Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

*System loading*

Wh–where was he? It was dark and he could smell copper and wood even from where his head rested against a hard surface.

*Loading sequence successful. Welcome Welcome! Host now fully connected to account Luo Binghe. Please follow story line to best abilities!*

What in the literal shit was making that noise.

Blearily he tried to open his eyes, if only to glance around the place they apparently thought it was okay to start blaring electronic voices in your ears. Binghe’s eyes opened after a good fight, head raising of its own accord to look around. There was a pile of blurry wood stacked in front of him, splashes of something brown staining its surface in an ugly way. It took him only a second of staring at it to realize it was blood. It took another second for it to click it was his own blood.

That woke him up quickly enough as he started fighting to stand up.

His entire body hurt from trying to move, his legs wouldn’t even allow him to stand on them for even a second he ended up crashing back onto the ground again. Binghe tried to save himself by throwing his hands out only for the wood to scrape against his palms harsh enough he didn’t have to wonder if there would be splinters in his future.

Coughing up half a lung, he pounded on his own chest and winced. What the hell happened last night? He remembered going out with a colleague to a new bar, he remembered drinking and then…a car? W–was he kidnapped?

Gritting his teeth he shoved himself back up to look around again, landing on his heels as he did so. Whoever kidnapped him certainly chose a weird place to throw him, a back shed filled with wood and nothing more. His only light source was the sunbeams that had managed to slip in through the cracks in the shed panels. The door was to his left and while he could see light spilling in from beyond the crack near the floor, he couldn’t see anything beyond that of the outside world.

This had not been a place he knew, not by first glance at least. So, back to the kidnapped theory then.

Was he supposed to just stay here while the door was right there? He wasn’t bound in any way other than the stretch of his muscles through the pain laced in them. Pretty dumb of them to leave him unbound like they had. Clearly they didn’t know about Binghe’s tenacity in bad situations. Frowning, he fell onto his hands and knees and crawled on all fours over to the door, pretending he couldn’t feel all the ways the splinters dug further into his soft flesh.

Even if he could ignore it, he couldn’t fully ignore the bruises and rips in his clothes, nor could he ignore how foreign the body he moved felt beneath him. Even his hand didn’t stretch out correctly when he reached up towards the door, falling just a little shorter than he expected it to. They must’ve drugged him. Something was clearly wrong with Binghe’s body. Whatever. He would figure it out once he was outside in the light of day.

His fingers touched against the door right in time for someone to start kicking and screaming at him from the other side.

In a panic Binghe scrambled back and away from it no matter how much it strained his muscles to do so. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, though that might’ve been the confusion of the situation getting to him. Who kidnaps someone then kicks at their door like you’ve locked them away? What were they looking for him to say, sorry for inconveniencing you I’ll get a move in right away?

Before he could fully understand the meaning behind it, the door was pushed open and light spilled in further.

Groaning, he reached up, meaning to cover his eyes when an arm reached into his shed grabbed at him. They jerked Binghe upwards onto his feet, not stopping once as he stumbled from the movement. Inwardly cussing, he fought to keep his feet under him as his arm was gripped tighter and he was pulled faster. Halfway to shouting, they dragged him out of the shed he’d been in and started trying to get him towards a house, a fact he recognized only when they’d already started entering it. He couldn’t even focus on trying to do any sort of running, his limbs moving jerkily beneath him like it had when he was a gangly teenager.

When he looked down he only saw the ground to be closer than it should have been, grass being flattened beneath his oddly clothed feet. He didn’t go to sleep wearing these shoes. He didn’t even recognize the clothes hugging his body. They’d changed his clothes while he was asleep? And then they started dragging him from one unknown place to another unknown place!

This was bad.

This was very, very bad!

Even half dead Binghe could recognize the fact this was bad!

They can’t take him to a third location! Most people don’t even survive the second one!

Gritting his teeth, he started looking around and found the figure dragging him along easily enough, a young man with a snarl in his face wearing traditional Chinese clothes. No matter how weird that was, it didn’t change the fact that this guy had kidnapped him! Binghe had been planning to hit them, to strike the back of their legs and beat them down before running. He didn’t, only because the metallic voice started up again.

*Host must be cautious. Ooc has not been unlocked. Must act in character or points will be docked.*

Damn thing was speaking again, but this time Binghe noticed something he hadn’t before. Whatever this metallic voice was, it was speaking directly into his head. A dozen questions rushed through his head all at once, each one more pressing than the last. He decided to start with the most basic one he could.

Points?

*Host current points: 100*

He didn’t like that, nor did he like the warning he had to act like someone he didn’t know. If he didn’t know who this was, how was he supposed to act like them?

*Host account is bound to Luo Binghe, protagonist of Proud Immortal Demons Way, owner of Xin Mo sword and heavenly demon saint lord. Current b points: 100.*

If he had the capacity to, he would have frozen where he’d been standing. The opportunity was very much not there though.

Bound to someone? Did that mean–no, no he was kidnapped!

He remembered seeing the car and–and the headlights…and the pain.

He was hit. Drunk and stupid and hit by a car. He’d been stupid, just taking his phone out and figuring he could at least read a little on his way home. Binghe had chosen a stupid novel that would keep him busy and cursed it in his soul even while he was reading it. So angry at the novel, he didn’t even notice stepping into the street at the wrong time. At least he knew the coworker who dragged him out in the first place was fine, she’d decided to take a car home. He’d been stupid, thinking the night air would help clear his head a little. Now he was, what? Dead? No, not dead. What was the word used for this again? Transmigration, that’s it.

Binghe never really liked that genre before. They were always trying so hard to go with the plot and the predestined plans when there were other options. Also, the obsessive need to stick to people when you could’ve been nice in the first place and it would’ve sufficed. Also, who did it say he was bound to? Luo Binghe? As in the demon lord Luo Binghe? The guy from the novel he’d been reading? How did he manage to get stuck as the protagonist of such a shit novel!?

The only reason he’d even read the damn thing was his connecting with the main character in the beginning of the tale. Binghe thought they were similar in some ways, single mom raising them, against the world against them. He really rooted for Luo Binghe.

Until, of course, Luo Binghe got worse and worse. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why he kept reading the damn thing. He even submitted his complaints when the stupid thing ended. Binghe wasn’t the only one there who was pissed, but there were a number of people who had not liked his opinion very much, several of which comments were burned in the back of his eyelids from the second before he got hit. Now, it had cost him his peace in the afterlife.

Stupidly, he didn’t even notice being dragged down a hallway until he was shoved nearly to his knees in front of some random doorway. He was…Binghe was supposed to walk through this door wasn’t he? Glancing back at the other kid, he only received a glare for his questioning look. If the chance to roll his eyes safely without getting his butt kicked was available Binghe would have taken it, but the odds of getting whacked for having done so were too high for him to ignore like that.

Grumbling in his heart, he started hobbling forwards on bruised legs into the room where a single man stood with his back to Binghe. He couldn’t see their face yet as it was hidden behind the angle and dark hair tied back elaborately. The only thing Binghe could use to identify the man was the hand folded behind his back, stark white against the deep green of his robes while his other hand waved a fan about his face. Who was this? There wasn’t exactly many possibilities, especially considering there was only one person that kid would think to bring Binghe to.

This must be the scum shizun of Luo Binghe.

So, he’d been summoned then. There was no other reason for the kid to have brought him here than for him to have been summoned. Was he about to be hit again? Where in the novel even was he? Luo Binghe was always locked in the wood shed after an incident involving punishment, that much was painfully clear for anyone reading the book.

