Chapter Text
On days such as these, where the weather is cool and the seemingly endless paperwork has decreased to a manageable amount, Zhao Mingwen, the Sect Leader of Cang Qiong, often chooses to stroll and enjoy the scenery of Qiong Ding. Most notably was the Ling Yuan[1], public gardens that sprawled across the upper sections of the peak. Countless rare spiritual plants were meticulously placed and maintained for perfect feng shui, and Qiong Ding disciples can often be seen meditating there to reap the benefits. Through permission from Zhao Mingwen, disciples from other peaks can also visit to partake. Having been in seclusion for the past few months to push through his latest bottleneck, Zhao Mingwen visits the Ling Yuan to indulge in good time and beautiful scenery[2].
He walked through a section of manicured bushes, strong, calloused hands brushing gently along the deep green leaves. Zhao Mingwen had a regal bearing, with sharp features and a tall, muscular figure. His deep navy-blue robes, characteristic of Qiong Ding’s assigned color, had a practical martial cut, the bottom hems of his robes raised a few cun above his shins.
As Zhao Mingwen continued to walk, he reached towards a pendant at his dark belt. Ignoring the various spiritual tools and ward keys, he pulled a trinket into the palm of his hand, dwarfing the small, delicate jade. Unlike the other extravagant and deep colored objects, this jade stood out due to its being a simple pale green. His lips twitched up in the briefest of smiles, bringing the jade pendant closer to his face, before sighing and dropping it to his waist once more.
Zhao Mingwen suddenly looked up as he reached a grove of trees. In order to maintain the peace of the Ling Yuan, disciples were discouraged from engaging in frivolous conversations, and as a result the grounds typically remained completely or nearly devoid of human chatter.
Today was not one of those days.
A buzz hung in the air, and not too far away, The Qiong Ding Peak Lord could see many of his disciples in a group, heads angled down towards each other in heated discussion. Frowning at the disruption to his first evening in many months, he decided to investigate, dampening his presence and standing behind a nearby tree to listen in.
One disciple leaned in close to another, cupping her hand to mitigate the travel of her voice; the Qiong Ding Peak Lord can hear her clearly, despite her efforts: “Haven’t you heard? Li-shishu seems to have brought back a boy to Qing Jing Peak from his most recent trip.”
“Yes, yes, I heard all about it from Chen-shijie!” A second disciple exclaims.
Zhao Mingwen’s interest was piqued, but decided to ignore gossip and wait to hear the news directly from Li Mingjia – The Qing Jing Peak Lord – himself. As it happens, Zhao Mingwen had already planned to pay his second in command a visit later that evening to let him know of his emergence from seclusion. Ignoring the group of gossipers, Zhao Mingwen was about to head back to the offices to speak with the hallmaster he had placed in charge, when…
“Don’t… don’t you find it strange?”
“How so, shidi?”
…A timid voice caught his attention once more. As a decades-long shizun, Zhao Mingwen had a sixth sense when it came to misbehaving disciples.
“Well… I’ve heard interesting rumors about that boy-”
A shijie chimed in: “Hold on, I know what you’re talking about – I heard from some of my friends on Xian Shu that he’s actually Li-shishu’s bastard son!
A few of the other disciples gaped at their bold shijie’s loud proclamation
Zhao Mingwen froze, and his strong brows immediately furrowed.
What? How can that be?!”
“But wait, aren’t he and Shizun-”
“It’s true! Many have heard directly from Li-shishu’s mouth that the boy is his son!”
“Are you sure that-”
The Qiong Ding Peak Lord could not bear it anymore, and chose that moment to reveal his presence to the large group of disciples. He was quickly spotted, and their faces paled at the sight of their furious shizun who had undeniably heard their conversation.
One of the braver disciples steeled her nerves, “Shizun, I- we were just-”
“SCRAM!”
At his yell, the disciples frantically scattered in every direction with a speed that could rival that of an ascended immortal.
Now alone, Zhao Mingwen attempted to calm his turbulent mind. Still agitated after wasting an incense stick of time, he decided to mount his sword, heading straight in the direction of Qing Jing Peak.
