The First Law of Alchemy - PeerlessCourgette (marimorimo) - 人渣反派自救系统 - 墨香铜臭 | The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (2024)

Chapter 1: ⚡️The Summoning of Shen Yuan

Chapter Text

One moment, Shen Yuan is sleeping soundly in his soft and comfy bed in his modern apartment, and the next thing he knows, he is rudely jolted awake by a cacophony of voices and the sharp smell of ozone crackling in the air.

In place of his luxury brand memory foam mattress, he’s sprawled on cold, hard stone with strange markings painted on it. This definitely isn’t his bed, nor anything he is familiar with. In a daze, he sits up and looks around to figure out where he is and get his bearings.

Almost immediately, the cacophony drops to frenzied whispers, eventually petering off to a complete stop. Shen Yuan finds himself in a large, dimly lit chamber surrounded by about a dozen people—or at least what seems to be people—they’re definitely humanoid in shape, dressed bizarrely like cosplayers in medieval outfits.

Several of them are brandishing two-meter tall wands with large gems embedded in them, the likes of which Shen Yuan had only ever seen in video games. They’re all staring at him and giving him a wide berth, and Shen Yuan belatedly realizes that he’s the centerpiece of the room, sitting on the floor in the middle of a circle encompassed by several concentric circles filled with mysterious glyphs written inside their borders.

Understanding dawns on Shen Yuan, connoisseur of several supernatural anime and other questionable media. Holy sh*t—is he in the middle of a summoning circle?

A heavy silence settles into the chamber, with neither Shen Yuan nor the dozen or so summoners seemingly willing to make a move. Still reeling from the predicament he found himself in and knowing he is at a distinct disadvantage, Shen Yuan opts to freeze in place. The room holds its breath.

Shen Yuan feels a hard stare from behind him, raising the hairs at the back of his neck. The eyes on him send a shiver racing through his spine. Even without turning to look, he instinctively knows that whoever is staring at him so intently will determine his fate. There is a palpable weight to that gaze, like a jaguar ready to pounce on its prey. Heart in his throat and chest thumping wildly, Shen Yuan steels himself and turns his head to meet his fate.

The person boring holes into his head is seated on a dais and radiates a majestic, powerful aura that blankets the room. It’s a man wearing black and red robes and shimmering silver accents befitting his station. Shen Yuan can’t quite make out the man’s facial features as the dais is situated the farthest away from the summoning circle, and his nearsightedness isn’t helping. He doesn’t sleep with his glasses on and the summoners hadn’t seen fit to bring the glasses on his nightstand along for the ride.

The man abruptly stands up—wow he’s really tall, and really broad, and seems really badass—raises a hand, and speaks in a smooth, commanding baritone that resonates throughout the entirety of the chamber:

“That’s not Shizun.”

The room immediately explodes in frantic, panicked whispers. Shen Yuan’s breath is caught in his throat, the baffling dismissal dropping a strange, sinking feeling of dread to the pit of his stomach. Who is Shizun? He spies a few people falling to their knees, faces ashen with fear. Whoever the man is, he must be some terrifying authority to inspire this kind of reaction.

“My Lord,” a brave voice cuts in. “We calculated and rechecked dozens of times! There can be no mistake.”

“And This Lord is telling you that it’s defective.”

“I—We—” the brave soul, who sounds like a middle-aged man and dressed in resplendent midnight-blue robes, valiantly tries to come up with a counterargument but wisely resigns to give up. “Apologies, Your Highness. I implore you to give us more time to rectify our mistake and recalibrate our spells and calculations.”

“Make sure the next attempt is successful. Otherwise….” the Emperor—for that’s what he must be— lets the unfinished threat hang in the air.

“Thanking Junshang for his mercy! We will certainly bring success in our next attempt!” Several people groveling on the ground are quick to respond.

The Emperor casts a dismissive glance in Shen Yuan’s direction then flicks his hand away in a sweeping motion, as if he were mere trash. “Take the faulty subject away,” he says.

Shen Yuan’s vision is obscured as several guards promptly arrive to restrain and carry him off. He tries kicking his feet but the guards’ strong grip quickly render him immobile.

“Hey!” he shouts as the guards grapple all four of his limbs and unceremoniously hoist him up from the floor, hauling him away from the chamber like a sack of garbage.

He’s carried through a series of long corridors, the first few of them wide and palatial looking, then gradually narrowing out as they start to descend. The walls close in on them the deeper they go underground, the air taking on a stale and damp quality that irritates his nose and makes him sneeze. It gets much darker too, and Shen Yuan has to squint his eyes to make out any details in his surroundings.

Torchlights hang on the walls every few meters but there’s nothing much to see except the interminable path and the walls and ceiling hewn from barren stone. The guards carrying him have remained silent throughout the ordeal, and the only sound he hears is the clacking of their boots against the floor. As they go even lower into the depths, an ominous feeling takes root in his stomach. Nothing good is waiting for him down there, that’s for sure.

After what seems like forever, they stop in front of the iron bars of a prison cell. One of the guards temporarily lets go of Shen Yuan’s left foot to unlock the cell. The guards then swing him a couple of times like a hammock to gain momentum then let go, throwing him onto the hard, unforgiving flooring of the prison butt-first.

While Shen Yuan is busy rubbing his bruised backside, he hears the cell door lock with a loud and heavy clang. With a rush of panic-fueled adrenaline, he leaps up from the floor to tug and bang his fists on the prison bars.

“Hey! I didn’t do anything! Let me out!” He calls out to the guards’ retreating backs, but they never spare him a glance. With a sinking feeling, he watches them disappear into the corridor they originally came from.

“Hellooo???” He shouts a few more times but nobody replies, not even the echo of his own voice. He tries tugging again on the prison bars but they’re solid and unyielding. He needs a way out—they can’t possibly leave him here to rot! Can he pick the lock? A cursory search of the cell and his person yields nothing that can be used for lockpicking. After all, he’s in nothing but his pajamas—a baggy Hatsune Miku t-shirt and ankle-length pajama pants with a cucumber print.

Panic rises to his throat and he feels like he’s stifling despite inhaling big gulps of air every second, shoulders lifting up to his ears. Calm down Shen Yuan, calm down. You need to think, he tries to steady himself.

He reviews everything that has happened so far. Falling asleep in his bed as usual. Waking up in the middle of a summoning circle surrounded by cosplayers. Although there weren’t any characters they could be cosplaying that he knew. That Emperor guy though. He seemed strangely familiar…

The same Emperor who had deemed him defective, faulty…

Shen Yuan bristles. Is this some elaborate prank? Because it sure isn’t funny! He’ll tear whoever set this up a new asshole once he gets a hold of them!

The long, winding corridors seem excessive for a prank but he assumes they’re an illusion using cleverly-placed mirrors.

A few minutes pass, perhaps an hour. His heartbeat gradually slows down. He counts his breaths for a while, trying to tamp down his impatience. He waits, and waits, but not a soul comes by to release him from his cell and jokingly say “Gotcha! Issaprank!”

Maybe it’s not a prank after all? If not, is he hallucinating? Did he eat something funny before going to bed? Maybe a gas leak in the apartment?

Perhaps he’s dreaming?

He tries slapping his face and ramming his head through the iron bars but no luck. How do you even snap out of a hallucination or wake up from a dream? Most people who hallucinate don't even realize they’re hallucinating, right? If it’s a dream he can just wait it out until he wakes up in the morning.

Exhaustion seeps into his veins as the final vestiges of adrenaline leave his body. Prank, hallucination, or dream, this is all very sh*tty. -100 stars. 0/10 would not recommend. He settles himself by laying on his side on the hard, uneven floor of the prison. His eyes begin to sting but he resolutely closes them, choosing to end this bizarre series of events the best way he knows how: ignoring the present. He shuts his eyes and focuses on counting his breath until it gradually evens out. Sheer exhaustion finally claims him in a dreamless slumber.

When he wakes up who knows how many hours later, he’s still in the prison.

That can’t be right. If it’s not a prank, and if he isn't dreaming, then does that mean…

He transmigrated, right? Does that mean he’s dead? He hasn’t left his penthouse apartment in nearly a week so his demise definitely couldn’t be because of Truck-kun. Did something off him during his sleep? He’s heard of someone dying of an aneurysm while sleeping in their own bed.

System? He calls out hesitantly. No disembodied mechanical voice nor floating screen greets him. What gives?

Maybe it’s taking its time to boot up. Maybe the System is buggy, he reasons out. After all, genre convention dictates that people usually transmigrate into an existing canon character but he came here as himself, anachronistic modern pajamas and all. No choice but to wait it out then.

When the System is back online, he’ll get assistance, he’ll be given tasks and surely one of them would be escaping from this hellhole. He’ll figure the rest out from there.

The cell is windowless, all light provided by a single torch burning in the hallway outside his enclosure. It casts long shadows inside his prison cell and darkness drowns what little light manages to come in. Just how many days have passed? He is unable to keep track of day or night without a clock or the sky. The only way he can measure the passage of time is through the meal trays that regularly appear through a cubbyhole on the wall. He never sees the person replenishing the tray nor taking out the old one. Neither does a single person come down into the cellars to check on how he’s doing.

The meals are cold, tasteless, and look like slop. He doesn’t mind, carefully chewing each slimy spoonful before swallowing it down. The simple act of mastication breaks the monotony of solitary confinement.

The single ounce of comfort in the prison is a small aqueduct running along the wall where water trickles continuously and splashes into a narrow sewer dug into the ground. It allows Shen Yuan access to fresh water for drinking and washing up so he can at least maintain a modicum of dignity.

For his bed, he makes do with the cold, hard ground. It gets chilly sometimes but he manages. He curls up like a shrimp and tucks his arms and legs tightly into his body like a contortionist. He’s impressed at how far he’s able to stretch his ankles so that he can warm his bare feet against his backside.

He loses count after the tenth meal. He thinks he only gets one meal a day because he often craves more food and his stomach would growl fiercely and wake him up at all hours. But that was a while back. It’s been more than ten meals he’s eaten by now, so maybe he’s been here at least two weeks. It’s really getting hard to tell. Still not a peep from the System. The last time he’d seen a single soul was when the guards threw him into his cell.

Sometimes he dreams that he’s back in his apartment, writing another scathing review of Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky. Ordering takeout, arguing on the forums. Bickering with Da-ge, Er-ge, and Meimei. Then he wakes up with wetness on his cheeks and the sound of trickling water in his cell for company.

He feels like he’s going crazy. He wants to scream, to smash something against the wall. His fingernails have grown long and sharp now. They leave deep divots whenever he clenches his palm, which is something he finds himself doing often. The pinprick feeling of sensation welling from the pointed edges of his fingernails centers him, giving him something to feel other than oppressive solitude.

The next time he wakes up, his voice is hoarse, his throat painful and scratchy. His head throbs like it’s been trampled on by a hundred elephants. He runs his fingers through his messy hair and discovers a large bump on his scalp. When he moves closer to the firelight, he finds deep scratches all over his arms, some of them sluggishly oozing blood.

He drinks some water to soothe his throat. The throbbing in his head and the stinging on his arms have the strange effect of grounding him in the moment. When he closes his eyes, he feels calm and at peace for the first time since arriving at this place.

His fingernails carve slim grooves on the grimy walls. He traces thirty lines, each line representing each cold, stale, bland meal served to him. It’s something to do, something to keep him occupied. Lest his fingers subconsciously claw at his skin when he goes to sleep, trying to stave away the biting chill of the stone floor.

His stomach has forgotten how to growl.

Some more time passes and he stops counting the days. He ceases his scratching on the walls. His meals come and go, but he no longer looks forward to them. They all taste the same anyway: cold, stale, bland. He loses trust in his sense of time.

One day, he opens his eyes, and it’s like he’s looking at the world with a new lens. He feels silly for even entertaining the thought of transmigration. That’s the stuff of fiction, an overdone trope. It’s shameless pandering to weebs, NEETS, and shut-ins. He can't be dead either, because if he were he should be drinking Meng Po’s soup right about now.

He’s overlooked the most simple explanation: Occam’s razor. He remembers once having a fever dream where he lived 100 years in the span of a single night. Isn’t his current situation the same? Time seems to stretch and dilate, the edges of his vision dissolve into haziness, and everything feels surreal like a Dalí painting.

So that’s settled then. Not a prank, not a hallucination, not a case of transmigration. It’s simply a dream.

It’s the same prison cell, the same bare and dingy walls, the same tasteless slop but it’s different, somehow. He can endure it because when he wakes up, it will all dissolve into ether. Maybe he’ll even forget most of it, as he usually does with his dreams.

Later, when he settles down to sleep again on the cold, bumpy floor, he does so with a smile on his face. Nothing he does here, and nothing that happens to him here matters.

It’s just a dream after all.

Chapter 2: ⛈️ Lightning Strikes Twice

Chapter Text

Not long after Shen Yuan’s epiphany, he again finds himself at the center of another summoning circle. The transition is instantaneous, as it often is in dreams—one moment he is standing inside his cell, an inexplicable wind suddenly rushing in his ears, and the next he is standing at the very chamber where his dream self had first entered this world. Already, the memory of damp, dark, walls littered with scratches and the skeleton of a man keeping vigil recedes from his brain.

There is a transient pause before the chamber—the same one as last time—explodes into loud chatter. It doesn't seem to be the excited or joyful kind of talk, however. He detects an undercurrent of fear and anxiety from the summoners’ tones and body language. As before, they’re standing at the edge of the summoning circle. Shen Yuan notes that the circle’s design and inscriptions are more intricate and elaborate than before.

Shen Yuan though? He’s cool as a cucumber, quietly observing his surroundings as if being zapped from one space to another was an everyday occurrence. He’s been ready for this. You think a few shady characters and some esoteric mumbo-jumbo could faze him? Not on Shen Yuan’s watch!

“This Lord was assured that there would be no mistake,” he hears in a voice that sounds weighty despite the flat, even tone. He recognizes the deep, familiar voice of the Emperor. He turns his head towards the sound and is greeted with the sight of a supreme ruler in full regalia. The cut of the Emperor’s flowing silken black robes emphasize his broad shoulders while a wide silver belt cinches his narrow waist. The ceremonial headpiece adorning his head adds to his already impressive height. Standing on a dais, the man exudes power, authority, and total badassery.

Amazing what my subconscious came up with. 9/10 second best character design ever, Shen Yuan thinks.

A man with strikingly auburn yet graying hair and dark blue robes is quick to kneel in front of the Emperor, head bowed in supplication. “My Lord, I assure you that we have recalibrated and recalculated the spell hundreds of times to guarantee the highest degree of accuracy. However, due to the nature of Your Majesty’s request and the…the…delicacy that the ritual requires, the result may not be exactly as My Lord wants or expects.”

Shen Yuan recognizes the older man’s voice from his first summoning.

The Emperor considers the kneeling man for a long moment. His next words send a frisson of foreboding through Shen Yuan’s spine.

“This Lord wants only one thing.”

Shen Yuan doesn't like where this is going. He’s back to square one, in the middle of a summoning circle, again, and a seemingly dissatisfied Emperor, again. He’d just finally escaped that dingy prison cell—if he doesn’t act now, he might get thrown back in. He has zero plans of repeating that nightmare scenario.

So what if he's unwanted goods? It’s not like he asked to be delivered here! More importantly—this is his dream, so he should be able to exert a modicum of autonomy. Enough control to at least influence his fate. He’ll reason out and plead his case. That’s how lucid dreaming works, right?

With a burst of confidence, he walks right out of the center of the circle to the startled gasps of the other people in the room. The inscriptions on the floor glow each time his bare feet come into contact with them—the visual effect looks super cool—as he strides toward the dais with a purpose.

He stops at the foot of the dais, just before the outer edge of the summoning circle. He bends his back in a deep bow. When he brings his head up to face the Emperor, the words he was about to say die in his mouth. He stares, eyes wide and mouth agape at the huadian faintly glowing red on the Emperor’s forehead.

Without his prescription glasses, he hadn’t been able to see details from a distance. He’d missed it before due to his nearsightedness, but he can recognize that mark and the face it belongs to anywhere. After all, it’s the mark emblazoned on countless merch and memorabilia in his bedroom, the very face in the wallpaper that greets him each time he turns on his computer or smartphone in the waking world.

