Chapter Text
There is a demon amongst the Huan Hua Palace disciples.
Liu Qingge is certain of it.
Though only for a moment, he had sensed demonic qi, something dark and violent in nature that vanished nearly as quickly as it surged. He scans the small crowd of disciples descending the staircase and catches sight of someone looking very intently in Shen Qingqiu’s direction. He narrows his eyes and walks back to the other Peak Lord. His movement draws the gaze of the staring individual and he gets a moment to inspect them more clearly before recognition clicks.
He looks like that disciple of Shen Qingqiu’s that was assumed dead after the Immortal Alliance Conference, but older- shaped like a young man and not a boy. Is this a demon impersonating him or stealing the skin of a long-dead body? Liu Qingge refrains from reaching for his sword immediately even though he itches to do so.
Stepping into Shen Qingqiu’s space causes the man to shoot him a glare from over his fan and lean slightly away.
“That one over there,” Liu Qingge states without indicating. He knows that Shen Qingqiu can see the group of disciples headed their way to offer greetings to the senior cultivators. He also knows that Shen Qingqiu sees the Luo Binghe disciple when his eyes grow even flintier. “You said your disciple died.”
Shen Qinqiu’s hard gaze flicks back to Liu Qingge. “That’s no disciple of mine,” he says coldly.
So a demon then. Best to act civil and eliminate the threat when it can be separated from the others. Especially when the other Huan Hua disciples keep looking at it as if it’s their leader.
“Greetings Senior Liu,” One of the disciples says with a polite bow directed at him. The other disciples follow suit, even the Luo Binghe-looking one. They collectively do not acknowledge Shen Qingqiu. Liu Qingge notes a hostile energy in the air as some of the disciples flick their eyes towards the green-clad man and away again like nervous darting fish.
“Did Huan Hua Palace send their disciples to investigate the issues in Jin Lan?” Liu Qingge asks after acknowledging their bows.
The one who initiated the greeting nods; he looks familiar as well. Another disciple he had seen at the immortal alliance conference then, Gongyi Xiao.
“Yes, Senior Liu, we were sent to investigate the plague here. Apologies if we are in the way of your own investigation,” Gongyi Xiao says politely.
“ Senior Liu and I ,” Shen Qingqiu sneers from behind his fan. “-were just leaving.”
To drive his statement home, Shen Qingqiu turns with a natural flourish of his many-layered robes and shoots Liu Qingge a cold look that demands he follow. Not wanting to engage in small talk with unfamiliar disciples and a demon, he follows with the barest of farewells given.
The two leave the inn they were searching through. Liu Qingge feels a singular gaze still watching as they depart. The demon, most likely.
“Are we trying to draw the demon out?” Liu Qingge asks when they are far enough down the street to be out of earshot of most demonic creatures.
“If you mean the demons that are most likely causing the plague here, no. If you mean that beast, no.”
“Then why the hasty retreat,” Liu Qingge says through gritted teeth. His hands itch to draw his sword and lure the demon out for a fight. It would be the most interesting thing to happen during this entire mission of quiet and careful investigation.
Shen Qingqiu snaps the fan closed sharply and whirls around, incensed. “ I do not retreat,” he hisses, jabbing the fan against Liu Qingge’s chest. “What would be the point of idling around with polite small talk when we are here for a purpose. The beast you are worried about is pathetic and cowardly. Forget it. ”
Liu Qingge wants desperately to snap back and start a fight; Shen Qingqiu has never been pleasant to be around. He had sworn to himself to at least try and weather the acidic personality of his fellow Peak Lord. An obligation he owed after Shen Qingqiu saved his life by aiding him though a near fatal qi deviation. Regardless, his combative nature against Shen Qingqiu has been a difficult thing to suppress- especially in moments like this. All he does is clench his fists and look elsewhere.
“Shen Shixiong is right,” Liu Qingge says, wrenching the words out forcefully.
At that, Shen Qinqqiu pulls away with a huff, turning to continue walking to the cellar Mu Qingfang is holed up in.
“I told you before, brute.” Shen Qingqiu snaps the fan open again, idly fanning himself as he walks. “Don’t bother forcing yourself to be respectful, You’ll break your teeth with all that grinding.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t bother responding and continues to walk with him. It’s almost a relief when he feels a barely contained demonic presence start to trail behind them.
The rest of the evening goes by too uneventfully. No progress on a cure, only slight hints on what the culprit could be, and the demonic presence slinking just on the edge of Liu Qingge’s awareness the entire time. When Shen Qingqiu excuses himself to go rest for the night, Liu Qingge waits a few minutes before following. Sure enough, the demonic presence also trails after Shen Qingqiu.
A demon with a grudge against Shen Qingqiu, disguised as one of his former disciples… Considering the treatment Shen Qingqiu is known to give his disciples, it’s almost too perfect for the demon to assume such a form.
Liu Qingge stays a good distance away, sticking to rooftops, ensuring that neither Shen Qingqiu nor the demon notices his presence. He watches the small green form of his fellow Peak Lord walk down the streets of Jin Lan with a haughty stiffness to his step.
The quiet following and patience pay off.
A handful of buildings away, Liu Qingge sees movement, dark robes against the darker night sky as a figure closes in from the opposite direction. Liu Qingge crouches lower as he continues skirting the rooftops. His typical robes are much too bright for stealth missions like this, so he uses talismans that dampen and camouflage the user’s presence. He’s confident he won’t be noticed by the demon, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.
The figure runs closer, taking long and light footsteps, eerily reminiscent of the signature flare of Cang Qiong’s qinggong, across the tiled roofs. As their form draws closer, Liu Qingge confirms it as the same demon wearing the likeness of the deceased Luo Binghe. Now, without the pressure of maintaining appearances, his hand goes to the hilt of his sword as his face darkens.
