t it?” Xia Mingzhu chirps. She has her feathers out, styling them to look cute and fluffy. “A coronation ceremony! We haven’t had one in centuries! It’s going to be so grand. Junshang is not one to cut corners, and he’s providing food for all the guests!”

Luo Binghe vaguely remembers that food– giving food, specifically– is a courting practice among demons. The demon realm is one of survival and scarcity, so something as extravagant as a promise to feed all mouths that come to the ceremony will catch anyone’s attention. He doesn’t react with anything other than surprise and curiosity, keeping up the facade even when he’s included in the traveling group.

Song Yi keeps an eye on him. Luo Binghe pretends he does not feel his gaze as he chats and laughs with the younger demons in the group.

The demonic realm is full of demonic qi. Luo Binghe has felt it many times during his travels, but this is the first he felt something so– so inconceivably wonderful, gliding across his skin and meridians with the patience and mild curiosity a divine beast would have to human offerings outside its lair. It is breathtaking, unimaginably dangerous, and absurdly gentle. The demons with him gasp, sounds taken not by force but by reverence. Song Yi’s head lowers as moths surround him, landing on his head in a circle.

“Yi-ge?” Xia Mingzhu exclaims. “That–”

Song Yi nods. “Junshang welcomes all of us,” he says, nodding to Luo Binghe. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The rough, well-worn roads taper into expertly constructed stone roads, making it easier and smoother for the carts to move. In the distance, Luo Binghe can see a towering palace adorned with red silks fluttering in the wind and lanterns hanging from the edges of the roofs. A little closer, stone walls gleam under floating lights, and a tall gate is swung wide open with delicate chimes that play with the breeze. It is a beautiful sight, but he catches on to the arrays engraved into the walls themselves, humming with dense and rich qi.

“The guards will check us,” Song Yi informs the group, removing his hair pin. “It will be over shortly.”

Xia Mingzhu bumps her shoulders with him. Luo Binghe refrains from glowering at the sudden, unwelcome closeness. This is a common happenstance and nothing to worry about. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she murmurs, going breathless as the arrays light up, dazzling in their complexity and age. “Oh, don’t worry about Yi-ge– he acts like a stuck-up, most of the time, but we all know he’s one of the higher-ranked in Junshang’s court. He’ll have permission to bring us in no time.”

“It is wonderful,” Luo Binghe agrees. “There’s so much qi in the air, though. Those lights are plants or beasts, right? There’s so many of them; do they thrive in this kind of environment?”

“Ever the scholar,” Xia Mingzhu teases. “Oh, no– those are flames. There usually isn’t this much qi everywhere. That’s all Junshang’s qi. It feels so nice, right?”

This much can’t be the work of a single person. They’d die of qi depletion soon, if they don’t stop. Well, this is a monumental event. There must be something about demonic traditions that Luo Binghe isn’t aware of, or the person is willing to go this far just for the ceremony. Hm.

He does not say any of that. “It does.” He experimentally waves a hand, feeling a little silly when he only feels air. “Mhm. I thought it would have a physical effect if it’s this much...”

Xia Mingzhu huffs out a laugh. “Never mind that. Look, here!”

Before Luo Binghe can say anything, she gathers one of the floating fires in her palms. It pulses, and for a moment, Luo Binghe prepares for an explosion and strengthens his body. The fire only settles down, spinning around on Xia Mingzhu’s palm like a curious cat.

“Amazing, right?” Xia Mingzhu says, eyes glimmering with the light of the flames. “Junshang made all of these, sustaining them all on his own. They’re protective little things too, look–”

A snap of her fingers, and a thread unspools from her wrist. Luo Binghe does not need to ask what it is; he’s seen it before, a kind of lure demons use to catch prey. He’s proven right when a beast ambles in their direction, feeding on the thread of qi with unmistakable hunger. A demonic crocodile– a seawater variant, perhaps, not a swamp one judging by its coloring– then catches scent of them. Hungry jaws snap wide open, eyes dilating as its large body lunges forward.

The fires flicker, the one on Xia Mingzhu’s palm rising, then they rapidly expand until they form a solid, connected barrier. The beast growls, undeterred by the flames with its gnawing hunger spurring it on. The barrier turns a dark red, qi spilling out of it in waves, enough that Luo Binghe almost thinks that it’s a tangible thing in the air.

The beast cowers, whimpering. The barrier returns to its original color once it flees, then shifts back into those innocuous balls of light. They circle their group, like a mother fussing over her children, then they try to hurry them forward as if telling them to get to safety.

“Protective,” Xia Mingzhu repeats, patting one of the fires. They seem to realize that the danger has passed, and return to their original positions. “Ah, Yi-ge is back! That was quick.”

Song Yi returns, a frown on his face. “Stop playing around, Mingzhu,” he says sternly. He ignores her protests, and pushes her to the front of the group, where he can keep an eye on her. Xia Mingzhu pouts, but does as she’s told.

“Stay close,” Song Yi tells the group. He returns his hairpin to his hair– hm, there is a missing jewel, as far as Luo Binghe remembers. An identification key, perhaps? “Li-xiong, you wanted to see the library, correct? Junshang has given permission. I’ll take you there.”

“Shouldn’t he see the ceremony first?” someone asks. Luo Binghe remembers him as a carpenter, the wife of an expert seamstress. “He’s a human, but surely, he can watch!”

Song Yi purses his lips. “Only for a bit,” he relents. “The other demons are not as tolerant as us.”

Luo Binghe’s goal has not strayed from his original plan: to gather information about the demon realm. The library is a good place to start, if it is a haven of knowledge as the one in his Qing Jing Peak. The ceremony, however... hm. It will be good to catch sight of the new demon emperor, in case he takes to frolicking in the human realm like his predecessor did.

“Many thanks,” Luo Binghe bows, smiling at them gratefully. “But it’s fine if it’s too much trouble. I’m glad I can see the library, truly.”

Song Yi stares at him, only turning away when Xia Mingzhu elbows him. “It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Let’s go.”

The palace is larger up close. Luo Binghe looks around, pleased that “Li Heng” would not be told off for being curious.

There are many demons everywhere, with beast features and large horns and red eyes. Some look completely human, others are entirely beast in appearance. The rise in demonic qi forces Luo Binghe to tamp down his instinctive reaction, binding his own qi tightly to prevent any mishaps. 

He almost misses it– the sound of the door opening is drowned out by reverent gasps and breathless murmurs. He looks up, catching the sight of black, then gold, and then there is–

There is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.

He is a Heavenly Demon, clearly so, with the mark of sin on his forehead. He is anything but sin, however; Luo Binghe has seen many flowers and pearls, ones with eyes of the glimmering night sky and skin of flawlessly carved jade, faces that carry the world’s favor and voices that can sing of years of yearning– and none of them matter, in this instance, in this time.

If the world has a beloved child, then, perhaps, this is him. 

Luo Binghe can only watch, transfixed, as the elegant, regal figure sits on the throne only he is worthy of; as long fingers unclasp a scroll; as a voice rings out, heard above his rapid heartbeat; as the emperor smiles, setting out a challenge without disdain and superfluous pride, daring them to–

A hand wraps around his arm. “Let’s go,” Song Yi murmurs in his ear. “The challengers will take their places soon. It’d be dangerous for you if you stay.”

Somehow, Luo Binghe has it in him to accept without protest. As he turns away, he gathers his wit, ignoring the hushed whispers as a challenger steps up. This is the most beautiful man he’s ever met, and that is– not a reason for him to forget his goal.

Information, first. He can look as much as he wants when he has what he came for.

Chapter Text

The library is a grand, gorgeous thing. Luo Binghe finds books he has never seen, much less heard of– tens and hundreds of them, wrapped in unfamiliar leather and paper bleached with demonic qi, all here in front of his eyes. The librarian gives him a cursory glance, fluffy ears tucked beneath a silken scarf, and offers no platitudes as he glances about.

Song Yi leaves him by the entrance; the library is sparsely populated, the majority too engrossed in the ceremony to even think of leaving. There could be no better time than this, when he has the permission and the freedom to dig around as he pleases.

The librarian gives him a nod. “Bestiaries and compendiums are on the right,” she says. “Call for me if you want to look around the other sections. Some of the books bite.”

If Luo Binghe were not of Qing Jing, he might find that sentence laughable. He has enough experience to think otherwise; some books really do bite. He learned that the hard way when he was an outer disciple scuttering around Qing Jing’s smaller libraries.

“Of course,” he says, bowing in gratitude before taking off with great enthusiasm. He doesn’t have to fake his eagerness for the most part.

Many of the books are ancient, some dating back to over three thousand years ago. Luo Binghe can read some characters of the ancient language, but not all of them– Qing Jing Peak lacked a few more references to completely decode the language. It would be nice if he can borrow it for a while, but he wouldn’t rely on that. He has a fairly good memory; he likely can memorize the characters and write it down when he returns to Cang Qiong.

He turns his attention to the other books. It is a sizable collection, with a few recent ones. He picks up the first of twelve bestiaries, all authored by one person. Shen Yuan. He has to keep that in mind; demon or not, knowledge of demonic beasts is far too valuable regardless of lineage.

It is a comprehensive collection. Illustrated too, although they are not as detailed as the ones in Qing Jing. This is the demon realm, after all– artistic talent is a rare find. This is already a marvel by itself. 

He reads. He takes down notes discreetly, one that makes two copies in his qiankun pouch. That way, he will still have them even if he is asked to burn his notes.

The librarian doesn’t even move an inch, looking over the library serenely. After a brief pause, Luo Binghe lifts the paper and writes on top of the table, in clear view. Not a single movement, still.

Curious.

He finds exactly what he is looking for. Blood-eating locusts, the one the villages in the outskirts of Cang Qiong’s territory are facing. Locations of the herbs Mu Qingfang has requested for Qin Wanrong’s medicine. A map of the demon realm to copy and sequester away until the need arises.

Everything he needs. It is alarming, but not a cause for true alarm yet. Luo Binghe hesitates. He may need to come back here, so he has to establish “Li Heng” as a resident of the village, despite being a traveling scholar. That might take months.

Luo Binghe has already been gone for a while already. Yue Qingyuan is an understanding shixiong and a benevolent sect leader, but there is only so much he can get away with before Yue Qingyuan’s patience frays and he orders his return, like he did with Liu Qingge’s persistent trips to fight the strongest monsters.

Perhaps he’ll send the information to Yue Qingyuan, then reason that he’s in the process of looking for more concrete details. He’ll have to do that discreetly, lest the villagers will start to accuse him of spying.

He drafts up plans.

There is a man in the library, watching him intently. Luo Binghe carefully does not tense up, making himself look engrossed in studying the bestiaries with growing fervor.

“Hello,” someone says. Luo Binghe looks up, zeroing in on the man watching him. He is pretty, more human than demon, and rather embarrassed. He wears many layers– to hide demonic features, perhaps, like scales or tattoos.

The man coughs. “I don’t mean to bother you,” he says delicately, mulling over his words. “Those bestiaries–” he starts, then stops. “–ah. Are they helpful? Or too broad? Or too detailed? Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask for your name...?”

A librarian, then? Half-demon is Luo Binghe’s guess– too human-like in courtesy and appearance to be truly demon. That does not mean the other options are off the table, though; demons are well-known masters in disguises.

“This one is Li Heng!” he says with good cheer. “Ah, the bestiaries are very helpful! They are broad and detailed, but that’s not a bad thing at all. The variety covered is astounding, and the illustrations–”

Luo Binghe lets himself prattle, exactly like how his shizun liked him to. It’s easy to fall back on old, practiced ways. The man visibly relaxes, something gentle and unmistakably fond growing in his expression.

Luo Binghe does not know if he likes that or not.

“Oh!” the man laughs when Luo Binghe runs out of breath and stops. His eyes crinkle in delight. “I’m glad. I was worried no one would find use for it– we’re already used to fighting such beasts. I thought it might be redundant to write knowledge we already know.”

Luo Binghe purposefully widens his eyes. “You’re Shen Yuan?” The author of the bestiaries? He does not meet Luo Binghe’s expectations at all. He expected a demon worn by constant travel, carrying with them mementos of past discoveries.

Then again, this man fits Luo Binghe’s expectations of a human scholar. More evidence on his theory of a half-demon. Is the palace open to those of mixed blood, then? Maybe even humans themselves, and that is why Li Heng is welcomed?

“Mhm.” Shen Yuan nods, a little sheepish. He flicks open the sixth volume, finding the bookmark Luo Binghe left. “Ah. Blood-eating locusts? It’s a misleading name– they don’t actually eat blood. They’re drawn to the scent of blood and eat the flesh. Pesky things.”

“Oh? Have you come across them before, xiansheng?” Luo Binghe asks.

Shen Yuan looks startled at being called xiansheng, but he recovers quickly. He nods, excited. Likely someone who doesn’t have anyone to share his passions with. “In one of my travels, yes. An infestation in a tribe. They fought it off with fire, which is something the locusts are afraid of, but fire is as destructive as it is beneficial.”

“Oh no,” Luo Binghe murmurs. “A locust outbreak is never a good thing for food supplies. Much less ones that eat people.”

Truly, the demon realm is full of vicious, wrathful things. It’s like it looked at some of the most dangerous creatures in the human realm and wondered how it could make them worse. Then it did make them worse.

“In a contained area, introducing birds of prey– or any other species that eat locusts– can be a safer approach,” Shen Yuan offers. “There were migrating moon spirit hawks around, and some bait and honey easily lured them to take care of the locusts in no time. Since they migrate, they leave regularly, so the tribe does not need to worry about feeding the hawks during the colder seasons.”

An interesting idea. “That is a wonderful solution, xiansheng!” he praises. “A situation wherein the aggrieved party loses nothing, and the hawks have themselves a good source of food. Is the tribe doing well?”

Shen Yuan smiles, and the sheer softness in it is startling. “They sent representatives for the ceremony,” he says. “I asked. They are doing well. Some of them even brought the hawks they’ve bonded with.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Luo Binghe responds, beaming. “Does xiansheng have more stories to tell? Your travels sound so exciting and eventful!”

A cough. Luo Binghe glances at the librarian, who gently takes Shen Yuan’s arm and steers him to the side. Shen Yuan tenses up in alarm, then laughs sheepishly when the librarian– scolds him.

“My apologies, Li-gongzi,” Shen Yuan says apologetically, bowing. Luo Binghe hurries to match him. “Please, feel free to read whatever you like! Or write down any questions you may have for me. Better that these books do not collect dust.”

“Many thanks to xiansheng’s generosity,” Luo Binghe says automatically.

Then, in a bizarre twist of events, Shen Yuan’s eyes crinkle in a smile again, and he pats Luo Binghe’s head, like a particularly doting teacher who is proud of his student.

The librarian’s expression turns constipated. Shen Yuan nearly stumbles when he follows her. “Wan Mei, really, it’s fine,” he is saying, his voice drifting away.

Luo Binghe lifts a hand to touch his hair, then he circulates his qi once. Not a poison, or a curse. A hex? He frowns.

He tests it again. There are no harmful effects, as far as he can tell. Perhaps...?

He has to return to Cang Qiong soon. Prolonged exposure in the demon realm is likely going to be disadvantageous in the long run. Best nip it in the bud.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan sheds his disguise, slowly working his qi back to its less restrained state. It’s good to see that his disguise works; none of the demons recognized him on the way to the library, although they did know that he was a demon from his qi. The human scholar did not seem to react, though– so it might be a question of demons instinctively recognizing other demons, and not his qi being obviously demonic.

He will have to do some test runs soon, to ensure that he doesn’t get outed immediately before he can even step foot on Cang Qiong. Perhaps he’ll go on a trip to the mixed villages located in the borderlands; they’re usually very friendly and welcoming to demonfolk genuinely wanting to experience the wonders of the human realm themselves. 

Shen Yuan would not need to fake that genuineness, too. He really does want to visit the human realm, and maybe enjoy some of the delicacies there before the system forcefully kickstarts the plot. Read a book or two, eat some sweets, and explore a bit.

His daydreams are cut short when Wan Mei steers him to an isolated alcove, staring at him with a narrowed gaze. He has to force himself not to shiver under that intensity.

“That human,” she starts, then stops. “Is Junshang interested in him?”

The way she emphasizes interested should tip Shen Yuan off about... something. He does not know what that something is. He nods, anyway. “He is a good scholar,” he says admiringly. “His notes are very detailed, from what I saw. Courteous and respectful as well.”

He is a bit on the young side, but his manners are already impeccable. He’s studious and observant, the type that would make for an excellent student and an even better teacher, should Li Heng take that route. He also has a pleasant appearance: youthful, cheerful, and charming. Considering that the male characters in the novel either died by a villain’s hand or died by the protagonist’s hand in the novel, Shen Yuan hopes Li Heng is spared that fate.

“Plus, he isn’t as hostile to demons as I expected humans to be. He wasn’t originally from Song Yi’s village, did you know? He was a passing traveler who helped them along the way, despite them showing visible marks of a demon lineage.”

It’s relieving to see that not everyone shares the common sentiment of ‘demons are evil, eradicate evil’ mindset the original novel loudly repeated over and over again. Especially for a traveling scholar, as part of the common folk. Shen Yuan might have to reassess his optimistic view when he takes a trip to the human realm, though. Still, this is a good sign.