It’s the symbol and visage of none other than the Emperor of the Three Realms, The Heavenly Demon and Saintly Ruler, Luo Binghe.

11/10 Top 1 character design! This is the best dream ever, Shen Yuan gushes internally. He suppresses his desire to stare and fanboy and quickly tries to regain his composure. Even if this were a dream, he didn’t want to leave a bad first impression on THE Luo Binghe, especially in front of an audience!

Luo Binghe meets Shen Yuan’s eyes with an impassive stare of his own. Shen Yuan clears his throat and starts, “Lord Luo.” He’s mortified by how rusty his voice sounds from disuse. “Allow me to introduce myself. This lowly one is called Shen Yuan.”

Something flickers in the Emperor’s eyes. “Shen—?” he says and suddenly he’s bounding down from the dais. He stops an arm’s length away from Shen Yuan but he’s so tall and so broad he obscures Shen Yuan’s vision.

Shen Yuan summons up his courage to continue. “This lowly subject doesn’t know how or why he was summoned here, but he can make himself useful if My Lord allows,” he bullsh*ts. He’s hoping to somehow make this into a transaction that benefits the both of them. “This Shen Yuan is knowledgeable of this world’s flora and fauna, and privy to many of its secrets.” He single-handedly wrote and edited at least 90% of the PIDW wiki so he should know!

“…A scholar?” Luo Binghe murmurs in an inquisitive tone. What answer does he want to hear? Not knowing the safe response, Shen Yuan shrugs noncommittally.

Luo Binghe takes his time assessing his subject from head to toe. Shen Yuan squirms under his gaze. He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass. He knows he isn’t much to look at, and his now ratty t-shirt and pajamas certainly aren’t helping. Under Luo Binghe’s calculating stare, he can’t help but feel like a slab of meat about to be put for sale at the market.

Luo Binghe extends a clawed hand towards Shen Yuan’s neck. Shen Yuan flinches instinctively. Had he been busted and found wanting so quickly? He halfway expects sharp claws to either wring or slice off his neck but Luo Binghe’s fingers just wrap around his throat and stay there. The grip on his neck is firm but not tight enough to cut or bruise. He feels a strange, tingling sensation of warmth that circuits through his body from where the pads of Luo Binghe’s fingers touch his skin.

Luo Binghe’s expression turns darker and darker the longer he continues his nerve-wracking inspection. At last, he removes his hand and frowns. “Juvenile meridians, undeveloped core, completely mortal and no cultivation potential to speak of,” he lists.

Shen Yuan can’t help but huff in indignation. Excuse me if he’s a modern millennial from a world that relies on technology to get things done, and not some OP xianxia character! Of course he doesn't know the first thing about cultivation! Of course he’s a mere mortal and of course he wouldn't have a golden core!

What he has, though, is an encyclopedic knowledge of PIDW including Easter eggs, exclusive paid content, and information from dropped plot points undisclosed third-party sources that Luo Binghe has no way of knowing. Where is he in the PIDW timeline anyway?

“This Lord doubts you hold anything of value to me,” Luo Binghe continues, and ouch, the rejection stings. “But you’ve interfered with the summoning ceremony twice now and that warrants investigation. This Lord will personally conduct a closer inspection on the matter before deciding your fate.”

“My Lord, it wasn’t this subject’s intention to—” Shen Yuan tries, but Luo Binghe cuts him off. Signaling to a nearby attendant with an imperial tilt of his chin, he commands “Make him presentable and place him on house arrest at the moonlit quarter.” He then addresses the rest of the room. “This Lord will deal with the lot of you next,” he says ominously.

A pair of attendants materialize beside Shen Yuan. Before he’s briskly led away from the chamber, he spies another auburn-haired man in dark-colored robes helping up the brave old soul who had stood up to the Emperor from where he had been frozen in a kowtow.

Shen Yuan follows the attendants through the same long, ornate corridors as the first time but instead of making a sharp turn to a darkened hallway, they go straight until they reach a great hall with people scattered about, mostly women.

Shen Yuan steals curious glances at the women as he passes through the hall. They’re incredibly beautiful, and seem to be of different races. There’s a healthy mix of human, demonic, and fey features. Members of Luo Binghe’s harem?

Despite the anxiety knotting in his stomach, Shen Yuan can’t help the bubble of excitement that surges as he tries to identify this or that wife. He curses his lack of glasses as it makes it incredibly hard to tell them apart unless they’re very close or have large, distinctive tells like a unique hair color or conspicuous accessories.

At last they arrive at the baths, where Shen Yuan is judiciously stripped of his clothing despite his indignant protests. He is then scrubbed, soaped, and soaked in steaming water, his hair washed and fingernails filed, all done with mechanical efficiency.

When Shen Yuan emerges from the bath squeaky clean and steaming pink, he is quickly toweled off by attendants flanking both of his sides. They then dress him up in three layers of modest-looking but soft robes. Finally, they slip a pair of brocade slip-ons on his feet and he is herded away from the baths and towards another winding corridor.

The walk to their next destination is longer and more circuitous than any of his previous journeys in this world. They climb a ridiculous amount of stairs. The surroundings seem to take on a hazy quality as he passes scenery by scenery, but that could just be his myopia.

They finally reach the threshold of a nondescript door, one in a corridor of similar-looking doors. The attendants wordlessly herd him into the room. The moment he steps inside, Shen Yuan hears the door lock with an audible click, followed by the heavy thud of a deadbolt.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. Do they think his mortal ass with no cultivation potential whatsoever has any chance of escaping whatever prison they intend to lock him in? Speaking of prison, his new room is a definite upgrade from the previous dingy cellar. It has a double bed, a wardrobe cabinet, a study table and chair, and a good-sized window caged by thick iron bars that lets sunlight in.

The room isn’t large but has enough space to walk more than a few paces. There’s even a commode with a sink tucked in a corner. There’s another door on one side of the wall—probably a connecting room, but when he tries to open it, it’s firmly locked.

His new enclosure screams “budget motel room.”

He finds a covered tray on the study table. When he opens it, he is pleasantly surprised to find a decent-looking full course meal, kept warm with…is that a real, honest-to-goodness heating talisman!? He pockets it for later perusal. His mouth waters—how long has it been since he last ate anything that isn’t slop?

The meal isn’t anything to write home about, but he can’t suppress his joy at eating real food again.

Belly pleasantly full, Shen Yuan flops onto the bed and is out like a light in seconds.

It’s been six days and nothing has changed since the first day he’s been moved to the xianxia version of a budget motel. His meals are delivered through a flap under the door, and he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Luo Binghe or anyone else since his second summoning. Has he been forgotten again?

His only source of entertainment are the talismans that regularly come with his food trays. He keeps a collection of them, much like Pokemon cards. The heating talismans are the most common, but sometimes there’s a talisman for keeping things cold, or keeping things fresh.

Each talisman seems to have been made by different hands and there are subtle differences between them, like specifications for temperature or duration. Fascinating! When Shen Yuan’s thoughts start to drift to his family, he takes out his talisman collection and stares at them for hours, analyzing every little detail.

He’s fine. He’s at least treated more humanely. He can count the passing of days from the rise and fall of the sun through his window. Through the window’s iron bars, he can glimpse an expansive garden—with some areas looking more like a dense forest.

His quarters sit high above the ground. Sometimes, when the wind blows ferociously, he’s forced to close the window but he tries to avoid that since it plunges the room into darkness. It seems Luo Binghe had deemed it unnecessary to provide an artificial light source in his captive’s room. When night falls, the only source of light is the faint glow of the moon filtering through his open window.

As dreams go, this must be the most boring one he’s had so far. Where’s the action?

The last time he met Luo Binghe, he’d tried to act like a normal prisoner, humbling himself appropriately and choosing his words to not seem too suspicious. But that backfired terribly—Luo Binghe hadn’t even let him finish his spiel before he was hauled away again.

Since the most logical approach didn’t work, he needs to change tactics. But who knew anymore with dreams? What trap has his subconscious set for him this time?

Finally, on the eighth day, he hears the clank of a door being unlocked—not from the front door but from the connecting room. He immediately leaves his perch by the window, smooths out his clothes in a semblance of order, and faces the door with nervous anticipation.

The door opens to reveal none other than Luo Binghe, this time missing his ceremonial headdress. Shen Yuan’s feet carry him closer to the demon lord of their own accord. He eyes the manly physique of the demonic Emperor. Luo Binghe looks no less handsome and intimidating in understated black robes that hug the planes of his body perfectly. Oh—Is that belt buckle made from the horn of the Great Eastern Onyx Minotaur? And the rings on his fingers—he’s sure at least one of them has a gem from a celestial nymph’s tears. Speaking of gems, isn’t that arm guard—

Luo Binghe catches Shen Yuan’s hand by the wrist as it is about to touch said arm guard. He meets Shen Yuan’s eyes with a quirk of a brow and drawls, “Has Shen Yuan had his fill of looking at this Lord?”

The demon lord’s tone stops Shen Yuan’s grabby hands but does nothing to quell his greedy gaze, which boldly zones in on his captor’s face. Dropping all formality, his eyes filled with stars, Shen Yuan unselfconsciously gushes, “As expected of the Protagonist! So f*cking cool and handsome, he can give Hollywood A-Listers a run for their money! Show me more.” He’s definitely making the most of this dream-fueled opportunity!

Luo Binghe’s eyebrow quirks up and his grip on Shen Yuan’s wrist tightens enough to bruise. The abrupt pain cuts through Shen Yuan’s fantasies, making him wince. “Have you no fear of this Lord?” Luo Binghe says.

Tsk! Shen Yuan thinks fast on his feet for a suitably harmless reaction. He lets his wrist hang limply from Luo Binghe’s grip and puts on an unaffected look. “Ehhh…I should probably be groveling at your feet but that’s so basic and predictable,” Shen Yuan says. “Anyway, I’d much rather do whatever I want to do here in my own dream.” He gives Luo Binghe a sideways look and grins. The worst that could happen if his captor decides to kill him here and now is that he wakes up from his dream, end of story.

The look he receives from Luo Binghe would be a little funny if it weren’t entirely unexpected. To see a close up look of a truly handsome yet fearsome face with eyes scrunched up in apparent confusion is, in a word, gratifying. Then, in a low voice Shen Yuan barely hears, Luo Binghe mutters to himself, “Shen Yuan thinks this is a dream?”

“Huh? What else could it be?” Shen Yuan punctuates with a shrug of his shoulders, which he intends to be casual but ends up being awkward because of Luo Binghe’s tight grip on his wrist.

“Long, empty days stretching out to eternity, a nightmare scenario straight out of an isekai like Rising of the Shield Hero, and then my brain decides to be generous for once and conjures my Favorite. Character. Ever.” Shen Yuan beams at Luo Binghe as he says my favorite character ever. “This almost makes up for being locked in that dank dungeon!”

Luo Binghe is quiet for a long moment. Shen Yuan fidgets. Seemingly coming to a conclusion, Luo Binghe releases Shen Yuan’s wrist. “Tell me, what does Shen Yuan want to do in his dream?”

Plenty! If he’s in Proud Immortal Demon Way, he can look up the cool plants and beasts that hack Airplane only passingly wrote about. Maybe even try his hand in cultivation. “I want to explore the world,” Shen Yuan replies, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. “I want to check out the palace library and I want to watch Luo Binghe in action!”

A corner of Luo Binghe’s lips twitches up and he nods. “Very well. For the meantime this Lord will indulge Shen Yuan’s wishes.” He strides to the front door and with a controlled burst of qi, smashes the deadbolt on the other side.

Luo Binghe turns to Shen Yuan and hands him a key and a jade token hanging on a piece of twine. “This is the key to the door. The jade token grants access to the palace library. Shen Yuan is free to explore the entirety of the palace, except for the harem grounds. He is forbidden to leave the estate.”

He casts Shen Yuan a meaningful glance. “This Lord would like to emphasize that although he grants Shen Yuan provisional freedom, it does not mean that his safety is guaranteed. This Lord also reserves the right to call on Shen Yuan as he sees fit.”

Shen Yuan looks in awe at the open door, to the jade token in his hands, to freedom. Maybe this dream is shaping up to be the best ever, yet. A wide smile creeps up his face. He nearly cries tears of joy, but that's too unbecoming so he gives a thumbs up instead. “Understood. Thank you! I knew as much, but Luo Binghe really is the best!”

Luo Binghe acknowledges that with a wry smile and a shake of the head then he’s out the door.

Shen Yuan watches Luo Binghe’s retreating back as it disappears through the corridor. He pockets the key and looks at the jade token, cool on his palm, then carefully ties it to his belt.

“Alright, time to explore PIDW!”

As Luo Binghe walks towards the throne room, a corner of his mouth curls up at the memory of the intriguing human currently in his custody. Though frail and powerless, Shen Yuan showed no fear in speaking to the Emperor, even deigning to touch him. Luo Binghe would have instantly struck him down if he weren’t aware of how weak and harmless the human could be.

In truth, he had other plans before visiting Shen Yuan in his holding cell. The sorcerers’ investigation had concluded that Shen Yuan was an anomalous interference hindering their efforts to summon the gentle and kind Shen Qingqiu from that parodic mirror world. The investigation committee was divided on whether placing the anomaly under observation or eliminating the interference altogether would be the best course of action, with a 50/50 split in opinions. In the end, the decision was left to Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe had never taken well to any obstacle that stood in his way, at least not after the Endless Abyss. Furious at the sorcerers’ incompetence, he had locked up their head sorcerer in the dungeons and given the rest of the clan strict orders to perfect their next summoning spell. He commanded them to leave no stone unturned and to exhaust any and all resources for his cause. It would be their final chance, no ifs or buts.

Impatience and irritation roil under his skin at the reminder that he has to rely on a clan of inept wizards because the faker from that other world has sealed access through Xin Mo.

Every single day after his excursion into that mirror world has him feeling out of sorts. Nothing could hold his interest, not even his more adventurous wives or the excitement of a new conquest. It’s as if the world has lost all color, smothered in gray ash. Only his obsessive need to reach that strange Shen Qingqiu fuels him.

Once he has Shizun in his arms, he’s never letting go.

Shen Yuan was a mere hindrance, one that Luo Binghe had no qualms of eliminating in the pursuit of his goal. It was with that purpose in mind that he approached the human’s holding cell, electing to finish the job himself.

But then…the small, insignificant human defied Luo Binghe’s expectations with his fearless demeanor and wide, guileless eyes that looked at him with pure adoration. The baffling reaction caught Luo Binghe off-guard and stirred a strange yet not entirely unpleasant sensation deep in his gut.

The human may be touched in the head, though, somehow believing himself to be dreaming.

Luo Binghe then decided on the spot to delay Shen Yuan’s demise. He went a step further in humoring the hapless human and magnanimously gave him provisional freedom. After all, weak and mortal Shen Yuan posed no threat. He would still be under Luo Binghe’s control as long as he stays within the palace grounds. In addition, the human could provide some passing entertainment while Luo Binghe waited for the sorcerers to complete their work.

Satisfied with his decision, Luo Binghe approaches his throne with a renewed pep in his step. What a funny little plaything he’d acquired. Today is shaping up to be slightly less gray and a touch more vibrant than yesterday. Just by a teeny, tiny bit.

Chapter 3: 🤓 Shen Yuan at Work

Chapter Text

It takes Shen Yuan a few hours of wandering down the maze-like corridors before he reaches the library. Most of the staff outright ignore or rebuff him when he tries to ask for directions. When he does get someone to help, he's sent to a circuitous path that somehow brings him back to where he started. It takes a few tries of this before he realizes he’s being played.

Honestly, this is on him. He’s a nobody at the palace, a prisoner on parole, and he probably ranks lower than a scullery maid.

He sits down on a bench at the Great Hall to catch his breath and rest his aching legs. After a few minutes, a woman in soft pink and lilac robes approaches him, an attendant trailing behind her. Even with a veil covering the lower half of her face, she exudes the aura of a peerless beauty.

“I hear you’re looking for the library?” the veiled woman says. “I can guide you there if you wish.”

