Chapter Text
As always, life went on. When Shen Yuan returned to the sect, everyone seemed to catch onto how much lighter he was. No one seemed to dare to ask why, which was lucky, because he wouldn’t have known what to say to it. Shang Qinghua, who apparently had been working with the future Mobei-jun since before he met Shen Yuan – “I don’t give him information about Cang Qiong! Only about other things! Don’t kill me!” – ferried letters between Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan eagerly read any updates from Binghe, mostly on interesting beasts he’d seen or concerns he had about the Demon Realm, and replied with his own musings. Months passed, turning into years, and as Shen Yuan reread one of the earlier letters, he realized the collection made for a roadmap of Binghe’s maturation from an older teenager into a proper adult and demon lord. He was so proud of him. He missed him.
But as three years passed, he had less time to worry. News from the Demon Realm all pointed toward one thing: an emperor was on the rise. No one among the humans knew who it was, but the cardinal kingdoms – North, West, East and South – were unifying under a single ruler. Shang Qinghua definitely knew who it was, but whenever Shen Yuan hit him and tried to get him to spill, he just squeaked in terror and started rambling about how his king would kill him if junshang didn’t, but they weren’t a threat to the sect, he promised!!! A while after that, he went oddly silent and refused to speak even another word.
The future Mobei-jun’s father passed, and the future Mobei-jun became Mobei-jun. Shang Qinghua glowed with pride and terror about it both before and after he left to accompany him at his ascension. Which, ah, definitely told Shen Yuan everything he needed to know about their relationship. No demon king would allow someone he didn’t trust completely and wholly to get close during such a vulnerable time. Shang Qinghua himself didn’t seem to realize that, which was utterly ridiculous.
Shen Yuan sent his most experienced scouts to the Border Realms and even into the Demon Realm to see what they could figure out, and the one thing he was able to report to his fellow peak lords with any sense of certainty was this:
“It’s a heavenly demon.”
Just as expected, shock, horror, and even terror washed over his martial siblings’ faces. The only ones who managed to look somewhat neutral were his brothers and Qi Qingqi. And even then it was clearly only through a major assertion of self-control.
Everyone remembered Tianlang-jun. Everyone remembered the way that he and his heavenly demon general had taken out over a hundred master cultivators before Yue Qingyuan had managed to defeat the emperor, and almost died doing so. Before the general was heavily injured and surely succumbed to those even as he managed to slink away.
Heavenly demons were supposed to be extinct.
“You are certain?” Shen Qingqiu demanded. The fan in his hand twitched like it might snap at any moment as he stared at Shen Yuan from his seat at the sect leader’s right side.
Shen Yuan gave him a sharp look. “My scouts are the best at what they do. Yes, I am certain. The new demon emperor is a heavenly demon.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Huang Qingzhao, the lord of the twelfth peak, said. Her voice was calm, but in a way that revealed that she was forcibly making it so. Huang Qingzhao was among the eldest of the peak lords and had even met Su Xiyan from what Shen Yuan understood, so it was to be expected that she remembered the chaos better than most. “Only a heavenly demon would have the authority and power needed to make the demon kings swear fealty. Either a heavenly demon, or a regular demon that had reached unimaginable strength to subjugate all four of them, and all manners of minor lords and rulers.”
“Yes, thanking Huang-shimei for stating the obvious,” Shen Qingqiu said dryly. “Then the next question is, what are we going to do about it?”
Yue Qingyuan stood, and everyone else fell silent. The atmosphere in Qiong Ding’s Hall of Supreme Harmony was tense as the sect leader regarded them, hands serenely tucked between his back. “We will do nothing,” he said firmly. “The Demon Realm’s politics are their own, and the emperor has shown no inclination toward marching on us. We’ll keep watching. If they appear to become a threat, we will decide on an order of business then. But let’s not get involved in conflict just for the sake of it.”
There was grumbling among the lords, but no one dared to directly contradict the sect leader when he was so clearly asserting his authority. Shen Yuan glanced at Shen Qingqiu, who was watching Yue Qingyuan thoughtfully. Then at Shang Qinghua who was twitching in his seat. And Liu Qingge, whose face hadn’t moved. If Yue Qingyuan said to do nothing, he would do nothing and not question it. Liu Qingge’s loyalty to Yue Qingyuan was absolute.
The meeting concluded, and the lords started to trickle out. As Shen Yuan stood, Yue Qingyuan called, “Qingri-shidi, may I have a moment?”
Shen Yuan nodded (“Of course, zhangmen-shixiong”) and waited until the hall was empty except for himself, Yue Qingyuan, and Shen Qingqiu. Shen Qingqiu, of course, was not about to leave and not find out what business his brother and husband had to discuss. The last one to leave other than them was Shang Qinghua who threw Shen Yuan a nervous glance as he scurried away with his arms full of scrolls and notes.
The heavy door closed behind them, leaving them alone in the silent grand hall. “Yue-ge?” Shen Yuan asked.