Now that he somewhat knew what was going on, he understood why his body felt so weird to try and operate, like a gangly teenager without any clue how to use their limbs correctly. The body around him felt young but not young enough to have been a ten year old coming to the sect as a last ditch attempt at life. Binghe wasn’t sure what exactly it was he felt though. He couldn’t exactly look down at himself to inspect how old he looked, that would be weird and freak people out to see. Not only that, if he questioned them he had no doubt they would either lie or claim he had finally lost it and throw him out. Maybe both. He had to use some other means to pinpoint where he was in this stupid book.

Think, think!

It’s not like he had much to go on, the injuries on his body were painful enough and now he had to try and study them? Whatever, he could do this.

The injured bits weren’t in one particular area, pain radiating throughout his entire body. Not exactly a good start to figuring this out, but at least he could whittle it down to something like a paddle or a whipping. Something big. Binghe had never been hit with either of those things before, but he always assumed a paddle would feel different. More saturated in one section. This felt scattered. Like he was whipped. Was there a point in the story that Luo Binghe was whipped? Right–there was!

Binghe didn’t remember why, it was one of the earlier chapters of course, but Luo Binghe had been strung up and whipped for something stupid that angered not just the readers but also Binghe. He hated when this happened to Luo Binghe, only because they shared a first name and he hated reading his first name getting hurt even on a screen.

After whipping him, he threw Luo Binghe in the wood shed where something must’ve happened to him and Mei Binghe woke up in his stead. Now Binghe was taking the others place in being summoned back to this scum shizun.

He was already on his last leg–maybe even less than that! How could the man expect to be hitting Binghe again? As the man started to turn and look over, Binghe unconsciously straightened his back and greeted him as politely as he could, desperate to appear as the original Luo Binghe would.

“Shizun,” he said, the word slipping past his lips right as he caught sight of the others face. Terrible person or not, he was beautiful. He was the kind of pretty Binghe had only ever seen on tv or described by the poets. It was the kind of beauty that sucked every drop of air from his lungs as Binghe’s eyes met the dark space of the others and, for a moment, he wondered how one such as he could possibly be called cruel.

Then Binghe’s mind came back to him at the same time as the others eyes widened a fraction when seeing Binghe. He seemed to watch the way Binghe’s shoulders hunched with an odd sense of fear Binghe felt was misplaced on the others features. If anything he should be the one with the scared look. This wasn’t a situation Binghe was prepared for, nothing about this was something he knew how to react to. Binghe had greeted him and not only managed to garnered the others attention, he’d also made eye contact and managed to gain himself a concerningly deep look from the man.

*Warning. Ooc behavior will result in Hosts ejection from world.*

Ooc. He wasn’t acting ooc. He didn’t even know what ooc was.

Whether or not he wanted it, the system or game console or whatever had been implanted into his head decided to actually be useful to him and answer back.

*Out Of Character. Ooc. Luo Binghe would not greet Shen Qingqiu casually.*

What was he suppose to do? Kneel? Judging by the silence, that was exactly what it wanted him to do. In the condition his body was in? Did it also want to take him out back and beat him with a stick? Pour hot water over his head?

Wincing in his heart, Binghe started to struggle his way into the room. He’d stood still long enough for his legs to have grown comfortable, only for them to become painful again soon as he hobbled in and began to bend his knees towards the ground. Before he could get too close to actually kneeling on the ground, a hand moved to stop him and he snapped his head up to look wide eyed at the man in front of him.

“No need.”

No need? No need for what? Kneeling?

Freezing halfway down, he winced at the awkward movement and started to try and lock his knees back into place again and raise his body back up. No need. Shen Qingqiu himself had said there was no need. He had said that while looking at Binghe like he was terrified of the possibility he would kneel for him. Was he planning to break Binghe’s knees? Could that be why he wouldn’t let him kneel yet? A mere few minutes of knowing these knees only to lose them again forever.

Before he could fully comprehend the man’s words, Shen Qingqiu started talking again while reaching into the folds of his robes and withdrawing something vaguely shaped like a jar.

“This is medicine, take it.” As he spoke he held out the small bottle clutched in his hand towards Binghe, not making him do more than reach out and take it. That didn’t make any sense though, Shen Qingqiu would do nothing short of tossing it in another direction and telling Luo Binghe to fetch it. Binghe nearly frowned at the object, eyes trained solely on it. Was it reallymedicine? Or was it poison that he was calling medicine?

“Don’t let others think Qing Jing peak abuses it’s disciples,” Shen Qingqiu added with a sneer. An. It was medicine. The man was obsessed with appearances, of course he wouldn’t want Binghe wandering around like a dead man. Halfway to scoffing at the childishness of the movement, Binghe instead held out his hands in a respectful gesture while taking the jar from the others hands.

“Thank you for the medicine, shizun.” Much as he tried to keep it out of his voice, he knew the moment he’d called the other shizun, it had very much come out mockingly. Oh well, might as well continue on with the act.

“I’ll work hard in the future to pay shizun back twice-fold. Tenfold even.” Even as he spoke, he thought back to the original Shen Qingqiu’s ending. What was it again? Oh yes, a human stick. As if he could forget that, especially with the turmoil it created. Not in Shen Qingqiu’s defense, but for more extreme actions to be taken. Such as castration. Ah, those days the forums were truly alive.

He tucked the bottle into his palm and stared at it, frowning at its innocent appearance.

Why would Shen Qingqiu give him this? In the book he was described as only being a crude and cruel man with no such light in his life beyond the halo shining from Luo Binghe’s own head. Why would he be kind enough to do this all of a sudden? Abuse claims or not, it’s out of character. Clearly the system needed to get on Shen Qingqiu’s back and not Binghe’s.

It’s not like anyone ever came to visit the peak, no one except the sect leader whom Binghe was entirely certain could not care less about what happened to him. Whatever it was, it was none of his business. He needed to watch out for he, himself, and Binghe, no one else. Maybe eventually he would be able to run off this mountain and join another. Surely Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t care if he asked to switch peaks. Maybe if he just showed up at one of the other peaks they might take him in simply out of anger towards this man. Then again, the sect was known for its loyalty to one another. Perhaps his best course of action was to simply leave the entire sect altogether.

“Binghe.” Panicking, he nearly dropped the medicine in an attempt to snap his head up and stare at the man again, only able to see the back of a head that had turned at one point. Could he know what Binghe was thinking? He shouldn’t be able to. He hoped he couldn’t at least.

“How’s your cultivation progress?” Why was he asking? Why was he asking?! Binghe had no idea how his cultivation was doing, he wasn’t even entirely sure how to cultivate beyond meditation–and even then! How was he supposed to know how it was going? And didn’t the man only ever refer to Luo Binghe as beast or bastard or a myriad of other harsh words in the novel? Why was he calling him Binghe now! Clearly something was wrong not with Binghe’s actions but with the man across from him. How come Shen Qingqiu wasn’t getting called out? Who’s side was the system on!

“I…the…the cultivation was simple but I–this disciple is stupid and…I didn’t understand.” Yes, perfect, ignorance is bliss! Was he about to get whacked upside the head for saying this? Possibly. Could he possibly take the medicine back after hearing this? Absolutely. But it was better than lying and then getting hit upside the head with the good old show your work ethic only to fail utterly in a blaze of embarrassed glory.

“I punished you out of anxieties today. Time has flown after all. Come to think of it, you’ve been my disciple for so long. How old are you this year?” His hand tightened over the bottle still resting in his hands, tight enough he worried about its cracking in his palm. Oh, boy, now they were playing games. ‘Oh, you’ve been apprenticed for how long? And you can’t do this simple thing?’ Prick.