Shen Yuan is beside himself with joy at his unexpected benefactor. “I wouldn't wish to impose. If you can give me the directions, I’ll figure it out myself.”

The peerless beauty shakes her head. “It’s no trouble. Please follow me.” She starts moving away without waiting for Shen Yuan to reply, and he is left with no other choice but to trail after her.

If he isn't mistaken, the lady in front of him could be none other than—

“My name’s Liu Mingyan,” the peerless beauty says as she turns her head towards him.

“I’m Shen Yuan,” he supplies. First, Luo Binghe and now Liu Mingyan. This is really turning out to be the best dream ever! “It’s an honor to meet you, my esteemed lady.” Feeling bold, he continues. “In my humble opinion, Luo Binghe should crown you empress as you are the only one worthy of the title among all of his wives!”

Liu Mingyan’s eyes crinkle with what looks like mirth. “While I am flattered that Shen Yuan thinks so, that is up to my Lord husband to decide.” She faces back towards the corridor, hiding her expression. “In all these years, I feel that Lord Luo has not yet found what he is looking for.”

Shen Yuan stares at Liu Mingyan’s back and bites back an argument. Why would Luo Binghe look elsewhere when the rightful empress is! right! here!

They turn at a corner that looks just like ten other corners they’ve passed before, and are immediately greeted by an ornate set of double doors flanked by torches of ghost fire. Even from the outside, it screams “Demonic Royal Library.”

“We’re here,” Liu Mingyan says. She points upwards. “You’ll know where the library is by looking up at the carvings in the columns. The way to the library has three dragons instead of two.”

They both enter the library and Shen Yuan stifles an excited gasp at the sight of endless shelves of scrolls and bound books begging to be perused.

Liu Mingyan turns towards Shen Yuan, her eyes friendly and welcoming over her veil. “I’m a regular here. Feel free to ask me or the library master if you need any help.”

“Thank you very much for your generous assistance,” Shen Yuan bows to Liu Mingyan before they part ways.

Shen Yuan goes to the section on talismans and immediately goes to work.

“That’s a unique talisman design you’ve got there,” Shen Yuan hears a voice behind him on his fourth day at the library. He whips his head around and is met with a handsome young man in midnight-blue robes, unusually light-colored eyes, and a head crowned with striking auburn hair. A foreigner…? Shen Yuan drops the brush he was holding and blushes in embarrassment. “The design is purely theoretical. I haven't had the opportunity to try it yet, so it’s probably rubbish.”

The young man hums, then picks up Shen Yuan’s dropped brush. “It looks pretty solid in construction to me, though unusual. It seems to amplify a particular kind of effect but in a circuitous way, as if recycling qi…” He traces the lines of Shen Yuan’s talisman design in the air.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m aiming for!” Shen Yuan exclaims, glad to hear that his amateur design makes sense to this young man. The guy seems to be some sort of expert too—he has the looks of a scholar.

“In that case, a little addition here can facilitate the collection of qi for recycling,” the youth says as he adds a few strokes to Shen Yuan’s design.

“That’s so clever!” Shen Yuan exclaims, a wide smile beaming on his face. He hears a chuckle and immediately catches himself. Isn’t he being too casual by xianxia standards? He stands up from his chair to face the young man as he bows from the waist. “Apologies for my rudeness. Allow me to introduce myself. This one is called Shen Yuan.”

“Shen Yuan…?” the youth’s clear gray eyes seem to widen in surprise but the expression is quickly shuttered away. “No need to be so formal. My name is Zhao Jiahao.” He flashes Shen Yuan a winsome smile. With his easy smile, accommodating attitude, and scholarly air, the youth somehow manages to look unassuming and unthreatening despite towering more than a head over Shen Yuan.

He’a almost as tall as Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan thinks. And almost as hot, another part of his brain supplies without his input. His name doesn't ring a bell though—he’s fairly certain there was no character named Zhao Jiahao in PIDW.

“I’m glad to see Shen Yuan healthy and whole,” Zhao Jiahao says, eyes surreptitiously scanning over Shen Yuan like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Wait, this guy knows him? At Shen Yuan’s questioning look, he adds “I was at the summoning ritual. I… I’m really sorry about what happened.”

The boy looks so distressed and remorseful that Shen Yuan can’t help but reassure him. “It’s not your fault,” he says. First of all, it’s Shen Yuan who's dreaming, meaning his brain cooked up this whole bizarre scenario. And two, Luo Binghe existing means that he can't even be the protagonist in his own dream. To add insult to injury, he has the rotten luck of being assigned the role of an NPC cannon fodder. What that says about his subconscious, he doesn't want to know.

Zhao Jiahao starts, “You don’t understand, it’s because of me and my—mmmph!!”

Shen Yuan spies the library master from the corner of his eye and quickly clamps Zhao Jiahao’s mouth shut with his free hand. He pushes the both of them deep into the nearest bookshelves. “Shhhhhhh,” Shen Yuan whispers under his breath as he presses his front against Zhao Jiahao’s body in an attempt to blend into the shadows. The youth, as accommodating as he is, doesn’t protest and lets Shen Yuan manhandle him despite being physically taller and stronger.

Shen Yuan holds his breath and waits, hand still covering Zhao Jiahao’s mouth, until the library master passes without noticing the two of them and disappears into the distance.

Shen Yuan gingerly removes his hand from Zhao Jiahao’s mouth and takes a step back. “Erhmm… sorry ‘bout that. The library master has a beef with me and I’d rather we don’t cross paths as much as possible.”

They leave the bookshelves and return to the table where the brush and talisman paper lay forgotten. The tips of Zhao Jiahao’s ears glow a violent shade of pink under the brighter light of the reading room. The poor boy must be mortified to be bullied by someone smaller and weaker than him.

“Why is the library master giving you a hard time? You have permission to be here,” Zhao Jiahao says, gesturing at the jade pendant on Shen Yuan’s belt.

It’s Shen Yuan’s turn to flush pink. “I…err… may have caused a little accident,” he coughs. “Not on purpose! I asked the library master for some paper, brush and ink to copy some talismans from the scroll I was reading. Purely as an intellectual exercise, of course! I didn’t expect the talismans to work at all. But when the library master touched them, they burst into flames and burned some nearby books and ledgers. He got so mad he threw me out of the library and said he’ll never lend me a single brush or sheet of paper ever again.”

Hence why Shen Yuan has to sneak around and swipe paper, ink, and brush from the head librarian’s desk but he’s not going to mention that and further incriminate himself.

“Interesting…” Zhao Jiahao says as he reaches a curious hand towards the talisman Shen Yuan was previously working on. The moment his fingers touch the paper, blue sparks fly and it bursts into flames. Zhao Jiahao quickly waves a hand and extinguishes the fire with a burst of qi before it has a chance of spreading.

The two of them stare silently at the smoke rising from the ashes on the table. After a long, pensive moment, Zhao Jiahao faces him with a smile and says, “I’ll talk to the library master so you don't have to sneak around anymore. Shen Yuan, would you like to aid in my research on talismans?"

The week passes by in a whirlwind of excitement and discovery. True to his word, Zhao Jiahao speaks with the library master who stops giving Shen Yuan dirty looks. He provides Shen Yuan with talisman paper, ink, and other supplies as they pore over scrolls and texts on talisman-making, comparing notes and discussing theoretical modifications on existing talisman designs. The geeky nerd in Shen Yuan is delighted to share his opinions and ideas—xianxia magic lore is a surprisingly deep and interesting rabbit-hole!

“Shen Yuan is so creative. I never would have thought to combine a water and air column then top it up with a modifier for temperature and speed on the talisman head,” Zhao Jiahao praises Shen Yuan’s talisman design for the umpteenth time. “What does it do?”

Shen Yuan would preen under the praise, but he can’t be too co*cky yet. He takes his newly-crafted talisman with both hands and carefully hands it to Zhao Jiahao. “Well, that’s for you to find out.”

They’re in the garden just outside the library, a precaution they’ve taken to doing after what happened last time. Zhao Jiahao gingerly holds out his fingers to reach for the talisman in Shen Yuan’s hands.

The moment Zhao Jiahao’s fingers touch the paper, there’s a whoosh of chilly air, a ziiiip, a crackle, then a boom in rapid succession as a bolt of thunder materializes and strikes the ground beneath them. The explosion leaves Shen Yuan’s ears ringing. The two of them stare blankly at the burnt patch of grass smoldering beneath their feet.

They hear the patter of feet as the library master rushes to the open window to check on the commotion. Upon seeing the two men, he shakes his head and slams the window closed. At least he doesn’t admonish them, probably because they had the good sense to stay outside away from his precious books.

Shen Yuan breaks into a smile and pumps a fist into the air. “I did it! A thunderstrike! Holy sh*t!!!”

His middle school science classes, combined with his tendency to immerse himself into the forging or alchemy sections of any RPG he plays finally paid off. He’s the type to go all-in on breeding Pokemon to have the best movesets. Heck, when he plays Persona, he easily spends more time in the Velvet Room fusing game-breaking personas rather than in the dungeon crawling or dating sim portion of the game. It seems his compulsion to stack status effects and combine abilities where they normally don't appear is a useful skill when making talismans.

Zhao Jiahao gazes at him, mouth agape and eyes wide with wonder, as if Shen Yuan himself had hung the stars. “Shen Yuan, you’re amazing!”

Shen Yuan blushes from the attention. “Ah— just a lucky combination, is all. And it’s not like it’s usable.”

Despite the power released from the talisman, it isn’t particularly useful because 1) Shen Yuan can’t use any talisman he created, and 2) any talisman he makes instantly activates the moment another person touches it, which makes it uncontrollable.

For some reason, his talismans instantaneously react to sentient qi, whether spiritual or demonic. They've even tested to see if the spontaneous reaction could be contained by avoiding direct skin contact using coverings, but all that achieved was incinerating Zhao Jiahao’s very nice and very thick leather working gloves.

Shen Yuan still feels bad about that one. Those had been Zhao Jiahao’s favorite pair.

“May I try…?” Zhao Jiahao asks. At Shen Yuan’s nod of assent, Zhao Jiahao picks up his own brush and talisman paper and begins copying Shen Yuan’s design.

Once the ink on the talisman has dried, Zhao Jiahao concentrates his qi on the talisman, which starts glowing a faint blue. There’s a faint crackle followed by a weak zap of electricity that dissipates like a sparkler. The talisman catches fire and slowly burns away.

“……”

“Ah, maybe there was some error in your copy? And there was definitely lightning there, so you’re on the right track!” Shen Yuan tries to reassure the boy. They both know that Zhao Jiahao copied the design perfectly. Shen Yuan had hovered over his shoulder while Zhao Jiahao was making it.

But for some reason, only the talismans created by Shen Yuan’s own hand have a dramatic and explosive effect. Literally.

The greatest irony of all? Shen Yuan can’t even use his own OP talismans because even if he has juvenile meridians, he is incapable of cultivation and has zero spark of qi in his body. If this were Harry Potter, he wouldn't qualify as a muggle. He’d be the equivalent of a goddamned squib!

The injustice of it all! He’s like a celebrity chef in a Michelin-starred restaurant who creates award-winning dishes but can’t taste his own cooking because his mouth is sewn shut!

Zhao Jiahao shakes his head. “It’s just that Shen Yuan is too talented. This novice can't compare.”

Zhao Jiahao! If you call yourself a novice, what does that make of Shen Yuan? He only started making talismans a week ago!

“Enough about talismans for today. Why don’t we go for a walk? Can you tour me around? Let’s bring lunch with us, so we could maybe go further and explore the forest to the south?” Shen Yuan says to divert the topic.

Zhao Jiahao nods his assent and together they exit the garden.

“That’s a Purple-tongued Beanshooter,” Shen Yuan points at an innocuous-looking and bell-shaped plant. “It’s harmless enough unless provoked. But that over there,” he squints at the direction of a big, monstrous-looking flower a few meters away, “is a Thousand-fanged Venus Trap. It attacks anything within its immediate vicinity, so make sure to stay far away.”

They’re deep into the forested area at the south of the estate and had been walking for a few hours already, only stopping to eat the lunch Zhao Jiahao had packed for the both of them.

Shen Yuan hadn’t expected to find such exotic (and dangerous) plants within the palace grounds. But the discovery just makes this excursion all the more exciting! If the Purple-tongued Beanshooter and Thousand-fanged Venus Trap are here then that means…

Shen Yuan quickens his steps, giving the Thousand-fanged Venus Trap a wide berth. He keeps his eyes peeled open as Zhao Jiahao cuts a path through the brambles with a machete. They eventually reach a clearing and—

Just as he thought, in the middle of the clearing is a field of Suncatchers. They have the towering size and appearance of regular sunflowers except for their petals tinged yellow, red, and gold. Another thing setting them apart from your garden variety of sunflower is that the plants are sentient and can move their stems and leaves even as they stay rooted to the earth.

As the two friends pass by, the Suncatcher blooms swivel from their stems like people craning their heads to look.

The flowers had appeared in a special chapter released by Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky to appease fans who were clamoring to know more about the wider world of PIDW. The qi-producing blooms were a tightly-kept secret of a reclusive group of mortal humans who resided in a hidden valley deep within the mountains. Though untrained as cultivators, they managed to defend their territory from powerful enemies and keep outsiders away using a variety of offensive and defensive magical plants powered by qi harvested from the Suncatchers.

In fact, some of the plants were so game-breakingly overpowered Shen Yuan was compelled to write a lengthy critique in the chapter’s comment section.

Reading the chapter, Shen Yuan immediately recognized the reclusive humans’ hometown as a ripoff of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village, and the magical plants as a plagiarized xianxia version of Plants vs. Zombies. The Purple-tongued Beanshooter corresponded to PvZ’s Peashooter, the Thousand-fanged Venus Trap was the Chomper, and the Suncatchers were the mana-producing Sunflowers. That hack Airplane couldn’t even bother hiding his shameless copying and straight-up plagiarized the names of other plants, including the Cherry Bomb, the Hypno-shroom, and Fume-shroom among many others.

It would have been a fun and meaningful chapter despite the brazen plagiarism if it weren't for the fact that Airplane dedicated a chapter to the mysterious village once then never mentioned it again. Worse still, they never had contact with Luo Binghe, so their purpose in the story remained unclear.

Why create such a badass village with game-breaking plantlife and not have Luo Binghe come to visit? With competent people living there, maybe that's where the protagonist could finally find a wife with two brain cells to rub together!

Shen Yuan remembers cursing Airplane to the nine heavens for that travesty. He’d paid a lot of money to expedite the release of that chapter!

They spend another hour exploring the rest of the clearing and venturing a bit further into the woods. Along the way, Shen Yuan notices an unusual set of imprints in the mud and crouches low to investigate. From the tracks, it looks as if a tiger had been standing on its hind legs while chasing a gigantic rooster.

Could it be….? But why is such a rare and dangerous creature roaming within the palace grounds? Did Luo Binghe keep one as a pet?

Zhao Jiahao casts a glance at the tracks in the mud then looks up at the perpetually reddish sky of the combined realms slowly turning into a deeper orange hue. “I think we should return to the palace. It will be dark soon. I have a feeling it’s dangerous to stay here,” he says.

“Oh! Sorry I got carried away. It’s late isn’t it? At this rate we may not be able to get back in time for supper.”

Zhao Jiahao flashes him a boyish grin. “Shen Yuan needn’t concern himself about that. I come from a clan that specializes in transportation spells. I’ll draw a transport circle here that will connect to another circle already set up at the palace, so we can go back there instantaneously.”

“Seriously!? That’s convenient! But will it even work on me? I… I don’t have qi to activate it, y’know,” Shen Yuan says sheepishly.

Zhao Jiahao merely smiles and says “We’ll make it work.” He starts drawing a circular spell on the ground using cinnabar. When he's done, he steps into the center of the circle. “Shen Yuan, come inside,” he says as he extends a hand towards his companion.

Shen Yuan gingerly takes his hand and steps into the circle. He expects that to be the end of it but is instead caught off-guard as he is swept from under his feet and lifted effortlessly into a princess carry. He squawks, panicking, as he instinctively wraps his arms around Zhao Jiahao’s neck. The circle beneath their feet glows a bright blue as Zhen Jiahao activates it with qi.