Luo Binghe was an unfortunate loss of the tragic events of the Immortal Alliance Conference. He hadn’t believed the news of his death when Shen Qingqiu had shared it. Disciples died in their course of work. Liu Qingge had seen it happen several times that night alone, but such a promising talent just gone… And for a demon to impersonate him, it’s distasteful.
Liu Qingge draws Cheng Luan the slightest amount- crouched and motionless- a stance he often takes moments before ambushing monsters on night hunts. The killing intent of the demon radiates outwards.
He leaps into action the moment the demon is within range.
In an instant, the distance between them is closed. Liu Qingge uses the force of drawing Cheng Luan to strike the demon with the metal hilt, sending it skidding back across the roof. Surprised, the figure stumbles, barely regaining its footing in time to parry a strong downward blow from Liu Qingge’s sword.
The clash of metal makes an ugly sound. Liu Qingge feels heavy, violent demonic energy radiating from the demon’s blade. He grunts and pushes against the sword with his own before withdrawing a step to measure up his opponent.
The demon wearing Luo Binghe’s skin takes a moment to do the same, standing in a fighting stance that is low and predatory.
Something about it is just too similar to the times he saw a young Luo Binghe being picked on by his fellow disciple; a burning rage in his eyes and teeth gritted at the unfairness.
The demon’s eyes also burn with rage, hot enough that his eyes glow like smoldering coals.
Liu Qingge swings again, starting the fight in earnest.
Metal clashes on metal, and the demon is shockingly close to being a match to his strength. But only close. The way it wields its sword is too aggressive and unthinkingly violent as it lashes out. There are moments when the sword forms it uses to deflect otherwise crippling blows almost exactly match the elegant teachings of Qing Jing that Liu Qingge helped Luo Binghe learn correctly in the times he caught him practicing alone on the edges of his peak. Liu Qingge wishes he knew more about skin stealing demonic creatures- could they mimic the past talents of the person they are impersonating? That, or the few fond memories he has of the boy are making him weak, imagining and looking for things that aren’t there.
With a frustrated grunt, Liu Qingge sends a bright sword glare flying towards the demon. Its eyes widen as it throws itself out of the way, too close to avoid the blow any other way.
Liu Qingge steps on its chest, its head hanging over the edge of the roof. He presses the point of Cheng Luan against its throat and sneers down at it.
“Why were you seeking to harm a Peak Lord?” He questions, his urge to kill this impersonator barely tamped down by the desire to get information. “Do you even know whose skin you are wearing, demon?” A firmer press of the sword accompanies the second question, a drop of cold red beading on the edge of the blade.
The demon looks shocked before its expression morphs into bitter laughter. There is pain in its eyes, but not from the sword against its neck.
“Is it that surprising that I would want to hurt him?” The demon says through acrid laughter. “Is it wrong to want revenge, Shishu ?”
Liu Qingge freezes in confusion, and the demon takes the moment to lurch himself up enough to displace Liu Qingge’s foot and sword. It takes its sword and flees as Liu Qingge sends another sword glare half-heartedly after it.
An imposter, a demon of trickery. That’s all it was, and it will come back.
He needs to check on Shen Qingqiu.
“Tell me again how Luo Binghe died,” Liu Qingge demands as he strides into the room that Shen Qingqiu bought for the night.
“Close the f*cking door before making demands, brute,” Shen Qingqiu hisses as he brushes out his hair.
Liu Qingge, surprisingly enough, listens. He slides the door closed, walks over to stand a respectable distance from him, and repeats himself.
“Luo Binghe. Tell me how he died.”
Shen Qingqiu huffs, not bothering to look in his direction.
“I don’t see why this is reason enough to barge in while I’m readying to rest for the night.”
The residual adrenaline from the fight and the confusion it brought is a caustic mix to Liu Qingge’s patience. He grips Cheng Luan’s hilt to simultaneously hold onto decorum and the scant threads of aforementioned patience.
“The demon from before was hunting you, I fought it. It wants revenge against you.” Each statement comes out dry and clipped, the waxing frustration kept from his voice. “I want to know how it claimed Luo Binghe’s skin.”
The quiet rasp of the comb running through fine silken hair stops as Shen Qingqiu pauses. “So that’s what the ruckus was. I was wondering what you were entertaining yourself with.” The quiet rasp continues.
Liu Qingge takes a deep breath, his knuckles close to groaning in protest.
“That is not what I was asking.”
“You should know that you are demanding more than asking.”
“You-” Liu Qingge snaps. He lurches to the side to pace, a few sharp steps back and forth as he reins his breathing back to a steady tempo that allows his last grain of patience to hold fast. When he turns back to face Shen Qingqiu he sees him turn away, the smug bastard had been smirking at his frustration hadn't he? That doesn’t help with his patience.
He takes one more steadying breath. “Please, Shen Shixiong, just tell me,” He says through gritted teeth.
“Hm,” Shen Qingqu hums. He places the comb down on the side table and pretends to adjust the collar of his dressed down robes. “Perhaps I do like it on occasion when you are more respectful.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t dignify that statement with a response.
Shen Qingqiu stays silent for a full minute, fiddling with his fan. Then he seems to get bored of the silence and responds.
“What I’ve told you before stays true now,” he says with a firm and even tone; like he’s lecturing a student. “Don’t bother me with irrelevant demons.”
“They are relevant if they seek to harm a fellow Peak Lord,” Liu Qingge says, deciding he’s done wasting his time here.
Shen Qingqiu lets out a huff of laughter. “You know, I really thought there was no way you and Zhangmen-Shixiong could get along so well together…”
Liu Qingge pauses as he turns to leave, not expecting Shen Qingqiu of all people to bring up his history with Yue Qingyuan.