“This one is fourteen.” Probably. It wasn’t an exact science trying to remember a plot point thousands of words ago, and for all he knew he’d been here much longer and this was the normal pain caused by the man in front of him. Binghe didn’t know, but the other didn’t call him out on it either he supposed. What he did do was go tense under Binghe’s watchful eye, still facing away from him. His fan even paused it’s movements.

“Dismissed,” he suddenly said from nowhere, voice tense and fan resuming it’s movements forcefully. Frowning, Binghe carefully pulled back and out from the room, tucking the medicine into his sleeve as he went. One thing he wouldn’t forget was how little other people on this peak liked the original Luo Binghe, for what reason he didn’t even know. They took Shen Qingqiu’s lead with their hollering, but the extremes they went to trying to beat him down were…a lot, even for a web novel such as this one.

The kid outside the room who had apparently been listening in frowned at Binghe. Binghe recognized him not just as the one who dragged him here, but also most likely Shen Qingqiu’s top disciple, Ming Fan. The kid wasn’t exactly Binghe’s biggest fan, never had been, even when this body belonged to Luo Binghe. Suppose if Binghe had been wrong about saying anything in that room Ming Fan would have probably called him out for it. It was right up his alley too. Ming Fan hated Luo Binghe because he had a crush on Ning Yingying, their martial sister and future member of Luo Binghe’s har…em…oh. Oh boy. At least he didn’t have to deal with that situation on top of everything else. He’d take the pain of a whipping over that whole mess any day.

Binghe passed right by Ming Fan without so much as an acknowledgment, stumbling on tired legs to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible.

It was hard trying to get back out. Binghe wasn’t really focusing on the hallways when he first came in which meant more often than not he turned a corner and still couldn’t find his way out. Eventually though, the sun was shining down in his pained skin and he was letting out shaky breath after shaky breath.

Alright, he thought as he ducked around a corner and sank against the wall. Start with what he knew. He had a harem, Luo Binghe had a harem of 3000 beauties. Binghe was expected to have a harem. He didn’t want a harem. Why any woman would want to be with him was beyond him. He had only dated three woman in his past life, all of which called him too busy for them and left him. How was he expected to deal with a whole harem?

No. he was Luo Binghe now, not the original Luo Binghe, him, Mei Binghe, which meant he could make the choice as to whether or not he married that many women. He had a choice over this life seeing as it was his own more than the originals now. He decided he did not want a harem.

Okay, solved that. Crisis one averted. See? He was fine. He could do this.

Breathing in as calmly as he could he pulled himself up off the wall of the bamboo hut and shuttled his body back towards the wood shed. It wasn’t the best place to go he realized as he neared it, but he hadn’t thought to go anywhere else. Standing in it’s doorway Binghe wrinkled his nose at its bare insides. His stomach twisted in his gut at the sight, so much so he had to pull himself back and away from it. Rather than succumbing to that dusty hell again he collapsed against the shed wall. Not like there was anyone in there to worry about blocking the light for. Once he was sure he was safe Binghe pulled out the medicine he’d been gifted. Right. Second issue.

Shen Qingqiu gave him medicine.

Yeah he followed it with crude words, but his face hadn’t spoken to the cruelty thousands of words had been written over. If Binghe hadn't read those thousands of words he would have assumed Shen Qingqiu was simply a hard teacher. He didn’t want to trust what the man had given him but what choice did he have? He hurt and when he pressed the oily cream against harsh his bruises and cuts they started to mellow immediately. He didn’t get it. The book was dramatic yes, but he didn’t think it could have been so dramatic as to lead Binghe into fearing this medicine was poison in disguise just because if the guy who gave it to him.

There was more than enough to cover his injuries, the ones he could reach at least, and when he was done Binghe was left to sit against the wall with his head leaned back against the wood. The splinters peeled from his skin and the scratches had stopped their flow of blood. Finally he was allowed some peace.

The story never went into the parts where Luo Binghe would simply be left to sit there, staring off at nothing and heart pounding painfully quick at the slightest noise in the brush. Binghe couldn’t exactly skip it though.

How silly. This body he was stuck in might have been fourteen all over again but he was not. Binghe was a grown man, he was an adult. He would not be scared into submission by a self obsessed entitled fool simply because he was scared. Sure, he had to worry about the possibility of that system thing buzzing in his ear but if he just tried to go ignored he would be fine.

Absently, he reached up to his neck and tried to grasp at the ring he wore around his neck only for his fingers to grasp at something else. His heart spiked once more, this time for a different reason as he ducked his head down and came face to face with Luo Binghe’s jade pendant. He stared.

Oh

Right.

He was dead.

This wasn’t his home, his body, his things. They hadn’t transferred over.

His mothers ring had not transferred over.

The pendant was warm in his hand in a different way than he knew but the soft green glow was a comforting sight nonetheless. It was the only comfort Binghe got as tears slid down his cheeks onto the hard jade surface.

Binghe had lost his mothers ring. It was all he had left of her and now…now he would have to share with Luo Binghe.

There was a reason Binghe had started reading this book, a reason he continued after that. He rooted for Luo Binghe, he related to him. Single mother. Them against the world against them. Squeezing it tighter in his hand, he pulled his gaze up and away from the pendant back onto the world around him as he drew in a shaky breath.

Him against the world against him now he supposed. If he had to do this whole fourteen thing all over again though, then he very much planned to make the most of it. He wouldn’t leave the sect, not yet anyways. There would be no satisfaction in that, only pity for himself and pathetically drinking himself into a stupor. No, Binghe would stay. He would fight and so help him he was going to make this a good time if he had to kill for it.

Qing Jing peak was beautiful.

There was no other possible way of describing it beyond magnificent. There were dozens of small streams around every corner, anytime he tried to duck into a peaceful part of the forest around them he’d find another little delight of a creature scuttling across the ground. If not them than the small creeks that flowed nearly everywhere definitely made his days better. He had no clue where they were flowing from, much less where they were flowing to but he didn’t care as long as he continued to fall upon the little wonders. Then there was the bushes and brush that grew in every crevice, space crammed full if berries and flowers that left minimal space for trails and wandering about aimlessly but still enough for him to squeeze through and hide behind. There were so many kinds too, big grand floral things that didn’t smell like any of the flowers he once knew or could name and berries that were terrifying to look at much less attempt to eat.

The books kept on Qing Jing peak were possibly the best part though, corners aplenty to tuck his now small body into and simply read through the dozens of words on beasts and flowers and plants. He might not have taken any of the information in as he should have but Binghe was certainly better off than if he hadn’t ventured there in the first place.

Some people tried to do fanart of this place and there were official drawings of it, but none of them compared to it in person. The hidden buildings used for storage, the long put out fires and chopped woods, the small things no one would have ever thought to draw, he marveled at it all. Trees reaching up towards the sky providing so much shade it was ridiculous, the sounds of people reading or even playing instruments surrounding him so much he never got the chance to miss the radio.

The only thing he had to complain about was the absolute confusion of having no clue what was going on.

The original Luo Binghe never stopped to marvel as often as Binghe did now. Perhaps he had in the beginning when all was still fresh and new and exciting but it hadn’t been written down in a way he knew of. The only thing that Binghe didn’t quite like was the general treatment of his existence. Apparently the only thing that transferred over from the book and into Binghe’s new life was the treatment of his martial siblings big and small against him. It was his job to collect water, practice fake cultivation, get wood, prepare hot baths, then get beat up for having done everything perfectly and repeat it day by day with no complaints towards it as though he wasn’t perfectly aware of how terrible they were being.