Shen Yuan hears a familiar rush of wind in his ear. He closes his eyes and holds on tight, bracing for some sort of impact, but nothing happens.

“We’ve arrived,” he hears Zhao Jiahao’s voice close to his ear. He opens his eyes and swivels his head to look around. They’re in some sort of indoor workshop.

Shen Yuan belatedly realizes that he’s still being carried in Zhao Jiahao’s arms and shimmies to be let down, face red. Really! Does this young man have to shove it in Shen Yuan’s face how thin and puny he is compared to Zhao Jiahao’s tall and muscular form?

He mumbles a quick thanks and cautiously walks around the workshop, eyes wide. Ceramic pots and glass jars filled with colorful substances line the shelves. “Where are we?” he asks, voice filled with wonder.

“This is my workplace,” Zhao Jiahao replies.

Shen Yuan peers into an open pot softly bubbling in the center of the workbench. Beside it are a few scattered tools, some scrolls left open for ink to dry, and an open wooden box with what appear to be small, empty glass vials. “I take it that Zhao Jiahao is the court alchemist, then?” he surmises.

“Something like that…but not exactly,” Zhao Jiahao says, but his eyes are strained and his smile tight. “I hail from the Sorcerer Clan. We specialize in spells and transportation circles, although we also do a bit of alchemy on the side. My father is the head of the clan and would be the closest equivalent to a court alchemist.”

The Sorcerer Clan? Shen Yuan remembers a brief mention of them in the later part of PIDW. They were a reclusive, semi-nomadic tribe that resided in the far-flung reaches of a neighboring kingdom to the West which was why it took Luo Binghe a long time to find and subdue them. Shen Yuan had high hopes for that arc as it was hinted that Luo Binghe might have finally found his match when the clan threatened to start a wide-scale rebellion.

It was said that the Sorcerer Clan held immense power and access to forbidden arts, such as a spell that could even warp time and space and traverse realms, and mystic blooms capable of suppressing any human or demonic cultivator. A worthy foil to Xin Mo’s power.

Instead, the only match Shen Yuan got to see was Luo Binghe's politically advantageous wedding with the clan leader’s voluptuous daughter (Wife #395, most likely Zhao Jiahao’s sister) followed by gratuitous kinky papapa using various spells and funky herbs to enhance the “experience.”

What was building up to be a genuine threat to Luo Binghe’s OP powers and a potentially explosive and satisfying end game ended up fizzling out in a puff of smoke. All that hack author Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’s fault!

Is that why Zhao Jiahao is here at the palace? To oversee his sister’s wedding preparations? Or has Luo Binghe already married her, prompting Zhao Jiahao’s courtesy visit to check up on his sister? The answer to any of these questions would give him a clearer idea of where he is in the PIDW timeline.

“Your family…” Shen Yuan starts, trying to be subtle about his digging for information about Zhao Jiahao’s sister’s marital status.

At Shen Yuan’s words, Zhao Jiahao’s face grows darker. “Our clan was coerced by Luo Binghe to travel to the palace to perform the summoning spell, under pain of death and heavy sanctions. My father is currently under custody in the underground prison, and I’ve sent my only sister away from here for her safety. Right now it’s just me and a select few of our most powerful and talented sorcerers in the palace.”

What!? In the original PIDW tensions hadn’t built up far enough for Luo Binghe to imprison his would-be(?) father-in-law! Also, how can he woo his future wife if she’s been sent away!? This timeline is even more f*cked than Shen Yuan had thought!

“I-I’m sorry to hear that.” Shen Yuan wrings his hands. He’s unsure how to react to the unhappy piece of information. “Is that why you’re here? To petition the emperor to free your father?”

“Shen Yuan, I should be the one apologizing for involving you in this mess,” Zhao Jiahao says with his auburn head bowed low, ignoring the latter part of his question. His fringe forms a curtain over his eyes, making his face unreadable. “I was one of the people who created and powered the summoning circle that brought you here. But I…I swear I’ll fix this.” He looks up, fire flashing in his eyes. “I’ll save my father, and I’ll set you free too, Shen Yuan. Free from that tyrant.”

A tyrant….that’s what Luo Binghe must look like to the people he conquered and subdued. While they’re not exactly wrong, Shen Yuan feels that the description is unfair. Does anybody still remember the sweet, bright-eyed white lotus that wanted nothing more than to be good and obedient and to be acknowledged by his master? But due to Airplane’s sh*tty writing and stupid genre conventions, his scum villain of a shizun had to abuse an innocent child and beat all the goodness out of him.

Zhao Jiahao looks so determined that Shen Yuan doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s useless to defy Luo Binghe’s protagonist halo. He’s also touched that Zhao Jiahao considers Shen Yuan as a close enough friend that he’s willing to fight for him.

“I don’t begrudge you. There’s no use dwelling on the past,” he says to appease the boy. He attempts to lift the somber mood by steering the conversation to lighter topics, such as the properties of various substances, tools, and knickknacks scattered around the workshop. And if during the course of their conversation a plan begins to form in Shen Yuan’s mind, that’s just an added bonus.

Shen Yuan prowls among the bushes in the southern forest, eyes and ears alert for any stray movement. He’s been on the lookout for over two hours now. Will his quarry appear today? He’s been patiently waiting and changing strategies for the past couple of weeks, but the most he’d gotten was a single, fleeting glimpse before the creature darted off and disappeared into the trees.

Zhao Jiahao will come looking for him soon, the worrywart. Which reminds him–he found something at the forest today that might interest the young sorcerer. Maybe he should head back early to share the news.

He is just about to give up and call it a day when his ears pick up a faint rustling from high above. He holds his breath and in the next instant, an enormous feline jumps down from the treetops and gracefully lands on the forest floor, stirring up dust and fallen leaves. Its descent is nearly silent despite its power and size.

Shen Yuan’s heart beats wildly as his eyes take on the majestic form of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake slinking towards the bait he had laid out beforehand. True to its namesake, the creature has the striped and furred body of a white Siberian tiger and about twice the size of one. But the similarities end there. While the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake has the hind legs of a feline, its front legs are taloned like a bird of prey and it sports the scaly tail of a drake. Crowning the top of its head is a darkly iridescent curved horn that shimmers and shifts colors in the light.

The creature takes its time tentatively sniffing Shen Yuan’s offering, then starts eating.

All according to keikaku, Shen Yuan mentally cheers. Previously, he left a swan’s whole carcass as bait but the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake had simply swiped it to bring back to its lair before he could get a good look. This time, he had decided to chop up the carcass into pieces so that the creature would be forced to eat the bait on the spot.

Shen Yuan clutches the vials and talismans nestled within his pockets, readying himself for a possible attack. Despite his sweaty palms, the reassuring weight of his prepared arsenal brings him a sense of comfort.

When the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake finishes the last of the hypno-shroom laced bait, Shen Yuan emerges from his hiding place and cautiously approaches the creature. The beast’s eyes appear half-lidded and glassy, its unmoving form sprawled on the ground, its head propped up.

Very good. The hypno-shroom had done its job in making the creature docile. Shen Yuan only hopes that the dose will hold until he finishes the task he set out to do. He eyes the beast’s iridescent horn sinisterly glowing and shifting colors in the dappled shade of the forest. This close, even a squib like him can feel the mass of accumulated qi roiling inside the horn. It’s exactly what he needs. He takes out the hacksaw he borrowed from Zhao Jiahao from his qiankun pouch (also from Zhao Jiahao) and sets to work to collect his prize.

Luo Binghe is on his way to the southern forest when he hears a loud rumble followed by an ear-splitting boom.

Thunder…? He looks up at the clear, cloudless sky. Not a single storm cloud in sight. A series of loud explosions interrupt his thoughts and he sets out in the direction of the blasts.

What could be disturbing the peace within his palace grounds? He doesn't think any insurgents would be foolhardy enough to start a skirmish within the very heart of the Emperor’s territory. Did his more combative wives have another spat? The possibility seems likely. He stifles the surge of irritation at the thought of playing mediator to appease his wives, preventing them from killing each other, and keeping the peace within the harem.

He was just on his way to investigate reports of a sighting of a rare creature at the southeast edge of the estate. One of his demonic generals had stumbled upon it and narrowly escaped with his life, leaving the encounter with a mauled leg. While there are plenty of dangerous creatures wandering around the palace grounds, it’s rare for one to pose such a grave threat.

From the unlucky general’s description it sounds like a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake, but how could that be? It’s a legendary creature that dwells in the depths of the Endless Abyss, not in his palace gardens.

He’d been expecting a satisfying hunt that would serve as a diversion from the dull, gray monotony of his everyday existence, not the chore of settling petty squabbles.

He quickens his pace. The explosions increase in volume and intensity. He must be close to the source. He sees two figures darting among the trees a little further away. A large beast and a… cultivator? Did one of his wives acquire a new pet? Just as Luo Binghe is about to round up the unruly combatants, he hears a sharp crackle then a thunderclap so loud and blinding it would have shattered his eardrums and burned his retinas if not for his advanced cultivation and heavenly demon ancestry.

He reaches ground zero. The sight that greets him makes his hair stand on end and stops him in his tracks. He expected a few different scenarios but not…this.

A short human with scandalously short hair stands with their back to Luo Binghe. They’re panting from exertion, shoulders visibly rising and falling with every breath. Beneath their feet lies what is unmistakably a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake. A dead one, judging from its slumped form and the wisps of smoke softly rising from its body.

Very few individuals, whether human or demonic, are capable of subduing a full-grown Abyssal beast. It would take a high-ranking Peak Lord, or at least a concerted group effort of the entire sect. It’s been decades since he destroyed all the cultivation sects, so where could this person have come from?

“Hey!” he calls out to catch their attention. The human doesn’t show any indication of hearing him. Are they deaf? How dare they ignore the Emperor. “This Lord is talking to you,” he barks out as he walks closer to the standing figure. The sharp smell of ozone prickles his nose. He seizes the human’s shoulder and pivots them to face him.

The human turns their head. Luo Binghe registers eyes wide with shock staring at him and then—

The human bursts into peals of laughter. Loud guffaws echo through the forest as the human clutches their stomach, tears streaming from their eyes from mirth. They clutch something at their ear and pull out…earplugs? So they really hadn’t heard him approach?

Now that Luo Binghe could get a good look, he realizes that the person is a man. Small, delicate, and fine-boned as many of his wives, but a man nonetheless. The second thing he notices is the familiarity of the man’s face.

“Shen Yuan,” he says, offended. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s—hahhh—you—ahhahhh—” Shen Yuan makes a vague gesture at his own head, still doubled over in laughter. “Ah f*ck it—better to show it to you.” He fishes out a small bronze mirror from a qiankun pouch and hands it over to Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe peers into the mirror and finds a ridiculous image staring back at him. His curly hair that is normally oiled and tamed to perfection stands on end. Literally, in all directions. It’s as if a wild chicken had dug into his hair and made a nest there.

A soft chuckle escapes him involuntarily. Given the situation, he’s inclined to overlook the human’s transgression of mocking the Emperor. He raises a tentative hand to his hair. When had his normally stately and civilized appearance devolved into…this? He has no recollection of his head rolling in the dirt or of stray vines catching in his hair.

Shen Yuan must have noticed his confused expression because he holds a hand up and waves his fingers in the air. “Static electricity,” he explains. “Energy buildup from the thunderbolt a while ago.” The human straightens his posture but is still visibly struggling to contain his laughter.

Luo Binghe zaps his qi into the surrounding air to neutralize the buildup of static electricity. The smell of ozone dissipates and his hair slumps back down his shoulders. It will need a thorough combing but at least he no longer looks as if he crawled out of a chicken coop. Now, to investigate this uncanny scenario.

“What is Shen Yuan doing here?”

The human freezes. “I…uhh…needed something for a project. I-is this your pet? I swear I wasn’t planning to kill it! It was an accident!” Shen Yuan says, looking cowed.

“You killed a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake, an Abyssal beast, by accident?” Luo Binghe asks, eyebrows rising to his hairline.

“Listen to me first, please! I was going to humanely harvest the beast’s horn by putting it in a hypnotic state while I cut off its horn. Unfortunately it woke up and attacked me just as I was about to finish! I had no choice but to fight back and defend myself.” The words rush out from Shen Yuan’s mouth so fast he nearly trips over his syllables.

When Luo Binghe gave the room key to Shen Yuan and freedom within the palace grounds, he didn't actually expect him to survive this long. After all, how could a mere mortal with no cultivation potential defend himself from the various traps and pitfalls hidden within the palace, the wild beasts roaming the estate, the frequent poisonings, or the malicious advances of his more sad*stic staff? Shen Yuan was safer locked in his room.

And yet—despite the odds, Shen Yuan not only survived but also managed to single handedly defeat a dangerous and fearsome beast that even a top general could not subdue.

Shen Yuan yelps as Luo Binghe grabs his wrist to probe the human’s meridians with his qi. Just as before, Shen Yuan remains without a hint of cultivation or spiritual power.

“How did you manage to kill a legendary beast?”

“Hypno-shrooms and talismans and Cherry Bombs!” Shen Yuan says nervously. “I know it likes to eat waterfowl so I laced some bait with a hypnotic. And while I don’t have the qi to activate my own talismans, they react by themselves when touched by other sentient qi. The Sinister Striped Tiger Drake’s horn has plenty of qi stored inside, so I aimed a thunderstrike talisman at it to defeat the beast using its own power.”

Luo Binghe has never heard of such a thing. “What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain. Let me demonstrate,” Shen Yuan says. He tugs his wrist away and Luo Binghe lets him. He retrieves a talisman from his pocket and hands it to Luo Binghe.

As Luo Binghe’s fingers brush the paper, a jet of water sprays him directly to the face. He blinks, bewildered, as large droplets of water fall from his eyelids.

Shen Yuan shoves a fist over his mouth to feign a cough. It doesn’t fool Luo Binghe.

“Oh, wow!—*cough*—It was only supposed to wet the paper, but Luo Binghe’s so OP an entire stream came out! Impressive!”

Before Luo Binghe could snap a retort, the two men are startled by a voice calling out from the woods.

“Shen Yuan? Where have you gone?” A familiar man with tawny hair and midnight-blue robes emerges from the underbrush. He freezes when he sees the Emperor, Shen Yuan, and the carcass of a large beast beneath their feet.

Nobody says anything. The new arrival is the first to move, striding towards the two of them. He extends his clasped hands and bows deeply at Luo Binghe from the waist, outstretched arms going past the knee. As he does so he pulls Shen Yuan down with him in an urging motion. Shen Yuan gets the memo and is quick to mimic his companion’s movements.

“Lord Luo, forgive this lowly one for his presumptuousness. Shen Yuan meant no harm. If you would excuse us, this Zhao Jiahao will take him back to his quarters. Rest assured he will disturb you no longer,” says the newcomer.

Luo Binghe assesses the two men bowing in supplication to him. “Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao, are you so free that you have ample time to go strolling in the palace gardens?”

Zhao Jiahao looks up, face carefully blank. “I have not been remiss in my duty, Lord Luo. There are other tasks that need to be accomplished beyond the summoning hall’s walls.” He brings a protective hand behind Shen Yuan’s back.

“As long as the plan is progressing as intended, this Lord has no complaints.”

“It is,” Zhao Jiahao says simply. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” Without waiting for Luo Binghe to reply, he scoops up a squawking Shen Yuan into his arms and activates a transportation spell. Before the two vanish in a burst of light, Luo Binghe catches Zhao Jiahao shooting him a look of barely concealed animosity.

Huh. Interesting. Today presented him with a refreshing diversion after all.

Chapter 4: 🪱 A Worm in the Heart

Chapter Text

“Shen Yuan, you’re hurt!” Zhao Jiahao exclaims in a distressed tone the moment they arrive at the workshop.

“Huh?” Shen Yuan looks down at his body and sees his tattered robes. Spatters of blood stain his sleeves and trousers from the scratches on his arms and legs. “Don’t worry! It’s nothing serious.” They didn’t even start hurting until Zhao Jiahao had helpfully pointed them out!