“I see it now though,” Shen Qingqiu’s words sound slightly bitter as jealousy rises from the topic he himself brought up. “The two of you are persistent, loyal, and faithful to a fault.”
“Rest well, Shen Qingqiu.” Liu Qingge says in a clipped tone. He leaves and shuts the door silently behind him.
Once outside, he takes a deep breath of air and lets the tension bleed away with his exhale. He is not good with navigating such evasive words. Yue Qingyuan is much more suited to these sorts of verbal spars. Now that he thinks of it, the feinting and circular tactics Shen Qingqiu used to try and enrage him are similar to how Yue Qingyuan eases and avoids conflict and complaints during Peak Lord meetings. Fitting of Shen Qingqiu to take a page from his book and use it as a tool to be an avoidant and infuriating bastard.
He gained nothing from that interaction, except confirmation that what Shen Qingqiu said nearly five years ago remains true. Liu Qingge closes his eyes and thinks. The Immortal Alliance Conference and the days that followed were hectic and chaotic. He had spoken to Shen Qingqiu only once after finding him on the ground surrounded by the footprints of a large demonic beast.
He had said that some Huan Hua disciples' bodies could be found in the other direction, and that Luo Binghe fell to demonic influence and died.
Liu Qingge thinks of the demon masquerading as Luo Binghe, a pained expression on its face and blood on its throat as it says ‘Shishu’ like a familiar and painful thing.
Luo Binghe is dead and he needs to clean the blood off his sword.
The demon does not show itself again for the rest of the duration of the Peak Lord’s stay in Jin Lan.
Shen Qingqiu discovers that the cause of the plague was sower demons, Mu Qingfang works on a cure, and Liu Qingge rounds up the sower demons and eliminates them. The Huan Hua palace disciples offer to stay and help the local monastery clean up the city and Liu Qingge is more than happy to finally leave. The journey back to Cang Qiong is mostly uneventful, traveling by carriage rather than by sword for the sake of Mu Qingfang’s collections of ‘necessary equipment’.
They settle in for a night of rest, the Qian Cao peak disciples that traveled with them setting up tents for themselves and the Peak Lords. Liu Qingge asks that they don’t set up a tent for him, then has to insist he doesn’t need one. He’ll stay up the entire night patrolling and meditating anyways.
Night falls, and Liu Qingge watches over the campsite.
Shen Qingqiu sleeps in his prissy tent where Liu Qingge knows for a fact he’s pulled out several cushions from his qiankun sleeve. Mu Qingfang sleeps in a tent identical to his disciples’ and goes through the trouble of brewing some tea for Liu Qingge before turning in for the night.
Only an hour into his watchful meditation does Liu Qingge notice something in the distance. It’s cloaked better than the last time he sensed it, but the boiling energy and malicious intent under the surface give it away. Opening his eyes, Liu Qingge reaches for Cheng Luan, and moments later, flies in the direction of the approaching demon. He pushes himself, making sure to get to the beast before it can draw any closer to the campsite.
When he spots the speeding drop of dark robes against the backdrop of stars, he leaps from his sword, letting the hilt fly into his hand with a solid impact before swinging to send a brilliant sword glare toward the approaching form.
The demon avoids it with a sharp swerve that sends it tumbling into free fall towards the forest below. Liu Qingge falls as well, the wind whipping through his tied back hair and making the sleeves of his robes flap around wildly as the adrenaline builds. A few hundred feet above the ground, he throws Cheng Luan forward. The moment his boots touch the metal, he zips through the forest in the direction the demon fell.
The demon bursts from the trees riding on its demonic sword. They lunge at each other, their swords flying to their hands and the metal collides with a resounding screech. Liu Qingge does not let the fight stall long enough to think of anything other than his next strike. Anything else is dangerous, anything else will be a distraction.
Liu Qingge knocks the demon back and sends it flying into the trunk of a tree. The wood splinters and cracks apart in jagged chunks before collapsing under the sheer force of the impact. He stalks forward to the body slumped amidst the twisting roots.
The demon has remarkable healing skills; not only is the mark from Cheng Luan at his throat gone, but Liu Qingge had seen slashes left by his sword stitch themselves closed while they fought. Even now, as it coughs and blood drips from its mouth, its internal wounds seem to be healing quickly.
With a deft flick of Cheng Luan, Liu Qingge flings the cursed dark sword out of the demon’s reach, brow furrowing slightly at the dark energy that tries to echo up his spiritual blade. He swings the tip of his sword to rest again at the imposter’s throat.
Against his better judgment, he waits for it to speak first.
The demon looks up slowly, blood trailing away from wounds already healed as it lets out a wet cough.
“Does Peak Lord Liu attack just anyone that travels at night?” It says with dry humor and a grimace. It has pointed teeth.
“I attack creatures that are speeding in my direction with the intent to kill,” Liu Qingge responds.
“Fair enough,” the demon barks out with a laugh and another dribble of blood. Less than before.
“I should just kill you,” Liu Qingge states. He presses the sword against its throat the barest bit more. The beast stays still and closes its mouth. “A demon throwing itself at a Peak Lord with intent to harm is just a death wish.”
“Then why hasn’t Peak Lord Liu killed this lowly demon,” it sneers.
“You called me Shishu before, why not now?”
The forest around them is silent, with all wildlife chased away by their fighting and the air dead with the absence of wind this mild summer night.
The demon’s eyes burn as Liu Qingge holds its gaze, waiting for an answer. Its face looks so, so bitter .
“This one is no longer a disciple,” it spits out, looking away in the direction that Liu QIngge knows Shen Qingqiu and Mu Qingfang are camped. There’s anger baked into its words. “The title doesn’t fit.”