The amount of times he wanted to punch them for acting like privileged rich kids raised by the minute, and today was no different. One thing though, there was one shinning beacon of light on this damned cliff and he understood why the original Luo Binghe thought of her as such.

Ning Yingying was only a year or two older than his current body with her hair in elaborate pigtails and a big smile on her face at nearly any point. Her clothes were never done up right, always missing a strap or simply leaving the collar crooked no matter how often Binghe tried to tell her it was important she represent their peak. In her mind this was representation, or so she’d snapped at him when he became annoying about it. He wasn’t even given the chance to feel bad about his words as she’d already moved on the next day. She followed him around absently and chatted more often than not at empty air, filling it with sound he appreciated even if he didn’t take the time to listen to any of it. She reminded him of his coworker in a way, the one Binghe had been out with the night he died, always smiling and trying to see the good with any situation.

Honestly, he could understand the fourteen years old Luo Binghe growing to have a crush on the girl. It would be awkward to do so as Mei Binghe seeing as he was over a decade older than her which might not amount to much in cultivation times, but was more than enough for Binghe to cringe at the mere idea. It wasn’t hard not to get feelings other than general friendliness. Charming as she was, Ning Yingying tended to bring trouble with every light step of her feet.

She was still chatting away at him about something or another, probably to go play with her, while he carried his axe over his shoulder and pretended not to feel it’s weight against the bruise that had started to form from the constant abuse of his own body. The medicine he’d been given had run out long ago after he’d used it on his previous whip marks, which didn’t help when he began to develop new ones from the other disciples ‘help.’ Bastards.

If he finished cutting it early he could go play he guessed. It’s not like practicing that fake cultivation manual was going to help him in the end, though he’d be the first to admit he did enjoy simply sitting for a few minutes and listening to the world around him before he had to do anything stupid again.

“A-Luo look, a ditch is here!”

Blinking, he zoned back in from his staring off into nothing to look where she pointed. There was, in fact, a ditch there. It was a deep point in the ground that smelt of fresh dirt with small bits of dust still settling all around them in the streaks of light shining between the leaves from the trees above. Whatever created this, it was recent and it wasn’t lightning. Lightning wouldn’t strike the ground this level and there was too much tree coverage and not enough dust in the air to have created dry lightning.

A sword must’ve done it, but no one on this peak had the ability to actually strike through the ground like this. Except, of course, Shen Qingqiu, but Binghe doubted the guy would be going around trying to break his own peak. Then again with a nut case like him, Binghe couldn’t predict what he might do. First, he whips a boy into dying and getting his soul replaced, then he offers Binghe medicine and says it was just out of anxiety he did it. After seeing him that one time though, Binghe hadn’t crossed paths with Shen Qingqiu again. It hadn’t been very long and he knew that, but he still expected the man to go and try to push Binghe into something stupid by now. Yet, nothing.

It almost scared Binghe more than if he would simply hit Binghe and get it over with.

“Which martial sibling does a-Luo think cut the ground with their sword,” she continued without sensing his inner turmoil, mischievous smile on her face. Smiling lightly, he shook his head.

“Couldn’t have been them, only shizun would be able to do this.” She frowned at his words, looking back at the hole then towards him and nodding again.

“Maybe it got struck by lightening,” she decided, nodding to her own words a second later and wandering off to sit on a unusually large rock. Snorting quietly, he shook his head and adjusted the axe into his hands, content starting here to collect wood seeing as if they went any further in he’d be fighting more bushes than downed trees. Bunghe could understand her reasoning towards expecting lightning, it’s not like his fake shizun would actually strike at the ground for no reason.

Raising the axe, Binghe swung at the first downed tree he saw only realizing too late that he’d managed to choose the thickest trunk to try and cut with his half rusted axe. Why would he pick such a big tree, now he had to actually cut the thing up or risk being seen as stupid by the only person who talked to him in this place.

“A-Lou, come play with me,” she whined behind him and he spared a second to laugh as he kept swinging. No can do! If he stopped now he’d never get out of this forrest. His gravestone would just say ‘Luo Binghe. Died chopping wood.’ That would be embarrassing, more than his other headstone ever could be. Did he even have a headstone for his original body? Right, focus. Binghe couldn’t tell her any of that, if he did she’d bring up an excuse as to why that was dumb.

“The others told me to chop wood,” he settled on instead. “If I don’t get this done I won’t be able to get in any kind of bath and I’ll never get to sleep. You don’t want me to be smelly on top of tired do you?”

“They need to stop pushing you so hard. I’ll talk with shizun, tell him to make them stop bullying you.” He nearly dropped the axe in shock, fumbling with the thing instead. If she actually told Shen Qingqiu what was happening, the most he would do was laugh in Binghe face while breaking out the whip again for daring to complain. All those things about him wanting to be hit and get it over with was a lie, Binghe very much did not like the idea of being struck! Even worse, what if he used this as an excuse to play savior to Ning Yingying? Binghe remembered the chapters of the man leering at his disciple, remembered the amount of comments to castrate him.

Those people had been his saviors. Binghe loved reading the comments yelling at airplane shooting towards the sky about how terrible the writing was and how the man should die after every chapter posted. A few were even recurring commenters, one who commented every time by a name he couldn’t remember anymore but who had traded comments with Binghe a few times on the gruesome way they could do it. He missed that.

“No, don’t go to shizun with this, he’d just…worry.” He looked over to her. Seeing that didn’t send to deter her much, he changed his tactics.

“They don’t mean to be malicious with their actions. They’re just…they’re…they’re giving me another way to practice! To build up muscle. This way there’s no way I can fail in battle.” His ass. Honestly, he was getting better at pulling stuff from nowhere to use in these situations. It seemed to work though and she dropped it enough he could heave a sigh of relief.

Turning back, he found he’d somehow managed to actually cut the huge trunk to the size he could easily pack into his back pack. For a moment he was relatively impressed by Luo Binghe’s original stamina. Despite him having what Binghe thought were weak little arms, he did work well. Settling the axe down, Binghe temporarily smiled at his work before turning towards a stable slab he could sink down onto. Despite knowing the cultivation was a fake, he still had to keep up with it. It would eventually lead to him figuring out how to actually do stuff. Right?

Even if it didn’t, it gave him a break from all the physical work.

Breathing out, Binghe closed his eyes and went to shut his eyes when the sound of loud voices reached his ears and footsteps accompanied them. Great. Binghe had been doing so good avoiding them too, so well at keeping his distance and keeping himself safe. None of that mattered though when book logic was involved. Ming Fan and a few of his lackeys appeared then, immediately zeroing in on the fact Ning Yingying was there. Oh boy. Things were about to get worse for him weren’t they?

Straightening his back even more, Binghe took stock of his present injuries and figured the most he had wrong with him currently was the fact he was tired from chopping trees. One thing he could say with certainty about the medicine Shen Qingqiu gave him was it was effective as anything could be.

“Ning-shimei, what’re you doing out here alone? It’s dangerous! What if a snake had appeared and you were hurt?” Wow, he was really going for it today.

“This shixiong has fun things to play with!” At least he was confident in himself, Binghe could give him that. A snake though? On this mountain? She was a better student than him with a sword, how dangerous was a snake to her? Hell, she would probably play with a snake if she ever found one. Ming Fan was an ass, but Binghe stood by the fact if he’d had a better teacher he’d have grown into a normal person. Too bad they got slapped with arrogance overload over there. Ning Yingying had already scoffed at Ming Fan’s words by the time Binghe started listening again.