“Send in as many scouts as you can,” Yue Qingyuan said. “Report every piece of new information to me or A-Jiu, no matter how inconsequential it might seem. Tianlang-jun also seemed relatively harmless for a demon emperor until he assaulted and murdered Su Xiyan.”
Swallowing, Shen Yuan nodded once. “As you say, shixiong.”
Yue Qingyuan seemed to read the alarm on his face, and patted his shoulder. “For now, let’s not worry too much. But we better be prepared just in case.” He smiled, some of the seriousness dropping from his expression. “Come by for dinner tonight, Yuan’er?”
“That was not a question,” Shen Qingqiu added.
Shen Yuan’s mouth twitched and he bowed: as deep as he had when Yue Qingyuan had been made sect leader during the Ascension Ceremony. “As my shixiongs command.”
He grinned as Shen Qingqiu’s fan hit him hard in the back of his head.
Another year flew by. Then Shen Yuan’s scouts came running into his office without as much as a by your leave, and Shen Yuan sat up sharply, dismissing the disciple he’d been speaking to.
“War,” the scout said. “The Demon Realm is waging civil war.”
Shen Yuan immediately brought this information to the Sect Leader. Should we do something now? became the only question that mattered. They came to no conclusions.
Two years later, another scout came to tell him, “The warring factions are getting along. The Demon Realm is officially united.”
Was this worrying? Or a relief? Shen Yuan didn’t know, and neither did his martial siblings.
Almost a full year passed, and then Yue Qingyuan called every peak lord to an emergency meeting to tell them they had received correspondence from said demon emperor: “He requests to come here to discuss a peace treaty.”
Chaos.
Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu – who, of course, had known of this beforehand – watched as the peak lords broke into loud arguments and screaming.
“A demon emperor, here?” demanded Xin Qingwen of the eleventh peak, hand going to his sword.
“A heavenly demon on Qiong Ding Peak?” Wu Qingning of the ninth, ascetic peak, questioned. “Zhangmen-shixiong, surely not.”
“An alliance would allow many opportunities,” mused Mu Qingfang, most certainly already thinking of all manners of exotic ingredients only available in the farthest reaches of the Demon Realm. The stuff even Shang Qinghua would struggle to get his grabby little hands on.
“Demons are untrustworthy,” Liu Qingge said frankly. “An alliance would mean nothing.”
This was allowed to go on for a little while before Shen Qingqiu slammed his hand onto the meeting table. Everyone startled, falling silent as they stared at the cold-faced second peak lord standing scandalously close to their sect leader, as always. “We will accept,” Shen Qingqiu informed them, leaving no room for argument. “Cang Qiong Mountain Sect will not be drawn into senseless conflict once again, and this master will not stand for his husband once more being forced to fight a heavenly demon because no one else could hope to try. Therefore, a peace treaty is the only sensible solution, as much as I loathe to deal with demons.”
The look on Yue Qingyuan’s face made it clear that he would be accepting no arguments against this. The twelve peak lords were meant to rule the sect together, and for the most part they did, but Yue Qingyuan would always have the final say as sect leader: which meant that Shen Qingqiu would always have the final say. Plus, if Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan claimed that Yue Qingyuan was not about to fight another heavenly demon, who could possibly argue with that? There was no one in the Jianghu would have even the smallest chance to win that battle, so if Yue Qingyuan said there wouldn’t be one, then so it would be.
At least this time he was the one who could make that decision, rather than being a barely twenty-three-years-old senior disciple ordered to fight a member of a formerly divine race by his master.
And so, it was decided. Cang Qiong Mountain Sect would be hosting a delegation from the Demon Realm, hosting the new Emperor of the Demon Realm, within only two months’ time. Shang Qinghua had squeaked in alarm when he heard the time constraint and was already looking faint as he started muttering to himself and writing frantically about buildings and supplies and trade caravans. No one paid that any attention.
The two months that passed were a blur of preparation. An Ding-disciples were running everywhere at all times, and Shen Yuan had no clue what they were doing, but every peak lord and their primary disciples were also called to Xian Shu’s visitor’s halls for new robes. Shen Yuan patiently allowed them to measure him out and drape fabrics as they created the most elaborate, expensive version of the Zhen Cha Peak Lord’s robes he had ever seen. The fabric itself was ghost spider silk imported from the darkest corners of the Demon Realms – the most expensive cloth in the world. And now they were making twelve sets of formal robes with it, one for each peak lord. Crazy. But, of course, being the first sect to – possibly ever – host a demon emperor, they had to put on a magnificent show. Shen Yuan wasn’t much for politics, that was his brother’s realm, but even he knew that much.
These new robes shimmered in a rainbow of deep greens as he dressed himself in far more layers than he would usually bother to wear, allowing an assistant to braid and pin his hair into his Peak Lord’s guan and smooth out every wrinkle. The intricate embroidery was made of actual bronze woven into thread, and his bracers, boots and belt had been polished into shine.
When he joined his fellow peak lords in Qiong Ding’s Grand Hall of Eternal Peace, each of them was dressed in just as much opulence and grandeur. Their seats had been arranged in a line at the back of the hall, allowing them to greet the emperor as one. An Ding-cultivators were rushing back and forth in a panic as they arranged the final details: one looked about ready to cry as he moved a flower vase a finger’s width to the left into perfect feng shui.