Liu Qingge furrows his brow, certain now that this… thing is a liar and manipulator despite the echoes of the disciple he once knew.
“Cang Qiong would never accept a demon as a disciple.”
He watches the fire in the demon’s eyes abruptly go cold as it snaps to meet his eyes, the anger melting away, replaced by something else just as potent but…
Why would a demon be sad to be denied the company of peaks of cultivators?
His confusion could have been a fatal flaw, as he pauses in bewilderment long enough for the demon to drag its sword into reach and flee.
Liu Qingge stares after its retreating form as it speeds away, left with more questions than answers, by far.
He returns to the campsite and drinks the rest of the tea Mu Qingfan brewed for him. It’s cold, and the taste isn't quite as bitter as the demon’s voice was.
The demon continues to hunt Shen Qingqiu.
It cannot enter the peaks of Cang Qiong, so it attempts to attack whenever Shen Qingqiu leaves. Liu Qingge follows along to defend him from the creature. Shen Qingqiu is not pleased with the company, and continues to insist he doesn’t need help or protection.
Liu Qingge weathers Shen Qingqiu’s attitude and ignores his demands to leave the demon be.
Shen Qingqiu leaves to accompany disciples on a night hunt; assisting a noble with an irritating issue far below the need of cultivators. It could be an opportunity to teach diplomacy… if what Shen Qingqiu teaches can be called that. Liu Qingge finds the demon stalking the rooftops at night and they fight in the manicured gardens of the noble’s manor. The demon sneers and asks if Peak Lord Shen treats his disciples kinder these days. Liu Qingge remembers glimpsing the tired and bruised face of a young Luo Binghe crawling from a woodshed when he visited Qing Jing to deliver a message. The demon escapes.
Shen Qingqiu leaves to visit the Warm Red Pavilion, a habit that Liu Qingge has long given up his disapproval of in light of learning and practicing his own proclivities. He takes measures to make sure Shen Qingqiu doesn’t notice his presence as he keeps watch. The demon tries to ambush on the road as Shen Qingqiu travels back to the peak and Liu Qingge intercepts. The sword fight devolves into a brawl in the dirt and mud far from the road. The demon fights with claws and teeth and Liu Qingge can’t help but remember a Luo Binghe throwing himself to wrestle Bai Zhan disciples when they did their routine raids of Qing Jing. The demon breaks from the low effort pin he had it in, and flees.
Shen Qingqiu is asked to accompany the sect leader on business, Liu Qingge leaves at the same time with the excuse of a night hunt to follow. The demon takes a while to show itself this time, hindered by the sacred grounds of the monastery its target is visiting. Liu Qingge finds it waiting, crouching in the trees like the demonic beast it is. He waits for the demon to notice him before they launch into a fight. The demon’s troubled look belies its distraction, and Liu Qingge’s anger flares at the frustration of a good fight being wasted. It notices.
“Why hasn’t Peak Lord Liu killed this lowly demon,” It asks, leaving itself open for a killing blow.
Liu Qingge doesn’t know the answer.
“Tell me what you are.”
“Peak Lord Liu already knows,” It says with Luo Binghe’s face.
When Liu Qingge knocks its sword aside, the beast only walks to retrieve it and disappears into the night.
“Have you given up on your game of cat and mouse?”
Liu Qingge looks up from his tea over to Shen Qingqiu. He had been waiting for Yue Qingyuan to finish talking to other Peak Lords after the meeting while idly sipping the herbal tea Mu Qingfang had offered him.
“What game,” Liu Qingge mutters as he pushes the tea away, preparing himself to be the target of Shen Qingqiu’s unpleasant attention while Yue Qingyuan is occupied.
Shen Qingqiu takes a seat next to him, fanning himself as he arranges his sleeves. “Don’t be cagey,” he sneers. “You’ve been fighting that beast. And it’s still alive and thriving in Huan Hua Palace.”
Liu Qingge does not like where this is going, he cannot provide any response that will be satisfying to him.
“You’ve failed to ignore it, and have failed to kill it. Why?”
Liu Qingge stands up and leaves; he can talk to Yue Qingyuan another time. Shen Qingqiu scoffs as he walks away.
The demon doesn’t show itself for a while. Shen Qingqiu’s travels are free of demonic killing intent, and Liu Qingge is left with a feeling of unease.
He makes plans to leave his peak for a while- one of his extended night hunts- and even bothers to make sure his disciples will have things to do in the meantime. He travels far, following the rumors of a large, scaled insectoid creature terrorizing locals and retreating to nest in the ravine of a long dried-up river.
Several days into tracking the creature, he feels a familiar, dangerous presence and spins around to block the attack.
The demon looks unkempt, robes dishelved and hair windswept, its eyes glowing red with sharp teeth bared. Wild demonic qi chokes the air around it. The grip on its sword looks painful and Liu Qingge knows that whatever energy this thing cultivates is extremely unstable and dangerous. And, for some reason, it has hunted him down to wear it out.
As they fight, Liu Qingge hopes the creature he was hunting is far enough away to not be driven into hiding by the noise. It's easier to trade blows with the imposter when it looks less human, its demonic nature trickling through and warping the features of a grown Luo Binghe into wild snarls and growls. It makes it easier to forget the boy that died and the frustrations of his ghost haunting his mind through this demon. The screeching blows of metal ring harsher than in past fights, the cursed sword pouring out demonic energy that threatens to suffocate Liu Qingge when he blocks the sword near his face. The beast loses what little sense of composure it had and swings wildly with each attack, relying on pure force to land blows. Liu Qingge uses the wide opening the demon leaves to sidestep an attack and hit its temple with the hilt of Cheng Luan. Its eyes roll back and it crumples like a puppet with cut strings.