“I’m not afraid of snakes. Besides, I have A-Luo here to look after me. Right?” Why.

Just…

Why?

Binghe liked Ning Yingying, she was cool, like the older sister he never had, but why did she not like him? Did he do something to her in a past life? His future life? This life? Ming Fan had locked in on him the second she’d said it too. Binghe had been so carefully avoiding looking at him too.

“What is the fun thing shixiong has,” Ning Yingying asked after a second and Binghe nearly cried. Thank you! Thank you for moving on! Thank you for being so kind to this Binghe! Thank you!

“Ah, right,” Ming Fan started, looking away from Binghe as though he didn’t exist again to fish around in his pockets. Soon as he looked away Binghe sighed. Alright, that was fine. He could ignore their talking and sit here peacefully in the background. What would Ming Fan do? Go out of his way to bother Binghe? Be a jerk in front of his crush? What was he expecting after he did it though? Say thanks for being a jerk to her friend? No, course not.

That mentality lasted until she announced he had a jade necklace better and Binghe froze.

He did? He did. Of course he did. He held it every night before going to sleep, stroked along the pendants front and clutched at it anytime the need to run from everything arose in him.

Binghe had not shown it to her though. It didn’t even leave a bump in the robes he could barely tie. There was no way for her to know about it seeing as he never told her. Something told him Luo Binghe hadn’t said a word either. What kind of book magic was this? And what did his moms ring have to do with it? Suddenly the knowledge of what scene this was appeared in his mind, mouth falling open as his brain went fuzzy. For a minute there he’d forgotten that not every off screen bullying incident was actually off screen. Not good. Binghe needed to leave. He needed to have left five minutes ago when he first thought of sinking onto this stone slab rather than just collecting the wood like he normally would have.

“Luo-Shidi is so thoughtless to not let even Ning-shimei see your jade necklace. What would happen if this stubborn streak comes up during battle and you refuse to cooperate?”

“Shixiong, it’s fine if he doesn’t want to. Don’t bully a-Luo.” Binghe quickly started to scramble upwards, giving up his previous act of pretending he couldn’t see them and stumbling backwards away from their approaching forms. His limbs moved awkwardly beneath him as he tried to run but it was too late.

Ming Fan hadn’t brought lackeys for nothing. They grabbed at his arms and pulled him back, kicking at the back of Binghe’s legs and nearly sending him back onto the slab he’d previously been sitting so calmly on.

The necklace didn’t hold much significance to him, it was a gift to the original Luo Binghe from his mother. The most Binghe was doing was holding onto it for him. That’s what he told himself at least. Still, the nerve of these people as Ming Fan grabbed it and pulled it out, red cord going taunt around Binghe’s neck as he pulled harder and harder. It cord jabbed into his soft skin as Ming Fan laughed, announcing to all it was fake like Binghe cared anymore.

Ming Fan yanked it off Binghe’s head as he did so, throwing it to Ning Yingying who examined it herself in wonder.

He did not care it was fake, neither had Luo Binghe, only that his mother had spent so much on something such as she did. Besides, he’d worn plenty of fake jewelry in his life and his moms original ring had even been a fake gem colored the same brilliant green as the necklace. Binghe remembers sobbing when she stated he would receive it in her will, his hands clenched around the arms of the chair as the lawyer gave him a tired bored look for taking up his time with such things as emotions. Binghe had collected himself just enough to sign and accept as needed, breaking down once more soon as the lawyer was out of sight with the ring clutched in his hand. The ring that was now forever lost to him. The fact they laughed and thought it was funny to say such things to him only made Binghe angry. They knew nothing of the circumstances, his or the original goods. They had no right to judge.

“Give it back,” Binghe said lowly, stating every word like it’s own sentence and garnering their full attention for half a second. He realized a second after it had come out he might’ve said it too crudely, used his adults voice on these children without their realizing. It only lasted a moment though as Ming Fan regained his composure with a glance over to Ning Yingying, carefully taking the necklace back from her hands with his own shaking away as he did so.

“Pfft, if you wanted it back you just had to ask for it. I can’t let this dirty Ning-shimei’s hands now can I?” Despite saying it, Ming Fan still didn’t hand it over. That was fine though, some mindless violence was good for the soul. Or, it would be. He had gotten very good these past few days at checking in on his actions, today being no different as he sought out that metallic voice in his mind.

System?

*Yes host?*

I’m good to beat them. Correct?

*All within character.*

Good.

Shoving their arms off him he quickly turned and hit the first one. Binghe didn’t have the disadvantage the original Luo Binghe had of absolute anger over his actions, he was exactly aware of how to hit people to get them hurt enough to still walk away. The guy he’d turned to didn’t expect Binghe to hit him in the eye, nor was the other guy expecting to be tripped up. Distantly he heard Ning Yingying say something to Ming Fan and he suddenly recalled who held the necklace and turned towards them.

The man was looking panicked towards Ning Yingying. Whatever she’d threatened him with had clearly almost scared him into doing her request. Too bad Binghe wasn’t looking for such a quick solution. Shooting forwards he aimed his fist at the others nose and felt it crunch beneath his hand, sending Ming Fan’s head back with trails of blood already spurting out and dripping over Binghe’s hand and the leafs littering the ground. Soon as Ning Yingying let out a little laugh at seeing the man spurt blood, Binghe had started smirking. At least she seemed to be having a nice time of this.

Ming Fan recovered quickly though. He was higher up on the cultivation chain than Binghe which meant Binghe needed to retreat as much as he could when he aimed and chose his moment carefully. Soon as Ming Fan got close enough to strike Binghe, he suddenly screamed. Blinking, he startled Binghe into freezing in place, not a good idea seeing as there were others involved in this, but no one moved as Ming Fan started yelling.

“Bastard! You dare use a knife on me!” A knife? Where would he have even gotten one?

“A-Luo didn’t use a knife,” Ning Yingying jumped in, raising her hand as she spoke. Binghe wanted to agree, to thank her for standing up for him, but he’d been hit a few times and his head had gotten scrapped open. That was…that was not good. Head wounds bled a lot, soon he might not even be able to see around it should it get any worse than it was. That didn’t bode well seeing as he didn’t see the situation resolving itself anytime soon. Ming Fan yelled at the others around them as to whether Binghe had a knife or not, but none of them could answer. Binghe was as confused as they were about it, especially considering they could look at his hands and see there was no such weapon in his possession. Where was he even going to get a knife in the first place? They didn’t let him near anything that nice.

Binghe didn’t remember this happening in the original novel. He might not remember much, but the sudden interruption of a fight via a mysterious knife slash was something he would remember. It would’ve been the only entertaining bit of the chapter if it actually happened. Ming Fan apparently decided to try his luck again and commanded his lackeys try to beat Binghe again. Screaming in his heart, Binghe grit his teeth and raised himself to his full height, prepared to fight any and every one of them if need be. Before a single hit could strike him, they started screaming and backing away once more.

“Something hit me.”

“Shixiong, what’s going on?”

“A knife! A knife!”

It seemed whatever was hitting them wasn’t exclusively aiming for Ming Fan but were going all out in Binghe’s favor and hitting them all. Why? What did his not getting beat up have to do with them?