Yue Qingyuan stood by his seat, placid serenity safely in place in his bearings and expression, whilst Shen Qingqiu argued with Shang Qinghua about something – the An Ding Peak Lord looked like he was fighting the urge to burst into tears, and likely only because tears would make Qi Qingqi yell at him too for ruining his appearance before such an important meeting.
A Qiong Ding-disciple burst into the room. “Shizun!” she cried out. “The demons have arrived and are making their way here right now!”
The room exploded into a final burst of frantic energy. Lower ranked cultivators fled the hall whilst the peak lords took their seats, masters and head disciples falling into formation around the room.
When the enormous doors opened once more, everyone appeared perfectly composed and calm somehow.
“Presenting His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of the United Demon Realm and his entourage,” Qiong Ding’s Master of Ceremonies called out, and all the peak lords rose to their feet in perfect unison.
The room held its breath as over a dozen demons of all shapes and sizes walked through those hallowed doors. Shen Yuan immediately recognized the tallest of them: Mobei-jun, now wearing intricate black and dark blue robes worthy of his status as Northern King. Another he knew was Saintess Sha, who was eyeing the room with sharp curiosity and wearing just as little clothes as she had all those years ago when she attacked this very peak. Also among them was someone Shen Yuan was fairly certain was Xihai-jun’s eldest daughter and heir, the Princess of the Western Sea, her skin covered in dark scales and hair that moved like seaweed in a stream, independent of any wind. Her fingers, he noted, were webbed. Fascinating. A black sea snake coiled around her neck like jewelry.
There were other demon nobles among them, but Shen Yuan didn’t have time to try to identify them before they swanned out and the Emperor stepped forth. His black and blood-red robes were nearly entirely open over his chest down to his navel in the demonic style and black wavy hair was cascading down his back, scandalously unbound by human standards. A familiar, intricate huadian sat proudly between red, glowing eyes that fell onto the peak lords.
A gasp went through the gathered peak lords.
“Tianlang-jun,” Guo Qingan breathed, and the demon grinned sharply.
The demon emperor, the old demon emperor, stepped forward and inclined his head. “Yue Qingyuan,” he said cheerfully – much too cheerfully – to the man who had been the main reason the allied sects had managed to imprison him under a mountain for decades to rot. A mountain he was apparently no longer stuck beneath, somehow. Shen Yuan’s mouth went dry with terror. “Or should I say, Sect Leader Yue? You look much better than the last time I saw you! Less… covered in blood, though I’ll admit that was a pretty handsome look for you.”
Shen Qingqiu’s hand flew to Xiu Ya, only stopped by Yue Qingyuan’s outstretched arm. Their sect leader’s smile revealed nothing as he said, “Your Imperial Majesty. What brings you to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect?”
Tension thrummed in the room as Tianlang-jun seemed to consider his words, bouncing slightly on his feet like an over-excited teenager. He wouldn’t have seemed threatening at all if it wasn’t for the sheer power that rolled off him in oppressive waves, almost making it hard to breathe. Every hair on Shen Yuan’s body stood up in alarm even as he forced himself to remain calm and watching.
“Weeeeeeell,” Tianlang-jun said, drawing out on the word for way too long. “I was going to lay siege and kill all of you for what you did to me. But a little bird or two had some very interesting things to tell me about my lovely Xiyan. I was still going to do it, though! You all deserve that much. But then my loyal nephew found someone even more interesting. So now I’m here for a peace treaty instead! Just for his sake. I’ve got to be a good role-model after all!”
Shen Yuan’s head spun. What the fuck was he talking about? What kind of interesting things could anyone possibly have told Tianlang-jun about the late Huan Hua head disciple that would change his mind about revenge? And what kind of person would make him willing to agree to a peace treaty with the people who imprisoned him? With the specific person who did it, no less?
“So!” Tianlang-jun clapped his hands together and gestured toward the door, where new people entered. “In exchange for not laying siege and slaughtering every single one of you, I want a marriage alliance!”
The two demons who stepped into the room both had the appearance of adults in their mid-to-late twenties. The first one wore green and black robes, his straight black hair tinged with green, and mismatched scales were smattered across his skin. His mouth was… oddly wide, and a green huadian in the same shape as Tianlang-jun’s sat on his forehead.
The second person wore the same black and red as Tianlang-jun, though they revealed slightly less of his well-muscled chest. His brown, curly hair was in a handsome half-up, half down ponytail. His sleeves were folded into black leather bracers and his eyes were bright and calculating yet embarrassed as he looked up at the gathered peak lords. Or, well. At one of them.
The red huadian glowed on his forehead.
Shen Yuan gaped.
“I,” Tianlang-jun declared grandly, “want Second Peak Lord Shen to marry my and Xiyan’s son! Though if he really doesn’t want to, I’d settle for him marrying my ugly nephew. He’s not as nice to look at, but he’s very loyal.”
Luo Binghe turned to glare viciously at his father, the Demon Emperor.