Liu Qingge sheaths his sword and checks over the demon - it's still breathing, just unconscious. Its wild energy still radiates rampantly, very similar to a qi deviation. If this was a cultivator, he would try to help; his experience with qi deviation was far from pleasant. He wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.
But this thing isn’t anyone; it's a demon. One that he can’t bring himself to kill because simply because it looks like a disciple he once knew and had great hopes for. All he can do is leave it on the forest floor and hope a qi deviation induced death isn’t too painful while unconscious. That, or it will fix itself and leave.
Liu Qingge considers arranging the demon into a less uncomfortable pile before scoffing at his own thoughts and continuing his search.
The faintest inkling of guilt nags annoyingly at Liu Qingge’s mind the next few days. The constant frustration ever since the imposter showed itself in Jin Lan has been nothing but tiring and he wishes he could just be rid of the beast.
But the demon comes back, this time while he is cooking some wild game. It drops from the treetops, sword swinging wildly as the outpour of demonic qi makes the campfire waver and dim to dark flickering flames. Liu Qingge rolls to the side and retrieves his sword, defending himself until he can worm his way through the flurry of animalistic swings of cursed metal and claws. He lands solid blows; ones that aren’t fatal but will take a significant amount of energy to heal. The barrage slows down enough for Liu Qingge to strike a few key points that send it crumbling down, unconscious, again.
Liu Qingge uses the calm of victory to breathe, taking the moment to actually observe the imposter. It looks more…demonic today. Its slack mouth shows the sharp teeth it bares during combat, its ears longer and more pointed, its sharp claws ink dark. The significant difference from last time though are the small horns on its head, barely protruding past the mop of hair hiding the faint reddish markings on its forehead. It isn’t unheard of for more powerful demons to have demon marks; it makes sense that one capable of such perfect mimicry would have a powerful lineage. The change in appearance must mean its energy is still unstable and deteriorating, the human disguise wearing away under the caustic demonic energy.
If it keeps itself alive through its qi deviation, would the remnants of Luo Binghe completely disappear?
Liu Qingge’s mouth sours at the thought, or maybe it’s the aftertaste of his interrupted meal. He snuffs out the embers of the fire and leaves the demon to its own devices.
Tracking the creature he originally came for is frustrating, especially with a terribly annoying and unstable demon crashing through the forest and chasing away any potential prey every few days.
He wonders how it hasn’t torn itself apart at this point.
Each time they clash, it fights just as mindlessly; feral and driven by an instinct to survive while antagonizing the nearest strong enemy - which always happens to be Liu Qingge.
The demon shows its true self more each battle as well. Its robes are long ruined, torn and stained with dried blood and dirt, revealing its strangely shaped legs covered in scales and tufts of fur, with long claws that tear deep when the beast kicks. Its horns are now fully grown, long curving things somewhere between antlers and ram’s horns. It stalks him incessantly, eyes glowing unnaturally when it approaches at night, red and slitted. It only vocalizes with growls and bellows, even when Liu Qingge snaps at it, telling it to leave and bother someone else with its presence. It never listens and only wants to fight, so fights are what Liu Qingge gives it.
He pauses longer each time he finally subdues it, his hesitancy to kill it wavering as this drags on. Should he just put it out of its misery? It was intelligent before, but after spiraling further into its self destructive demonic energy, it behaves like a mindless beast, no better than the one Liu Qingge still pursues.
Liu Qingge camps for the night, nursing his nearly healed side. He had subdued the imposter once again the night before, though the beast caught him by surprise by swinging a lengthy, newly grown tail and leaving him with bruised ribs.
He decides that the next time he faces the demon, he will kill it. It shows no signs of succumbing to the prolonged qi deviation. Liu Qingge worries that it will wander off to terrorize less capable people as it sheds its human disguise.
Liu Qingge is a cultivator, a Peak Lord: it is his duty to kill demons. He has faltered on that duty for far too long due to his own weak sentimentality.
The next time comes sooner than he’d like.
He finally picks up a solid trail from the creature he is hunting, a Terracotta Armored Caiman Beetle. They are large, dangerous, and like to burrow in long dried out river beds. He finds the site of a kill; the blood and heavy drag marks of a large forest animal -most likely a deer- leading from the forest and towards the dead river Liu Qingge has been traveling along. He silently follows the tracks, crouching low until he reaches the edge of the forest.
Suddenly, Liu Qingge hearsa bellowing roar and high pitched shrieking up ahead. Recognizing one of the voices, he rushes to the edge of the riverbed. Looking down into the ravine, he sees the demon fighting against the giant beetle.
The demon whirls around, the dark sword an unnatural extension of its arm, slicing into the scaled carapace of the monster while running along its back towards the head. The creature lets out another shriek as the demon swings the sword,slicing off its mandibles. The sound shrinks into a gurgle as the demon plunges its sword into the creature’s head. Liu Qingge stands still, frustration and anger bubbling up. The monster he’s tracked for so long is killed in front of him. How long had the demon even been fighting it?
The demon’s form shifts slightly in its crouched pose , breathing heavily in the aftermath while it grips the hilt of its sword. Swaying as it stands, Liu Qingge watches its demonic features gradually melt away. Even from this distance, he feels the oppressive demonic energy diminish the imposter curling up like a predator after a meal of fresh meat and blood, sated. The bones of its legs snap back into place as the scales slough off, and the horns fall away, landing with heavy thuds on the slain creature. The long tail retracts, disappearing under the tattered robes, and its ears shrink down to smaller points. The claws and glowing red eyes remain, inherent traits of demonic nature.
Liu Qingge steps onto Cheng Luan to fly down silently. He lands a short distance from the corpse, dust flying up in small clouds before settling. Cheng Luan’s hilt whirls up into his hand.