Wan Mei purses her lips, then relaxes. “I understand,” she says, and then bows low. “This one apologizes to Junshang for their grievous mistake. There wasn’t an emergency at all; this one must have misheard the commotion from outside.”

Shen Yuan blinks. Huh.

Wait. Did Wan Mei admit to lying? Why did she lie?

“Why did Wan Mei lie?” he asks, puzzled. “The human scholar isn’t a danger, I assure you. He does have spiritual qi, but it is not threatening at all. Perhaps he had come across immortal masters willing to pass on a bit of their knowledge, but not enough to form more than a solid foundation in his cultivation.”

Wan Mei looks at him blankly. “That’s– wait. Ah.” She regains her bearings. “This one merely wants to make sure that Junshang enjoys the festivities he himself planned, and not lock himself up in the library for days again.”

Somehow, that makes even less sense. “The banquet is open for everyone; I cannot imagine that they would be comfortable with me lurking around. Besides, there is still a whole week left; there will be time for me to, ah, enjoy myself.”

Shen Yuan did plan something for the realm to enjoy. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth to call all demons for his coronation ceremony then dismiss them just as easily. Hence, he planned a week-long festival in hopes that their trips would not go to waste. A fighting tournament, a food fair, a bartering center, open literary services... 

Hopefully that makes him more palatable to them, and less eager to oust him from his position. The system kept refusing to tell him his satisfaction ratings no matter how hard he tried to bargain with it. He had a total of twelve challengers– three more than Tianlang-Jun had. Who knows if the ratings massively dropped! He needed to know!

[User002 is advised not to focus on his stats, to provide a more natural progression of the story!]

They were years away from the start of the novel! All of this is not going to be found anywhere in the novel!

Ugh.

Wan Mei just continues to look at him with something ferocious in her gaze. Shen Yuan does not sense any danger from her, but he definitely feels unsafe. It’s like she’s trying to tell him something, and woe is him if he doesn’t get it.

Shen Yuan sighs. “I’ll take a look at the banquet?” He really doesn’t want to. He maxed out his quota of crowds for today, thank you. The ceremony was enough. “Hm. I’ll be in the garden. Xiao Bai and Baobao might act up if they’re cooped for too long.”

Wan Mei nods. “Yes, Junshang.” She does sound more pleased at that.

He dismisses her with a wave, then navigates his way to his fluffy sheep.

Soft and fluffy and very, very soft.

He lets his sheep pile on his legs, nearly toppling each other over in their haste. He smiles at them fondly, patting through their thick coats. He knows that regular sheep would have dirt and debris trapped in their wool; thankfully though, his sheep do not have that problem by virtue of being, well, demonic sheep. He sighs, letting himself relax.

Very, very fluffy. They bleat at him when he moves, and make that rumbling, growly sound he’s come to associate with delight when he resumes petting them. They’re like dogs, somewhat. Really fluffy dogs that come with an occasional murderous streak.

“I wish I could take you with me,” he tells them aloud. They nip at his fingers playfully, as if asking just what he is talking about. Maybe they actually are. His sheep are very smart. “But. Well. It wouldn’t be safe. For everyone involved, including you.”

They bleat. The sound somehow encapsulates the definition of displeased incredulity. He laughs a little, then pets them some more until they relax.

It’s like he has a weighted blanket on his legs. A perfect way to wind down, really. It’s a shame he won’t get to pet them as much as he wants when he’s in Cang Qiong.

Well, worst comes to worst– if he really, truly misses them, he can always ask Mobei-Jun to teleport at least one of them to Airplane’s office and pet them to his heart’s content. Maybe Airplane would also enjoy petting them. He does look stressed.

Chapter Text

Rather unfortunately, the group he traveled with isn’t quite as ready as him to return to the human realm. They are taken by the festivities– rightfully so, now that Luo Binghe has been granted the freedom to move as he pleases without the need of a companion. There is a non-aggression oath that everyone had taken after the banquet concluded, and with that, he’s carefully allowed to explore the various activities the Emperor prepared.

There is a fighting tournament in the training grounds of the palace, where everyone is free to participate, as long as no murder takes place. It will be difficult to rid these stones of corpses, the Emperor had said with mild amusement before the matches ensue. Ensure that I would not need to create a catacomb for the living in my palace.

A threat, as far as those things go. The Emperor watches every now and then, donning elaborate layers of black and gold and wearing stains of crimson on his forehead and eyes and hands when an unfortunate soul took his words as mere jest and paid for their mistake dearly.

Song Yi accompanied him for the first two matches as a security measure. He apparently decided that it was far too violent and brutal for a human like Li Heng to watch, and blocked all of his attempts at returning. An inconvenience; Luo Binghe would have had notes on the demon realm’s strongest, measured their capacity for destruction, and crafted strategies to counter them. Perhaps he can convince Song Yi to allow him to watch the final match of the tournament– but that comes later.

One of his objectives is to gather information on how the demons trade materials– they barter, without a largely centralized system of money and value of goods. The value is dependent on the need, so a starving bull demon would give fifteen gemstones to an extravagant fox demon in exchange for two bags of food, and that will be considered fair to both sides. Luo Binghe has many treasures in his qiankun pouch, most requiring a hefty price indeed, so he is free to barter with a few medicinal herbs demons generally consider useless.

Xia Mingzhu stares at him, gobsmacked at how he gave away a treasure for trash, in her point of view. Luo Binghe only laughs, maintaining that look of wonder and delight in his face. “These can be used for medicine,” Luo Binghe explains, patting the fresh herbs secured in his pouch. “And that artifact can only be used with demonic qi, so it’s not quite helpful to me. A fair trade, isn’t it?”

“Huh,” Xia Mingzhu exhales. Demons are more likely to reserve judgment, with their bartering system in place. How much an item is worth varies from person to person, so they have a trained grasp on the act of minding their own business. If only some of the humans Luo Binghe knows can adopt the same mindset. “Oh well. I saw some pretty, shiny rocks in one of the stalls there. Let’s go take a look!”

Xia Mingzhu shares traits with her crow demon lineage, and one of them is the love for shiny things. She hid it well when they first met, but she has let go of that restraint when Li Heng is warmly accepted into the village. Luo Binghe spared no effort in shyly giving her glimmering rocks and shiny trinkets he found, and received her full trust in return. Time will tell if it was a good investment.

With her desires fulfilled, Xia Mingzhu eagerly steers him to the food fair. Luo Binghe accepts, preparing excuses if the food turns out to be unpalatable to the human tongue. Surprisingly, there are options of human food– likely for those with human lineage that have not inherited a demon’s palate.

“Are you not going to join the tournament?” Luo Binghe asks. “They prepared plenty of prizes for the winners.”

Xia Mingzhu waves a hand, swallowing. “No, I’m not that much of a fighter,” she answers cheerfully, redirecting them to the library. Ah. “I’m more of a scavenger. Yi-ge’s the one who’s silly for not joining– he’s very strong! Mhm. It’s a pity Li-xiong is banned from joining the tournament, you’re plenty strong yourself.”

“I’m a scholar, not a fighter,” Luo Binghe says. It’s not that much of a lie; he is a scholar first and foremost before he is a fighter. “I wouldn’t fare well in those matches.”

“I don’t know,” Xia Mingzhu says thoughtfully, finishing the last of her food. “Li-xiong is very strong. Or has the potential to be very strong? My eyes are murky nowadays, but I can tell that you would be able to defeat most of the fighters there and land within the top five.”

Luo Binghe lets his smile turn disbelieving. “Miss Xia, surely, you jest. I’ll be forfeiting not even half a ke after a match started.”

“Forfeiting is not the same as being weak.” Xia Mingzhu shrugs. “But if Li-xiong truly believes that, then I can only let him be. Will you be okay with staying in the library until tomorrow? We still have room in our accommodations, I’m sure the others won’t mind.”

He will have to go back and reinforce his image among them soon. It won’t do if they start getting suspicious of his true motives. “Maybe tomorrow? I found a really interesting compendium on the demon realm’s flora, and I want to finish analyzing them so I can compile a list of questions.”

Not that the compendium’s author– Shen Yuan, still– has shown his face after their initial meeting. Luo Binghe will have to ask the librarian about his whereabouts, after he has established a good reason to.

Xia Mingzhu relaxes. “Well, if Li-xiong insists. Don’t forget to eat, though! And rest. I'll accompany you tomorrow, too.”

“Many thanks to Miss Xia,” Luo Binghe says with a perfectly charming smile. He spends some more time on pleasantries before finally picking up his books to read in peace.

The library is a little more crowded, but they are all abiding by the library’s rules. The librarian’s iron fist must be in effect, he thinks. She put her foot down the moment he ‘accidentally’ poked around the restricted sections and told him his legs would be broken by her third warning.

Violent. Demons, truly.

“There is an updated version of that,” the librarian says, watching Luo Binghe pick up the compendium. “Ju– Shen Yuan brought it earlier.”

“Oh!” Letting his expression turn to one of genuine delight, Luo Binghe accepts the updated version. “Is Shen-xiansheng around? I have the list of questions for his bestiaries ready!”

The librarian’s expression tightens, then loosens. Interesting. “No. Shen Yuan apparently found a new breed of galefang bats and went to look for them immediately.”

Judging by her tone, she doesn’t approve. “Galefang bats are generally docile,” Luo Binghe notes. “Although, a new breed...?”

The librarian turns even more pinched. “The new breed eats demons.”

“Ah.”

“But they don’t like demon blood, so they drain the demon dry first. Painfully.”

“Oh.” Luo Binghe shakes his head. “Will Shen-xiansheng be okay?”

A sigh. “He is capable. Although it is a little irresponsible to leave during the festivities... Well, he can do what he wants. Do you want me to give your questions to him? I’m sure he’ll answer them. He’s delighted to finally have a, ah, kindred soul in this palace.”

“Many thanks to jiejie.” Luo Binghe carefully hands over a copy of his list.

The librarian narrows her eyes, but doesn’t say anything about the honorific. Luo Binghe has much experience in charming both women and men, uptight scholars and distrusting commonfolk; it’s only a matter of time before he gains her trust and approval, too. A slow process, but still progressing.

He sits on his preferred spot and reads. 

A piece of paper falls out of the book.

Li Heng,

This is the first copy of the updated compendium! Wan Mei told me you’re moving to the demon realm’s plants now, so I thought I’d send this one in advance :D I’ve set a time block for a discussion tomorrow, feel free to ask me anything!

Kind wishes,

Shen Yuan

Chapter Text

There is another wave of travelers from afar, crowding several meters around the palace in hopes of enjoying the food presented at the fair and obtaining well-needed supplies at the bartering area. Luo Binghe tactfully rejects Xia Mingzhu’s eager invitation to walk around the festival once more; this many people, reeking with demonic qi and ambiguous body language, will likely put him in a state of panic and cause havoc. Thankfully, Xia Mingzhu does not look offended, accepting his rejection easily.

She does spend some time in the library. She reads some books on birds of prey, receiving more than three warnings from the librarian for excessive chattering. Luo Binghe is slightly irked that the librarian did not issue a threat like she did to him. Oh well. It’s not important, anyway. 

Eventually, Xia Mingzhu grows restless and resumes her quest of finding as many trinkets as she can before she has to return to the village, and he is, once again, left alone.

Not for long, however– rapid footsteps approach him from behind. Luo Binghe tenses.

“Oh, Li Heng!” Shen Yuan says with great cheer. He is not quite as put together as he was during their first meeting. His robes are rumpled, sporting grass stains and questionable marks. Blood, Luo Binghe quickly identifies. “Give me a moment, I’ll be back!”

Shen Yuan turns to the restricted sections of the library, disappearing behind the bookshelves. Luo Binghe passes a questioning look to the librarian, both because of Shen Yuan’s messy appearance and his casual defiance of the library’s rules.

“He sleeps in there,” the librarian says, miffed. “I have no idea why. I can understand if it was in the seating areas, but no, he sleeps by the books. He has a perfectly sizable room in this palace, and somehow, he chooses to sleep in there.”

Shen Yuan is a resident of the Emperor’s palace. Luo Binghe finds that a little surprising, to say the least. He seems much like a free spirit, exploring the world and coming and going at his whims. Perhaps he is part of the Emperor’s court– Luo Binghe did not get to hear that part of the ceremony, unfortunately. Or a beneficiary of the Emperor, because of the books he has written. That makes more sense.

“It’s relaxing to read by yourself,” Luo Binghe offers. He understands the appeal; he has slept in Qing Jing’s libraries more times than he can count, especially during his disciple days. Being away from watchful, hawk-like eyes and barbed tongues is a blessing in itself.

The librarian sniffs. “If he isn’t sleeping by the cursed tomes, I would mind it less.” She seems to find that she has given more information than necessary, and falls silent. 

Cursed tomes?

“Hello!” Shen Yuan returns, wearing a fresh batch of dark green robes. It suits him more than the dull gray he wore before. “Wan Mei, I’m fine, don’t worry. The bats were very friendly. Or they don’t like the taste of me. Hm.”

The librarian only nods. “As you say, Shen Yuan.”

Shen Yuan does not catch on to the undertones the librarian had. “Oh, right! A new breed of galefang bats, are you familiar with them, Li Heng?”

Luo Binghe has studiously read over all reference material for this express purpose. “Yes, xiansheng. Do they really eat demons? And dislike blood?”

Shen Yuan brightens. “That’s good! The new breed adapted from a prey-less environment and fed on travelers. They do tend to avoid blood, but they would use it if given no other choice.”

Mildly fascinating. They could be used as a weapon, but it would be risky. Luo Binghe mentally jots it down to send to the beast peak’s peak lord.

“A subspecies of the demonic horned elk adapted similarly,” Luo Binghe notes. “Did they come from the same region?”

Shen Yuan sits down opposite of him, accepting the list of questions Luo Binghe had. If the librarian saw that he had made a copy of the list, she doesn’t mention it. “I haven’t considered that,” Shen Yuan muses. “It’s possible. Galefang bats migrate to warmer locations– I’ll have to track down their route to confirm it.”

Luo Binghe nods. It’s easier to keep up with the appearances of a youthful scholar now that they’re discussing a topic he is proficient with. “I’ve finished the compendium, xiansheng! Do you mind if I also ask you questions about it?”

“Not at all,” Shen Yuan assures him, remaining markedly joyful even when Luo Binghe’s questions strayed from scholarly interest to something more personal.

“Is xiansheng not going to enjoy the festivities?” Luo Binghe asks. “The bartering center is very popular, and the food at the fair is delicious.” Watching Shen Yuan beam, he continues, “There is a fighting tournament, too.”

Shen Yuan shakes his head. “I don’t like to fight,” he says. “Though– hm, the bartering center seems interesting. Perhaps after our discussion, I can pay a visit.”

“I can accompany xiansheng, if he wants,” Luo Binghe says carefully.

Going by Shen Yuan’s character, he won't refuse. It would make it easier for Luo Binghe to have an in in this library should he find a need for it in the future.

He gets it wrong. “I can’t possibly burden Li Heng–” Shen Yuan begins.

Luo Binghe makes his eyes go wide. “Oh, no, no! It’s alright, xiansheng, I promise– I did make the invitation.” Purposefully wearing a flustered expression, he adds, “I’m sorry if I caused any offense, it’s perfectly fine if xiansheng refuses.”

“That’s not it,” Shen Yuan says, but he’s visibly calmer now. “I’ll be delighted to! Oh, maybe Li Heng would like a souvenir? A memento, I mean.”

Just as Luo Binghe is about to offer token protests, Shen Yuan says quickly, “As a gift for humoring me.”

Hm. What was it that the librarian said again? Delighted to finally have a kindred soul in this palace. Perhaps Shen Yuan is lonely, to stand as a scholar among combat-oriented fighters. Luo Binghe can use this to his advantage.

“I’ll be troubling xiansheng, then,” he says.

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan, as Luo Binghe is finding out, is well-liked. Tolerated if he looks at it through a pessimistic point of view, but even that doesn’t explain the general friendliness aimed at him. They’ve barely stepped a foot into the fair, and already, there are demons clamoring to offer him free meals.

Shen Yuan gently refuses them, looking rather charmed, but otherwise rejects the offers until they’re left alone. “They’ve heard that Junshang is fond of me,” he explains quietly, moving them to a less crowded area. “I suppose this is their attempt at currying favor with Junshang, since going to him directly... well.”

“Ah.” Luo Binghe understands it; sometimes, favors are easier to collect through a middleman than a direct, in person setting. Less efficient, but no less effective. “Xiansheng, the Emperor– does he like reading as well?”

“Oh yes,” Shen Yuan says, a hint of excitement coloring his voice. “He reads a lot. Most of the books in the library are from his travels. He had written several of his own, but we’re not supposed to tell which of the books are his. Biases unfortunately cloud perception.”

“The Emperor wrote books?” Puzzling. Then again, Tianlang-Jun allegedly loved reading as well. It’s how Luo Binghe’s mother met him and fell to the wayside, making mistake after mistake until she realized her wrongs. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m excited to read them! I wonder just what kind of books he wrote. Maybe about philosophy?”

“Not telling,” Shen Yuan teases. They wander back to the food stalls; Shen Yuan perks up at the scents. “Oh, is that tanghulu? It’s been a while since I’ve had one. Will Li Heng mind terribly if I...?”