Zhao Jiahao merely gives him a chastising look as he pulls back Shen Yuan’s sleeves and starts applying tincture to the long, angry scratches on his arms.

“Who did this to you? Is it the tyrant!?”

Does this young man want to be tried for treason? “Don’t call him a tyrant. It’s Emperor of the Combined Realms, Luo Binghe.”

Zhao Jiahao huffs. “I’ll call him Emperor when he starts acting like one. So it’s him who hurt you,” he says darkly.

“Luo Binghe didn’t hurt me!” Shen Yuan quickly clarifies. “I just got scratched by brambles, is all.” He’s not going to mention that the large tear on his pant trouser and resulting shallow gashes on his shin are from a close call with the claws of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake.

“Stay away from Luo Binghe. He can’t be trusted,” Zhao Jiahao warns him as he unrolls a bandage. “What were you doing in that part of the forest, anyway?”

“I was out hunting,” says Shen Yuan, tone carefully casual.

“Hunting? Whatever for?”

Shen Yuan had been waiting for Zhao Jiahao to ask the question. He pulls out a foot-long, darkly iridescent object from his qiankun pouch. “For this!” he says triumphantly.

Zhao Jiahao stares at the shimmering object in shock. “That…is that the tusk of a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake!?” Then, as understanding slowly dawns on him, “The dead beast we saw in the forest—you killed it??? Not Luo Binghe?”

“That I did,” Shen Yuan replies, feeling smug.

“Shen Yuan, you’re incredible!” Zhao Jiahao says, sounding genuinely awed and happy. “Many cultivators would kill to get their hands on that legendary tusk. It’s the most efficient portable reservoir of qi in the known world.”

“And the best thing is that it’s rechargeable!” Shen Yuan adds with glee. “If this works I’ll be able to do so many talisman experiments without having to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Shen Yuan. I like doing our experimental work together.” Zhao Jiahao says, eyes soft and with a gentle smile.

Young man! Please save that adorable look for the bevy of girls no doubt knocking on your workshop door! Shen Yuan thinks.

Zhao Jiahao finishes bandaging Shen Yuan’s arms and leg and moves to the workbench. Shen Yuan follows him.

“Want to do an experiment now?” Shen Yuan asks. At Zhao Jiahao’s nod of assent, he pulls out a talisman—similar to what he gave to Luo Binghe—and presses it against the horn.

A few seconds pass. Nothing happens. Shen Yuan tries pressing the talisman on different faces of the horn but there is no reaction nor spark of qi. His brows begin to furrow. Is the horn defective and had his sweat, blood, and tears been all for nothing?

“Maybe it’s empty of qi,” Zhao Jiahao offers.

“I did use a thunderbolt talisman directly on it for the killing blow. Maybe that used up all the qi stored inside,” Shen Yuan says. It’s a bummer, but hopefully Zhao Jiahao is right, and the problem can be easily resolved. “I’ll have to recharge it, then. Speaking of, I found something that might interest you while I was at the Suncatcher field.”

Shen Yuan retrieves another object from his qiankun pouch: a dagger encrusted with five different-colored jewels ensconced within a decorative leather sheath. Engraved at the end of its hilt is a familiar insignia.

“Isn’t this your family crest?” he asks Zhao Jiahao.

Zhao Jiahao takes the dagger in hand and inspects it, tracing his fingers over the relief of a dragon swallowing a tiger on its hilt. He takes the dagger out of its sheath. A thin red groove runs along the center of its white blade.

Shen Yuan stares in awe at the gleaming blade. Isn’t that—

“My father used to tell me stories about a legendary dagger forged by our ancestor from the bones of an extinct spiritual beast.” Zhao Jiahao says, interrupting Shen Yuan’s thoughts. “He said it was a relic powerful enough to defy the gods. It’s supposed to have been lost for hundreds of years, yet this blade is exactly as my father described it.”

Indeed, the God-killing Dagger of Sorrow matches Airplane’s description in one of his special world-building chapters. According to legend, a sorcerer forged it from the bones of the last Greater Eastern Zilant as a wedding present to his daughter who had been kidnapped and forced to marry the God of Dragon Fire.

As a primordial being, the God of Dragon Fire was immune to most poisons and extremely hard to kill. The gifted blade required four essences and a personal treasure from its would-be victim in order to synthesize a poison that would surely kill its target. It took the sorcerer’s daughter a few painstaking years to gather the four required essences of bone, saliva, blood, sem*n, and a personal treasure from her husband but she managed it at last.

On the day she drove the dagger into her husband’s chest and watched the light fade from his bewildered eyes, she did not feel elation from regaining her freedom and triumphing over a god. Instead, all she felt was regret as she realized that there would no longer be any god-husband who would lovingly wake her up in the mornings, indulge her whims, take her on journeys across the realms, and tuck her hair behind her ear and call her his treasure.

In truth, she never expected the dagger to work. While the four requisite essences were simple enough to harvest, it took her several years of trial and error to find her husband’s personal treasure. It was not the first time she had tried to stab her husband, who had brushed off her previous attempts with good-natured laughter. But on that fateful day, she had accidentally pricked her finger with the blade, her own blood trickling down to the jewels encrusted on the hilt.

When the God of Dragon Fire’s body broke down, his head turned into the Purple-tongued Peashooter, his teeth into the Thousand-fanged Venus Trap, his blood into the Hypno-shroom, his groin into the Cherry Bomb, and his heart into the Suncatcher. The rest of his remains formed a mystic valley that became home to legendary creatures and enchanted flora.

The dagger changed hands a few times after that but despite the blade’s power it always ended up sapping its wielder of happiness. As centuries passed, opinion became divided on whether the dagger was a heavenly or cursed blade. Was it a God-killing Dagger or a Dagger of Sorrow? It was eventually lost to time, only to reemerge at Shen Yuan’s Suncatcher patch.

What was the dagger doing there? Had someone been hiding it all this time?

Zhao Jiahao turns the blade in his hand this way and that, pensive for a long moment. “I need to speak to Father,” he says eventually, lips thinned in a grim line. “But he’s currently in isolation at the underground dungeon and no one is allowed to see him.”

“Uh…maybe you can petition Luo Binghe for a chance to visit?”

Zhao Jiahao somberly shakes his head. “We’ve tried several times but our request is always denied.”

“That sucks,” Shen Yuan says, not knowing what else to say. He starts asking Zhao Jiahao about their next project, eager to divert his friend from depressing thoughts.

Three days later, Shen Yuan awakens in his bedroom in the middle of the night from a wave of oppressive qi pressing onto him. He is further jolted into full awareness when he sees the source of the oppressive qi, illuminated by moonlight, staring down at him with an eerily blank expression.

“Luo Binghe!?” Shen Yuan cries out in fright as he clutches his sheets close to his body like a scandalized maiden.

Seemingly satisfied now that his target is awake, Luo Binghe turns to the side door without acknowledging Shen Yuan and merely says, “Come with me.”

Shen Yuan is groggy and cold and getting up from the bed at an ungodly hour is the last thing he wants to do, but he’s compelled to obey the protagonist. If Emperor Luo Binghe tells him to dance the samba while reciting passages from the Dao De Jing at 1 am in the morning, how can this lowly captive say no?

With only a few half-mumbled grumbles, Shen Yuan hurriedly puts on an outer robe and follows Luo Binghe through the side door. It leads to a long, narrow passage illuminated every few meters by night pearls. So the palace has the resources to light up a barely-used passageway but can’t spare a single night pearl for my room? He thinks bitterly. The protagonist doesn't look back to check if Shen Yuan is keeping up with him. Shen Yuan is practically jogging and wheezing just to end up several paces behind Luo Binghe. Mr. Protagonist, not everyone has your long legs and stamina!

After a few minutes, they eventually reach a door. Luo Binghe opens it to reveal a large room with a high ceiling, luxurious furnishings, and a lavish canopy bed sitting at the center. Shen Yuan follows right behind him, panting and furiously catching his breath. He may have skipped over most of the papapa scenes in Airplane’s novel but he instantly recognizes their location: Luo Binghe’s bedchamber!

Holy sh*t, why did Luo Binghe bring him here? It’s not like he’s a harem member! Is Luo Binghe still mad about being squirted with water to the face? Should he apologize?

Still, he glances about the room in awe. There’s something tasteful but ominous and severe about the darkly-hued decorations. It resembles a luxury hotel suite: impeccably clean and meticulously organized, with no trace of being lived in. Shen Yuan had expected signs of cohabitation or at least some feminine touches from Luo Binghe’s many wives, but there were none to be found. Despite its opulence, the room feels strangely desolate, as if the grandeur and luxury that fill it serve to oppress rather than to bring joy.

Hanging on the wall in a place of honor is Xin Mo, acting as the centerpiece of the room. Shen Yuan excitedly skips towards it, all fatigue and sense of propriety forgotten.

“Whoa…” The words, whispered reverently, escape Shen Yuan’s lips.

It’s just that…Xin Mo is so much more impressive and intimidating than any art or rendering he’s seen, whether official or fan-made. Engravings decorate its scabbard, their designs more intricate than any fanart or headcanon he imagined. Forged onto the dark metal like a tableau are legendary beasts, depictions of the rise of heroes, and their inevitable downfall.

Up close, the demonic sword radiates a palpable malevolent aura that makes the fine hairs at the back of Shen Yuan’s neck stand and gives him the heebie-jeebies. Not that it makes him take a step back and want to flee, no sir! Even if his skin feels like it’s about to break into hives, this is too good of an opportunity to pass!

“Shen Yuan is invited by this Lord into his personal chambers and yet is wholly preoccupied by the wall decor,” he hears Luo Binghe’s smooth baritone from behind him. Oh f*ck, how long has he been fixating on Xin Mo? “Is this Lord so insignificant that he fails to catch Shen Yuan’s attention?” Luo Binghe’s tone sounds more amused than chastising.

Shen Yuan peels his eyes away from the sword with a sheepish grin. “Sorry ‘bout that. But that’s not just any wall decor! That’s Xin Mo! The very sword Luo Binghe mastered and used to conquer and combine the three realms. Epic!!!” He pulls his fist down to his side, voice bubbling over with excitement.

“Indeed,” Luo Binghe says as he folds his arms over his chest, sounding smug.

“I’m really sorry about the other day! Are you still mad about your pet? I didn’t mean to disrespect,” Shen Yuan hurriedly says as he remembers the incident at the southern forest. He pauses as his mind catches up to the strange situation he finds himself in. “Wait, why am I here, anyway?”

“From today you will be this Lord’s personal attendant.”

“Excuse me?”

“To begin with you will attend to this Lord in the morning and then again at night.”

“Whoa—wait, wait! Why me?! I don’t think—” Shen Yuan starts panicking, but promptly shuts up when he sees the look on Luo Binghe’s face.

Luo Binghe’s placidly neutral expression darkens into a dangerous frown. It’s unfair how handsome he is even when it looks like his scrunched up brow is a sneeze away from committing mass murder.

“If Shen Yuan is unwilling, he can return his room key. Remember this Lord gave you provisional freedom,” Luo Binghe emphasizes the last point like a dagger to the throat. “And one of the stipulations for that freedom is that Shen Yuan can be summoned anytime at this Lord’s discretion.”

Gah—Shen Yuan has been so absorbed in his research and romping around unimpeded within the palace grounds with Zhao Jiahao’s help that he’s forgotten he’s first and foremost a prisoner—Luo Binghe’s prisoner to be exact. No way he’s going back to being grounded in that stuffy budget motel! He’s got things to do outside!

No other choice then but to play along with what Luo Binghe wants, no matter how bizarre!

“Yes, sir! Anything you want, sir!” he barks out with a stiff salute. Wait, do people in xianxia-land even know what a salute means? He’s mixing his genres here! He quickly pivots to a deferential hand clasped bow. “I mean—This Shen Yuan…is at your service!”

Shen Yuan hears a huff and dares to take a peek at the Emperor. Judging from his face, it at least seems Luo Binghe has eased up on the genocidal plans. His expression is back to neutral, although Shen Yuan could almost swear there’s an upturn to a corner of the Emperor’s lip. Must be a trick of the light.

“How can this attendant be of service to his Lord?” Shen Yuan asks, with a newfound determination to get into Luo Binghe’s good graces. He even clasps his hands demurely to his front like similar to how maids and butlers do in anime. He’d like to keep his provisional freedom, thank you very much!

“Serve me tea,” the Emperor commands.

That…should be manageable. It’s just soaking leaves in hot water, right? Shen Yuan had seen his mom and aunties do it countless times. He locates the portable stove and tea caddy at the corner and sets the kettle over the stove. Shen Yuan doesn’t know what else to do but stare at the kettle as the water boils. Only the occasional bubble breaking the surface of the heated water pierces the uncomfortable silence.

Who even drinks tea at one in the morning!? The caffeine would ruin anyone’s sleep!

“Shen Yuan was not in his room the previous days,” Luo Binghe’s low voice breaks the silence.

Shen Yuan startles. “Uh, pardon my Lord. I’m usually busy during the daytime.”

“You were not there in the evening either,” Luo Binghe says, sounding bizarrely reproachful.

WTF, Luo Binghe had creeped around his room at different times of the day!? Is…is that why Luo Binghe came to his room at an ungodly hour? Because he couldn’t catch Shen Yuan at any other time?

Alarm bells ring in Shen Yuan’s head and he hastily blurts out, “I’m busy w-with…projects.” It’s true, he’s busy tending to the Suncatcher field, his talisman research, and occasionally helping Zhao Jiahao with chores. Although the reason he avoids going back to his room until late is due to the lack of artificial lighting, which is why he prefers to stay at the library until closing time. He refuses to go to bed at 7 pm just because it’s dark!

“This Lord was under the impression that Shen Yuan must have been spending his nights in other people’s beds.”

Did Luo Binghe just call him a loose whor*!? “I’m not—that’s uncalled for!” Shen Yuan sputters indignantly.

Luo Binghe has the nerve to grace him with an infuriating smirk.

“I prefer to stay out late. You can ask Zhao Jiahao. He’s often helping me,” Shen Yuan says in defense.

“…It appears Shen Yuan is quite close with Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao,” Luo Binghe says, eyes narrowed and tone calculating.

“He’s my only friend here,” Shen Yuan says with a shrug.

“Shen Yuan should take more care in choosing his friends. They could only be using him for their own machinations.”

Shen Yuan is offended on Zhao Jiahao’s behalf. “I’m not important enough to be useful to anybody.” He shoots Luo Binghe a challenging look. “And contrary to what Luo Binghe may think, not all relationships are transactional. Some people enjoy helping others, without expecting anything in return.”

Luo Binghe doesn’t reply, but his hard stare pierces Shen Yuan.

The kettle’s lid rattles from the rapidly expanding water bubbles. Shen Yuan takes some time wavering over the tea canister before hesitantly scooping some tea leaves into the pot. He arranges the teapot and a porcelain cup on a tray and brings it to a low table across a chaise where Luo Binghe had seated himself. With faltering hands, he pours the tea into the cup and pushes it closer to the Emperor.

Luo Binghe takes the cup and catches a moment to smell the aroma from the cup’s rim. Shen Yuan holds his breath as he watches this display, anxiety and anticipation churning in his gut at the Emperor’s verdict.

Luo Binghe takes a small sip, then flings the contents of the cup onto Shen Yuan. “Unacceptable,” he proclaims.

Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe in shock. Hot liquid drips from his scalp onto his eyelashes and travel further down his cheeks and neck, seeping into the collar of his robes. Fortunately the tea wasn't hot enough to burn skin, but he may as well have been burned at the sharp heat of humiliation that floods his face.

That sting of humiliation is what propels him to expel his thoughts and shout back, “No, what YOU DID was unacceptable!” This is Shen Yuan’s own dream, so he’s going to speak his mind, damnit! Even if it means having to teach some manners to the black-bellied protagonist!

It’s Luo Binghe’s turn to look at him in shock, as if Shen Yuan were the one to throw tea at him. Take that, Mr. Protagonist! It’s been a long time since anyone called you out on your bullsh*t, hasn’t it!?

Luo Binghe’s face quickly shifts from shock white to rage red. “You dare to defy this Lord!?” he roars.