Just because the demon has gotten over itself and taken a more human form again, doesn’t mean he can change his mind.
He lunges forward with a swing, the demon barely parries in time and falls off of the slain monster. They meet on even ground, circling each other for a moment; sizing each other up. The imposter looks visibly exhausted from its episode of unstable energy and battle. Liu Qingge is tired of feeling frustrated and confused, of surrendering to the memories the imposter resurfaces.
A sword glare from Cheng Luan slices into the demon's sleeve and Liu Qingge follows the movement through, launching into another fight. It’s no contest; without the swell of untamed demonic energy backing its blows, the exhausted demon can’t match Liu Qingge’s strikes. It resorts to tight defensive moves, conserving strength to block and dodge sword glares.
Seeing each expression of exertion on the imposter's face makes something twinge in Liu Qingge’s chest. A wince of pain and the gritting of teeth in effort to redirect a forceful blow, things that just look so human after days upon days of seeing Luo Binghe’s face twisted in demonic rage and violence.
He smothers this pang of sympathy with anger instead. Anger at having his escape from the world ruined, anger at this demon following him, anger at Shen Qingqiu’s avoidant words and grating questions, anger at himself for not having saved more disciples all those years ago, anger at Luo Binghe for haunting him still. For having the gall to die before he could help him more.
Liu Qingge swings Cheng Luan in a downward arc, a blow that will sever the demon’s arm and leave its neck open for beheading on the upswing.
Except the demon lets out a cry of effort and blocks it. With a Bai Zhan sword form. One that he taught Luo Binghe once before, a way to help protect the young boy from his bullies when he couldn’t be on Qing Jing. The sword form is executed poorly; while it blocks Cheng Luan, instead of redirecting the blow and making Liu Qingge stumble, the halfway finished move leads Cheng Luan to almost take off its foot. He never would have let one of his own disciples make such a dangerous mistake even if they were exhausted-
“Careless!” Liu Qingge snaps, kicking lightly at the insides of its legs, forcing it into a more stable stance. “I taught you better than thi-“
Liu Qingge pauses. As does the demon. Its hands shake where they grip the hilt of its sword. His gaze jerks up to meet the demon’s, its eyes wide and bloodshot. He watches as they gain a watery sheen. Liu Qingge feels something inside him shatter.
“Peak Lord Liu… Shi- “ The demon- no. Luo Binghe, rasps out. His throat must still be torn from the wild screams and bellows. “ Shishu? ”
His voice is so broken and small.
“This whole time… Disciple Luo- You -“ Liu Qingge says weakly, lowering Cheng Luan. His aggression melts away as he breathes out, “Luo Binghe, you’re alive.”
Every instance of familiarity, every moment he thought was a phantom of this disciple, purposefully mimicked to weaken and harm him… Were instead pleas to be seen , gone ignored.
Luo Binghe lets his shoulders sag, the tip of his sword dragging through the dust as he lets his exhaustion and relief show and overpower the need to defend himself. His expression is still exhausted, but there’s a slight wobble to his mouth, the faintest traces of a hopeful smile.
“Somehow…” Luo Binghe responds, but there’s still a tenseness to him. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You were gone for five years,” Liu Qingge says, more to himself than to the person in front of him. “And you come back as…a demon…What? How-“
Luo Binghe stiffens, guard snapping back into place like a stray approached with a stick; unsure if it is going to be beaten or tossed a toy.
“This discipl- I-“ Luo Binghe can’t get his words out completely. He stumbles backwards,. his feet and legs bare vulnerable to the sharp stones and dust after the demonic features disappeared. He sounds afraid. Liu Qingge is confused and worried; Luo Binghe looks moments from fleeing.
“Luo Binghe, what happened to you?” Liu Qingge asks, extending a hand forward,approaching cautiously. “Why did you go to Huan Hua? Why are you-“
Luo Binghe’s face contorts, like he’s in pain. He steps back again, preparing to flee. The emotion on his face shutters away, gritting his teeth and looking away from Liu Qingge.
“Peak Lord Liu shouldn’t bother himself with this one.”
“You-“
Luo Binghe spins around to run, drawing his sword up and slicing through the air. It crackles with demonic energy, rending the space in front of it like torn silk. The edges of the portal flicker like burning paper and Luo Binghe charges through. Liu Qingge rushes to stop him, trying to reach him.
He feels Luo Binghe’s energy destabilize, crumbling down from the delicate balance it had returned to just a short while ago.
Liu Qingge grabs his tattered sleeve; it rips off and flaps uselessly in the air as the tear closes itself back up and disappears like smoke.
He stands there for a moment, lost.
The sleeve tore from where he sliced it with Cheng Luan earlier.
With a furious grunt, Liu Qingge spins around and severs the dead Caiman Beetle’s head.
Luckily, Shen Qingqiu is home when he flies straight to Qing Jing.
He bursts through the front door, his robes askew from how fast he flew, and slightly dirty from the battleground he’d left behind. Shen Qingqiu looks up from his table, too prim and proper to do something so pedestrian as startle at the sudden intrusion.
“You lied ,” Liu Qingge nearly shouts, feeling wild and untethered. His thoughts have stewed and curdled into something sour and ripe during his journey; all the frustration and anger he directed at the perceived imposter now swerve to Shen Qingqiu. He keeps one hand on Cheng Luan’s hilt, just to have something to grasp and ground him, his other hand clenching tightly, fingernails biting into the palm of his hand.
Shen Qingqiu looks back down at his table, like Liu Qingge is simply a minor inconvenience to his paperwork. “And why has Liu-Shidi decided to barge in and accuse me of such things?”
Liu Qingge bristles with rage, stalking forward and slamming a hand on the table next to the parchment, demanding attention to the matter at hand. Shen Qingqiu looks up, exasperated.