“Not at all,” Luo Binghe assures him. “Here, let me purchase some for you–”

“Li Heng–”

“I did ask to show xiansheng around, it would be remiss of me to go back on my word.”

Shen Yuan huffs, but settles and accepts the proffered sweets. He looks pleased. “One day, I’ll visit the human realm to try their food.”

Shen Yuan would pass as an ordinary traveler, as long as he doesn’t bring up anything about the demon realm. Luo Binghe considers dissuading him, but Shen Yuan is rather harmless so far. No demon can truly be harmless, but if it’s a passing desire to explore and eat human cuisine, then Luo Binghe can let it be for now.

Despite knowing that their paths are unlikely to converge again, Luo Binghe smiles and takes a bite of his own tanghulu. “This one will be waiting to show you around, then.”

“That’s–” Shen Yuan’s brows are furrowed, inspecting the figurines with careful attention. “Hm. Not what I was searching for.”

Luo Binghe idly peruses one of the stalls displaying jewelry, wondering if Shen Yuan would be pleased with a jade bracelet. He writes and looks for beasts, exploring rough terrain, when he isn’t writing. Delicate jewelry will easily break under those situations. Plus, that would indicate a certain promise Luo Binghe will not be able to keep.

Earrings, perhaps. Demons do like jewelry. Luo Binghe is not sure just what kind of demon Shen Yuan is– he does not wear any distinct demonic features, appearing fully human. Still, jewelry would be a safe bet. Luo Binghe would have preferred giving tea or calligraphy utensils, but none of the stalls they’ve passed reach his standards.

“Those aren’t genuine relics,” Shen Yuan tells him with great distaste as they depart. “I’ll have to inform some of the guards to watch out for fakes. Although, that might cause more trouble if some start throwing accusations around...”

So Shen Yuan does have administrative power, with the Emperor’s favor if his words were to be believed. Not just a simple author or a library keeper.

“Did something catch Li Heng’s eye?” Shen Yuan asks, slowing his pace down to look at the remaining stalls they have yet to visit.

“The books,” Luo Binghe says immediately, putting on an excited expression. “There are written folk tales of the northern demonic tribes! I haven’t found any in the library yet.” Or they’re in the restricted section. The latter, most likely.

Shen Yuan finds the stall he’s been gesturing to. He smiles with delight and moves closer eagerly. “The whole collection, miss,” he says to the stall owner. “Perhaps this will suffice as payment? No? Oh, I also have some silk from the iron spider tribe...”

Luo Binghe lets him be, moving back to the jewelry stalls. “The jade earrings, please,” he says, bringing out one of the subpar artifacts lying around in his qiankun pouch. Judging by the stall owner’s wide eyes, it’s more than enough payment. “Not those, the ones to the right– yes.” A gift for Song Yi and Xia Mingzhu, too. “And the gold loops as well. Perfect.”

They gather together next to a statue. Shen Yuan presents him with a complete collection of folktales. “I’ve visited the tribes before,” he mentions. “The tales are in line with what I heard from their storytellers and elders.”

Oh? “I’ll be sure to read it,” Luo Binghe promises. He will. “Many thanks to xiansheng.”

The books are covered with an array. “To prevent damage from fire, water, dust, and the like,” Shen Yuan says. “I do the same for my personal collection. I can give you the technique, if you’d like, but– hm. Since Li Heng is not a cultivator, that might be difficult.”

“My mother is one,” Luo Binghe says. A demonmade technique might inspire a breakthrough in his current research about protective arrays for the sect. “I can ask her if she can apply it to my other books– that would really help if I travel with them, especially when going through swamps or the sea...”

Shen Yuan smiles. He does that a lot, Luo Binghe notices. “Very well, then. I’ll give Li Heng a copy before he leaves.”

Ah, right. Luo Binghe has to give the sect leader a report of his whereabouts and findings. “I also have a gift for xiansheng. I hope xiansheng does not mind jewelry?”

“Oh!” The jade earrings are pretty to look at. Shen Yuan beams at him. He does not hesitate when he pierces his ears right then and there, cleaning the blood with a quick flash of qi. A guard looks in their direction.

“Many thanks to Li Heng,” Shen Yuan says happily. “I hope they suit me.”

“They do.” The green looks wonderful, paired with Shen Yuan’s gentle visage and warm smile. The only thing missing is matching green and white robes. “They suit xiansheng well.”

Chapter Text

“Perfectly done, Xiao-er,” Shen Yuan praises, patting the child on his head. The boy beams brightly at him, pleased and proud. Unable to stop himself, Shen Yuan offers a treat. “Oh, good work too, A-Yan! Wait, no, A-Jia, please do not eat the brush–”

Shen Yuan wrangles his first batch of students with moderate success. He was a tutor back in his high school, not out of need for extra money but more out of boredom. He lucked out when he realized he liked teaching children and spent many hours as a volunteer before... well.

“Now, is everyone finished with the fifth page? Yes? Alright, let’s move on to the sixth. This will be the last page for today, then we can play.”

He is met with eager cheers. He supervises them for the most part, correcting some when they make mistakes in writing. It’s a good thing he has many treats; he knows he won’t be able to stop himself from spoiling them. Demon or not, they’re still adorable. It helps that they are good students too, nothing like the little hellions he’d been half-expecting.

The area of the library he’s borrowed for the purpose of teaching demons how to read and write is bustling, not quite noisy to disturb anyone, but the difference in energy is still obvious. Wan Mei is keeping a careful eye, occasionally offering a nod when Shen Yuan checks back on her.

There’s Li Heng too, reading in one of the nearby seats. He hasn’t turned the page in a while, sneaking glances every now and then. He looks shaky, untethered.

Shen Yuan has an idea. He wraps up the sixth set of exercises for the children, and lets them chatter for a moment as he brings out the handmade toys he requested for this exact situation. Children are still children, no matter what they are, and they’re enamored with the toys.

Shen Yuan waves Li Heng over. The scholar startles, but he does come, albeit cautiously. Shen Yuan smiles at him soothingly.

“If Li Heng is uncomfortable with this, then I won’t mind it at all,” he assures him. “But, it would be nice if we can play with the children. They’re full of energy, and very eager too.”

One of the boys perks up, and ambles over. To Shen Yuan’s surprise, they offer him a toy crown. “For gege,” he says solemnly. “Because gege is the best.”

Shen Yuan melts right then and there. “Aww, thank you. Does Xiao-er want to crown me?”

Xiao-er nods and puts the crown on Shen Yuan’s head very seriously. “Gege,” he says, satisfied.

Like a dam, the other children end up trying to give Shen Yuan the “best offering” they can get their hands on. They debate on whether the cloth doll is good enough (“Too soft,” a bull demon says, shaking her head.) or if the whole set of toy soldiers is better (“Not good,” A-Jia says, and everyone accepts her word as fact.)

At a critical juncture, Li Heng suddenly speaks up, kneeling down so he’s at the same height as the children. “Why don’t we let Yuan-ge choose?” he asks gently.

A-Yan gasps. The children nod, looking as if they’ve been enlightened. “Gege, pick a gift!”

Shen Yuan tamps down his reaction to Li Heng calling him Yuan-ge amd smiles down. “Hm,” he hums thoughtfully, eyeing the cloth doll. “Maybe...”

Beside him, Li Heng is fighting valiantly not to smile when the children lean forward, unable to resist the suspense.

“Come back to class tomorrow,” Shen Yuan decides, ruffling their hair when they peer up at him in disbelief. “Gege will miss all of you, if you don’t come back to practice your brush strokes.”

“No!” A-Yan protests, eyes wide. “Gege should always be happy!”

They clamor around him– and Shen Yuan just can’t stop himself. He’s vaguely aware that he should, at some point. He hands them treats, and pats their heads, laughing when he accidentally pats Li Heng’s too.

“Li Heng is short like this,” Shen Yuan teases, “and baby-faced. How can this one not mistake him for one of my students?”

Li Heng stares at the children, almost as if he’s stunned. “Xiansheng,” he protests lightly. Then, hesitantly, he remarks, “Xiansheng is good with children.”

“I like teaching,” Shen Yuan says. “They’re good kids. And excellent students, too. I hope their clans allow them to continue studying here.”

Li Heng glances at him, finally moving from his frozen position. “Do demons not place importance on reading and writing?”

“Hm? Oh.” Absentmindedly, Shen Yuan gathers the used papers to reuse them somehow. Paper is a valuable and incredibly rare material in the demon realm– more than half of the paper they use is through trade with the human realm. Shen Yuan has been trying to find a way to create their own paper, to little success.

That makes the arrays Shen Yuan places on them all the more important, to ensure that they make the most out of their resources. Now that he thinks about it, he shouldn’t have used this much paper for practice sheets. He’ll have to ration them out in the future. Maybe he can include a little unconventional art class in the future.

“Xiansheng?” Li Heng repeats, looking over the finished calligraphy worksheets with curiosity. Shen Yuan bites back a smile.

“Well, literacy isn’t a skill many focus on,” Shen Yuan says. “There’s...” He waves a hand, trying to gather his thoughts. “There are more benefits to learning how to fight with an axe, for example, than learning how to write. Of course, some tribes place great importance on collecting knowledge, like the sun fox and moon rabbit tribes, and some clans– the renowned ones, with the demon lords as their heads– employ scribes and record keepers. But unless you’re born to one of those tribes, it doesn’t quite add to your chances of survival. Also, gaining the position of a scribe in a clan is harder than entering the clan as a warrior.”

Li Heng takes a moment to process everything, his face crinkling in concentration. “But there are records of past demon emperors, and the library–” he stops, and visibly rephrases his words. “The library has many books that date back centuries ago; some of them don’t record momentous occasions, and describe day-to-day life instead. Some are fiction too, I think. So, it must have been common for demons to read and write sometime in the past.”

Oh, wow. This is why Shen Yuan enjoys talking to Li Heng– it always feels like it’s a two-way conversation with contribution from both sides. He’s talked with Mobei-Jun before, but the northern lord is a demon of few words. Jiuchong-Jun as well, but he remains cautious and careful in his responses. Ming Fan was his favorite conversation partner, but his attendant has been really busy with Sha Hualing dragging him around.

See, Shen Yuan would put his foot down if Ming Fan was truly uncomfortable or inconvenienced, but his attendant has been enjoying the little antics Sha Hualing is up to. Guess he did find Ming Fan a friend outside of the palace’s servants.

“There was an emperor before Tianlang-Jun,” Shen Yuan says. “There are rarely any records left of him. Is Li Heng familiar with the Great War that occurred– around five hundred years ago?”

Li Heng considers the question for a moment before shaking his head. “Not the specifics,” he admits. “I’m aware that there was a war, but not the details.”

Shen Yuan supposes that five hundred years is a long time for a war to lose its relevance. “Alright. For context, Heavenly Demons held the position of the emperor for many centuries. They tend to be monogamous, devoted to one person and one person alone. The short summary of the war is that the emperor of before initiated an alliance with the human realm, and during the supposed celebration of the alliance, there was an ambush that led to his beloved’s death. The thing is– Heavenly Demons feel very strongly towards their partner, and so, in the emperor’s grief, he started a very, very long and bloody war.”

Li Heng is listening with rapt attention. Shen Yuan finds that encouraging, and continues, “In that war, there were many losses. Clans were wiped off, or reduced to a few survivors until they disappeared entirely. Buildings destroyed, knowledge burned down– it was, in a sense, a great regression for the demon realm. The clans broke off and retreated to their own territories without a proper figurehead, and survival became the priority rather than glory.”

“Oh,” Li Heng says quietly.

“When Tianlang-Jun became emperor, he had a lot to deal with,” Shen Yuan says, smiling wryly. He is very familiar with what his predecessor went through. “Uniting the lords to accept his rule is impressive enough, with the conditions back then. He had collected as many books as he could find and stored them in the southern palace, intending to build a library that showcases the demon realm’s history and culture. But, well... he got imprisoned, and Junshang took over.”

Shen Yuan finishes cleaning up, packing the worksheets away for tomorrow’s batch of students. He turns to Li Heng, catching sight of an odd expression. He blinks, and it disappears; Li Heng looks as curious and cheerful as usual.

“At least the current emperor has fulfilled his desire,” Li Heng offers. “The demon realm has a Great Library now.”

Shen Yuan smiles, pride blooming in his chest. “Yes,” he admits. “Ah– will Li Heng be joining his group tomorrow? To return?”

Li Heng hesitates.

It was nice while it lasted, Shen Yuan muses. “Please let me know what hour you will be leaving,” he says, then quickly adds, “Not that it’s a demand or anything! I would just like to bid farewell. Li Heng has been a generous and wonderful companion during his stay here.”

“I will stay,” Li Heng says, uncharacteristically firm. His eyes are both dark and bright, like twinkling stars amidst a cold, gentle night. Shen Yuan idly wonders about the protagonist; his eyes should be the same, but instead of stars, it would be a sun, a blazing inferno set out to conquer the world destined for him. “If xiansheng is not against it, this one would like to accompany him for one more day.”

“That is warming to hear.” Shen Yuan smiles, dipping his head. “I’ll be looking for Li Heng tomorrow, then.”

Chapter Text

Luo Binghe needs to leave.

He waits, attempting to put a facade of reading, but the children are far too boisterous for him to tune out. They are laughing, the sounds passing through the soundproofing array Shen Yuan had installed. Even if the sounds were absent, Luo Binghe can still see the way their mouths open, the way delight curls their eyes into crescents, and how they cling onto Shen Yuan’s robes with the unfailing trust that they will not be scorned.

As it had been for the past three days, Shen Yuan turns to him, smiles warm and tender, and beckons him to come close. Maddeningly, Luo Binghe finds himself lured in, walking before he can even process what his body is doing. He sits on the cushioned floor, soft against his knees and the children’s bare feet, and mimics the curve of Shen Yuan’s lips.

“Li-gege!” A-Yan yells, delighted, and hurries forward to show him her recent attempt at calligraphy. It’s sloppy, the strokes crooked and unrefined; it will never pass on Qing Jing.

Luo Binghe smiles wider. “A-Yan did a great job!” he praises. “She’s been improving well.”

Shen Yuan brightens, like the compliment is meant for his ears rather than the child in front of them. He pats her head, careful not to ruin the braids A-Yan requested as her prize, and ushers her to return to her classmates, the children waiting for their guardians to pick them up.

“They’re doing so well,” Shen Yuan tells him, proud. Yet his smile is dimmer, the light in his eyes less profound. There is a wrinkle to his brow that Luo Binghe wishes he can smooth out. “I hope they’ll continue to do their worksheets.”

“Are they not going to continue coming to your class?” Luo Binghe asks, stilling his hands. 

It always happens, like this– he wants, he longs for something dearly irrational and foolish, and then he reacts in the most ridiculous of ways. Choosing another gift, one that makes his guts curl in shame and loathing, one that he wraps in the softest silk he can find. Always coming when called, to teach children in the most indulgent of manners when he made himself as a strict and aloof teacher to the disciples he himself picked from the bottom of the mountains.

He needs to leave before he can will himself a horrid ending.

Shen Yuan lifts a hand to touch his face, and Luo Binghe cannot find it in himself to move away. The demon smooths out the wrinkles on his forehead, shaking his head.

“The festival is ending, and they’ll soon return to their clans,” Shen Yuan says. “This class was always meant to be temporary, open until the festival ends. I suppose it was to be expected.”

And Luo Binghe will have to leave, too.

“Maybe they’ll come back,” Luo Binghe says. He cannot control his mouth. They are having two different discussions, he knows, one that is fueled by the shy wish in his chest. “If you announce a permanent class, or dedicate a place for teaching, then I’m sure the children will return to learn from you.”

“I hope so,” Shen Yuan muses. “I’ll have to ask Junshang if he can allocate a budget for it. Anyway, none of that for now. This is your last day here, right? Come, I have something to show you!”

Luo Binghe lets Shen Yuan hold his hand, and stares, uncomprehending, as he leads him away.

Dozens of demonic plants adorn the pillars and the walls, streams of soft light casting a gentle glow from above. They curl around Shen Yuan’s arm as he waters them, gentle enough to refrain from marking his skin.

Luo Binghe had seen them grab cultivators before, suffocating them until they collapsed and disappeared into a ravenous mouth. He did not know that they could soften their hold so it mimics a caring embrace, that they had the capacity to choose not to draw blood.

There are sheep, too, fluffy and cuddly things that bump against his legs. They are pampered and well-fed, content to laze about as they bleat and growl in a discomfiting way. Shen Yuan is taken by them, and they, too, are taken by him.

“A calm and cozy farewell!” Shen Yuan says, letting him sit and read with the warmth of the sun on his face and the touch of trusting, dangerous creatures on his skin. “I hope Li Heng enjoyed his stay so far. Well. It was an honor to meet you. I enjoyed the time I spent with Li Heng. I can only hope Li Heng feels the same.”

Sincerity blooms on Shen Yuan’s face, achingly tender. Luo Binghe nods. “It was an honor and a delight to meet xiansheng,” he says.

Shen Yuan smiles, again. He offers a hand, and Luo Binghe takes it. He finds himself right in front of the vines that have killed many, and flowers that tricked and lured unsuspecting victims in. Shen Yuan hands him a watering can, bright and carefree, and guides him to water the plants.