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Look, I know you’re the all-powerful ruler of the combined realms, a one-in-ten-billion talent, you’re so handsome it’s frankly insulting to us ordinary mortal chumps, and you’re every woman and man’s dream.“ He wags a finger in the air, similar to how one might chastise a small child. “But that doesn't mean forgetting your manners and taking out your frustrations on other people. Even if you can, that doesn't mean you should. If you didn’t like the tea, just tell me outright and I’ll try to do better. Now apologize.”

Luo Binghe bellows, face thunderous, “What makes Shen Yuan think he can order this Emperor around?”

“Eh, this is my dream. I can do whatever I want.” Shen Yuan juts out his chin defiantly.

Luo Binghe’s volatile expression suddenly cools like frost. “Shen Yuan still thinks he is dreaming…” Luo Binghe says with unnerving calmness. He takes a step closer. Shen Yuan flinches but holds his ground, despite every instinct screaming at him to run.

Luo Binghe advances until barely an arm’s length remains between them. He grabs Shen Yuan one-handed by the throat and lifts him several inches off the ground as if the human were a rag doll. “Tell me, Shen Yuan. Is this a dream?”

Fear and confusion surge through Shen Yuan as he dangles midair, his air supply significantly cut off. Dammit, why is he being bullied by his favorite character in his own dream!? Hurt people hurt people. The half-forgotten quote he’d once seen from an online advice forum flashes unbidden through his mind. Shen Yuan’s thoughts turn to the Protagonist’s miserable childhood, his abuse on Qing Jing Peak, his hellish journey through the Endless Abyss. Even after gaining the title of Emperor and subduing all his enemies to make them pay a hundredfold, Luo Binghe remains stuck in a loop of unending conquest and spilled blood, as if seeking to fill a hunger that could not be sated.

“Luo B-binghe…” Shen Yuan chokes out. “Is this w-who you... really want to be...? A t-tyrant?”

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow into slits, and he shakes Shen Yuan like a rattle. “Answer the question!”

Shen Yuan’s eyes zero in on the glowing red huadian on the Emperor’s forehead, and further around them, to the grand yet desolate bedroom that they currently find themselves in.

Could it be that despite how far Luo Binghe has come from his days as a battered and helpless disciple, happiness still eludes him?

The realization stabs like a dagger through Shen Yuan’s chest. Despite his terror, Shen Yuan pushes past his panic and manages to reply, “I-In my dream… I… I want Luo Binghe to remember… that h-he… is a fundamentally good man.” Yes, Luo Binghe originally started out as a pure white lotus, a considerate, good-hearted bleating sheep desperate to please his Shizun, his shixiongs and shijies on Qing Jing Peak. The polar opposite of the vindictive, manipulative, black-bellied protagonist he later turned out to be. Was forced by the narrative to be.

Dark spots dance in Shen Yuan’s vision. He feels on the verge of passing out but he pushes on, desperately wanting dream-Binghe to hear his words before the dream ends. “B-Binghe… you didn’t d-deserve…to suf-fer…You deserve…all the h-happiness…in the world.” He summons the last of his strength to look Luo Binghe in the eye and wheeze out, “B-Binghe is p-perfect… Always has been.”

He’s out of air. Just as he thinks his time is about to end, that finally he’ll jolt awake from this bizarre dream, the Emperor releases him. Shen Yuan slumps down like a heap of rags on the floor. He drinks big gulps of air to force oxygen into his lungs and wills his rabbiting pulse to calm down.

He looks up and meets the Emperor’s eyes. What he finds in those dark, starry pools startles him. Instead of the mighty and imposing Demon Lord, what he finds is a child, lost and vulnerable. Like a battered young disciple forgotten and abandoned by the world. It makes something deep in Shen Yuan’s gut ache.

The fragile look on Luo Binghe’s face is gone in a blink, leaving Shen Yuan wondering if the vision was a hallucination. Luo Binghe turns his back on Shen Yuan with a swish of robes and says “…The tea. It wasn’t hot enough.”

Shen Yuan stands on shaky legs, dusting his robes. “Gotcha. I’ll do better next time,” he says to Luo Binghe’s back. The prideful stallion protagonist still hasn’t properly apologized, but maybe that’s too much to ask for, even in a dream. Shen Yuan sighs.

They stand in silence for a while, Luo Binghe facing the wall and Shen Yuan facing his back. Then, “Shen Yuan is dismissed for tonight. Report back for duty here at mao time, “ Luo Binghe says without turning to look at his attendant.

Mao time…isn’t that like 5 o’clock in the morning!? But…it’s already way past midnight! Internally grumbling, Shen Yuan mumbles out a “Yes, My Lord” and hastily leaves the room through the side door and connecting passage that leads to his chambers. He doubts there would be further sleep to be had tonight.

Shen Yuan is groggy and sleep-deprived but he proudly knocks at Luo Binghe’s side door at 5 a.m. sharp. This personal attendant won’t be remiss on the first official day of his duties!

When he’d gotten back to his room the previous night, he went through a rollercoaster of emotions, from shock to embarrassment to anger, before finally settling on bubbling excitement. After all, no matter how abrupt or rude Luo Binghe had been, he had bestowed upon Shen Yuan the duty of being his personal attendant.

Which means that Shen Yuan will have a front seat at observing his favorite character! What an opportunity! What stroke of luck! Compared to that, what were a few shakings and a few lost winks of sleep?

He’s still not sure what possessed Luo Binghe to appoint him as a personal attendant. Doesn’t the stallion protagonist have a bevy of wives and servants at his beck and call? Shen Yuan is the least qualified person for the job, as evidenced by his disastrous first day. He can’t even take care of himself—how can he perform the duties of what is essentially a live-in nanny?

No matter. This dream may be getting weirder and weirder but it’s shaping up to be the best of the best!

He’s prepared. He went down to the kitchens at the crack of dawn to pester the kitchen staff to teach him how to properly select and brew tea leaves. He hadn’t known that there was a certain art to it, that you were actually supposed to throw away the first steeping (isn’t that wasteful?), and that the temperature of the hot water also varies depending on the tea type. He should’ve paid more attention to his Nainai, the only person in the family who regularly drank tea the traditional way. His prior experience is limited to dunking a tea bag into a mug of hot water.

He had given the kitchen jiejies milk candy he received from Zhao Jiahao as payment for their troubles.

“Enter,” he hears Luo Binghe’s booming voice from behind the wooden door of the Emperor’s bedchamber.

Shen Yuan invites himself in and bows. “Good morning, my Lord. How would you like this servant to prepare your morning tea?”

“This Lord will leave it up to Shen Yuan to decide.”

Shen Yuan selects an oolong blend from the tea caddy and starts preparing the tea with confident hands. He makes sure the water is heartily boiling before pouring it onto the tea leaves, waits for the leaves to unfurl in the teapot, then discards the first steep. He then pours the remaining hot water onto the fully bloomed leaves and waits a moment before serving the teacup to Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan watches Luo Binghe like a hawk as the Emperor takes a sip. Although he’s more confident in his newly-found tea making skills, he still half-expects the mercurial man before him to drench Shen Yuan with his drink.

“Acceptable. For an amateur,” Luo Binghe declares. Shen Yuan releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

The kitchen delivers breakfast at the door and Shen Yuan fetches it. The Emperor eats in brooding silence. Shen Yuan wonders about Luo Binghe’s cooking. Isn’t he supposed to be a talented cook? But of course as a state leader he supposes Luo Binghe wouldn’t have the time to cook for himself. But does he still cook for his favorite wives?

After breakfast, Luo Binghe directs Shen Yuan to dress him. Shen Yuan gingerly opens the wardrobe. He is greeted by over a dozen robes in varying patterns and shades of white, black and red hanging inside. They all look incredibly alike. Shen Yuan sweats bullets in panic. Which one goes over which? His own layers only went up to three, but from what he remembers Luo Binghe wearing the previous night, the Emperor wears significantly more.

“What is taking Shen Yuan so long?” He hears Luo Binghe’s voice beside his ear. Shen Yuan nearly jumps from his skin. sh*t, when had Luo Binghe sneaked up behind him?

Shen Yuan flails his hands. “Uhh…you see I’m not really familiar with fancy xianxia costumes….I’ve never cosplayed either.” Might as well come clean instead of f*cking it up and being thrown the proverbial tea again.

He hears Luo Binghe huff. “This Lord is not entirely sure what that means but surmises that Shen Yuan is inexperienced in the handling of courtly apparel. This Lord shall be generous and will instruct his personal attendant for this occasion, but listen carefully as he will not repeat himself.”

Shen Yuan nods vigorously. With wooden hands and stiff fingers, he follows Luo Binghe’s direction. He drapes layer upon layer of robes over Luo Binghe’s perfectly sculpted body, fingers skimming over the Emperor’s broad chest, clumsy hands tying each robe at that deceptively narrow waist. Finally Luo Binghe slips on the final robe, all eight of them, and Shen Yuan only has to tighten the broad belt with red accents and a green jade pendant cinching the Emperor’s waist.

Shen Yuan takes a step back to admire his handiwork. This blackened protagonist is really too handsome, ah. The early morning light filters through the windows, presenting Shen Yuan a clear and striking image of the Lord of the Combined Realms in his courtly regalia.

Standing tall and imposing in sumptuous robes of black and silver thread that shimmers in the light, Luo Binghe exudes an aura reminiscent of a neutron star, irresistibly drawing everyone in the room toward him. His dark, wavy tresses frame a perfectly symmetrical face, accentuating a chiseled jawline. While his masculine features are striking, they are softened by plush red lips and dark doe eyes that glitter like a pool of stars. A golden guan encrusted with tiny pearls adorns his hair, complemented by a matching golden earring that dangles from his left ear. Intricately engraved silver vambraces, various gem-encrusted rings, and tall, black leather boots complete the ensemble.

“Shen Yuan is dismissed for his morning duties. He may return at nightfall to tend to this Lord,” Luo Binghe says. Shen Yuan bows goodbye and turns to leave the way he came.

At least this means he has the rest of the day to catch up on sleep and tend to his Suncatcher patch.

Shen Yuan returns to the Emperor’s personal chambers later that night. He helps Luo Binghe remove his many layers of robes. Untying the intricate robes is infinitely easier than wrangling to put them on, and he removes each with deft fingers. When he removes the second-to-the last layer, he glimpses Luo Binghe’s naked chest partially exposed through the inner garment. His fingers fumble and his breath catches in his throat.

He’s just scared of his clumsy hands inadvertently touching something he shouldn’t, is all. He’s not in the mood for further testing Luo Binghe’s mercy.

Luo Binghe leaves his inner robe on and puts on a loose over-robe for lounging around his private quarters. He sits at his desk and peruses some scrolls. Master and attendant sit in silence, punctuated only by the trickling of the tea as Shen Yuan refills Luo Binghe’s cup.

Luo Binghe speaks without looking up from his scroll, his tone bored yet his words sharp and calculating. “Shen Yuan is so bold and fearless. He faced a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake alone. He dares to insult this Lord. He seems to place no value to his own life.” He puts down the scroll and faces Shen Yuan, giving him his full attention. “What, then, do you fear?”

What a strange question. Shen Yuan does have some healthy fears, such as being trapped and alone back in that dark dungeon. He gulps and shivers at the memory, shaking his head to dispel it. But somehow that doesn’t seem to be the right answer.

“I’m afraid…that when I wake up I’ll forget this dream,” he goes with.

It’s definitely the most intricate, outlandish dream Shen Yuan has ever had. He feels like he’s been thrown through a woodchipper and spat back out, but it’s here that he feels, strangely, more alive than he ever felt in his waking life.

It’s only here, in this dream realm, that he’s had a taste of what magic can do. It’s here where he feels a sense of purpose as he tends to his plants, explores the palace library, and helps Zhao Jiahao research. It’s here where he can see, touch, and talk with a Luo Binghe that is so hyper-realistic he can discern the exact shade of the protagonist’s eyes (burgundy when it catches the light) and smell his spicy masculine scent as Shen Yuan removes layer upon layer of robes.

This is a dream that he wouldn’t mind sleeping in for, appointments be damned. A dream that he’ll want to journal the moment he wakes up so as not to forget a single moment, visions he’ll desperately want to cling on to as they inevitably slip through his fingers like water in the reality of day.

And only in this dream does Shen Yuan dare to hope that maybe…maybe…he might have a chance to show Luo Binghe the happiness that Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had denied him.

“Shen Yuan never ceases to amuse,” Luo Binghe replies, tone filled with mirth.

Luo Binghe finishes his reading and moves to the dressing table. A large, polished bronze mirror gleams in front of him. He sits down in front of the dresser, hands Shen Yuan a comb and commands, “Brush this Lord’s hair.”

Shen Yuan hesitantly takes the proffered comb and stands behind Luo Binghe. He begins to weave his fingers through the wavy dark tresses. The fluffy locks are so soft and so smooth. So not only does Luo Binghe look good and smell ridiculously good, his hair is luxurious enough to grace a shampoo commercial.

Shen Yuan works the wide-toothed comb carefully so as not to irritate the scalp. He works on the long, dark tresses from right to left, section by section, making sure not to tug. He recalls memories of doing the same thing for his meimei when they were younger. The repetitive motion of silently weaving the comb through long locks slips him into a semi-meditative state.

In the peaceful quiet broken only by the rhythmic rustle of the comb passing through the silky strands, Shen Yuan could almost pretend that the person before him is a young, white sheep of a disciple and not a fearsome demon lord.

He reaches the final section of hair. Something snags on the comb’s teeth. It takes Shen Yuan by surprise and he threads his fingers deeper into the luxurious strands, trying to find the culprit.

He finds a gnarled and twisted braided lock of hair, tied at the end with a frayed green ribbon, buried underneath. The tired-looking braid looks like it had been forgotten for quite some time….had Luo Binghe missed it? Does he not have a hairdresser or a wife to properly groom his hair? He runs his fingers through the length of the braid to assess the damage, giving it the barest of tugs.

Luo Binghe whips his head around at an alarming speed and snarls, “Don’t you dare!”

Shen Yuan takes a stunned step backwards. “I-I’m sorry…! What did I do this time?”

Whatever it is that bothered Luo Binghe seems to have worked the Emperor up. His chest rises and falls as he breathes heavily. His eyes, glinting like blood rubies in the lamplight, look like knives ready to kill.

sh*t. Shen Yuan may have to exit this dream prematurely after all. Despite all his bluster and bravado he’s not quite ready to say goodbye. Quick, Shen Yuan! Do something before the Emperor massacres you on the spot!

“I’m really sorry,” he tries again. The violent mood swings are giving him a fright. He needs to deescalate the situation and try to calm Luo Binghe down. “Is it something I did? If you explain I won’t let it happen again.”

“…The braid,” Lue Binghe says, swallowing audibly. “Leave it alone.”

“I understand,” Shen Yuan replies.

At least Luo Binghe’s murderous gaze seems to have cooled down to a dull simmer. The agitated man turns away to face the bronze mirror once again. Shen Yuan takes that as his cue to return to his task of combing.

He carefully works on the remaining section, making sure to give the braid appropriate care and reverence. He parts it away from the other sections of hair, handling it with gentle fingers. Why is Luo Binghe so particular with this scraggly lock of hair? It didn’t seem to be something the Emperor had braided in himself—one from a child, or a beloved wife perhaps? But then, why would he keep such a gnarly thing in his otherwise perfectly groomed hair? He could just ask it to be redone. Unless—

Unless something happened that is keeping Luo Binghe away from the maker of that braid. Shen Yuan feels cold dread swoop down his gut. Could it be that—that they died? No, Luo Binghe wouldn’t allow that to happen. He doesn’t remember anyone of importance in the harem dying either. While there was a lot of catfighting, drama, and poisonings, at the end of the day Luo Binghe with his OP powers, blood mites, and heavenly healing pillar always came to save the maiden in distress. Is it a faraway lover? A long-distance relationship sort of thing? No matter—any and all hard-to-get maidens enter the harem eventually.

But to cherish the braid so deeply…. Luo Binghe must truly care for that person.