“You said Luo Binghe was dead,” he hisses out. “He’s alive, and you knew that it was him .”
Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow. “So this was something you had to find out?” He says more than asks, a dark mirth to his voice. “I simply thought the great Bai Zhan War God shared my disdain for demons.”
Liu Qingge wants to scream . He wants to punch his stubborn and infuriating Shixiong in his oh-so-elegant face, as he would have in the past. He takes a deep breath, gripping the edge of the table, and focuses on not splintering the wood with his grip.
“I didn’t know that Luo Binghe was alive and a demon, but you did.”
Shen Qingqiu snaps his fan open and draws his arms away from his work to fan himself lightly.
“You said he died, that he was killed by demons! And he’s not, he’s-“ Liu Qingge stops himself for a moment. “How does a human even become a demon? What happened to him? Do you know?”
“I said the beast fell to demonic influence,” Shen Qingqiu clarifies. “There was always something foul about that thing, it was a beast all along. It just revealed itself as such at the Immortal Alliance Conference.”
They both stay silent as Liu Qingge absorbs the information.
“Why?” Liu Qingge finally asks, quietly. “Why did you want me to kill him?”
“If you would care to remember I actively discouraged you from doing so,” Shen Qingqiu retorts with narrowed eyes. “But when it was inevitable that you were going to fight it regardless, I asked if you would finish the job.”
Liu Qingge pauses and tries to remember, and hates that Shen Qingqiu is right. He knows Shen Qingqiu can see his realization.
Shen Qingqiu folds his fan gently, not hiding behind it for a moment, waiting for Liu Qingge to meet his eyes.
“Contrary to popular belief,” he starts dryly. “I do not want to see Cang Qiong hurt. I do not want things that are dangerous to harm those who call our sect home.”
He looks off to the side, out the wide window that overlooks the scenery of Qing Jing. Liu Qingge follows his gaze. From his angle, he can see the corner of the woodshed.
“I will not regret doing my part to keep Cang Qiong safe,” Shen Qingqiu snaps the fan back open. “If you are going to let the beast live, ignore it. A dog will tire of barking up the same tree after some time. We should not concern ourselves with the filth of demonkind.”
Liu Qingge forces the tension from his shoulders. He can’t look back at Shen Qingqiu, can’t pretend that he’ll follow his words.
He gets up and leaves, shutting the door behind him gently as he hears the rustle of Shen Qingqiu returning to his paperwork.
Liu Qingge flies to Qiong Ding peak. Not to see Yue Qingyuan, but to visit a shrine built five years ago.
No small number of disciples died at the Immortal Alliance Conference. They had needed a place to erect name tablets to house the disciple talismans for those whose bodies could not be returned.
No one else is there, so he takes a moment to light incense sticks for the few tablets of Bai Zhan disciples. He wishes he had been able to train them better, but then again, how does anyone anticipate a demonic invasion in the midst of such things?
He walks over to the lone tablet for Qing Jing, engraved with Luo Binghe’s name. Instead of lighting incense, he turns the stone tablet over, removing the talisman there. It’s a disciple talisman, an identifier that allows Luo Binghe’s Qi signature to enter and leave the Cang Qiong mountain sect whenever he pleases. It had been deactivated when he was reported dead. No one will miss it.
He replaces the stone tablet and returns to Bai Zhan.
He reactivates the talisman, hoping that its past connection to Luo Binghe’s qi still works. He will be able to enter Bai Zhan peak should he desire.
A week passes since Liu Qingge’s night hunt. He spars with the disciples,running them through their training. He goes through paperwork sent from An Ding and deals with the things that are time sensitive. He practices his own sword forms, a week of meditative motions and circulating his spiritual meridians healing all leftover wounds and bruises.
There’s a knock at his door. He sets aside Cheng Luan and shrugs on another layer of robes. It’s late, so whoever is interrupting will have to deal with his comfortable attire.
He opens the door to a younger disciple, one of the children he brought to his peak the year after the Immortal Alliance Conference. The child is breathing heavily with slightly messy hair, likely having run all the way to the Peak Lord’s house.
“Yes?”
The disciple bows and collects himself. “Apologies Shizun, but there’s a person from Huan Hua Palace asking for an audience at the base of the mountain.”
Liu Qingge knows only one person from Huan Hua that would want an audience well past the reasonable time for visiting. He dismisses the disciple, instructing him to tell the person to wait for Liu Qingge to retrieve them himself. The disciple scampers off to deliver the message. He dons his casual robes, things he wears around his own peak when he can’t be bothered with the excessive formal silks of a Peak Lord. He walks down the mountain.
Luo Binghe is waiting for him, standing stiffly just outside of the boundary of Bai Zhan. His robes are new, clean and dark with gold embroidery denoting Huan Hua Palace’s expensive tastes. That sword of his hangs sheathed from his waist, a gaudy and bright sword tassel that wasn’t there before dangles from it. His energy is withdrawn and stable; he looks completely human. He glances up when he hears Liu Qingge’s approach.
“It’s late,” Liu Qingge grunts, forgoing any kind of proper greeting.
He gestures for Luo Binghe to follow as he turns, noticing his hesitation before stepping past the gate. He seems surprised that the barrier lets him pass. Luo Binghe follows him back up to his house in silence. Liu Qingge looks over his shoulder a few times as they walk. Luo Binghe is taking in the sights of Bai Zhan peak. While not nearly as scenic and green as Qing Jing, it has its own kind of beauty. Liu Qingge has always thought the sturdy stone and dirt of Bai Zhan comforting in the steady straightforwardness of it; he hopes that Luo Binghe appreciates the sights as well.
When they reach the peak, Liu Qingge turns to him and waits. Luo Binghe meets his gaze with a tight and challenging look, his body language wary and tense. He looks like he’s ready to face execution.