“They’re interesting specimens,” Shen Yuan is saying about one of the vines on the wall. “When water or nutrients are lacking, they purposefully dry up so they can be light enough to be carried off by the wind to a more nutrient-rich area. They can remain living in that dried state for years until they find a place suitable for them.”

“They’re large, though,” Luo Binghe observes. “Plus, their roots would be deep underground. How could they be transported like that? Do the roots dry up as well?”

“Their roots move upward until they’re out of the soil,” Shen Yuan answers. “It’s the first step in how they dry up– they stop taking in water through their roots and close up their leaves.”

Luo Binghe asks some more questions, and without fail, Shen Yuan answers. He seems pleased, even when Luo Binghe purposefully asks something obvious, and promises to give him a copy of the second compendium of the demon realm’s flora once he’s done with writing it.

“Even if Li Heng is back in the human realm, I’m sure I can give a copy to him,” Shen Yuan insists. “Li Heng has contributed much with our dicussions. It is only fair that he sees the results.”

Shen Yuan moves back to the sitting area, but the vines hold him back. Undeterred, he gently coaxes them to let go, with not a hint of impatience present. The flowers leave a blossoming bud, tucked behind his ear, as farewell, when he leaves and joins Luo Binghe on the table.

He laughs as Luo Binghe regales him with the tales of his adventures. Soft eyes, warm gaze. Caring, tender. He is everything Luo Binghe is not.

He is beautiful.

“I hope Li Heng has a safe journey back to the human realm,” Shen Yuan murmurs as the day dies down and they remain in this haven of peace, where they can be as they are. His smile is still there, ever-present. “Someday, let’s meet again, Li Heng.”

Against his will, Luo Binghe’s eyelashes flutter. In a roughly drawn, stuttering breath, he says, “I’ll be waiting then, xiansheng.”

Chapter Text

It is a little sad to see things end this way. Endings do make him emotional. That was how he died and transmigrated here in the first place. Anger is a very valid, very justifiable emotion when it comes to Airplane's shameful trash fire of a novel.

Shen Yuan smooths over the lines of his robes, admiring the elaborate embroidery. The needlework is improving with each batch of clothes he requests, on the palace’s coffers. They’re not the robes he wore for the coronation ceremony– no, those were kept in a box to be used for future, grander events. Besides, this is only to end the week-long festival, not anything particularly important, narrative-wise.

Ming Fan stands beside him, ready for anything he may ask. He holds himself higher, his face no longer sunken like when Shen Yuan first saw him. There is a happy glow to his attendant now; he and Sha Hualing must be getting along better than he expected.

“I heard Ming Fan has placed in the top ranks of the tournament,” Shen Yuan says gently. He reaches out to pat his head, not ruffling his hair like he dearly wishes to. Maybe after he ends his speech– Ming Fan would want to be as presentable as possible for the awards ceremony. “Congratulations are in order. I am glad that Ming Fan enjoyed himself and has found a friend in Miss Sha.”

Ming Fan opens his mouth automatically at the last part, before reassessing his response. “This one thanks Junshang,” he says, a little embarrassed. Shen Yuan can't resist the urge to pat him once more.

Ming Fan leaves first, as one of the winners of the tournament, and lines up among the other winners. The tournament is more than an event for enjoyment; Shen Yuan has carefully considered his options and balanced both experience and prowess for the position of the Minister of Combat. 

Empires have positions like that, right? Ministers, advisers, generals, and so on. Shen Yuan's court is short quite a few people, particularly for war– hopefully they won't ever go to war, but this is that kind of novel, and it never hurts to be prepared– commerce, strategy, and education. Perhaps even one for diplomatic relations, although that is kind of a stretch for the current state of the demon realm. Maybe later. Or maybe the protagonist will be the one to appoint someone, after he's united the realms.

Shen Yuan seriously considers leaving behind detailed plans for the protagonist to follow. It might be presumptuous, but hopefully that will earn him a tiny bit more good will to shift his ending from a terrible, horrible, no-good death to a sad exile.

A nearby servant hurries to signal him, waving their hands a little wildly. Shen Yuan smiles– the demons in his palace are just too adorable sometimes– and steps onto the podium. The awards are there, swords made of venom-cast bloodwood, its inherent aggressive nature carefully balanced with luminescent spirit silk and made even deadlier with arrays. 

The protagonist was supposed to find out that the two counteract each other perfectly, when he was looking for a cure for his three hundred and twenty-first wife’s illness. Every time Shen Yuan thinks Airplane would take a detour to the lore and improve his novel, it’s always given up in favor of more porn. Which is, ugh.

Speaking of Airplane, the man himself is vibrating with sheer nervousness, standing near the podium. He’s flanked by Mobei-Jun’s men– he’ll be perfectly fine. He’s a good fighter, too. No need to worry about him.

Shen Yuan personally hands the swords to the winners. They look awfully constipated, standing so still he nearly asks if they’re alright. 

For the sake of everyone’s well-being, Shen Yuan finishes the awarding quickly, and starts his speech. Jiuchong-Jun and Mobei-Jun are already ready for when he announces who will be the new Minister of Combat, prepared to handle any protests that may prop up. Jiuchong-Jun did say that it would be highly unlikely for anyone to challenge his decision, but that is exactly what happened in the novel, so. Shen Yuan is not going to risk it when he hasn’t even entered the plot yet.

He finds himself glancing to where the library is, when he finally wraps things up. He has some time to burn– and it’s always relaxing to talk about the beasts and plants of the realm... except he has no one to talk to, now. Not really no one, but still.

Oh, well. He has to leave now– he has lots of work to do. To his study, then.

The system hasn’t sent even one kaomoji ever since Shen Yuan completed the coronation ceremony. He finds that very suspicious. The system hasn’t lied to him before– omissions of details, sure, but never an outright lie. But it has fucked him over before, multiple times. Hm.

[(ᵕ—0—) This system is only committed to assisting host in completing his quests!]

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Shen Yuan points out, in the privacy of his study. He narrows his eyes. “Why were you quiet?”

The system whirrs into motion at once. It shoots sparks of confetti, and Shen Yuan bats them away from his face despite knowing that they’re all virtual. He throws the glowing blue screen an annoyed glare.

[Haha! (｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ This system hopes User002 has had a good, relaxing rest! Loading...]

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations! Important things must be said three times! Act III: ‘The demon emperor’s coronation’ of Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm’ completed! Reward: +500 B-Points!]

[Requirements: Acts I, II, and III fulfilled! Quest: ‘Become the Emperor of the Demonic Realm’ completed! Reward: +1000 B-Points!]

Wait. Wait.

“That doesn’t add up to the ten thousand points you told me before,” Shen Yuan says. He hasn’t tracked all of the points he received, but he knows it must be less than five thousand.

The system then sends a barrage of notifications, going through them quickly.

[Quest Completion Rating: 82%! Rewarding +200 B-Points for reaching a 50% rating! Rewarding +200 B-Points for reaching a 60% rating! ...]

[Hidden Quest: ‘The First Teacher’ is updated! Please check the Quest Details to know more.]

[Quest: ‘The Demon Emperor’s Past’ is available! Find the appropriate starting point to trigger the quest. Hint: The sun shines down on all that there is, except for where grieving lay their souls to weep.]

[Quest: ‘Tale of Two Lovers’ is available! Find the appropriate starting point to trigger the quest. Hint: The place where forbidden love sprouts is the place where it ends.]

[Quest: ‘An Outsider, Back Home’ is available! Find the appropriate starting point to trigger the quest. Hint: The journey’s start is where all the peaks align.]

[Quest: ‘Become the Scum Disciple of Qing Jing Peak’ is available! Time left before forced start: 1095 days.]

“Still not ten thousand,” Shen Yuan repeats. He has an inkling for the outsider quest, but not much for the others. “Also, why do the quest hints sound like badly written quotes? Who added those?” At least be straightforward!

[(｡ • ᴖ • ｡) User002 will receive the total 10000 B-Points when he obtains a Quest Completion Rating of 100%!]

Okay, so not a lie, but maybe a scam.

[(｡ • ᴖ • ｡)]

Well, he’ll definitely unlock the lore if he finishes the side quests. Maybe he can even bargain for more hints–

[Quest Hints are worth +200 B-Points per hint!]

Definitely a scam.

Chapter Text

“It’s like they think I’m stupid or something, sneaking in those details at the last minute...”

Airplane has apparently decided that complaining to Shen Yuan is the best relaxing activity he can think of and vowed to nag him at every opportunity. Something about fox tribes? Merchants trying to get him to buy their products at double the price? Low-quality fish? Why fish, of all things?

Shen Yuan has no idea what he’s on about, but Airplane looks like he isn’t as stressed as before, so he lets it be. “That sounds horrible,” he empathizes, although he knows fuck all about what Shang Qinghua is venting about.

“I know! And I can’t believe they just did that! In front of me! Not even customer service was this bad! Okay, maybe it was. Fuck, I would quit if the system isn’t threatening me...”

Shen Yuan blinks. Right. Shang Qinghua is a character meant for a horrible ending, too. Not as gruesome as Shen Qingqiu’s, but still horrible, even for a double-crossing spy. He supposes Airplane would be forbidden from resigning as a Peak Lord because of the plot.

“I mean you could just ask Yue Qingyuan?” Shen Yuan offers. “He’s the one Liu Qingge unconditionally obeys and listens to the most.” 

Now, that is a topic Shen Yuan used to grill Airplane for in the comment section. Yue Qingyuan has proven himself a man of inaction, not even taking the initiative to fight against the demon tyrant who swore to destroy his sect. All of that build-up about Yue Qingyuan’s martial prowess, his ridiculously OP sword that even trumps the protagonist’s original sword and his space-bending, physics-defying sword he took from Shen Qingqiu, and his initially solid moral compass that had the protagonist back on the righteous path when he was tempted to stray. All of that build-up, wasted, because Yue Qingyuan was turned into this one-dimensional weak ass background character when it came to boss battles.

“–and then I told them to– ooooo-kay, calm down, I know you’re tempted to rant again, but please,” Airplane says, turning wide, teary eyes at him. “I am just a little man. I will keel over and die if you lose control of yourself, bro. Look at me!”

Shen Yuan grimaces. “Then stop wearing that face.” Ew. Gross. Totally not because Shen Yuan can feel himself crumbling. For Airplane too, of all people. Ugh.

“It’s my face,” Airplane says. “Can’t do anything about that, bro.” He perks up, making an expression of unholy glee. “Wait, is this actually working on you?”

Shen Yuan raises his fan.

Airplane backs off immediately. “Alright, alright! No need for violence! Why are you somehow more violent than before? Can’t you spare a teensy tiny bit of mercy for your poor transmigrator bro?”

“Mercy is wasted on you,” Shen Yuan says ruthlessly, but he settles down nonetheless.

“This is because your book pal left, isn’t it?” Airplane wonders. He squints. “I really thought you’d like– huh. Well, I guess a random NPC is a safe option, with the plot and all–”

“His name,” Shen Yuan interrupts, a little bothered, “is Li Heng.”

Abruptly, Airplane stops. “What!” he squeaks. “Li Heng, really? Wait, but that’s– huh. Wait–”

Shen Yuan has exactly one minute to wonder if Li Heng is actually a plot-relevant character, right before Airplane shakes his head furiously. The author is laughing, the sheer nervousness in his voice making Shen Yuan physically wince.

“Nope, no, no, it can’t be,” Airplane says with something close to hysteria. “Li Heng is a scholar, right? Charming? Excellent at archery? Has prejudice against demons?”

Shen Yuan furrows his brows. “He is a scholar. Charming... I suppose so? He’s polite, well-mannered, and intelligent. I don’t think he’s good at martial arts; he doesn’t give me the impression that he fights often. He does have a cultivation base– an ordinary foundation, nothing special. And no, he doesn’t seem at odds with demons. He interacted with them fairly well during the festival.”

Airplane releases a breath. “Right. Okay. That’s good.”

“Why?” Shen Yuan questions. “Is Li Heng supposed to be an important character?” If he discovers that Airplane got rid of an interesting character in exchange for more trashy porn, he’s going to riot.

“Well...” Airplane chuckles nervously. “He’s, you know, one of the protagonist’s personas? Fake identities. I planned an arc for that, but the readers got bored of the first few chapters of that arc. So, you know–”

Shen Yuan raises his fan.

Airplane ducks behind a shelf. “Anyway, Peak Lord Luo is a renowned name, and he needs something more discreet to get past distrusting folk and all that jazz. But it doesn’t matter! If he’s as friendly to demons as you say he is, then it’s definitely a different Li Heng.”

“Right,” Shen Yuan says slowly. Honestly, what are the odds that he met the protagonist early on? Little to none, that is. Besides, Li Heng very much knew that he’s a demon, and with the protagonist’s initial loathing of demons, he would’ve cut down Shen Yuan without a second thought.

Calming down, Shen Yuan huffs. “Right. About fake identities, do you think you can forge me one for–”

“For Cang Qiong? Sure.” Airplane blinks. “I mean, the easiest would be to pretend that you’re a relative of mine– gods know that my uncles sired many bastards already, the assholes– and it– ack! Ouch! My eyes! Stop it!”

Shen Yuan stares as Airplane smacks the air with purpose, halfway out of his seat. “What’s wrong?”

“Prohibited action,” Airplane grumbles. “‘...would cause a severe plot deviation...’ Right. Yeah, that’s understandable. I mean, the original Shen Qingqiu went to Cang Qiong because of– prohibited action again? Why? Wait, bro, do you have a mission for the original goods’ past?”

Shen Yuan ushers Airplane to sit. “Yeah. ‘Demon Emperor’s Past’. I still haven’t found the trigger for the quest, though.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Airplane grumbles. “Okay, so you might have to visit the human realm a few times to establish your identity. I can forge you a fake one real quick, but there’s gotta be witnesses to make it secure. Right, name. The original goods went with Shen– really? Prohibited action? Why?”

Shen Yuan clears his throat. “Shen Yuan,” he suggests. “Same character as the original goods’ surname. Yuan, as the character for wall.”

Airplane squints. “That’s your real name,” he guesses. “Huh. Well. I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Mine is Shang Qinghe– yes, okay. Authors project onto their characters all the time! It’s natural! Stop judging me.”

“I guess PIDW is really a self-insert,” Shen Yuan points out with relish.

Airplane rolls his eyes. “Says the one who wrote paragraphs about my son. Also, you’re pining after a random NPC in my novel, now, who’s– alright, alright! No need for violence! Bro. Bro!”

Chapter Text

Tang Chunhua sneakily adds a bit more food to her bowl– and gets caught immediately. The cook– a new hire, perhaps, since Tang Chunhua doesn’t recognize them– locks eyes with her and rolls their own, taking her bowl and adding another serving to it.

“If you want more, just say so,” they say, bemused. “We have plenty more food. We also need to tally down how much food gets consumed everyday, so stealing is going to make our jobs harder and make us hate you.”

Tang Chunhua pops one of the fleshballs into her mouth and nearly moans aloud in ecstasy. Still as delicious as the first time she ate one; the Emperor has done magnificent work in introducing new varieties to their cuisine. Everyone in the palace is enjoying the fruits of his labor, the cooks the most.

“Okay,” she agrees. “If there are leftovers–” She doubts that there would be any, with how delicious the food is and how generous the kitchens are with their distribution, but still. “–could you let me know?”

The cook shrugs. “Only if you get to be on sheep-feeding duty tonight.”

Tang Chunhua is well-aware of how trading works. “Sure.” It’s a fair one, too, considering that Tang Chunhua loves food and the majority of the servants dread dealing with the sheep. Barring the Emperor, his attendant, Tang Chunhua, and two other servants, no one can exist within ten meters of the sheep and not get mauled. Oh, and that one human scholar, too.

“Great,” the cook says, and moves on to the next person in line.

Tang Chunhua picks up her full bowl and settles down on an empty table.

She hasn’t even taken five bites before the seat opposite her is taken. An absolute giant of a man, with broad shoulders and large hands, sits down, his armor clanking as they shift from their rigid positioning. The man is smiling, the type that many would describe as foolish. Tang Chunhua privately considers it charming.

“Tang-jie!” he greets cheerfully. His loudness attracts the attention of the other servants and earns him more than one curious look, and yet he only laughs before lowering his volume to something more appropriate. “How have you been? I mean, cleaning the old storage rooms would be really hard work. That place is a mess. Gave me the sneezes too, when I guarded that area. And especially if you’re partnered with Wang Jianyu– I saw him put oil on the cloths meant for wiping the walls! Hardworking lad, but he’s rather absentminded. Oooh, I heard there was a secret room? Or compartment? That must be exciting!”

Huang Li is one of the guards stationed at the palace’s main gates. Originally, his post was near the servants’ quarters, but his chatty and excessively sociable nature had caused more than one delay in accomplishing the tasks handed to them. The head of the servants brought it up to the captain of the guards, and they both decided it prudent to shift Huang Li’s post.

Huang Li, to everyone’s relief, took it all in stride. Without servants to bother, he adapts quickly and chats up the passing merchants, messengers, travelers, and the other visitors of the palace. Many arguments have been defused merely because he was present.

“Ming-xiong prevented us before we could finish cleaning,” Tang Chunhua answers, taking a moment to parse through the questions. “Junshang sensed something, I think. Something potentially dangerous, since Ming-xiong informed us that it was for our safety.”