“Run,” Ming Fan shouted and his posse followed, disappearing back the way they came as Binghe’s knees started to try and give out on him. Ning Yingying came up besides him, reaching out to hold his arm and barely keeping him upright with her steady hold. She was stronger than she looked though and he held steady, eyes trained solely on where they’d disappeared off into the brush.

“A-Luo, did you beat them?”

“No,” he answered honestly, unsure exactly what might be going on. He just wanted to leave, to walk back and sleep for a year. He could come back another day, look for the jade he knew the other didn’t have when leaving at a time he didn’t have to fear them circling back. He didn’t want to be around anyone right now. The idea of hiding away in the little woodshed where no one would bother him rose in his chest.

Binghe’s chest stung where the pendant usually sat, cold in its absence the way he knew it would be for a long time without actually understanding why. Something told him to leave, to let it well rest alone. He didn’t even see where the thing went, flung around when he was in the middle of hitting someone. He didn’t see it leave the boys hands, for all he knew the other still had it. Wherever it could be, it would have to wait until he couldn’t feel the pounding in his skull. Before he could even try to leave alarm bells went off in his head.

*Ooc! Ooc! Luo Binghe would stay to search for jade pendant!*

It wasn’t even his. It wasn’t his moms ring, it was just a replacement he’d grown a small attachment to. He could grow out of that attachment with no issue should he want to. The other Luo Binghe wasn’t even around anymore. Even if it was the same color as the one his own mother wore, even if it looked the same and felt the same resting against his chest as the one he used to wear on a string around his neck, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same at all.

Binghe didn’t know what happened if he tried to go too far against the system though, so he figured he had no choice but to bend down and started searching along the ground. When Ning Yingying asked what was happening when explained it in short words, blood still seeping from his skull and soaking the ground every few feet or so. She helped him search around the entire area until the sun had started to go down, only then did she start pulling him away. He worried the system still wouldn’t let him leave but it turned out his worries were unfounded as they walked away unscathed beyond a few cuts and bruises on his end.

They left the forrest one jade pendant less, and half a dozen leaves richer. Binghe had found them as he’d been searching around, their edges stained a reddish brown indicating these to be the little blades he’d been accused of having. He knew they weren’t the ones from when Binghe had struck Ming Fan’s nose because he’d also found those, a small pile in the place he’d been standing in stained forever in the filth. These were scattered around, sitting inconspicuous until he’d found them.

There was a technique in the mountains sect that manipulated flower petals to dance through the air. It was used often by Luo Binghe to impress girls or as idle entertainment. It could also turn deadly though and that’s exactly what Binghe suspected to have happened.

Luo Binghe was one of the first people to ever use the petals as weapons to impress wife #27, and that was at least a decade down the road from now. Who could’ve used the technique like this, and why would they use it to help him? There was no reason anyone should be being nice to him at this point in his stay, least of all someone high enough up to use these things. The only person he could think of who could possibly do something like this was Shen Qingqiu. That didn’t add up though. Closing his hand over the leafs again, Binghe sighed and shook his head. By his side, Ning Yingying had been nervously glancing at him this entire time, no doubt concerned over Binghe’s mentality as he continued sighing over dead leaves.

“A-Luo…I’m sorry.”

What did she want him to say? It’s okay? Oh well? He’d like to say those things, comfort the only other person on this hill he currently got along with, but the system kept glaring alarm bells in his head. Clearly there was no choice but to shut up. He couldn’t even send her a small smile, his lips wouldn’t quirk up like they were supposed to, mouth forming a wince instead. Don’t know why. It’s not like it was his necklace that was lost. What right did Binghe have to be upset over the situation. He’d have to make it up to her later, he thought as they split up. Maybe he could try and sneak into the kitchen and refine his skills again. He missed cooking, it was his job after all. The original Luo Binghe was known as a good cook, he could ride off of that. What would the system do? Tell him it was out of character?

No, it wouldn’t, and it didn’t. Plus, he got the added joy of giving Ning Yingying the little cakes he’d made for them to share a day later as an apology. She’d cried and tried to eat them all before trading a bracelet of hers to Binghe, desperately saying she wanted to make up for his necklace as she shoved it onto him. Over all, Binghe thought he could really grow to be this girls friend over time.

Of course things tended to start falling apart soon as he got comfortable, namely in the fact they were apparently going down the mountain. Binghe did not know they were going down the mountain. He did not want to go down the mountain. Qing Jing was nice, there was always a good amount of shade and noise from everywhere all the time. The other disciples here may have been trash, but he couldn’t have imagined them being this bad. At least he knew where to hide on the peak. That option wasn’t as available in the open air where he had no clue what was happening or where to duck behind safely. What if he hid behind the wrong horse and got kicked?

They’d tasked him with the job of making sure everything with Shen Qingqiu’s carriage had been safe and kept up to date. They also tasked him with loading it up and finishing before they were ready to leave in the span of time it would take five men doing his job. Then they sneered at Binghe anytime he fell behind, hands twitching towards the whips meant to be used on their horses. Binghe grit his teeth, wanting desperately to raise his head and spit the same venom back at them. If the system did not ding in his head he would have. It was utterly ridiculous.

For a peerless immortal, Shen Qingqiu sure had a lot of junk to try and bring with him. It’s not like he was going to do anything anyways, the man always pushed his work off onto Ming Fan anyways, what was the point of even going in the first place? Probably trying to look good for the sect leader. Honestly, the fact that man died for Shen Qingqiu nearly made Binghe want to vomit. To Binghe, loyalty meant everything. To that man, it meant nothing at all, all of them pawns for him to push about however he so pleased to achieve the outcome he preferred.

Binghe wasn’t like Luo Binghe, he couldn’t imagine trying to kill someone’s or de-limb them and put them in a pickle jar…but. Binghe understood Luo Binghe’s anger and where it came from. Qing Jing was a terrible place to be stuck in with the people acting like they did, but it was only for a few years. It was just a few sucky years of Binghe attempting to cultivate something or another before anything happened. He could deal with sucky years. That was all Binghe had ever known since his mothers death. He would not sacrifice anyone to the death of a thousand arrows unless they had truly done something to deserve such a fate, and even then. Binghe wasn’t really all that good with blood after all. Yue Qingyuan had done some things yes—ignoring his martial brothers bad attitude and protecting him from behind—but a death such as that?

Whether or not he could do it, it wasn’t going to happen.

Binghe wasn’t Luo Binghe, and while he was angry at what was happening, he wouldn’t kill them because of it. Binghe might break one of their arms one of these days, but he wouldn’t resort to death. He couldn’t help it, he was raised in a different time. Killing wasn’t his only solution.

Just as he managed to set the last thing down, movement caught his eye and his head raised on it’s own to come face to face with the man he’d been inwardly insulting seconds before. He looked nearly as surprised to see Binghe as he was to see him, mouth parted and eyes widening a fraction. The look was gone nearly as fast as it was there, replaced with a blank face he would have sworn was a mask had he not seen him twitch a moment before. Shen Qingqiu held open the curtain with his fan like it was too hard to actually use his hand to do the action. Swallowing harshly, Binghe used every ounce of his willpower to keep his feet firmly where they were and not carrying him into the woods where he could live out the rest of his natural life on his own, safe and in peace.

“Shizun,” Binghe managed to greet without his voice shaking, still keeping eye contact after speaking. He shouldn’t be looking towards Binghe anymore, he shouldn’t have looked at him as long as he did in the first place. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes didn’t even slip off Binghe with a muttered insult, no crude comments or judging eyes. Instead he simply looked at Binghe like he’d never seen him before, like what he was doing wasn’t perfectly normal for Luo Binghe. Was he going to hit him? Make him carry the boxes the entire way instead of the carriage? Force Binghe to be the horse instead of the actual horse?