“Show me what you remember,” Liu Qingge says, squaring off into a ready stance as he slowly draws Cheng Luan.
Luo Binghe’s expression morphs into surprise for a moment, quickly melting into relief as he mirrors Liu Qingge’s stance and draws his own sword.
Liu Qingge leads into a few basic Qing Jing sword forms, and Luo Binge follows. It allows Luo Binghe to avoid talking a little longer, to ignore the five years that weigh on him for the moment.
Once they’ve gone through the basic forms, Liu Qingge moves forward to initiate a spar. He executes a more flashy sword form and swings his blade to meet Luo Binghe’s. The spar is nowhere near as charged as their past fights, absent killing intent or demonic flares of energy. Just two strong cultivators testing their strength and dancing around each other with the flowing footsteps and sweeping motions of the peak Luo Binghe once belonged to. The former Qing Jing disciple remembers the forms well enough, so Liu Qingge pushes harder, putting more force behind his blows.
Luo Binghe’s eyes flare red and he grins as their swords clash. He returns the forceful strikes with his own and the spar changes from something graceful into something more wild. He abandons Qing Jing forms for more powerful ones, ways of wielding a sword that one only learns in desperate and dangerous environments, ones that reward survival over swordsmanship. But these leave openings -ones that a normal opponent would have no chance to act upon- but for Liu Qingge’s speed and discipline allow him to take advantage of these moments of weakness.
The dark metal sword falls to the ground with a dull clatter after Liu Qingge smacks the flat of his blade against Luo Binghe’s inner wrist. His brow furrows in frustration and he snatches the sword back up, snarling with teeth bared at Liu Qingge before pausing and looking away with irritation.
“You’ve grown well in the past five years,” Liu Qingge comments as he paces around, Cheng Luan held at the ready. “But your forms are rusty and you have lost nearly all sense of discipline.”
He lunges forward and Luo Binghe meets his blow, deflecting it sloppily. Liu Qingge slaps the flat of his blade on Luo Binghe’s thigh, then snaps the blade up to catch on the guard of his sword, wrenching it from his hand. The sword flies a short distance away, landing with a thud and a scattering of dirt. Luo Binghe’s eyes follow his disarmed sword before looking back to Liu Qingge with the embers of suspicion.
“Why are you so set on disarming me,” Luo Binghe asks hesitantly.
Liu Qingge sheathes Cheng Luan and tosses it onto the grass.
“Is that better?” He asks, observing how Luo Binghe still holds himself tensely. Liu Qingge doesn’t want him to flee again. “I told you, you lack discipline. There’s no point in using your sword.”
Raising his arms, he approaches with a martial strike, which Luo Binghe blocks with his forearms, and the spar transitions to martial arts. The demon seems just as rusty with the hand to hand combat techniques of Qing Jing as he was with his sword. As soon as Liu Qingge pushes and uses more aggressive moves, Luo Binghe drops all effort at maintaining the proper martial forms, instead resorting to wild and survival-honed instincts. His demonic energy is more detectable like this, slipping out like wisps of incense smoke and he fights more aggressively.
Luo Binghe utilizes a dirty move, using his body weight and a kick to the shin to pull the fight to the ground. Liu Qingge goes down with a grunt but uses the motion of falling to spin and put himself on top, wrestling the young demon into a pin. Liu Qingge takes a moment to breathe, one arm barring Luo Binghe’s and a leg pinning the undersides of his knees. Luo Binghe squirms underneath him, the front of his nice robes rubs against the packed dirt as he whips his head to the side, snarling as he tries to buck him off.
“Behave yourself,” Liu Qingge snarls back.
His free hand goes to the back of Luo Binghe’s neck as he leans his weight more heavily onto him, pressing him firmly against the ground. Luo Binghe freezes underneath him, from this angle Liu Qingge can see the pupil of his red tinged eyes widen. He waits a few seconds, Luo Binghe does not move again. So he lets go of his arms to stroke along his side, dusting off dirt with short swipes of his hand.
“Good,” Liu Qingge hums.
He lets go and stands, adjusting his own robes and frowning at the amount of dirt on them. Luo Binghe remains motionless, his back moving slightly as he breathes. Liu Qingge retrieves Cheng Luan, affixing the scabbard back around his waist.
Luo Binghe sits up slowly, and Liu Qingge waits patiently.
“You can find me again when you need,” Liu Qingge says when Luo Binghe makes it onto his feet, limbs heavy and expression loaded with confusion. Which only grows stronger when he looks at Liu Qingge. “Your childish temper tantrums should not be directed at people who cannot handle them properly.”
Luo Binghe looks at the demonic sword still laying in the dirt.
“You’d leave an open invitation to your peak. To me?” Luo Binghe asks, hesitating in his words. “Despite my being a demon?”
Liu Qingge crosses his arms. “You do not pose a threat to me. I can help you in this way.”
The demon bares his teeth at the statement, but the action seems like an afterthought to the disbelief in his eyes. Luo Binghe walks over to his sword and picks it up, then glances back at Liu Qingge.
“You-“ he starts, then pauses. With a deep breath he schools his face into a fake pleasant look and gives up whatever he was going to say, executing a formal bow instead. “Thanking Peak Lord Liu.”
Liu Qingge scoffs at the formality. It’s unnecessary, but he lets Luo Binghe cling to it to avoid whatever is warring in his mind. He’s made his offer, and he can wait for Luo Binghe to accept it. They’ll have all the time in the world for conversation later, if he comes back.
Luo Binghe leaves, flying off on his sword, rather than using it to rend open a portal.
Liu Qingge goes into his home to dress down again to get ready for rest.
He hopes Luo Binghe will take up his offer.
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