Huang Li straightens up. “Do you feel any symptoms?” he asks, abruptly turning serious. “Headaches? Lightheadedness? If it’s an artifact... Visit a healer, if possible. No– Junshang tends to check over the staff, if something happens, has he–?”

“I’m alright,” Tang Chunhua assures him. “Junshang came down to inspect the storage rooms, and checked us before we were sent upstairs. He doesn’t seem too worried; maybe it’s just important documents or ancient weapons.”

Huang Li returns to his relaxed state. “That’s good to hear!” he says jovially. “Well, it’s Junshang after all– it’d be fine.”

Tang Chunhua nods, finishing the last of her food. “Speaking of which. Congratulations on your win. I watched three of your matches, including the one with Miss Sha. They were well-fought.”

Huang Li beams brightly, perking up like a greathound catching the scent of blood and immediately wagging its tail for treats. “Miss Sha is an amazing fighter,” he gushes. “Did you know that she sparred with Junshang before? I’m glad to have fought someone of her caliber– she’s a lot better than most of the guards here! Hopefully, when she wants to settle, she takes up a post in the palace. Then we can spar all the time! Maybe I could even sneak a win here and there, oh, and maybe even invite Ming-xiong too– they fight all the time. Oh, wait, that reminds me–”

Huang Li brandishes one of the swords by his hip. “The sword!” he says excitedly. “Tang-jie, you should really try it out, it’s amazing–”

Tang Chunhua waits, content to let the guard chatter away. It’s not like she has other duties to tend to as of the moment. “That does look fierce and powerful,” she notes. The dark red blade, seemingly blunted, is an unfamiliar sight. It does not look like metal at all.

“It looks blunted, but see–” Hovering an inch over the edge, Huang Li’s fingers are cut, blood immediately dripping down. “It’s bloodwood tempered with spirit silk. The core of it is demonic, but the edges are spiritual, which is why they look invisible. It’s so sharp. And it has poison.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Tang Chunhua says, interested. “How do you know where the edges are? Your fighting style is exacting and precise. It would be difficult if you can’t calculate how much distance you need–” She notices his wide grin and shuts up. “Never mind. You’re clearly fine.”

“The wielder can see the edges,” Huang Li says. “There’s something about qi, but I haven’t analyzed it yet. I spent way too long trying it out.”

“Junshang made those himself, right?” Tang Chunhua muses. “They’re definitely valuable, just from that alone.”

“It is a work of art,” Huang Li gushes, holding the sword reverently in his hands. “To think Junshang can tame something as wild as that...” He perks up. “Do you think he’s going to teach the technique to a blacksmith? There’s a new Minister of Combat, and they’re in charge of the weaponry, anyway. Maybe to them?”

Tang Chunhua hesitantly reaches out to touch the hilt. It feels cool, the blade inert and tame. It feels nothing like Huang Li is describing it as; it is nothing but a sword. “Perhaps,” she says, and withdraws.

Huang Li huffs. “Not like that. Here.” He takes her hand back and returns it to the hilt. Their qi combine harmoniously– surprising, with how ambivalent their clans are– and the blade momentarily glows.

Tang Chunhua stares at the blade, the red growing darker and darker until it looks black. Its edges are gold, not quite glowing enough to be a distraction. When Tang Chunhua hesitantly pulls back, the edges disappear, leaving behind a pitch-black sword.

Huang Li beams. “Fascinating, isn’t it?” He pauses for a moment, clearly embarrassed. “If Tang-jie wants to... we can spar sometime soon. We can take turns using the sword.”

Is he...? “I would like that,” Tang Chunhua blurts out. “Tomorrow?”

Huang Li nods, a relieved smile growing on his face. Silly man. “Tomorrow, then.”

Shen Yuan stares. There is a grand shrine, with elaborate wooden carvings and gold inlays. It is kept clean, along with the table it perches on, by long-running talismans and a security array. The level of grandeur and care makes the worn, handcarved spirit tablet look more out of place.

Yue Qi.

[Quest Trigger found! Quest: ‘The Demon Emperor’s Past’ has started! Good job, User002! (∩˃о˂∩)♡]

Chapter Text

Ming Fan evens his pace, making sure that the papers he’s carrying don’t suddenly tilt and drop to the floor. That would be a difficult problem to deal with, to gather them all up and reorganize them to their proper positions. Sha Hualing had made him drop a stack once, and they spent the entire morning trying to figure out which report is which.

He eyes the door to the study. Perhaps, if he used his qi to nudge it open– ah. That works. Luckily, that didn’t trigger the arrays.

“Junshang, here are the monthly reports from the demon lords–” Ming Fan pauses, taking a moment to place the stack of papers on the table. “Oh, and some letters from the north... and here is the response from the sun fox tribe. Wang Daiyu is not yet finished with transcribing the recent meeting, but I can ask for it later– Junshang?”

The Emperor makes an aborted, jerky motion. He frowns, not out of genuine disdain but out of bewilderment. “Ming Fan? Oh, the reports. Thank you. Just leave them there, I’ll handle them later.”

Worrying. The Emperor looks rattled, in a way that only those who have spent much time with him can notice. He is almost absent-minded, staring at the same page of the book he’s been reading since Ming Fan left to gather the reports.

Ming Fan considers his next words, and then says carefully, “The storage rooms have been cleared of any curses and malicious spirits. Does Junshang want them cleaned? Or shall I extend the prohibition period a little longer?”

That gets a reaction. The Emperor glances at him, the ink on his brush drying at an exponential rate. “Extend it. Indefinitely, perhaps. I need it undisturbed.”

“Understood, Junshang.” Ming Fan will have to review the duty roster and which servants were assigned to which. Cleaning the storage rooms is a big undertaking, after all, and he’d need to give the ones assigned to it other tasks. He worries his lip.

A hand pats his head, gently and fondly. “Ming Fan does not need to worry,” the Emperor assures him. “This one was just... remembering a few things from the past. And a few more things I need to take care of.”

Ming Fan breathes. “Alright. If there is nothing else–” He abruptly pulls to a stop. “Junshang. Sha Hualing is in the training grounds.”

The Emperor smiles at him. “Mhm. We sparred earlier– a promised reward of mine should she place in the top rankings of the tournament. I dare say she also wants to spend more time with you.”

Ming Fan has the distinct feeling that the Emperor may be misunderstanding their relationship. “We are not romantically inclined,” he clarifies. “We barely tolerate each other. I want to strangle her, most of the time.”

“Ah.” The Emperor blinks. “Oh, no, I never thought you were courting.” The thought seems to be greatly disturbing to him, since he elaborates, “I’ve thought you’ve befriended each other?”

Friends. Ha! “To a point, yes,” Ming Fan agrees. “But I don’t think she’ll willingly spend time with me.”

The Emperor relaxes. “Well. She is waiting right outside the door, and I can tell that she’s not here for me.” Picking up his brush and cleaning the dry ink from it, the Emperor continues cheerfully. “It’s good to take breaks every once in a while. Have fun!”

The moment Ming Fan steps outside the study, he is mobbed by a mildly injured, enthusiastic Sha Hualing. 

“Mobei-Jun is around,” Sha Hualing tells him in lieu of a greeting. “I already asked Junshang for permission earlier– you have the afternoon off. We have to fight him, A-Fan.”

Just his luck. Oh, well.

Shen Yuan holds back a sigh.

[Quest: ‘The Demon Emperor’s Past’ has been updated! Objective: Find out Yue Qi’s identity. Location: The Qiu Manor’s remains.]

“I have no idea what the Qiu Manor is,” Shen Yuan tells the greatly unhelpful system. “Or where it is, most importantly. It’s not in the demon realm. So it must be in the other realms– wait. Is Yue Qi also a demon? Or is he a human?”

Who would the original goods mourn over for such a long time? Shen Yuan has checked. The spirit tablet has to be at least five years old since it was carved. There wasn’t any mention of the original goods’ family or anything in the novel. It was even explicitly stated that Shen Qingqiu was alone.

Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. Really, truly alone. Airplane tried to create the underlying theme of mirrors and the cycle of abuse and vengeance, but it was dropped the moment his reader count fell. Shen Yuan enjoyed those few chapters where there was at least a hint of a plot instead of just mindless porn.

[This system cannot provide more hints for User002. Quest Hints can be purchased for 200 B-Points!] 

“No,” Shen Yuan ruthlessly squashes down. He rereads the report, then jots a note down on the margins to remind himself to rework the trading system. It’s rather inefficient. “Well. The manor must be in the human realm. So I have to go there to progress the quest.”

Which is– well. Shen Yuan is planning to go there, anyway. Airplane just finished preparing an identity for him to go by. Shen Yuan, a traveling scholar. It’s good that Li Heng had told him as much as he did about the life of one.

There is still the matter of hiding his presence and demonic nature, but he does have many leads. He’ll just have to experiment and find out which works best, since the system refuses to be of any help.

[Hidden Quest: ‘The First Teacher’ is updated! Warning: Quest: ‘The Demon Emperor’s Past’ cannot be completed without finishing this quest.]

There are so many prerequisite quests that Shen Yuan is losing track of them all. He sighs.

...the hidden quest can only be progressed in the human realm. Really? The system must really want him to leave.

Later. First, he has to make sure that the demon realm doesn’t wage any wars while he’s gone. They’re all well-behaved around him, but he just knows they will take the opportunity if given one.

Demons, really.

Chapter Text

Mobei-Jun halts right in the middle of the doorway. 

Three people. The Emperor’s attendant, who he is somewhat familiar with from the times either he or the Emperor requested to meet for tea. Jiuchong-Jun, the lord he often sees when the Emperor wishes to discuss matters that affect both the north and the south of the realm. His... enthusiastic daughter is there, thankfully without her usual bloodlust, and is nagging the Emperor’s attendant.

Mobei-Jun, calmly, considers the advantages and disadvantages of turning on his heel and returning where he came. The Emperor and Shang Qinghua’s meetings take long, ending when Shang Qinghua needs to return to his sect or when the Emperor is required for an important issue. He still has not made up his mind if he is more pleased that the Emperor approves of his intended, or if he is more displeased that the Emperor has been monopolising the time with his intended.

The point is, he can always return to the north and come when Shang Qinghua calls for him. That is easier and more palatable than spending hours in the presence of two competent demons he is familiar with, both of which turn into rather indecipherable versions of themselves in the presence of their third companion.

“Oh! Mobei-Jun, it is good to see you,” Jiuchong-Jun greets. Mobei-Jun can’t help but feel that he is being used as an excuse. “Do you have a meeting with Junshang?”

Reluctantly, Mobei-Jun fully enters the room and seats himself on the farthest seat possible. “No,” he answers. He considers his options. “...I am waiting for him to finish.”

It will expose Shang Qinghua to the scrutiny of the members of the Emperor’s court, but it is better, in the long-term, if he is known as someone with Mobei-Jun’s favor. Plus the Emperor’s too, he supposes. Better than him dying in the hands of someone who thought him unimportant and murdered for sating a demon’s bloodlust.

“Ah.” Jiuchong-Jun nods, understanding. “Junshang and Lord Shang do get along well.”

Sha Hualing raises her head from where she’s been harassing Ming Fan with spoilers for his favorite novel series. The attendant doesn’t seem as fazed as he should be– oh. Mobei-Jun has already seen him finish that book once, when the Emperor asked his attendant to join them for tea.

“The human cultivator?” Sha Hualing’s eyes are wide. “Wait, is he the one–”

“No,” Ming Fan answers flatly, then raises his book out of reach. “He’s Junshang’s friend. They’re from the same hometown, I believe.”

Mobei-Jun straightens up.

Ming Fan gives him a considering look. He doesn’t bristle; the boy is far too cunning and carries a high enough position for Mobei-Jun to consider him as an equal. Not the best at fighting, but passable.

“They speak in an odd language,” Ming Fan clarifies. “I’ve checked the library; it is not recorded there. They also know each other fairly well. I can only hypothesize that they knew each other from their shared hometown, wherever that is. Not in the best of terms, clearly, but they have made amends.”

Mobei-Jun nods, relaxing. He should ask Shang Qinghua later. Or ask the Emperor directly– Shang Qinghua has this annoying, but impressive ability to dodge and distract from questions he does not want to answer.

“Huh.” Sha Hualing pulls up. Ming Fan stares. “Alright, no fighting the human. Although, it would be really interesting to fight with one... hm...”

“There is a mission for the borderlands tomorrow,” Mobei-Jun says. A mission to enforce their borders and clear a path for daily patrol, the Emperor said. Some of the human sects have been poking their noses in, harassing the mixed villages, and trying to kill those with demon blood. It got bad enough that they sent a request for help to the Emperor himself. “You can fight the humans there.”

“Oh!” Sha Hualing turns wide, greedy eyes at her father. “Where do I register? Can I just show up there? Ooooh, can I–”

Jiuchong-Jun rubs his temples. “I’ll add you there,” he says, resigned. “Mobei-Jun, if you will.”

Mobei-Jun adds his qi to the talisman indicating approval to participate in the mission. It goes through Jiuchong-Jun’s hands, and then his daughter’s. Sha Hualing receives it with unholy glee.

The conversation shifts to the mission, and then Ming Fan’s knowledge of future missions (many, but he won’t tell), Mobei-Jun’s control over ice, and eventually a request for a spar. Mobei-Jun considers it. He nods decisively. It will be good to get in some practice before he requests a spar with the Emperor.

A time spent productively, as far as he’s concerned.

Mobei-Jun pulls back from the conversation, satisfied.

“You sure you want that background?” Airplane asks him incredulously. “From a mixed village, of all things? Bro, the sects are going to throw you out if they find out about that. Well, maybe not Cang Qiong, but you’re going to get picked on real bad. Demons haven't been viewed in a good light ever since Huan Hua Palace initiated the crusade to imprison Tianlang-Jun.”

“It’s a precaution,” Shen Yuan defends. “Just in case they sense demonic qi or anything. I can pretend it’s from a memento my friends in the village gave me.”

“If they ask you first. A big, fat if,” Airplane points out. “Chances are, they’re going to attack you first and then ask questions later.”

Shen Yuan frowns. “Okay, but wouldn’t it be more suspicious if I was a traveling scholar without a clear origin?”

Airplane shrugs and gestures in a so-so motion. “I mean, children with questionable origins show up for Cang Qiong’s entrance exam all the time. Usually, we don’t care unless it affects the sect’s safety. And you can just pass your childhood off as greatly traumatic or something, so you avoid answering questions. Make something horrible up. Like– you were taken from your family and sold off. Okay, wait, not that; if they think you’re a slave, hm... Oh! Just say that your family died in a horrible fire and you travel because you’re afraid of settling down and losing everything all over again.”

Shen Yuan is somewhat impressed that Airplane said all of that in one breath. “Horrible fire. Dead family. Sounds tragic enough,” he says, punctuating it with a nod. “Okay. Traveling scholar, with an interest in– beasts. Demonic beasts, too, so that’s why I tend to be around the borderlands a lot?”

“Huh. That works,” Airplane scribbles something on his notepad and sticks it to the wall. “Okay, we’re going to do a timeline. So you’re a child of a well-off family– gotta pass off that royal mannerisms, bro– no, I’m not shitting on you, you act like the emperor even during these meetings. Then your family died in a fire. Maybe sabotage? For family riches...”

“No,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Airplane, you are not making up an entire novel for my backstory.”

Airplane raises his hands in surrender. “You’d like another one of my novels,” he teases. “Anyway. Okay. So... hm. We have to make a connection between the fire and your travels. You can make up your travels yourself. Just don’t make it too over-the-top, please, or else zhangmen-shixiong is going to ask me to investigate you. Or Qi Qingqi.”

“Then I end up wanting to go to a sect because... I want to settle down?” Shen Yuan asks skeptically.

Airplane narrows his eyes. “Wait. I know the original goods went to Cang Qiong disguised as a fifteen-year old... it might be too unbelievable for you to be a traveling scholar at fifteen. Wait, wait, wait, let’s revise it a little–”

You know, if Airplane had put this much effort in creating PIDW’s plot, then it would become a massive hit. Shen Yuan narrows his eyes.

“Maybe a traveling scholar took you in instead?” Airplane offers. “That sounds more believable, especially if your family is rich. Rich people do weird things. No offense, bro. Actually, full offense. You are weird.”

“I’m starting to think that you want me to hit you,” Shen Yuan says. Airplane turns wide, teary eyes at him. Shen Yuan does his best to resist. Fuck. Why is he like this? A built-in Heavenly Demon function? 

Maybe that’s why the original goods didn’t kill Yue Qingyuan when he had all those chances to. He does give off the vibe of a sad, wet dog. At least, until the revenge arc, where he turned from a dog to a speck of dust in the wind. Inconsequential and insignificant.

Airplane radiates a decidedly smug aura. “Okay. So, of course, the first step is to make you known to the locals. The borderlands are your starting point. Then trade with other villages frequently, in a set route. Then do your missions and end up in Cang Qiong, in, what, five years?”

“Three years.”

“That’s faster than I thought.” Airplane stares. “Alright, let’s go over your backstory first. So disguise yourself as a twelve-year old first, so you’ll be fifteen by the time you reach Cang Qiong– maybe ask someone to act as the traveling scholar. I’m sure there’s a lot who’d be willing to let you call them ‘shizun’.”