* * *
A couple months ago, if asked what his greatest regret was, Li Mingjia would have scoffed at the mere idea and kicked said individual off of his Qing Jing Peak for both insulting his abilities and wasting his valuable time. Who would guess that one seemingly inconsequential morning, after jolting awake from his bed, his mind would be flooded with memories from a past life? Now, with this foreknowledge in hand, Li Mingjia would of course remove the aforementioned individual just as before… but deep in his mind, he would only be able to picture one face: his sharp yet filial disciple, Shen Qingqiu.
His precious, talented, quick to anger son.
After leaving his station as Peak Lord with the rest of his martial siblings and ascending, a deep ache took root in his heart at leaving behind his child in all but blood. Even then, his heartache may have eventually lightened over time, if not for Shen Qingqiu soon encountering a life of endless suffering. His head spun at how quickly small misunderstandings and minor squabbling between the succeeding Qing generation could have led to the merging of the Three Realms and the end to the vast majority of life in the mortal plane.
The Qing Jing Peak Lord thought bitterly to the catalyst of the end of the world, the loathsome half-Heavenly Demon Luo Binghe.
Even then, Li Mingjia felt that he could only blame himself, fine and beautifully arched eyebrows drawing together from his grief. Of course, Shen Qingqiu was not without fault, but he had grown bitter and lashed out due to his countless traumatic and destabilizing experiences; Li Mingjia even now still did not fully understand all of what Shen Qingqiu had experienced, as his son was very recalcitrant and hesitant to ask for help.
If only he had known just how hurt and lonely Shen Qingqiu was, if only he could have provided more support and proper guidance. Now, the Qing Jing Peak Lord could only feel shame at the distant approach he took to raising his head disciple. How could he have been so arrogant as to assume that he knew everything there was to know about Shen Qingqiu, that his son would grow past his pain and blossom without much prompting? He placed a hand with long yet slim fingers against his well-featured face, lips turning downwards with his growing distress.
Being an inexperienced parent was truly no excuse, he easily could have learned better with even a little more effort. He was the Qing Jing Peak Lord, sect strategist, second in command of Cang Qiong Sect, proud owner of countless books and scrolls, of expansive knowledge and resources!
How disgraceful.
His other hand tightened into a fist against the bed sheets at his side…
But now was not the time for self-deprecating thoughts. He had to re-sort his mind, to make sense of the memories that were now overcrowding his thoughts. He sat up straighter in his bed, smoothing out his long, silky black hair with the comb at his side table. With every stroke to his hair, from the top of his head to the middle of his thighs, he neatened his appearance, and simultaneously slowed his racing thoughts. After straightening up his simple sleeping robes, and with his emotions now in check, he could move on to more important matters.
Like most other high-level cultivators, Li Mingjia was able to catalogue memories and experiences in order to improve and maintain his state of mind, as well as calm his spirit. One can have limitless power and countless spiritual treasures, but without a strong enough mind, it was as useless as trying to carve tombs into the sand. Any stressors that come will blow away their hand work through a wind of deviating qi.
Brutes like Chang Mingdao – the Bai Zhan Peak Lord – who focus on physical cultivation, may be able to force their way through without focusing so heavily on these spirit-aiding practices, but Li Mingjia knows that there will no doubt come a time where their impatience will catch up to them.
For some, like Chang-shidi’s head disciple, it simply happened sooner rather than later.
Thinking of this unruly Bai Zhan disciple stirs annoyance in his heart, mostly on behalf of his precious son… but instead of indulging in this line of thought, he sweeps it away with an imaginary hand, moves into a lotus pose, then enters his mindscape.
As a spiritual cultivator, the Qing Jing Peak Lord had developed his own specialized technique to sorting out his mind. By imagining a large library – not unlike the Yu Lu[3], the largest and most expansive of the six libraries that he maintains on Qing Jing Peak – Li Mingjia is able to “write” down and catalogue every thought, emotion, and experience for future reference. At the moment, the influx of many decades of future memories have piled up along the ground, leaving the large hall in a pitiful state of disarray. If even a mere fraction of this mess had occurred in his precious Yu Lu, or any of his other five libraries for that matter, he would have whipped all of his disciples half to death for it.
Later, emerging after many shichen of sorting as the sun fell to the horizon, Li Mingjia had finally reached equilibrium again. While sorting, he had also contemplated whether or not he should disclose these memories. Brain no longer muddled from conflicting timelines, he could now recall that and that his Zhangmen-shixiong only recently had entered seclusion – no more than a couple months ago.
I can put off on having to decide for now.