He did none of those things, instead only letting out a small hum and letting the curtain fall closed again. He left Binghe to stare at where he’d been with wide eyes. Huh.

So that had happened. Whatever that was.

Shaking his head, Binghe turned to try and find his own horse before his eyes fell on the group of his fellow disciples and counted nine horses. There were ten of them going, wasn’t there? Was one still being brought out? A cold feeling settled in his gut as he kept looking, an idea already forming in his mind that was quickly proven. Ming Fan seemed to take notice of his gaze and waved a hand dismissively at Binghe, already climbing up onto his own horse.

“There’s a shortage of horses,” he explained as though it made any sense whatsoever. Bastard. If Binghe could reach him he’d grab Ming Fan and drag him down to stuff his fist back into that newly fixed nose and break it all over again. It would be such a nice feeling too.

“What kind of expression is that? Are you unsatisfied? Do you wish to disturb shizun?”

Ninety degrees out, no shade whatsoever, saddled with the weight of an entire horse on his back, no horse to ride on whatsoever, and having to walk behind all these people. Yeah he was unsatisfied. Of course he was unsatisfied. Even if it was only that, Binghe might’ve still been able to deal with it, but he could already guess they would kick dust at him when they’d started to move. They’d probably try to blind him with it while they were at it.

“Wouldn’t dare. Can’t be disturbing shizun with our petty issues can we,” Binghe mockingly spit out, eye halfway to twitching in his skull. He could tell the other wanted to go on when another voice appeared.

“What’s Ming-shixiong speaking of?” Ning Yingying rode her horse in, glancing between the pair with a small frown.

“A-Luo can ride with this shijie if he likes.” An angel amongst men. Smiling, Binghe started to relax when a voice suddenly appeared from the depths of the carriage.

“You’re being noisy. There’s a limit to how much you and your shidi should interact. Ming Fan, why haven’t we set out?” Binghe took back any kind thought he had ever had towards Shen Qingqiu. No matter how few and far they were inbetween, Binghe took back every nice thing he’d thought. He couldn’t even fight the man on his words. Thanks to the current modesty standards being so high, Binghe definitely shouldn’t ride with her. It still made him want to cry thinking about it. He wasn’t looking to get with Ning Yingying, he just didn’t want to walk all the way there on foot. Ming Fan seemed ecstatic to hear Shen Qingqiu say what he did, smug grin growing in place of the way his mouth had originally hung so low. He started calling for them to move and Binghe could do nothing but dejectedly follow behind.

Sun beating down on him, Binghe sighed as he stared at the ground beneath him. They’d done exactly as he feared they would, kicking dust up into his face and nearly making him sneeze and choke through the thick haze he couldn’t even see the sun through. He wanted to sit, to give up and collapse onto the ground. He wasn’t made for this! He was a chef! A cook! His place was a busy kitchen with too many knifes to be entirely comfortable around, not the middle of nowhere carrying dead weight around! It was torturous and he wanted it to stop, but the ooc kept screaming at him, shouting not to do it, to keep going. Binghe didn’t want to keep going, he wanted a break.

They’d sped up and slowed often enough he had to break into a run some of the time just to catch up only to eventually be left behind once more. His knees were trembling beneath him, feet barely managing to keep him steady on his course. How did the original one do this? How did he do this!

Binghe wasn’t even told what they were going down the mountain for. He’d only heard some of the others whispering about a demon killing people. He didn’t fully understand what was going to happen but one thing was for certain, this wasn’t in the story. Therefore, it should have nothing to do with him. He was just here to be a pretty face.

And also a punching bag apparently.

Ning Yingying kept glancing back at him, pity splashed across her features as she did so. What could she do though? Complain to Shen Qingqiu? The man was probably the one who put them up to this! Wait. Wait, crap, she was actually telling him about this. She was actually complaining on Binghe’s behalf. No, wait, he was just being sarcastic, take it back. Take it back! It was too late though and they’d already began to slow, leaving him to inwardly sigh as he accepted what was to happen.

“Binghe, come over here.” He was dead. So dead. His legs were already barely carrying him, he couldn’t jog to catch up anymore. If he didn’t though, what would happen?

“Okay.”

They’d only slowed to a full stop as he started to approach, each and every person beyond the one to start this watching happily for what they thought would be the beat down of their life, him included. That didn’t happen. What did happen was the door to the carriage swinging open and allowing him to go in. He hadn’t expected such an outcome, freezing a few feet away from it and staring at the dim inside he couldn’t see thanks to being stuck in the sun so long.

“A-Luo, shizun’s letting you ride with him. Hurry hurry,” Ning Yingying whispered at him from behind and gently pushing on his shoulder while taking the pack from his back and presumably adding it to her own. The touch managed to shock him into moving forwards and he acted upon her insistence, starting towards it as dread grew in his stomach.

I can walk, he wanted to shout. Or, I can just not go. It would be fine with me he wanted to scream. But the little ooc alarm bells were back in his head and deafening him.

You’re telling me Luo Binghe wouldn’t want to run from this? Liar.

It didn’t respond to him though and he was left to dejectedly walk towards the open doorway. What would happened when he stepped in? Would Shen Qingqiu immediately behead him? Kill him and pretend it didn’t happen? No one would go into the carriage but him, they weren’t allowed. So what would happen? Would they find his body? Would they care if they did?

“Many thanks shizun,” Binghe muttered as he crawled inside headfirst, settling in a corner as far away from Shen Qingqiu as humanly possible and curling his limbs around himself. It wasn’t a small space by any means, only a little cramped with one fully grown man and him inside but Binghe was still small by normal standards, he could fit fine in the corner for however long he needed to. They started to go again, faster this time now that they had no one to try and mess with. Across from him in the otherwise quiet space, Shen Qingqiu laughed lightly.

Snapping his eyes over, Binghe stared at him. The guy seemed to be meditating right now, what there could be to laugh at Binghhe had no clue. However, now was his chance to actually look at the man, more than he had the first time. He was pretty, as most descriptions said he would be, a narrow face and pale complexion. Binghe had only seen him looking unimpressed at everything before, or scowling harshly, so when the man’s eyes opened again, he panicked and nearly slammed his elbow into the wall in his attempts to reel back. Crap, he’d been trying to avoid getting hit again. He just had to get caught staring at the man like it was any of his business. Then, the unexpected happened. He shot a small smile at Binghe.

It looked like those smiles Binghe had seen hundreds of times, the little ones you give to people you know when you accidentally make eye contact with them. Two things were wrong with that though.

One: they did not know each other well enough for him to be shooting Binghe that smile.

Two: Shen Qingqiu did not smile.

Binghe quickly gulped and looked away, only to glance back and catch the man glaring at nothing again. Oh great, he’d messed up already. Binghe sat there, waiting for a punishment that never came, never quite relaxing again until they got there. Then he climbed out and still expected a punishment. It didn’t come and he was instead shipped off to his room without ever being addressed again.

Something just wasn’t right. Shen Qingqiu was explicitly described as being a terrible person, truly a stain upon this earth. Things weren’t adding up.

Ever since getting here, Binghe had only interacted with the man a handful of times, but in those times Binghe should have been hit at least once, shouted at more than once. There were several opportunities to strike him and even more to spit out cruel words. He never even scoffed in Binghe’s direction though. It’s not like he was an absolute masochist, but something wasn’t adding up.