Chapter Text

There is a child.

Li Xianya stares at the child.

The child stares back, adorably confused, and far too naive of the dangers that lurk around. He wanders around the outskirts of the village without an obvious purpose, driven by nothing but pure curiosity. He eyes the grass lanterns the villagers hung up, poking and prodding at one that fell to the ground.

Li Xianya should report the child to the village chief. In any other circumstance, he would be welcomed with open arms, no matter his origins as long as he poses no harm to the other villagers. However, with the Huan Hua Palace and their sizable gathering of smaller, less renowned sects under their command, every outsider is to be brought to the chief to be questioned.

But–

“Hello, little one,” Li Xianya says, pitching her voice to sound gentler. “Where are your parents?”

The child looks up, tilting his head. “I don’t have parents,” he answers.

Li Xianya winces. “Guardians, then? How did you get here?”

“Shizun dropped me off here because he said he was being followed,” the child answers obediently. “He said to look for someone named ‘Song Yi’. Jiejie, do you know where Song Yi is?”

Ah. Song Yi is a private person, but a staunchly responsible one. If the child’s teacher knows who Song Yi is, then they are either of mixed blood who left the borderlands long ago or one of the Emperor’s scouts. Li Xianya studies the child again. There is not a hint of demon lineage in him, not even a wayward marking or the subtlest scent of sealed demon blood. 

A ward, maybe? Li Xianya knows a few demons who like to take in human children as their own. Sometimes even through dubious or downright malicious means, but those are to be expected.

“Alright,” Li Xianya kneels down to match his height. “What’s your name, dear?”

Blinking wide eyes at her, he says, “Shen Yuan.”

Her heart melts. “Okay, A-Yuan. Let’s get you in the village and wait for your teacher, okay?”

Shen Yuan nods, holding her hand without being prompted too. Wait. Isn’t it too dangerous for a child to trust strangers so easily? If one of the cultivators found him, they would take him to their sect and mistreat him so badly until he conformed to what they wanted. That’s usually how the tales go.

“Uh.” She looks down at him, slowing her pace so he can catch up easily. “Next time, don’t go with people you don’t know, okay? They could be bad people and hurt you.”

The child only blinks, then smiles at her widely. “Okay, jiejie.”

...he may need a more concrete lesson in the future. Then again, how old is he? Eight? Seven? He’s on the smaller side, but humans are usually smaller than demons... He doesn’t look spatially aware nor does he seem like the perceptive sort.

Anyway, that can come later. For all that Li Xianya knows, he won’t even be able to stay in their village for long.

She pats his head.

“And your... ‘shizun’ explicitly told you to look for Song Yi?” the village chief asks sharply.

Shen Yuan nods. “Mhm! Shizun said that they were friends? So Song Yi will know what to do.”

The child swings his legs restlessly, only stopping when the chief finally lets him explore the room. There is nothing important here; it’s a house meant to receive visitors, and nothing more. Shen Yuan winds up near the bookshelves, and picks one out at random to read.

A message is sent to Song Yi, half a shichen before Shen Yuan has met the chief. All things considered, the boy is well-behaved, quiet, and polite. All points to lessons in etiquette and courtesy, like certain human families pay close attention to.

The odds that the child was kidnapped, Li Xianya thinks, is very high.

“Chief Wen, what is the emergency– ah.” Song Yi halts suddenly. His eyes dart around, blinking rapidly once they fall on Shen Yuan’s figure. “J– Shen Yuan?”

Shen Yuan gives him a little wave. His eyes take on a vague glow, but it’s likely a reflection of the light from the door. Green eyes are rare in these parts of the borderlands, and those green-eyed demons Li Xianya met have weird eye things going on.

“Are you Song Yi?” Shen Yuan asks directly, tilting his head. Li Xianya wants to coo, but that’d be inappropriate. “Shizun told me to find you.”

Song Yi does a double take, then presses a hand against his forehead. “Excuse me?”

“Shizun told me to look for someone named Song Yi,” Shen Yuan elaborates. “Some men in red tried to fight him, and he ran away to drop me here before going back to fight them. Is Shizun okay?”

“Okay.” Song Yi breathes in and out evenly. Li Xianya gets the feeling that he’s calming himself down from an emotional high. He kneels, a little lower than necessary to meet the height of the boy. “Let’s get you all sorted up, mhm? Chief Wen, I’ll be taking him. Don’t worry– he’s safe. I think I know who this ‘shizun’ of his is.”

Shen Yuan wriggles, then clutches onto Song Yi’s neck like a particularly stubborn monkey. “Yi-ge,” he says solemnly. “Are we leaving?”

“Not yet,” Song Yi says, barely taking a moment to accept things as they are, and adjusts Shen Yuan so he sits easier in his arms. “I’ll go look for your shizun later. You can stay here in the meantime, okay?”

“Okay,” Shen Yuan says, smiling. Li Xianya wants to pinch his cheeks. He turns away from Song Yi’s face, looking around curiously. “Yi-ge, what are the lamps for?”

Song Yi leads him out of the house, barely able to even get a word out, when the boy asks again, “Yi-ge, why are there no flowers in here?”

“Well–”

Shen Yuan is at least a decent actor, to be able to pass through undetected. Sure, majority of it is thanks to Song Yi’s vouching for him, but he should still get some of the credit! Acting like a twelve-year-old is harder than it looks like, considering Shen Yuan’s twelve-year-old self was stuck in the hospital and obsessed with reading because, well, there was nothing else to do.

“Greetings to Junshang,” Song Yi says, kneeling, immediately after he puts Shen Yuan down on a chair.

Shen Yuan tilts his head. “Yi-ge, who’s Junshang?”

Song Yi sighs. “Junshang, the walls are soundproof. There are barriers and arrays everywhere; this is my house. Not a word will get out if I don’t will it to. Please.”

Shen Yuan only blinks slowly at him. Song Yi remains kneeling.

Shen Yuan sighs, then drops the act.

“I want to check in on the situation,” Shen Yuan says. “There were no reports for the past five days, and there has been a steady decline in demonic qi since then.” 

It was still a wonder how he was able to sense the qi all the way to the borderlands, much less perceive any fluctuations every few seconds. Now that he thinks about it, his sensitivity increased after the coronation. Something to research on, later.

“The sects are ‘purifying’ this land,” Song Yi explains, grimacing. “They’ve blocked all the routes to the demon realm, and are threatening indiscriminate murder if someone tries to get past their checkpoints. All of the villages have been on lockdown since then.”

“The subjugation squad has not yet arrived?” Shen Yuan asks, alarmed. He thought that the route from the human realm to the palace is cleared of any monsters and obstacles. He ensured that it was. Did something happen?

“Ah, no, they’ve already arrived.” Song Yi’s face turns serious. “They wanted to fight the cultivators after baiting them away from the villages.”

Well, Sha Hualing is among them. Shen Yuan is not sure how she came across this certain mission, but he had an inkling after seeing Jiuchong-Jun’s nervous expression. It should go well– apart from Sha Hualing receiving protection simply by being one of the protagonist’s future wives, she’s a capable and competent fighter in her own right. The mission should be finished by now, so why–?

Song Yi worries his lips. He takes a deep breath. “Junshang– one of the scouts– she discovered that there were demons among their ranks. We are still unsure if they are hostages or traitors.”

Ah.

Chapter Text

Song Yi tucks himself away into one of the cracks in the rocks, taking all that is him and condensing it into a small packet of qi, neatly packed out of sight. Below him, cultivators wearing the Huan Hua Palace’s colors busy themselves with the distribution of supplies and the setup of tents intended for medical aid. Not planning for war, his ass. This is as much a declaration of war as it is the preparation for a battlefield encampment.

He’ll have to inform the villages as soon as possible, to instruct them to activate the barriers the Emperor spent an entire day and night installing in the many villages of the borderlands. How he went around unnoticed is a wonder, although Song Yi has not asked him about it. In that child-like body of his, no less.

The demons are situated away from the cultivators, their tents positioned in that distinct organized manner Song Yi has come to associate with men under demon lords. There are cultivators guarding them, but not as many as Song Yi would expect for hostages or prisoners. They don’t seem to be sporting any injuries or restraints; they appear hale and healthy, and acting on their own will.

A moment later, and a winged demon– the leader of the group, Song Yi presumes– talks to the cultivators. Not a hint of hostility between both parties, although their body languages are strained. Song Yi hesitates before moving closer, careful not to set off the alarms at the edge of the encampment.

“The deal,” the winged demon is saying. “Our lord wants proof of your side of the deal.”

“He will receive it after the combat squad returns,” the cultivator says. 

The demon looks frustrated. From where Song Yi is hiding, he can see the telltale shade of blue skin of demons from the north. They stand to their full height, inadvertently exposing a tattoo of the Mobei clan. Warrior, it reads in ancient script. “Until we receive proof, we cannot provide you with any more information.”

Their conversation comes to a halt. Neither side shows aggression, nor do they try to push the other. They part ways, and the winged demon returns to their tent, pulling the flap close.

Song Yi lingers a little more. This is substantial evidence already, enough to ensure that the subjugation squad will treat the demons as enemies to capture, rather than hostages to save. Still, he finds that it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, to have traitors to the Emperor in his turf. Especially those from a clan whose lord is someone the Emperor cherishes.

He pulls away from the encampment. He has to find the correct words to relay to the Emperor.

“I’m sorry,” the Emperor says, his child-body retaining none of the cool impassiveness his adult-body has. “The demons were wearing the Mobei clan’s fur, and had the tattoos of their warriors?”

Song Yi nods. The Emperor’s qi is beginning to leak from his usually tight, impressive control, the air in the room beginning to feel thrice as heavier. It takes all of his concentration not to tip over and fall flat on his face.

The Emperor remains silent. Song Yi risks a glance upward when he hears the unmistakable sound of robes moving, and looks back down immediately.

The gentle slopes and warm green of the Emperor’s eyes are gone. In its place is a chillingly bloody red, filled with uncharacteristic coldness. It looks eerily out of place in the face of a human child, with the way his demonic features are peeking out.

“Very well,” the Emperor says. “Have the villages to put up their barriers. I will shadow the subjugation squad. The standing order remains the same– capture, not kill. I’ll deal with them myself.”

Song Yi’s throat bobs. It takes some time before he can even answer, too taken aback by the sheer rage the Emperor’s qi is exuding. “Understood, Junshang.”

“Dismissed.”

Song Yi leaves as quickly and quietly as he came. He leaves behind a plate of fruit, and Shen Yuan grudgingly pops one of the grapes to his mouth. Distinctly human, considering that it doesn’t taste like meat nor does it contain deadly poison.

He doesn’t like this, not one bit.

It’s definitely not Mobei-Jun’s doing. The demon hates Huan Hua Palace; one of his conditions before he accepted the position of the Representative Lord of the North was for Shen Yuan to turn a blind eye to his revenge on Huan Hua. Perhaps even aid him, should he ask for it. That hatred is genuine, and it made Shen Yuan curl up in fear inside. He sometimes forgets that this novel liked to boast about vengeance and returning the favor, be it good or bad.

If it’s not Mobei-Jun, then it can only be Linguang-Jun. Shen Yuan absentmindedly fiddles with the book in his hands– oh, it would be wonderful to have his sheep, but they’ll likely suffer in the human realm’s conditions...

Linguang-Jun still has supporters on his side. Allies. Mobei-Jun hasn’t killed him out of respect for his late father’s wishes. He’s been lying low ever since Mobei-Jun took the position of clan lord– which was months ago. Enough time to plot something.

But why in the borderlands? Not in the court itself? There’s too many risks and too little benefits for Linguang-Jun to put this much effort in.

Shen Yuan is definitely missing something.

Alright, time to review the facts: someone in the Mobei clan sent its warriors to the borderlands, intending to aid Huan Hua Palace. The scouts are blocked from sending reports to him. The mixed villages are threatened to keep their silence.

Then, the assumptions: someone in the Mobei clan, presumably Linguang-Jun, has a standing deal with Huan Hua– given their non-aggression with each other. Airplane did say something about meeting Mobei-Jun near Huan Hua and saving him– in the middle of complaining about Huan Hua’s exorbitant prices for their goods.

The arrival of the subjugation squad was expected, considering how the cultivators prepared to exploit the weaknesses of each member, except for Sha Hualing, the last addition to the squad. Shen Yuan’s pieced enough information from his scouts to see the pattern. This means that Linguang-Jun has spies in the palace, or someone from Mobei-Jun’s side let it slip. Not in a high enough position to find out the last minute changes of the squad, but high enough to have access to the mission files in the first place.

It still does not make sense. But if he considers it– if Shen Yuan isn’t here, if he’s still in the palace, then he would, assumedly, have no way of knowing. It’s likely that the subjugation squad will fail, and the villages will be taken over by cultivators. He’ll only hear of the Mobei clan’s warriors selling out information and attacking the squad.

He won’t accuse Mobei-Jun, but he will have to question him, since those were his people. If Mobei-Jun is unaware, then Shen Yuan would have to find some other way to get information and resolve the issue, before his rule is called to question– hm.

He can think about that later. For now, he’ll have to follow the subjugation squad to ensure that they don’t die. And that Sha Hualing, being her gremlin self, doesn’t accidentally wage a war against the human realm. That’s the last thing he needs right now.

Chapter Text

“Now?” Sha Hualing repeats. “They’re telling us to attack now?”

The squad leader nods grimly. Sha Hualing is not quite sure about their name, although she does remember that they are the Emperor’s choice for the Minister of Combat– this mission must be one of the tests they must succeed in before they can be publicly appointed and act in official capacity. 

“But just a shichen ago they were telling us not to reveal ourselves,” Sha Hualing points out. “Is it possible that they’ve been compromised?”

The squad leader considers it before shaking their head. “Song-xiong came to deliver the order personally. It had Junshang’s seal on it, and it wasn’t fake– I checked.” They worry their sharp fangs over their lips for a moment. “The orders stay the same. Take care of the cultivators. Capture the demons among their ranks. But the restriction of murdering the latter was lifted. They must’ve found something, but Song-xiong said he’s not at liberty to share.”

“They’re traitors then,” Sha Hualing summarizes. For a moment, she feels at a loss. This is not the first time she’s heard of tales of betrayal; she’s been faced with a few, among her clan. But– the Emperor has cast such a tall presence that the idea of going against him is inconceivable. Plus, why would they even go against him? 

“We attack in a shichen. I’ll have the men ready,” the squad leader says. They sound as troubled as she feels. “Prepare as well, Miss Sha.”

Sha Hualing agrees. She has been ready for quite a while now, but her body has grown lax from the days of waiting, forced to lay low. A warmup will be appreciated.

The plan is as follows:

The first priority is to break or bypass the barriers the cultivators had installed. Some of their members will work on that, while the most of them will lure the majority of the cultivators out by attacking their supply lines and scouts. After they get past the barriers, they will fight to their hearts’ content. The second priority is to capture the demon traitors in the act– to reduce the casualties in their number as much as possible.

The third priority, not as important as the first two and treated more as an option than a requirement, is to leave no witnesses behind. Sha Hualing likes that the most.

It is easy to find the stragglers– groups of three to four cultivators, pretending to be concerned and ‘ask’ whether the demons in their villages needed to be culled. In more flowery, elegant terms, but the intent is the same. Then there are the scouts, pairs of them, branching away from their encampment and slowly covering more ground.

They’ve killed some, and found hand drawn maps in their possession. Worrying, that they are already aware of the borderlands’ terrain and people. The squad leader is the most worried; apparently, this may be a sign that the cultivators’ stay in the borderlands might’ve been planned to be a permanent one.

They have to let some scouts go, always by ‘accident’. It doesn’t take long before the cultivators descend on them as they pretend to rest for a while.

Sha Hualing enjoys the fight. It is a lot more difficult than she expected it to be– these cultivators are tougher and craftier than the stories made them out to be. They boast the same formations the tales of war always speak of. The vanguards fight roughly, harshly, like warriors created from soft flesh and hardened to sturdy bone. At the back are archers with spiritual arrows that burn through their armor and skin, with less accurate aim than the bird-blooded, sharp-eyed demons back home, but no less deadly.

She grins. There is blood everywhere, on her armor, in her hair, on her face– soaking the soft ground, hot sand, jagged rocks– staining her sight with the bloodlust only a well-enjoyed fight to the death can give. Here, she is the hunter, the predator, the victor; here, she is.

Perhaps this is why demons are so feared. Not a single acceptance of the rules– they are full of understanding, of knowledge, but they refuse to accept the constraints that humans give them. Not a hint of human compassion. Different. Bloody. Dangerous.

Not even the sharp burn of an arrow piercing through her shoulder, inches away from her neck, is enough to deter her. She fights, living off on that bright, addicting feeling of being in the center of the universe, feeling the sun’s heat on the soles of her feet and in the core of her chest, of the feeling of flying high and free with nothing to tether her back to the ground.

She is, abruptly, pulled to a stop with a hand yanking on the back of her armor. She growls, more animal than demon, and has to stop it from turning into a whine when she sees the unmistakable face of the Emperor in front of her.

She is too out of it, too consumed by her hunger for victory, for her greed of taking more and more until she grows too big for this world and her name is spoken in tales of warning and fear. She cannot speak, but the Emperor knows, as he always does– a god wearing the guise of a demon, power wrapped in small, folded packets that glitter in his hair and on his robes and the tilt of his mouth.