But with his final immediate issue sorted, that just left Li Mingjia to ponder on Shen Qingqiu again. Although Li Mingjia is aware of the situation with Wu Yanzi, the Immortal Alliance Conference was still at least another couple of years from now[4]. He had no idea where they may have traveled before then, or even of Shen Qingqiu’s exact experiences as a disciple of the distasteful demonic cultivator. Where would he even begin looking for his wayward son? Should he travel to try and search for him?
At this, Li Mingjia suddenly remembered something.
I have a trip planned for a few days from now.
* * *
As Cang Qiong’s resident scholar, Li Mingjia’s artworks garner the attention of all from the Emperor in his jade palace, down to the lowest of peasants living in villages not marked on official maps. Many, both mortal and immortal, would throw obscene quantities of priceless treasures and spiritual stones his way in order to have the privilege of owning even one of his simplest pieces. Of course, this generates a very large amount of income, most of which Li Mingjia very graciously hands over for the use of Cang Qiong Sect. Every few years, instead of simply selling artwork he has already made, Li Mingjia will elect to take on one or two specialized commissions for much higher premiums. In this process, Li Mingjia must of course travel to see said client directly, as is proper, often choosing to ride by carriage. By reserving his spiritual energy and seeing the sights to generate some inspiration for future works, Li Mingjia makes one move for two gains[5].
The Qing Jing Peak Lord had recently agreed to a new commission, and as such, he immediately rose from his bed to prepare for his journey.
After half of a day’s worth of travel, Li Mingjia arrives and steps out from his carriage and stops for a moment to take in the sights. At this time in the afternoon, when the sun has reached its peak, Shuang Hu city is bustling with large masses of people. Here and there, merchants can be seen calling out their wares, common folk completing their daily tasks, and children running around and getting underfoot.
Although this may be no more than a small, ordinary city, Li Mingjia rarely leaves his Peak, and thus deigns it necessary to have his fill of the experience.
Today, Li Mingjia is wearing his favorite pale green silk outer robes. Each of the six layers he donned is of the highest quality, derived from precious materials and spiritual beasts, and embroidered with elegant designs. Of course, when meeting prospective clients as the Qing Ding Peak Lord, he must always present as his best, lest he and Cang Qiong Sect lose face.
At his waist is a beautiful brocade sash, and various gems and tools hang from it. Half of his ink-black hair has been brough up into an intricately carved guan, the other half flowing smoothly like a stream across his back and down one of his shoulders. In front of his face, a silk fan with a deep-toned wood and painted with scholarly motifs sways slowly to add to his already elegant image.
To state it plainly, Li Mingjia sticks out in the middle of the street like a crane standing amongst a flock of chickens[6]. Soon, many stop to stare at the beautiful, jade-faced immortal who seemed to have flown down from the heavens just to grace their city streets. Noticing this, Li Mingjia takes this as his cue to continue walking towards his destination.
After a few incense sticks of time, the paths slowly shift to become firmer and well paved, and the surrounding buildings have sturdier and more elegant appearances. He was headed in the direction of the center of the city, where the well-off families resided, and where his client’s household would most certainly be located. Li Mingjia knew he was going in the right direction when he began to see rich men and women snubbing the general populace from their high balconies and gilded carriages.
How disgraceful.
Li Mingjia rents out a room in the first passible looking inn. While there, he freshens up his already impeccable appearance, then orders a pot of tea to his room. Taking his time to mentally prepare for the headache he will undeniably develop – a theme that all meetings with nobles share – he almost unconsciously reaches up to rub at his forehead, as if feeling a phantom pain there already. Sighing as he gets up, Li Mingjia seals his door with a talisman and sets out again.
Finally, after too much wandering around for his liking, the Qing Jing Peak Lord reaches a siheyuan[7]; calling it extravagant would be an understatement. Just from the exterior, he can see that it is decorated rather excessively, and even the large handles on the front gate are plated in gold. Li Mingjia would personally use the word distasteful.
Li Mingjia’s brows furrow ever so slightly, as he checks the nameplate again to confirm he is where he should be.
It read: Chen Fu[8].
Li Mingjia, of course, is used to such displays of extravagance, if not from his many clients, then from having to endure Huan Hua and the presence of its Lao Gongzhu.
The Qing Jing Peak Lord walks up to the door and knocks politely yet clearly.