The room he was shipped off into wasn’t big at all, only large enough for him to settle his bag onto the ground and sink onto the bed right next to it to stare at the ground. What was he even doing here. Book logic was different than actual logic and he knew that. If this were his original life, Binghe wouldn’t have been given a second glance nor the chance to be here like many of the others back on the mountain. He’d been selected only because of this halo around his head showcasing in big, bright letters ‘Protagonist!’

Binghe couldn’t help anyone here anyways. More likely than not he’d just get in the way with his young age and rather low cultivation status. What could he do though? He was stuck in the protagonists body. At a certain point he was bound to be trapped by the conventional plot.

System?

*Yes host.*

Is there something I should be waiting for? Like a point to this story, or am I just wandering aimlessly? Do I have to do everything by the book or can some things be skipped–

*Host must complete path, *Holy Demon Lord Path.* Please work hard!*

…okay…what’s that?

*Host must complete path, *Holy Demon Lords Path.* Please work hard!*

Right. That wasn’t going to help him. Not that Binghe much expected the system to help him with anything anyways, but that didn’t stop the disappointment at being told such a vague answer to a question he really needed more information on. Suppose he’d just have to figure it out himself over time, much like everything else with this stupid place.

Silently Binghe sank back against his rather small bed, shutting his eyes in peace and enjoying the few minutes he got to himself without anyone trying to do him harm. It happened so rarely these days, he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Hours past slowly as he laid there, the thoughts he’d had in the carriage keeping him aware as he stayed still. It started to get boring to simply lay there over time though. By the time he left his room again, it had started to grow dark and he simply chose to go in a random direction and hope to find something to do beyond sit and sulk with only his thoughts as company.

“Does shizun want to come to the outdoor market too?” He’d come around a random corner expecting nothing, only to come face to face with Ning Yingying and Shen Qingqiu conversing. The man had turned soon as she mentioned a market, but only showcased a scowling face half hidden behind a swinging fan.

“Go find one of your martial brothers to go with you,” he said coldly. Weird, it looked like he really wanted to go for a moment there.

Ning Yingying looked dejected for only a moment before her eyes settled on Binghe and he was chosen as next in line to go. Eh, whatever was going on with Shen Qingqiu wasn’t Binghe’s problem anymore. If he couldn’t do anything here to help, he might as well go out and try to have some fun. It’s not like Ning Yingying would let him go without at least enjoying himself a little anyways.

She took his arm and started dragging Binghe from the house they had been in, happily chatting in his ear as she went and letting him go soon as she found something to run towards in the markets. She managed to find a stall selling jewelry, just cheap stuff but beautifully carved, enough it didn’t matter it was made of cheap material. To him it was beautiful anyways. His companion didn’t think the same and moved on quickly to a food vendor, buying them both sugary treats before moving on again in a whirlwind of words and actions he could barely keep up with much less understand.

“And there’s enough money we can buy all the treats we want before they close and–ooh look a-Luo, lanterns!” Smiling at her excited voice, Binghe looked where she was pointing at the hanging lanterns. They had clearly just been lit with a few of them still not quite set up yet. Nonetheless, it was lovely. Especially with the sunset painting the sky behind them and the market stalls beginning to close or open for the night. Still smiling, he continued looking around at the venders.

“We ought to stop getting caught on every stall or they’ll all be closed by the time we get to the rest of them,” he mumbled. Ning Yingying didn’t say anything back to him, which struck him as odd. Smile dropping, Binghe furrowed his brows as he looked back to where she’d been, hand clenching around the last of his sugar art.

No one was there.

Heart pounding in his chest, Binghe’s face went slack as he kept searching the area, eyes catching on something black and swirling as he desperately searched for her. Taking off without thinking, he ran at it and turned the corner in time to see Ning Yingying disappear into a cloud of black miasma resembling what he’d heard demons spiritual energy looked like. In the last second before she’d disappeared Binghe had managed to glimpse her face. She looked terrified, eyes wide as a ghost and hands desperately reaching towards him. Then she was gone. The stick dropped from his hand into the road beneath him, dirt and guck sticking to it the moment it reached the ground.

She was gone, leaving him to stand in the middle of the alleyway like a fool. He’d lost her. He’d lost Ning Yingying. How could he lose someone like that?

A low humming started to invade his ears as he stared, unable to pull himself from the scene. It took Binghe a long time to realize the humming was coming from him. It took even longer for him to realize it wasn’t humming but a low whine. He stopped doing it soon as he connected the two.

The only person who was nice to him in this stupid place and he’d just let her get taken like that.

Numbly, he took half a step forwards and nearly collapsed. His legs were shaking, hard enough they barely supported him just standing still. Why was he shaking? He knew at one point he’d have to see demonic things. Hell, eventually Binghe was going to be one of those things. It moved so fast though, like gravity meant nothing to it and it just…it took her. It took Ning Yingying right underneath his nose like she didn’t mean anything at all, like no one would even notice her disappearance.

Binghe didn’t even have a sword, how was he supposed to deal with this? People were one thing to deal with, they had pressure points and breakable bones. Even those on Qing Jing were human, their bones still broke even with their cultivation. They still felt pain same as he could make them feel pain.

That thing was something different altogether.

How was he supposed to fight a puff of mist. No. No, he wasn’t supposed to deal with anything like this. There was supposed to be no reason for him to be here other than the woes of Luo Binghe. Binghe was just some guy who transmigrated here, he couldn’t–he can’t do this.

*New objective. Find Qing Jing disciple Ning Yingying. Reward: +200 b points.*

Screw that! This, he couldn’t do this! He wasn’t Luo Binghe! He wasn’t immeasurably cool or brave, he was just…scared. He’d never had to fight something like this before, never even encountered anything like it he could compare it to. Even huddling his arms around his chest didn't bring him the warmth he so craved right now. If anything, the movement only made him more aware of how alone he was right now.

*Warning, hosts failure eminent. If failed, hosts account will be terminated.*

Who cared! He couldn’t even keep Ning Yingying safe! What good was he if he couldn’t even keep her safe?

Someone else would go get her. She’d be safe with them and Binghe would just be some random rotting corpse on the side of the road. The world could survive without its protagonist. It would probably be better off without Binghe as it’s protagonist anyways–

*If host does not help save Ning Yingying, she will die. No one will find her in time.*

Blinking, Binghe moved his head slightly in the direction the sound came from, temporarily wishing the stupid thing came in screen form so he could glare at that.

*Host only has to ask.*

This time the message was on a screen, the hideous glowing blue screen popping up directly in front of his eyes. As much as Binghe wanted to sink his fist into the thing, there was more important things.

You said no one would save her if I don’t?

*Correct. No one knows of Ning Yingying’s disappearance and won’t until too late.*

Fuck.

He didn’t care if he died. He didn’t care if someone else took his place. He didn’t even care if no one took his place and the story of Luo Binghe died with him as it was meant to weeks ago in that wood shed. He did care about keeping people safe. About keeping his people safe.

Gritting his teeth, Binghe managed to pull himself back and away from the alleyway, turning to face the direction from which he’d come from and running faster than he ever had before towards it.

Ning Yingying was good, too good to have been stuck around Binghe for so long. Even so, he would save her, she was his friend. One of his people. Binghe didn’t let anything happen to his people.

He didn’t remember the trip back, not even which streets he took nor the number of people he ran into along the way. What he did remember was crashing through that door and the moment of shock on Shen Qingqiu’s face as he took in Binghe form. He remembered how quickly the man said to show him the way, and Binghe remembered getting knocked out in front of the very house they had begun at.