She is small. She is everything. Far too young to be anything concrete, but far too strong to be anything but.

“Sha Hualing,” the Emperor murmurs, soft and slow. Hazily, she recognizes the world around her. Strewn bodies, the blood sloshing in her boots and slipping through the holes where the leather has frayed from her rampage. Sharp canines poking out of her mouth, her claws making a dent in the hilt of the sword the Emperor had given her, with a proud smile and so much warmth. It is covered in the blood she slew not just for herself, but in the Emperor’s name.

Slowly, gradually, her senses come back. The qi passing through her meridians feels heavenly, a cool touch to burning skin. She wets her lips, and tastes the tang of iron.

“Junshang?” she murmurs slowly. “What...?”

“Poison,” the Emperor tells her. Around her, the subjugation squad is in similar states of disarray, disoriented and confused. “Meant to warp demonic qi to worsen instincts and eventually cause a demon to rampage.”

Sha Hualing swallows. “There... there are none left.” She looks around to make sure. The encampment is quiet, smoke drifting lazily in the air where a bonfire is lit. “There were more. A lot. How...?”

A hand weaves through her hair, letting her shoulders relax. “Rest,” the Emperor says. “Circulate your qi to purge the poison. There are no enemies left, Sha Hualing. You did well.”

Sha Hualing nods. Her body is weak all of a sudden, and she slumps to the ground. It should feel disgusting, to sit on blood-soaked soil with the viscera of her enemies surrounding her, but it somehow isn’t. She closes her eyes, and rests.

The Emperor will handle whatever comes after. Sha Hualing has done her part, and has done it well. All she needs to do is rest. 

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan stays just outside the battlefield, observing the fight as best as he can. His assumption came true– the cultivators knew who they would be fighting and had prepared the best weapons and strategies to take care of them. The ambush isn’t as effective as they hoped it would be, considering that the squad immediately retaliated without a slight pause or hesitation in their movements.

Sha Hualing leads the members into the fray, either unaffected or only partially affected by the cultivators’ plans to exploit the squad’s weakness. She looks like she was having fun, so Shen Yuan leaves her be. He focuses on finding the demons– traitors, his mind tells him; yeah, no, we’re not jumping to conclusions, he tells it back– to capture them as peacefully as possible. They didn’t join the ambush, their numbers securely staying within the cultivators’ camp.

Shen Yuan feels a flicker of doubt. No, Song Yi wouldn’t say anything he isn’t certain of; he is far too cautious and proud of his duties that he wouldn’t dare submit a false report. He sneaks in closer, waiting.

The demons are wearing furs unique to the north. Most of them have tattoos in the Mobei clan’s ancient tongue. Sheng Yuan recognizes some symbols. Warrior is the predominant one. They’re not exiled or kicked out of the clan, nor do they wear signs of the clan lord’s disfavor. Some carry badges that only Mobei-Jun’s trusted can have.

Is it possible that Mobei-Jun has...? Is the plot moving forward too quickly? Shen Yuan thought they were getting along, but the plot dictates that they were meant to be enemies, so–

Shen Yuan tamps down the instinctual rise of his qi, fueled by his emotions. He’s relieved that none of the demons caught him. He hesitates, before pulling a small bag from his spatial ring. He releases the pollen inside, covering his nose and mouth, and watches as the demons gradually and unknowingly fall asleep.

Alright, that takes care of it. Now, it’d be easy to get rid of them– and he’ll question Mobei-Jun, perhaps, and then–

Shen Yuan’s forehead knits. No. Wait. He jumps down from where he’s hiding, picking up one of the badges. It’s light, lacking the dense, freezing qi that describes Mobei-Jun perfectly. A fake badge. But why?

Who cares? Just get rid of them.

Shen Yuan jolts, and then curses every curse word he can think of as his disguise tapers off slowly, his child-body rapidly growing to revert to its original form. His bones ache, not from the regrowing process, but from the sludge he’s now realizing is clinging to his blood. It’s as thick as tar when he cuts his hand, trying to bleed it out. That only makes it worse.

Since when was he poisoned? How did he not notice? Is this a trap set out for the– fuck.

He grits his teeth as he yanks at his qi, trying to dilute the poison as he circulates both his qi and blood to cleanse them both. He can survive the undiluted version of the poison, he knows– he’s been poisoned by much, much worse than this.  

It is more of a nuisance than a genuine health concern, but the circumstances change it from an annoyance to an emergency. He won’t be able to act as quickly as he normally can with it running through his veins, so he does his best to clear the poison as quickly as he can.

It’s a subtle, almost undetectable poison. Shen Yuan is still not sure how it works; he’ll have to take a few samples with him back to the palace and have them examined thoroughly. For now, he’s sure that it is not spread through physical contact, since he was still affected despite staying away from the heat of the battle. Maybe it’s localized in this area? Or–

He needs to get rid of it. The poison can’t spread to the villages. That would be a disaster.

“System, what’s happening?” Shen Yuan demands. “This wasn’t in the novel! You never issued a quest for this!”

The system whirrs slowly. He grits his teeth and moves.  

This was never in the novel. Shen Yuan is certain about that. With the crystal-clear clarity a Heavenly Demon’s memory gives him, he knows for a fact that the novel never mentioned anything about poisons that cause demons to lose themselves. Just how was Huan Hua Palace able to engineer such a–

A low growl, and his head snaps around. He barely manages to dodge just in time– holy shit he can’t just fight them, they’re not in their right state of mind, and any attack would just establish him as an enemy rather than ally– 

A corpse lands by his feet. Shen Yuan grimaces at the sight, resolutely looking up. Very silly, considering he’s seen and done much, much worse. Instead, he locks eyes with the demon, the subjugation squad leader, who falls to their knees with something akin to veneration.

Shen Yuan’s skin prickles. The poison acted quick. “Zhao Dianjun?”

“Junshang,” they croak, barely clinging to the last vestiges of their coherence. “This one... apologizes...”

Well, fuck it. Shen Yuan tears through the poison and locks it to his left hand. His skin turns an appalling shade of violet, but that can be easily fixed. He kneels next to Zhao Dianjun, flooding the demon’s meridians with his qi. 

He shifts to the side when Zhao Dianjun coughs, expelling the poison through his mouth. The black sludge fizzes, then disappears to the ground within seconds. Shen Yuan circulates his qi one more time, patching over where Zhao Dianjun’s meridians are swollen and inflamed.

Along the remnants of the field are the other members of the squad, some alarmingly unconscious. Shen Yuan checks them first, relieved to see that the damage isn’t irreversible. Despite the poison meant to make demons fall prey to their own instincts, they’re not attacking him. Perhaps they’ve realized, subconsciously, that Shen Yuan just wants to help. Either way, that’s a good thing.

He counts the full thirty members. Missing one. He sweeps through the battlefield, a little too panicked to notice that he is maybe using too much qi. He breathes out in relief when he finds Sha Hualing, still fighting the remaining cultivators, and then tenses when he realizes that she is far too affected for it to be safe.

He casts a glance at the robes of Huan Hua Palace. It will be easy to get rid of them, he knows, but it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. Still, the consequences of leaving them alive is far worse than the consequences of killing them, so he takes care of the cultivators with a rough sweep of his qi and blood.

Sha Hualing is standing unsteady on her feet, eyes wild and undoubtedly feral. She growls, deep and aggressive, and Shen Yuan raises his hands as a gesture of peace. She must’ve noticed his face, as she keens then, buckling, losing the momentum that kept her standing until the very end.

She sustained the worst damage out of all the members. Shen Yuan has to concentrate his utmost as she blinks at him, wearing recognition on her face but not comprehension. “You did well,” he consciously says. She sighs something akin to relief, and slumps over completely.

Thirty-one members. All accounted for. He’ll have them watched for at least a week, in case the poison has side effects. He needs to get a sample of the poison, but– but he can’t ask the scouts. It would be dangerous for them to get affected when they live within these villages and know these lands intimately.

His hand throbs. Shen Yuan huffs. Well. He guesses he has a sample now. 

He’ll cleanse the land first as much as he is able, and issue a warning to the scouts. They can relay the news themselves to the village chiefs.

This is not a very nice trip. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.

Chapter Text

“Junshang is here!”

Ming Fan jolts, already out of his chair by the time Wang Jianyu has finished speaking. “What?” he asks sharply. “Junshang is supposed to be out for a week– what’s the situation?”

Wang Jianyu looks uncomfortable, wringing his hands in nervousness. Ming Fan forces himself into some semblance of calm, smoothing over his expression so it shows only concern and not panic.

“I– I’m not completely sure,” Wang Jianyu answers, unsure. “I was cleaning the– right, short summary. I heard Junshang call for the healers, but he wasn’t injured. No one is allowed to talk about it right now.”

Ming Fan feels his chest tighten. Twisting his mouth into something amused, he teases, “I guess not even an imperial order can’t stop you.”

Wang Jianyu throws him a peeved glance. “Junshang called for you. He’s outside the healing chambers,” he says, then complains. “Of course I need to give you a heads up. Junshang’s not...” he hesitates, glancing around like a guard is going to yank him and drag him off so the palace servants can throw fruit at him. “He’s not exactly calm right now.”

Ming Fan gathers everything the Emperor may need. “It will be fine,” he assures. “Junshang hasn't blown up a mountain, so it must be manageable for now.”

Wang Jianyu mutters something under his breath, but Ming Fan ignores it. Not important. He hurries out of his (his!) office. Also not important. He can wrangle his emotions later. “Tell the others not to worry,” he calls. “I'll be back later.”

The Emperor is, as Wang Jianyu told him, outside the healing chambers. His face is carefully impassive and as cold as stone. He inclines his head when Ming Fan arrives; he still has enough awareness to notice what is happening in his surroundings. That is good to know.

“Junshang?” Ming Fan prods hesitantly. He comes to a stop, within arm's length of the Emperor. “What is wrong?”

The Emperor shakes his head. “Later,” he murmurs. Not quite anger then, more of exhaustion. Ming Fan can see why the other servants would misunderstand– the Emperor's first course of action when it comes to any emotion and tiredness is repression. “Has anything happened in my absence?”

“Nothing of note,” Ming Fan answers immediately. He studies the Emperor a bit more. “It's business as usual. Ah, your request for blackstone has been received by the lords. They’ve been preparing them for the past few days. They haven’t confirmed that they’ve finished gathering, however.”

The Emperor makes an indistinct humming sound, closing his eyes. “That's good.” 

Ming Fan stands there, unsure on what to do. “Does Junshang want refreshments?” he asks, hands in his sleeves. “Or move to a sitting room?”

“No need,” the Emperor says tiredly. “Healer Wu is wrapping up– ah.”

The doors to the healing chambers open. Almost immediately, Ming Fan catches the scent of medicinal herbs and the distinct, strong smell of snake venom. He tries not to grimace.

“Enter.”

The Emperor quickly enters, leaving Ming Fan to catch up to him. The cool, apathetic voice does belong to Healer Wu, who looks as unimpressed as Ming Fan does when the Wang twins get up to some sort of mischief.

“They're stable,” Healer Wu says, crossing her arms. “The question is, how did they deteriorate this badly? They were in perfect health before the mission.”

Ming Fan bristles, disliking the accusatory tone Healer Wu takes on. The Emperor only sighs. “It was a trap, I believe,” he says. “One of the sects has access to a poison that exacerbates demonic instincts and leaves them in a state of heightened aggression. I cleared it out before taking them here; their conditions are the aftermath of the poisoning.”

Healer Wu nods. “They’ll be fine,” she says flatly. “Two weeks of rest. Nothing less. I put them in temporary stasis– when their qi returns to normal, I’ll take them out. Now, is it wrong for me to assume that Shen-di has been poisoned as well?”

Ming Fan straightens up in alarm. Right– the Emperor took the squad back to the demon realm. He must’ve been in the midst of the battle for him to know the poison’s effects and how to clear it out. “Junshang,” he calls out, worried.

The Emperor’s lips pull into a taut line. “I cleared the poison. My body is already healed from its effects.”

Healer Wu studies him for an uncomfortably long moment before gracefully stepping back. “If Junshang says so,” she says flatly, turning around. “If there isn’t anything else, I’ll return to my duties.”

Ming Fan has exactly two seconds to contemplate the sheer rudeness of both her actions and words before the Emperor steers him out of the healing chambers, and spends a walk to the Emperor’s study in silence.

Dragging thirty-one people back to the demon realm is no easy feat. Shen Yuan really has to establish a transportation system or something. Maybe introduce the concept of taxis. His life would be a whole lot easier if they had taxis.

Hopefully, no one blabs. He did not exactly have the most unremarkable of entrances to the palace. Listen, there were thirty-one people. That’s bound to garner attention, especially since those people are some of the demon realm’s finest warriors.

Shen Yuan sighs. He’s really hoping to contain this incident to only a few people, preferably the ones he trusts. If his suspicions are correct and there is a spy in the palace or his court, this has to be kept under wraps. Well, Wang Jianyu knows of it, so he’ll have to lower his expectations for that one. Although Shen Yuan did plead for him to keep quiet just this once...

Why is the walk to his study so long? His feet are hurting from all the travel he’s done. Ming Fan looks pretty uncomfortable too. Shen Yuan had not meant to call for him so early, but he obviously wasn’t in the right state of mind.

Look– his entire body aches like he’d run a marathon without any warmup or preparation, and his head aches because of all the thinking. The system is no help, either. The thing went radio silent the moment he returned to the palace. Shen Yuan is also very certain that this isn’t in the novel– but who knows. Maybe he should call Shang QInghua and complain to him or something.

After he gets to sleep, of course.

Shen Yuan staggers the moment the doors to his study closes, leaning against the wall for support. Ming Fan hurriedly moves to support him, clearly worried– what a sweet child, Shen Yuan really can’t resist patting his head, even in a moment like this.

He hoists himself up, sagging in exhaustion. His qi reserves are low, but not dangerously low to warrant medical attention. His body is already working on healing itself since he returned to the palace, anyway.

“I am fine,” he assures. “Just tired. Clearing the poison took a lot of qi.” Too much qi, in fact. Shen Yuan really has to investigate its composition and source and either create an antidote for it or put an end to its production completely.

But before that– “Here,” Shen Yuan says, flicking out the letter he’d prepared in advance. “To Mobei-Jun. Discreetly, please. He knows how to enter my study. I’ll be expecting him tomorrow at noon.”

Ming Fan accepts it gingerly. Instead of rushing to accomplish his assigned task, he lingers. “Junshang...” he says hesitantly. “Is everything alright?”

Shen Yuan sighs. Good question. “It will be,” he says, and leaves it at that. Stupid plot. Airplane!!!

Chapter Text

Zhao Dianjun wakes up to an ache deeply rooted in his bones and blood. He winces, his consciousness coming in slow drifts rather than one disorienting surge. It’s almost meditative, with how easily he floats in between the barriers of passiveness and alarm. He opens his eyes, unsure of his whereabouts– and that, strangely, does not cause him the panic it should bring him.

“Zhao-ye, please remain calm,” a cool voice tells him. A smell– not pungent, but distinctly uncomfortable to the senses– intensifies with clarity. He can feel qi circulating through his body, passing through his aching bones like rough sandpaper.

He forces his sight to sharpen. An unfamiliar woman looms over him, her hands glowing an eerie purple. It is more of an instinct than a conscious act when he attempts to put distance between them, ripping her qi off of his own.

The woman only sighs, something so tired and annoyed, and crosses her arms. “Zhao-ye,” she calls, but her next words are a muddled mess, because Zhao Dianjun can only focus on the bottomless well of the most addictive qi he’s ever felt in his entire life.

It cannot be safe. It is temptation and danger, everything Zhao Dianjun is trained to handle with utmost caution. Still, he can only barely control the distinct urge to lap the stray residue it leaves on the walls and the floor; his claws flex, digging into his palms, coloring his skin crimson. He cannot let his baser urges take over him. He is not an animal.

“Control yourself,” the healer orders sharply. “Junshang, leave the chambers. Now. ”

Junshang?

It feels so familiar, so why– Zhao Dianjun grits his teeth, feeling his body shudder in the struggle to contain himself.

“The effects–”

“I can assure you, the poison is only partly to blame here. The only one in danger in this room is you. Out.”

A sigh. The voice sounds so familiar, but Zhao Dianjun doesn’t remember. The recognition flows like wisps of mist through his fingers, there, felt, but intangible.

He recoils suddenly, when everything flickers back to that aching haze. The loss of that qi leaves him reeling, whatever adrenaline it brought fading away as quickly as it came.

“Honestly...” the woman mutters. “Back to the bed. Come, come.”

Zhao Dianjun takes a brief moment to recover his bearings, taking stock of his surroundings before obliging. The woman is wearing healer’s robes, a modified one to fit her reptilian characteristics. He’s never been to the healing chambers before, not even after the tournament, but the honey-colored walls and the tall ceilings do fit what he expected it to look like.

“Miss healer,” he says weakly, sitting on the bed with his back as straight as he can will it to be. He can vaguely recall the events before he fell unconscious. “If I may, the mission, and my members...”

“All well. On the road to recovery. Junshang handled the aftermath, and he’ll explain when you’re cleared,” she answers briskly. “What are your symptoms? Headache? Dizziness? Nausea?”