“The person who braided your hair,” Shen Yuan says, voice soft as a feather as if talking to a wild, unpredictable creature ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, “…must be someone very special.”

Shen Yuan risks taking a peek at the mirror. Luo Binghe’s dark eyes meet his on the polished surface.

“…No one else can compare,” Luo Binghe says.

Shen Yuan quickly lowers his lashes and breaks eye contact. He tries his best to hide it, but Luo Binghe’s admission rocks him to his bones. THE Luo Binghe, first-class Casanova and serial lady-killer, pining for someone? And Luo Binghe hasn’t managed to woo the maiden and make her fall straight into his arms? Unthinkable! Who could it be? What would such a person be like?

What a privilege to be held above all, to be chosen over thousands of others.

Shen Yuan finishes combing Luo Binghe’s hair in silence. After his dismissal, he retreats to his own room, mulling over the discovery of the braid and its mysterious maker.

Chapter 5: ⚔️ A Duel

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan is a week into his new role as glorified imperial nanny when he is stopped by Zhao Jiahao at the palace hallway.

“I haven’t seen you much lately. Are you OK?” Zhao Jiahao asks, voice brimming with concern.

“Ah, well,” Shen Yuan says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Been kinda busy lately. I’ve been appointed as Luo Binghe’s personal attendant.”

“You’re what!?” Zhao Jiahao says, voice loud and harsh enough that passersby turn to glance at the two of them. The poor young man looks distressed and scandalized. He grips Shen Yuan’s shoulders with both hands as if to make sure Shen Yuan is still in one piece.

Zhao Jiahao! There’s no need for such theatrics!

Now that Shen Yuan thinks of it, he only ever sees Luo Binghe in the Emperor’s personal chambers and never outside of it, so only a select few people would know about his new gig. No wonder Zhao Jiahao is so surprised.

Zhao Jiahao leads Shen Yuan to a secluded alcove. He takes furtive glances around. Satisfied that nobody can hear them, he places a firm hand on Shen Yuan’s shoulder and says, eyes serious: “Has the tyrant made you drink his blood?”

“Ssshhhh….you never know who can hear you! Stop calling Luo Binghe that!” Shen Yuan says in a stage whisper. “And no, I haven’t drunk any blood.”

Zhao Jiahao’s face visibly relaxes with relief. “Remember, don’t trust that Luo Binghe. And please, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“No need to stress,” Shen Yuan smiles and tries to calm down the worrywart. “Luo Binghe’s OK! He’s, uh, harmless.” It’s true! Luo Binghe hadn’t shown any signs of murderous intent in the past week. In fact, he’s only gone so far as to flash Shen Yuan a look of annoyance whenever this hapless nanny makes a mistake. No strangulations and sudden outbursts, barring that disastrous first day. So. Practically safe!

Zhao Jiahao looks unconvinced. “Regardless, don’t let your guard down. Do you still have time to come to the lab?”

“I’ll visit sometime this week,” Shen Yuan assures his friend. He’d been meaning to go to the lab earlier but he’s been so overwhelmed with his new duties and schedule that his only free time is spent tending to his plants.

“I’ll be waiting,” Zhao Jiahao says. “Don’t worry, Shen Yuan. I’ll try my best to get you out of Luo Binghe’s clutches.”

Zhao Jiahao, this Shen Yuan just told you there’s nothing to worry about! Why is he talking like Shen Yuan is a kidnapped maiden!?

After giving Zhao Jiahao further assurances that he’s in perfectly good health and that no, Luo Binghe doesn’t make him do questionable things, the two friends part ways.

How would a cannon fodder character who isn’t even mentioned in PIDW have any hope of going against Luo Binghe? Shen Yuan shakes his head as he makes his way to the kitchens for a quick bite before his evening duties.

Three days later, Shen Yuan receives some unexpected news.

“….we therefore humbly request the presence of his Majesty Luo Binghe and his personal attendant Shen Yuan at the Royal Alchemical Research Facility at their earliest convenience. Signed and sealed, Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang.” Luo Binghe reads aloud the letter in his hands. He tears his gaze from the scroll to look at Shen Yuan. “What could the sorcerers be scheming, this Lord wonders,” he says in a half-amused tone, as if anything the Court Alchemist could throw at the Emperor is beneath him.

Shen Yuan, for his part, is bubbling with excitement. “It wouldn’t hurt to take a look,” he tries. This is his chance to visit the Royal Alchemical Research Facility! A place featured in PIDW! For some reason Zhao Jiahao has never taken him there, even though the young man mentions the place from time to time. “And it does seem to be an important matter,” he adds hopefully.

Luo Binghe concedes and they immediately set out for the research facility. They go down a long winding staircase. The few people they meet along the way, dressed in scholarly styles reminiscent of Zhao Jiahao’s robes, give a deferential bow as they pass by. The stairs go on and on and on. Shen Yuan already dreads the climb back up. They must be deep below the palace grounds by now. They finally stop in front of an ornate set of heavy-looking double doors carved with astronomical and alchemical symbols.

A man in his early fifties dressed in dark blue robes patterned with stars and celestial symbols greets them at the door. “Thanking Junshang for his prompt response to our request. This Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang apologizes for the short notice.”

Luo Binghe acknowledges the man with a slight tilt of the head. “Is there an issue with the summoning spell?”

Zhao Gang rubs his hands together nervously. “Ah—not really an issue per se, but a minor concern. One that can easily be fixed with Junshang’s cooperation. My Lord, could the two of us take a step back for some privacy?”

Luo Binghe turns to Shen Yuan, his expression serious. “Stay here,” he says. Shen Yuan watches as the Emperor follows Zhao Gang deep into the recesses of the research facility. The moment their backs disappear from sight, he starts walking in the opposite direction.

It’s the Royal Alchemical Research Facility! A place in the palace Airplane often mentioned but never actually described in detail. The facility featured prominently in chapters connected to poisonings and their subsequent antidotes for those plotlines where Luo Binghe can’t rely solely on papapa to heal the injured wife of the week. Like hell Shen Yuan would stay put in one place. This is his chance to explore a little! He promises to be back at his post near the entrance before Luo Binghe’s return.

The laboratory is huge as a cathedral and sports a vaulted ceiling painted with astronomical symbols. Natural light seeps in through the stained glass windows decorating the ceiling. It’s a wonder how the light manages to reach this deep underground.

He passes shelves filled with vials and jars reminiscent of Zhao Jiahao’s personal lab and endless rows of tables cluttered with maps and strange contraptions. It all looks like something straight out of a steampunk movie. Shen Yuan brushes his fingers through the various knick knacks on display as he walks.

“Pssst,” he hears from behind him.

Shen Yuan turns around and is pleasantly surprised to find Zhao Jiahao, face half-obscured behind a shelf. The young man holds a finger to his lips and beckons Shen Yuan to follow him.

Shen Yuan trails behind Zhao Jiahao as he weaves through the maze-like assortment of shelves. They reach a secluded area surrounded by tall racks on all four sides save for a narrow opening for passing through.

“What are you up to? Was it your idea to have Luo Binghe come here?” Shen Yuan asks.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” Zhao Jiahao says, taking Shen Yuan’s hands in his. “Trust me.”

Shen Yuan snorts. “I’m not in any danger!”

Zhao Jiahao gives him an incredulous look reminiscent of his Er-ge when he thinks Shen Yuan is being stupid. Shen Yuan decides to ignore it.

Zhao Jiahao is in the middle of demonstrating a gold-detecting device to his captive audience of one when Luo Binghe finds them, followed closely by Zhao Gang.

“What business does Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao have with this Lord’s personal attendant?” Luo Binghe says. He gives Shen Yuan a stern look. “I told you not to wander off.”

Oh sh*t, Shen Yuan got carried away with the lab tour and forgot to return to where Luo Binghe left him! He starts sweating buckets. Before he can mutter an apology, Zhao Jiahao steps in front of Shen Yuan, shielding him from Luo Binghe’s view.

“It was this Deputy Sorcerer’s idea to tour Shen Yuan around the Royal Alchemical Research Facility,” Zhao Jiahao intervenes. “It is fortunate that Lord Luo could come at our request, as this lowly sorcerer would like to discuss a matter of importance concerning Shen Yuan.”

Luo Binghe crooks up a brow. “Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao may continue.”

“First of all, as Lord Luo is aware, the Sorcerer Clan is currently making every effort to improve the accuracy of the summoning spell. We believe that Shen Yuan, an anomaly who has been summoned twice, may hold the key to our goal. We hope to achieve a high degree of precision by factoring in his presence in the summoning circle.” Zhao Jiahao pauses, nodding towards Shen Yuan. “To this end, we recommend that Shen Yuan’s person be kept pure and free of external influences, such as Lord Luo’s blood mites.” He brings his gaze back to the Emperor. “Lord Luo may ask Acting Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Gang to verify this claim.”

Zhao Gang, who is standing beside Luo Binghe, lifts his chin in agreement.

Zhao Jiahao gives Zhao Gang a nod of acknowledgement and continues. “Secondly, it has been this lowly sorcerer’s observation that Shen Yuan shows an aptitude in the talismanic arts. Lord Luo has no doubt witnessed his talent in the southern forest.” He bends his back in a deep bow of supplication. “This Deputy Sorcerer therefore requests that Shen Yuan be transferred from his current duties and taken under this Zhao Jiahao’s wing to be trained here at the research facility in the alchemical arts. In this manner, Lord Luo will have more use of Shen Yuan and his innovations for the benefit the kingdom.”

“First request granted,” Luo Binghe replies. “For the second request, however,” he levels the still bowing Zhao Jiahao with a hard look. “Do not presume to understand this Lord’s wants. If Shen Yuan wants to play at being an alchemist, he may do so at his own leisure.”

Zhao Jiahao’s lips press into a thin line but he dips into another respectful bow. “This lowly sorcerer yields to his Lord’s wisdom.”

“Is that all?” Luo Binghe says.

Zhao Gang brings up a hand and speaks up. “There is one more thing. We requested Shen Yuan’s presence to conduct tests and measurements for ascertaining his affinity with the summoning spell.” He pauses to retrieve a yellow-colored gemstone from his belt. The gemstone glows under his hand, and soon after, they hear hurried footsteps approach.

A teenaged-looking apprentice emerges, holding several contraptions on a tray that he sets down on the table. Zhao Gang points to a cylindrical glass object reminiscent of a large liquid motion bubble timer, and instructs Shen Yuan to place his open palms on the top of it. The apprentice stands by, scroll and brush for taking notes in hand.

Colored bubbles zigzag from the top of the glass cylinder to join their counterparts at the bottom. At first they move lazily along but gradually pick up speed in a flickering motion. Several minutes pass by, yet the falling colored bubbles show no sign of stopping, as if an endless supply fuels their descent. If anything, their pace picks up.

Zhao Jiahao clears his throat from beside Shen Yuan. “Surely, that is enough? The entire process should have been over in a minute or less.”

Zhao Gang’s face sours. “The O-wave particle detecting device must be faulty. Move on to the next instrument.”

The apprentice hands Shen Yuan what looks to be a mercury thermometer in the size and shape of a T-square. In Shen Yuan’s hands, the mercury line steadily rises, only stopping when it reaches the top.

He is next told to press his forefinger into a contraption with a circular gauge. The pointer flails wildly before settling into a clockwise spin, seemingly in perpetual motion.

By the fourth device, a visible vein pulses on Zhao Gang’s forehead. “Enough!” He barks. “When was the last time these instruments were calibrated!? How can you expect to gather any useful data from this!?” He glares at the apprentice, who visibly recoils. “Conduct the measurements and calculations manually,” he orders the boy.

Zhao Gang informs Luo Binghe that manual measurement would take time better spent in exploring the facility in-depth. He instructs Zhao Jiahao to lead the tour and the three of them depart, leaving Shen Yuan alone with the apprentice.

The apprentice heaves a dramatic sigh of annoyance and begins roughly prodding at Shen Yuan’s wrist, as if it were his fault their equipment was shoddy. “Calculating this is going to take forever,” the boy grumbles with a scowl.

Luo Binghe can’t quite make up his mind about whether to kill or to spare Shen Yuan’s life. The scrawny mortal is irreverent, audacious, and absolutely terrible at his job. Luo Binghe often finds himself having to straighten the robes put on by his personal attendant. Even Shen Yuan’s cleaning skills leave something to be desired, with Luo Binghe often finding a thin layer of dust where he has seen him wipe before. At the same time, the puny human has a way of getting under his skin, stirring up some long-forgotten things that set Luo Binghe’s teeth on edge.

That an insignificant man could have such an effect on him is baffling. Luo Binghe has long thought of himself above mere trifles. All the more reason to keep a close eye on Shen Yuan.

It had been a rash decision to appoint Shen Yuan as his personal attendant. He had fired and imprisoned the previous one for spying and treachery. The option of having one or more of his wives attend to him remained, but in truth he felt even less enthusiastic about the prospect. Once upon a time, the constant mental calculations to appease egos and prevent frivolous harem disputes provided a game-like thrill—a point of pride for him, even. But now? Just the thought wears him out.

With Shen Yuan, he can sit back and relax in comfort. After all, Shen Yuan is an outsider with no ties to anyone. Even if the human did try something, he is so laughably weak and easy to read that subduing him would be easier than squashing a fly.

In fact, Shen Yuan is so easy to read, Luo Binghe can practically hear the thoughts buzzing in the human’s head, like right now.

They’re in the throne room. It’s the first time Luo Binghe has brought Shen Yuan out in public. Court is in session and as is customary, a dozen or so of his wives are in attendance. The Qin sisters are draped on both sides of the armrests on his throne. Qiu Haitang waves a large feathery fan to his left. On his right, Liu Mingyan stands holding a tray with a fruit platter and wine while Sha Hualing busies herself feeding him peeled lychees.

His other wives are displayed in a line behind the throne. The message is clear: Gaze upon the almighty, virile, and all-powerful Emperor of the Combined Realms. Witness his boundless riches, his harem of peerless beauties, the grandeur of his palace. Covet but do not touch, for all this fortune belongs to only one Master.

Luo Binghe is used to the covetous stares most people cast his wives. The more audacious petitioners even dare to direct those lustful gazes at him. He relishes in their jealousy, feeding off the resentment they no doubt feel knowing they could never have a tenth of Luo Binghe’s fortune even if they lived for several lifetimes.

Shen Yuan though? The man is practically bubbling over with excitement. His eyes dart around, not-so-subtly inspecting this or that wife of Luo Binghe’s with an almost manic glee. It’s not a look of lust or envy—Luo Binghe is intimately familiar with those. Rather than desire, Shen Yuan looks at each wife with a naked look of awe and curiosity.

It’s a look of childlike wonder, and for once it’s not directed at Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe stomach sours like pickled radish. “Advance forward,” he commands Shen Yuan. Once Shen Yuan has moved enough that he would have to crane his neck backwards to glimpse a single wife, Luo Binghe orders him to stop. “Kneel,” he says next.

Shen Yuan whips his head at the Emperor, trepidation written on his face. Wisely, he keeps his mouth shut and shakily lowers his legs. He winces as his bony knees bump on the hard marble floor.

Luo Binghe feels a smug curl of satisfaction at Shen Yuan’s grimace as the human attempts in vain to find a more comfortable position on the unforgiving surface.

Luo Binghe directs his attention to the audience. “Begin the hearing of petitions,” he declares.

Two hours and several courtiers presenting their case later, a demonic nobleman appears bearing a tall vertical object draped with black velvety cloth. “On behalf of the Yi Clan of the Upper Yellow River, this loyal subject and envoy Yi Rong would like to present a rare and unusual treasure to His Highness Luo Binghe,” the demon says in a booming voice. He tugs on the black cloth with a flourish. “Behold the Crystalline Looking Glass!”

The black velvet falls away, revealing a standing mirror held together by a dark wooden stand.

The rest of the audience ooh and ahh at the mirror. Its polished surface is so clear and smooth it reflects everything before it with stunning accuracy, far surpassing even the best-polished bronze mirrors in the palace. Some people crane their necks, attempting to get a closer glimpse, while others back further away, muttering about how such a bewitching artifact might steal their souls.