Ah. That’s good, if Junshang handled it...

“Body aches,” Zhao Dianjun answers automatically. “Disorientation. Fatigue. Nothing else.”

He blinks, startled by his own answer. Was that a compulsion, perhaps? And so easily done, without him suspecting a thing?

“Makes my job easier,” the healer tells him dryly, an answer in itself. She glares, the warning clear in her eyes. “You’ll be cleared in two days if you don’t reinjure yourself. However, make no mistake– you’re still prohibited from doing anything strenuous for two weeks.”

“I understand,” Zhao Dianjun says. He watches as her hands light up with that same eerie purple, hovering over his chest. “Many thanks.”

The healer huffs. “You’ll have to sleep for the time being. Don’t fight it.”

“Junshang,” Zhao Dianjun says slowly, blinking. “My thanks to him, too. And I apologize for–” He yawns crudely. “–my incompetence.”

“Tell him yourself later,” the healer says, more muddled now, like he’s underwater. “Rest, Zhao-ye.”

Shen Yuan is somewhat surprised when Healer Wu chooses to exit the healing chambers herself, rather than call him in. It begins to make sense when she grasps his wrist, feeding her qi into his meridians. A quick, cursory scan causes a frown on her face, and she leads him back inside without a word.

Shen Yuan cautiously sits down on one of the chairs meant for visitors– Healer Wu was very against the idea (“Junshang, with all due respect, I do not need more nuisances when I have patients to heal.”) but he managed to whittle down her resistance. In a sense, it is somewhat nostalgic, although he’s grateful to not be the patient lying on the bed, this time.

Healer Wu busies herself with preparing medical concoctions. Shen Yuan’s tried to understand the pattern and formulas to her work, to no avail. Best leave the expert to it, then. Besides, she’s more likely to strangle him with her bare hands than poison him.

“There were thirty-one members of the squad, and you healed all of them as much as you could,” she muses, “and focused on them so much to not notice how badly your blood is acting up.”

Shen Yuan blinks. He scrambles to check his body, wincing when he finds her words to be true. “Ah,” he says, sighing. “I’ll be troubling Wu-jie, then.”

“Of course. Shen-di is always so reckless,” Healer Wu says dismissively, but she does usher him to sit on a nearby bed, rather than the chair, and begins pulling out a set of needles.

“How did it reach this point?” Healer Wu asks. She narrows her eyes. “No. You didn’t even realize. This is why I told you not to go to the human realm, but you never listen, don't you?”

Shen Yuan slumps, letting his fatigue weigh on him heavily. “Mhm.”

“My seal is not perfect; I’m sure you understand that.” Healer Wu pricks his skin. Shen Yuan winces when his body starts the ever so familiar push-and-pull between extreme cold and extreme hot. “If it breaks, it will be difficult to replace it.”

Shen Yuan is still unsure if it’s the original settings of the original goods, or if some of his misfortune from the modern world worsened it, but his blood quite literally rejects his body. Heavenly Demons normally don’t have seals for their blood, but Shen Qingqiu does. It used to be an exciting plot point in PIDW, until Airplane handwaved some lame excuse that doesn’t even make sense. Blah blah, it’s because he’s a villain, blah blah.

Healer Wu mentioned repeated sealing– the original one broke, she’d discovered, but there were multiple attempts to seal his blood again. Eventually, his blood got used to it and started attacking certain parts of his body, believing that there is a seal there even if there isn’t any. So, Healer Wu determined, the best course of action is to give it something to attack to prevent it from harming anything actually important.

If the original goods didn’t have Healer Wu’s help, then Shen Yuan could understand his actions better. But Healer Wu knows the original goods even before he became the emperor, so he must’ve had access to her help in the novel. Creating the seal was made even more difficult because Shen Yuan did not have the original goods’ memories– he really did not know what happened. He still does not know what happened. Ugh.

Shen Yuan owes Healer Wu a lot, he knows that. If not for her seal and timely intervention, he would’ve been stuck calculating when he could get out and act as the emperor with the least risk of exposing his vulnerability. Everything would’ve gone to hell so fast.

“Done. Stabilized.” Healer Wu checks him over again before repeating her final diagnosis. “I know you won’t listen– when have you ever listened to me, huh?– but I’m obligated to remind you to rest. I’ll check again in a week. I’ll drag you here if necessary. Get out once you’re done.”

“Many thanks, Healer Wu,” Shen Yuan says, smiling. “About Zhao Dianjun–”

“He’s fine.” Healer Wu eyes him. “All of them are well, on the road to recovery. They’ll be up and about in three days, maybe five if their bodies are slow to heal. You can fuss over them in a few days, Shen-di. Be patient.”

Shen Yuan nods, but can’t find it in himself to relax. Now that the haze of exhaustion and disorientation have been lifted from his mind, he’s restless to do something, anything.

“Alright,” he agrees. He has to meet Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua soon, anyway. Maybe that can take his mind off of things.

Chapter Text

The demon realm, Shang Qinghua decides, is somehow less fucked than the human realm. It’s a wonder. It will make for a fascinating study, if not for the fact that he’s currently deep in the mess Cang Qiong has found itself in.

A massacre, Huan Hua Palace is proclaiming on every street they can send their disciples to. There is a new demon emperor, and his first action is to send a demon army to massacre cultivators conducting relief operations to the villages settled in the borderlands. If, they’re saying so loudly, they let the demon do as he pleases, then wouldn’t they be letting history repeat itself, only bloodier?

A load of bull. Shang Qinghua is not saying this just because the demon emperor in question, aka Peerless Cucumber, aka Cucumber bro, aka Shang Qinghua’s transmigrator bro, is his– friend. Huh. Anyway, it’s also because Huan Hua’s activities in the borderlands themselves are concerning.

He just has to find a way to raise this up in the upcoming sect conference. Or prod the idea slowly to incite Yue Qingyuan’s godly– he’s seriously fucking OP, that’s his sopping wet dog of a son!– diplomacy skills to come to play. He just has to find the perfect timing, better if it’s in an environment where someone will agree with him, so...

Shang Qinghua will just have to do some engineering. No harm, no foul. It’s what he can do best around here, apart from keeping the sect up and running.

Seriously, he needs a raise. And a vacation. Definitely the vacation. But he likes living more than he likes money, so he’s all okay here! Nothing to see here, really!

“What does Shang-shidi think of it?”

So, why on earth is the protagonist asking him? Him, of all people? Luo Binghe, go bother your wives or your trusty bro near you! Just not him! Please!

“Um,” Shang Qinghua squeaks. Opposite him, Liu Qingge scoffs. Yeah, Liu-shidi. See if he continues fixing all the damn training dummies and houses you destroyed. Well, maybe a teensy tiny bit of delay can be his own petty revenge... or not. Bai Zhan’s disciples are all behaving well. By well, Shang Qinghua means that they’ve reached an all time low of destroyed items during training and raids.

“Shang-shidi.” A pair of starry dark eyes glimmer faintly, trapping Shang Qinghua in their ethereal glow.

“I– well,” Shang Qinghua desperately tries to gather his thoughts. “Huan Hua isn’t lying about the demons attacking the cultivators– there’s enough evidence that that did happen. What I do think, however, is that they’re not necessarily being truthful about the circumstances that led to the attack.”

“Are you implying that the cultivators were–” Liu Qingge starts. Shang Qinghua rapidly flails his hands around to keep that damning statement from being completed aloud.

“Oh, no, no! Well, not really?” Shang Qinghua pauses. “I have– contacts, I suppose, from the mixed villages. I source some of the medical herbs and rare materials from them, and their quality is better than most of the merchants, so...”

He shrugs, trying to deescalate. “Trade suddenly halted, so I reached out. Cultivators were, reportedly, harassing them, attempting to kill off those with demonic blood and trying to get the humans to abandon their homes and join them so they can finally have ‘justice’. They stopped replying a while ago; I won’t be surprised if something nasty went down there.”

Phew. Death flag avoided. Disaster averted. Another point to Shang Qinghua!

“Many thanks to Shang-shidi,” Luo Binghe says gently, expression unreadable, and continues the discussion in place of Yue Qingyuan, who’s been called yet again for another diplomatic meeting.

Shang Qinghua does his best to listen to the discussion, but his heart is hammering in his chest. The protagonist really does set all of his alarm bells off, ah! Really scary. Terrifying.

...this should be enough to avert a war with the demon realm. Shang Qinghua shivers. They’re not even at the start of his novel yet, and things are already so bad. Cucumber bro, please be careful! This author’s heart can’t take any more surprises!

He takes a sip of the soothing tea Mu Qingfang silently hands him with a pointed stare. The best peak lord in Cang Qiong, in Shang Qinghua’s humble opinion. He gives Mu Qingfang a thumbs up, and continues listening in.

Shang Qinghua’s no good, very horrible day still hasn’t ended. Please let this author rest! Please! God! Or is Shang Qinghua this world’s god? If that’s so, they’re all dead. So dead. Him included.

“Um. What?” Shang Qinghua locks the door again for good measure. “Uh, my king? What did you just say? Haha, my ears must be going bad, I just came from a peak lord meeting and it took very long so I must have... misheard...”

Mobei-Jun shakes his head. “No,” he disagrees. “Junshang is asking for our presence in his chambers tomorrow evening. He suspects that a rebellion is at play.”

That would have made Shang Qinghua’s heart drop if he didn’t know that Junshang is actually his number one hater. “That... a rebellion, truly? But Junshang is a good emperor!” The Satisfaction Ratings said so. The System begrudgingly gave a report after Shang Qinghua’s persistent groveling.

Mobei-Jun grimaces. “This may have something to do with my uncle.” He takes a hand into his sleeve and pulls something out. A badge, an indicator that a person is one of the Lord of the North’s trusted.

Shang Qinghua accepts it, twisting and flipping it over. There isn’t anything wrong with it... oh, wait, there!

“It’s fake,” Shang Qinghua realizes. There are no arrays, no sign of his king’s freezing qi. “It was a ploy to set you up?”

“It is likely,” Mobei-Jun says, nodding. “I’ll fetch you tomorrow evening. We’ll teleport straight to the palace. No need to wear something thick.”

Ah. That’s good to know; Cucumber bro’s palace is a lot warmer than Mobei-Jun’s, though Shang Qinghua would prefer to stay in the north. He’s got a cozy reading nook there, complete with a bajillion pillows (one from Cucumber bro and the rest from Mobei-Jun and his harried officials) and blankets. He’s got fur cloaks and coats anyway, so the cold is fine.

“Understood,” Shang Qinghua agrees. “I’ll– ah?”

Mobei-Jun dumps a cloak over him. “Wear that,” he instructs, his face slightly darker than usual. “It will protect you.”

Shang Qinghua tears up. “My king!”

Mobei-Jun stiffens, not expecting Shang Qinghua’s instinctive hug, but he doesn’t kick Shang Qinghua away anymore these days. Instead, he just pats him on the head.

Oh, Cucumber bro, Shang Qinghua thinks. Just what did you do?

Well, he’s not really complaining. Headpats are better than beatings, although– well. Listen. Shang Qinghua has conditioned himself after years of enduring Mobei-Jun’s doubtful nature. Anyway, he’ll hug his king’s thighs just a bit longer.

Chapter Text

“There was indeed correspondence between Linguang-Jun and a cultivator from Huan Hua Palace, Junshang.” 

Shen Yuan stills his expression so he does not let anything slip. The Nameless are skilled and accomplished, worthy of their fearsome reputation, but they are as likely to aid him as they are to sell information about him to the next highest bidder. The one who doles out the most coin earns their services, as they are oft to announce.

Fortunately, the palace’s coffers have not suffered too much from his coronation ceremony. He is still able to win them over, especially in a dire situation such as this. Shen Yuan may need to reconsider the palace’s spending and start focusing on the economy for quite a bit.

“Linguang-Jun had them burned, but he did not do it himself,” one of the Nameless says, smiling politely. “He gave the letters to one of our people.”

A neatly organized stack of papers lands on his desk. “As a token of good will,” they say, teeth as sharp as freshly sharpened swords. “Free of charge. Until next time, Shen Yuan.”

The way they purr his name always makes him shiver involuntarily. It was a calculated decision to tell them his name as the price; it’s not as if they will find any records of a Shen Yuan anywhere in this world, considering that he’s a transmigrator.

He does have the distinct feeling that it was a particularly terrible mistake. How terrible, he doesn’t know. Shen Yuan doesn’t really feel like finding out.

The letters are written in code. Some addressed to the Old Palace Master in the north’s ancient script, others in what Shen Yuan presumes to be Huan Hua’s cipher. It’s something PIDW discussed, but not in great detail. Shen Yuan sets those aside– he’ll have to grill Shang Qinghua later for a decoder– and focuses on Linguang-Jun’s letters.

Most of them summarize how an illicit trade route would work, and what materials they’d trade. Huan Hua Palace’s requests are mostly plants from the demon realm– except that they are all flowers and herbs that alter someone’s mentals state, as far as Shen Yuan knows. The trade tapers off to a fixed set of flora and the demon realm’s water, for some reason.

Linguang-Jun, on the other hand, enjoys the blanket permission to use Huan Hua’s cultivators, as long as he obeys a lengthy agreement of actions the cultivators cannot take. A bold move, on Huan Hua’s part, but the Old Palace Master must’ve caught wind of Linguang-Jun’s extreme house arrest and thought it as the lesser evil of supplying Linguang-Jun with weapons and other cultivation materials.

It’s pretty damning evidence, as far as Shen Yuan is concerned. He can rule it as treason and call for Linguang-Jun’s death. Not that he needs a legal reason to kill whomever he likes– okay, that’s true but also makes him queasy– but it is a reason the lords can’t argue with.

A reason Mobei-Jun can’t argue with, especially with how he was framed. Although, Shen Yuan really should leave Linguang-Jun’s fate to his nephew rather than take it to his own hands. Something about Mobei-Jun’s past that Airplane refuses to divulge.

(“I can’t betray my king like that!”

“I have a sword.”

“Yeah, so do I!” Airplane looks wary of the plain-looking scabbard Shen Yuan commissioned from one of the mixed villages’ blacksmiths, but the hack author ignores the threat. It’s an empty threat, anyway. “Anyway, my king has a complicated relationship with Linguang-Jun, so uh, maybe don’t kill him until they resolve it?”

“Why do I have to prioritize their feelings over everyone’s safety?” Shen Yuan points out.

Airplane turns teary-eyed. Ew, gross. “Because you like Mobei-Jun, and I have more Luo Binghe lore with me?”

Shen Yuan contemplates the merits of ridding the demon realm of one of its worst threats and hearing more of his favorite character’s (scrapped) backstory. “Fine,” he grumbles. “But this better be the good lore.”

“All of my lore is good!”

“Debatable.”)

Why Shen Yuan is listening to the world’s most terrible author, he has no idea. It’s definitely one of his worst mistakes in both of his lifetimes.

“Junshang,” Ming Fan calls, accompanied by the shuffling of fur cloaks and Shang Qinghua’s amused cough. “Your guests are here. Should I put up the wards?”

“Yes, please,” Shen Yuan sighs. He puts down the letters and pushes them in Mobei-Jun’s direction. “Here. These are what Linguang-Jun penned to Huan Hua. A– Qinghua, do you recognize these?”

Mobei-Jun is stiff, but he accepts the letters. His brows furrow as he reads through them. AIrplane accepts the letters from Huan Hua Palace, skimming through the pages quickly.

“Oh, yeah, this is from someone in their inner circle, no doubt,” Airplane says. “They use the same when writing to the spies they planted in Cang Qiong. Hm... just some boring stuff about trades, and... a medicine? Wait, no, it’s– huh.”

Airplane frantically goes through the rest of the letters. He gapes, beginning to gesture wildly. “So, you know, this really wasn’t in my original drafts, but shit, hey, it’s really here!” he says, in a weird mush of ancient and modern words. “It’s a drug used to make demons go berserk– that’s the idea, anyway, but I scrapped the berserking thing long ago– so! And they’re using it as fake medicine, so– be careful with that, I guess?”

“What,” Mobei-Jun says flatly.

Airplane startles, then clears his throat. Mobei-Jun eyes him, then gives him a pat. It’s probably meant to be encouraging, Shen Yuan thinks. It doesn’t really look comforting from his point of view. 

“Huan Hua Palace has a... berserker drug for demons,” Airplane says. “They’re masquerading it as medicine. I don’t know much about medicine, so I can ask Mu-shidi to examine it?”

At Shen Yuan’s nod, Airplane continues. “Well, if, hypothetically, it is medicinal enough, then we can’t use that method to shut it down.” He frowns. “Although, defending its production won’t be much trouble for them, unless a lot of important, innocent people are negatively affected by it?”

Airplane gets this devious glint in his eyes that suggests he either has some weird plot device in his mind or he hasn’t slept in days and it’s now catching up to him in the form of inadvisable plans. 

“I’ll take care of my uncle,” Mobei-Jun says, when Airplane has taken to ransacking Shen Yuan’s office for papers and a pen. He’s a lot more relaxed than when he first came in. “If you would permit it, Junshang.”

“Yes,” Shen Yuan says. “I trust that you’ll control him well.”

Mobei-Jun stills, then nods. “Yes. I will.”