Luo Binghe gives the demon noble a short nod of acknowledgement. His eyes scan the enthralled and curious faces of the crowd, before landing on Shen Yuan. Rather than being captivated, Shen Yuan’s face contorts into a scowl, radiating open hostility towards Yi Rong. Oh? Intriguing, Luo Binghe thinks.

“What is Shen Yuan's opinion on Envoy Yi Rong’s gift?” Luo Binghe asks.

Shen Yuan visibly startles at hearing his name, but quickly composes himself even as he remains kneeling on the floor. “Ah—though the Crystalline Looking Glass is indeed an unusual artifact in this world, I believe one should practice due diligence and investigate its origins. Who knows—something sinister may be hiding behind such an offering.”

“How dare a lowly servant insinuate such things of the noble Yi clan!” Yi Rong erupts, his face contorted in rage. “As if we would stoop to such underhanded tricks! Do not compare us to the likes of you!” He draws his sword and points it at Shen Yuan. “On my family’s honor, face me in a duel, lying bastard that you are!”

The side of Luo Binghe’s mouth twitches. Finally, something interesting to stave off the day’s gray monotony. “Challenge to duel accepted,” he says.

Shen Yuan snaps his head towards the Emperor, a shocked look of betrayal written all over his face. He opens his mouth to speak. Luo Binghe smirks, and before Shen Yuan could say anything, the Emperor plants a booted foot on his back and kicks him towards the demonic nobleman.

Shen Yuan nearly skewers his face on Yi Rong’s sword but manages to change trajectory at the last nanosecond. Stray hairs fall from his head where the demon's blade had grazed.

WTF!? This black-bellied Protagonist! What a low blow, tossing Shen Yuan to the wolves like that! What does a fuerdai like him know about duels? He doesn’t even have a weapon! It’s not like he carries an arsenal that could mark him as a terrorist all the time!

Someone flings a sword to the floor in Shen Yuan’s direction. The crowd cheers, no doubt looking forward to the bloodbath. SY scrambles towards the sword, his bruised knees and half-asleep legs from hours kneeling on the floor making him repeatedly tumble to the ground before finally reaching his only lifeline for survival.

He grips the sword’s handle with one hand but doesn’t manage to make the weapon budge. He switches to using two hands to lift the sword up like a lever. Under Shen Yuan’s scrawny arms, the sword’s tip doesn’t even leave the ground. Ugh!? Why is it so heavy!

Yi Rong swings his blade. Shen Yuan drops the sword with a clatter and ducks away. Yi Rong attacks again, which Shen Yuan evades with a barrel-roll.

Shen Yuan cries tears of blood in his heart. Whatever had he done to deserve this!? He was only trying to prevent Luo Binghe from suffering headaches and losses from that evil mirror!

Shen Yuan remembers this PIDW chapter by heart—The Mirror of Duplicity. Though the Crystalline Looking Glass was gifted to the Emperor as a unique wonder of craftsmanship, in truth it was one of a pair. The two mirrors were connected to each other, and with the use of a spell, could be used to watch and hear what was happening around the other mirror. It worked much like a xianxia nanny cam.

The other copy remained in the Yi clan’s possession and was used to spy within the inner palace. An insider moved the mirror around at calculated locations such as the strategy room, where Binghe and his generals discussed battle plans. This resulted in a series of unexpected losses in the battlefield, which only stopped when Binghe himself took over his flagging generals at the frontline.

The Emperor had help, though. A lady general from the Yi clan caught one look at Luo Binghe’s manly visage in the heat of battle and instantly decided to cast away her family ties and tie herself to the Emperor instead. Luo Binghe was charmed and touched at her dedication—she freely spilled her clan’s secrets, including the truth about the duplicitous mirror. The insider and several key members of the Yi family were swiftly arrested and executed, the mirror locked away, and the former lady general wedded and bedded—wife #421.

Shen Yuan couldn’t help shaking his head at the shockingly unfilial nature of wife #421. He didn’t blame her for wanting to marry a paragon of masculinity, but for her to be so casual about damning the rest of her family? She never asked her newly-minted husband for clemency on their behalf or a truce at least, and that rubbed Shen Yuan in the wrong way.

Moreover, the Crystalline Looking Glass that started the whole fiasco was far from unique or special—looking at the actual mirror, Shen Yuan was sure he could buy several of its ilk on Taobao at rock-bottom prices.

Shen Yuan is interrupted from his musings by the broad swing of Yi Rong’s sword that narrowly misses his arm. f*ck! Shen Yuan doesn’t have the leeway to reminisce about PIDW’s sh*tty wife plots! He has a much more immediate problem—and he still doesn’t have a weapon to defend himself!

Shen Yuan’s qiankun pouch slaps against his thigh as he nimbly evades another of Yi Rong’s attacks. He’s grateful for all the exercise he’s gotten running to and from his Suncatcher patch for his show of speed and cardio endurance.

“Stop running away and fight back, you gutless coward!” Yi Rong rages, lunging at Shen Yuan as one might at an evasive co*ckroach.

Believe me Mr. Crazed Demon, I’d fight back if I could! Shen Yuan wails in his heart. But wait—he’s not entirely defenseless, is he? He has his talismans, and more importantly, the horn of the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake! The talismans by themselves are useless to a squib like him but combined with the horn’s help, he has access to qi to activate the talismans just like any other cultivator! Theoretically.

The problem is that Shen Yuan had never actually tested that theory out. The horn’s qi reserves had been depleted when he slew the Abyssal beast using its own qi. In the past few weeks, Shen Yuan had been harvesting qi from the Suncatchers and storing it in the horn to top it up, but hadn’t gotten around to using it.

No time like the present. This is for science! Shen Yuan thinks as he whispers a prayer to any gods listening and grabs the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake’s horn from his qiankun pouch. Yi Rong pounces. In a panic, Shen Yuan’s hand gropes the inside of the pouch and pulls out a random talisman. He senses the zing and crackle of qi from his horn-wielding left hand course through his body, traveling through his veins until it reaches the talisman in his right hand.

He flings the talisman towards the demon closing in on him. The talisman sticks to Yi Rong’s forehead and ignites. Shen Yuan sees a momentary look of enraged shock on Yi Rong’s face before the demon lets out a sharp cry of agony.

Yi Rong clutches a hand to his forehead. When he tears his hand away, there’s a bright red and angry-looking burn mark where the talisman had touched.

Holy sh*t—had Shen Yuan used a heating talisman on him? He had made a prototype to use for boiling water. He mentally cheers. The qi reservoir in the horn works!

Shen Yuan’s celebration is cut short as a dagger whizzes past his ear, cutting a shallow gash on his cheek. An audience member howls in agony as the errant dagger finds an unsuspecting victim. The room erupts into further chaos. sh*t, sh*t, sh*t! Seems like Yi Rong has switched to long-range attacks. Shen Yuan quickly grabs another random talisman and flings it in his opponent’s direction.

An impressive jet of water gushes out in a wide arc from the talisman. Unfortunately, it also misses its mark by a wide berth. Shen Yuan forgot that he lacked the dexterity to target his talisman’s trajectory with precision. Not that the water spray would have done any damage even if it aimed true—Shen Yuan had developed that specific design to water his demonic garden!

The water bounces on the floor with a loud splatter and showers several members of the audience. “Pathetic,” Yi Rong sneers. His boots squelch on the wet surface and damp patches stain one side of his robes from the backsplash, but he’s unharmed. He throws another dagger at his opponent.

Shen Yuan evades to the side. Unfortunately, that also put him on the path of a stray puddle from his previous water attack. His foot slips on the wet patch. A cry escapes his lips as a sharp spike of pain flares from his ankle where he twists it as he crashes to the floor.

The audience roars in delight. Shen Yuan hears shouts of “Finish him!” This is it. This is how it’ll end for Shen Yuan, how he'll exit from this dream—skewered like tanghulu on some third-rate villain’s blade. He contemplates taking the easy route and giving up. What else did he expect as a cannon fodder character in PIDW? Shen Yuan had been foolish to think that someone as insignificant as him could make a difference.

In Shen Yuan’s dazed state, he catches a glimpse of Luo Binghe seated on the throne.

The Emperor watches the scene before him with lively eyes sparked with amusem*nt and a smug smile on his infuriatingly pretty face. He looks like a kid at a circus show.

Shen Yuan’s vision turns a hazy red. This blackened Protagonist! Does he find Shen Yuan’s suffering entertaining!? Shen Yuan had risked his neck speaking up about that accursed mirror because he wanted to protect Luo Binghe from malicious attacks. He had hoped that exposing the threat would give the Protagonist a modicum of peace, that perhaps it would make Luo Binghe even just the slightest bit…happy.

Luo Binghe’s flippant reaction to his personal attendant’s life-or-death predicament splashes like a bucket of ice cold water on Shen Yuan’s head. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise in righteous indignation. Even with nothing to back up his confidence, he vows to survive and win this fight if only to spite the Protagonist.

He takes stock of his opponent. Yi Rong looks laid-back and unhurried, his right foot standing in a puddle of water a few meters away. “Miserable fool,” Yi Rong sneers in the haughty tone of one assured of victory. “A lowly servant like you should know better than to speak out of turn. How dare you attempt to sully our clan’s good name? Slandering the Yi family in front of the Sainty Ruler is an unforgivable sin. On my honor as envoy of the Yi clan, I swear to avenge this grave insult to our ancestors…”

On his hands and knees, Shen Yuan eyes the long streak of water on the floor. The spill follows a curved path starting from Shen Yuan’s position and ending in a big puddle where Yi Rong stands. Go on with your villainous monologue, you cannon fodder, Shen Yuan thinks through gritted teeth as he wipes his wet hands on his robe and carefully fishes out a talisman from his qiankun pouch. He gives it a quick glance to make sure it’s the correct one—he doubts he’ll be able to pull the same stunt twice.

“…For your transgression, I hereby sentence you to death!” Yi Rong ends his speech with a shout and a fling of a dagger at the same time that Shen Yuan slams a talisman on the wet floor and dashes away. Crackling energy travels on the water-slick marble towards the demon's direction. In a split second, a whoosh of chilly air sweeps through the audience chamber, followed by a steely ziiip and a blinding, ear-splitting bolt of thunder that strikes Yi Rong where he stands.

All is silent for a long moment, the audience blinded and deafened by the display. Acrid smoke combined with the smell of barbecued pork rise up from Yi Rong’s charred corpse still standing on the floor. After a beat, it collapses into an ashy pile of singed meat and bone.

Luo Binghe slowly claps his hands in applause.

Shen Yuan limps behind Luo Binghe as they walk the corridors back to Luo Binghe’s private quarters. After Yi Rong’s defeat, Luo Binghe had dismissed court for the day and ordered the cleaners to dispose of the demon’s charred remains.

Luo Binghe turns his head back to glance at Shen Yuan behind him. “Keep up,” he says. He doesn’t slow his long strides.

Shen Yuan grits his teeth. This imperial nanny is trying! But the adrenaline that powered him while battling with Yi Rong had dissipated and his sprained ankle is killing him. He speeds up to a light jog and mentally recites the original 151 Pokemon to forget the pain, all the while cursing Luo Binghe in his heart.

Luo Binghe watches as his personal attendant prepares the tea. He expects Shen Yuan to gloat after his spectacular victory against Yi Rong, but instead the human works with a scowl on his face like he wants to stab someone’s eye out. When Shen Yuan arrives to serve the tea, he stomps towards Luo Binghe (impressive given he’s dragging one leg) and sets down the tray with a petulant clatter.

Luo Binghe studies his attendant’s stormy face. “Is there something on Shen Yuan’s mind?” he inquires.

Shen Yuan’s steely glare could crack glass. “Do you find it so funny to bully me around? I nearly died there!” he hisses.

Luo Binghe co*cks his head to the side. “This Lord is under the impression that Shen Yuan doesn’t give much value to his life, given that he thinks this all a dream. Has he changed his mind?”

Shen Yuan shakes his head, red staining his face in poorly contained rage. “That’s not the point! If I wanted to off myself I could have done it in dozens of ways. I may not be afraid to die, but I’d want to choose how to go about it!”

“Shen Yuan provoked a dangerous demonic nobleman.”

Shen Yuan’s face turns even redder somehow, like a bomb about to explode. “I was trying to help you, asshole!” he seethes. “That mirror is bad news! But instead you threw me like a bone to a pack of hungry dogs. Not cool!”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Luo Binghe snaps. He’s never relied on anybody, at least not after he entered the Abyss. Nobody’s continued generosity and loyalty is guaranteed. All he has now, he acquired by himself with his own hands.

Shen Yuan lets out a weary sigh like a pricked balloon, as if the fight has suddenly left him and he’s resigned to his fate. “You should treat people trying to help you better—weren’t you one to repay a good deed a hundredfold?”

That’s what Luo Binghe of old would have done. But he’s older and hardened now. People who make a show of helping others tend to have ulterior motives.

“Why is Shen Yuan so upset when he triumphed over Yi Rong in the end? In an impressive display of cunning and power, may I add.”

Shen Yuan’s face reddens even deeper, although it’s hard to tell if it’s from indignation or embarrassment at being praised. “I was defenseless! I really thought it would be the end of me!” he sputters.

Luo Binghe gives his attendant an assessing glance. “But Shen Yuan wasn’t weaponless. He can manipulate talismans even without the spiritual core of a cultivator. This Lord also finds it clever how Shen Yuan took advantage of the conductive properties of water to smite his opponent.” Luo Binghe is not so small-minded that he fails to acknowledge talent and wit when he sees it.

Shen Yuan mutters something that vaguely sounds like “…common sense for anyone familiar with modern electricity,” although his cheeks remain flushed a deep pink.

Luo Binghe shuffles some papers in his hand and hands one to Shen Yuan. “This Lord just received a report that the Crystalline Looking Glass may not be what it seems. It’s been confiscated and the Yi family put under investigation.” He gives Shen Yuan an appraising gaze. “Shen Yuan is indeed knowledgeable about many things. This Lord is pleased,” he says honestly.

Shen Yuan’s face flares so brightly it could burst like a tomato. Cute, Luo Binghe’s brain supplies without his accord.

“I-if you’re not going to apologize, and if y-you think I did that well…” Shen Yuan sputters, “You should reward me instead!”

The request is not entirely unexpected. Luo Binghe is used to people seeking favors for their own gain. He raises a brow. “And what reward does Shen Yuan seek?”

The human fidgets under the Emperor’s scrutinizing gaze. “Zhao Jiahao hasn’t seen his dad in over a month and it’s making him sad. I know you’re upset that the summoning project didn’t go well last time, but isn’t it a bit too much to lock up the person in charge and not even give his family visiting rights?” He looks at Luo Binghe with pleading eyes. “Please allow them to see each other.”

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow. This is Shen Yuan’s chance to ask for anything—riches, better accommodations, freedom. Yet he uses the opportunity for another person instead. Irritation stirs in Luo Binghe’s gut. “Is Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao your lover? You seem strangely invested in his happiness,” he snaps.

Shen Yuan shoots him a look as if Luo Binghe had told him the most ridiculous joke. “L-lover!? What are you talking about? He’s my friend!”

Luo Binghe has seen Zhao Jiahao carry Shen Yuan around like a newlywed bride and could recognize the look of possessiveness anywhere. To think that Shen Yuan is still in the dark about his “friend’s” intentions….

“Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao is indeed an unfortunate man,” Luo Binghe concludes with a shake of his head. It earns him another bewildered stare from Shen Yuan. Suddenly feeling magnanimous, he adds: “One day. I will allow Deputy Sorcerer Zhao Jiahao to visit Court Alchemist and Imperial Sorcerer Zhao Ming in the underground prison, but for one day only.”

Shen Yuan’s face lights up, all traces of anger vanishing. He thanks Luo Binghe profusely and resumes his duties, this time minus the tantrum.

Later in the evening, Luo Binghe watches as his personal attendant limps away to his own quarters. There’s never a dull moment with this man, he muses. Just when he thinks he’s seen it all, Shen Yuan springs him with another surprise. All the more reason to keep him close then. The human could provide some passing diversion to color the monochromatic days until he reunites with the kind Shen Qingqiu.

Wait for me, Shizun. You’ll be in my arms soon.