Chapter Text
Mu Qingfang was pretty sure that counting the number of bottles of chamomile wasn’t helping at all to regain mental stability, but it was a good way to keep him distracted.
“One hundred and nine, one hundred and ten…” he checked, completely aware of the worried look on Ba Haiyan’s face. She and some other disciples had gathered around the door, looking at how their shifu was losing his mind.
They were exaggerating, of course.
Doing inventory was part of his duty as sect leader. The month was about to end, and he had to send the numbers to An Ding Peak so they could restore the cabinets. Would Shang Qinghua kill him if he asked for more liquid from the starlight of the dreams flower ? They were really useful as anti-inflammatory, but also expensive. Maybe he could afford some money if he sends his disciples on a quick mission to get them on the Dream Mountain. They would need Bai Zhan disciples' help to reach the top of the mountain and come back safely. Mu Qingfang sighed, asking himself if it was a good idea involving their peaks.
It’s not like they were on bad terms with each other- on the contrary, their relationship was excellent, but Liu Qingge was too busy fighting Luo Binghe, then healing, then fighting again, to have a reunion with him and arrange a mission.
He could ask Qi Qingqi for help, her disciples were amazing and didn’t have the lack of leadership that Bai Zhan had to deal with the last years, but they were on a mission over the border of Cang Qiong territory to deal with some Hua Hua disciples.
He felt sorry for Shang Qinghua and all the numbers he would have to do, but a mission to the Dream Mountain was impossible right now. Oh, fuck. He had lost track of how many bottles were.
“One…Two…Three…” he started again. Apparently, that was enough to make his disciples react.
“Shifu, please, get out of the closet,” Ba Haiyan said.
Mu Qingfang didn’t have the energy to fight her. Ba Haiyan was one of his new disciples, but she was also a fifteen year old with too much energy, like an hyperactive squirrel, and her “i’m-ready-for-trouble-and-make-it-double” attitude was the most effective weapon against him.
He wasn’t sure when was the last time he had slept more than 5 hours. Pretty pathetic, but his disciples already knew how pathetic he was, and still respected him. He didn’t know why. He was a workaholic man that somehow had reached peak lord, with permanent dark circles under his eyes and messy hair picked up in a bow that was about to fall off. Apparently, putting everything before yourself and your health was something his disciples saw as a strength. He would have to give them a ted talk about how he shouldn't be imitated.
“We have to finish the inventory before next week. Feng Guan, please take care of it,” he ordered. Once he got back to work, his disciples started to melt away, probably going back to their own labors.
Except Ba Haiyan, who stayed at his side, with the list of appointments for that day.
“Something important?” Mu Qingfang asked while they were leaving the building.
Qian Cao was divided into five little buildings, each one of them in a different corner of the peak and connected by bridges. Three of them were destined to the patients: one for minor and medium injuries, usually for disciples who didn’t have enough spiritual energy to heal themselves; another for major injuries and poisons and the last one for everyone who needed to be quarantined.
The other two were the disciples' rooms and Mu Qingfang’s own clinic. It had his chambers, along with a small kitchen and three rooms where he attended special or urgent cases.
At his side, Ba Haiyan followed him.
“Some Zui Xian disciples had been poisoned by one of their experiments and now they can only talk in riddles. It’s not urgent but really annoying. Five disciples from Qing Jing were injured while fighting some resentful ghosts and Bai Zhan’s head disciple wanted to talk to you.”
“That’s it?” Mu Qingfang knew there was more, and Ba Haiyan’s tics only confirmed his suspicion.
“Sect Master Yue Qingyuan wants us to send one or two disciples to every sect, and sect leader Wei Qingwei wants a group of former healers within Wan Jian.”
Mu Qingfang had to stop and breathe. Wan Jian had been attacked by some group of minor demons last month, and now he wanted some of Mu Qingfang 's best healers to be there permanently. Wei-shixiong had always been paranoid, but after what happened one year ago, he was an absolute control freak. He wouldn’t stop until Mu Qingfang sent him his disciples, even if that meant leaving Qian Cao without his most skilled healers.
Wan Jian was full of master swordsmen, and Can Qiong Mountain couldn’t risk losing them. Not when a word against the Demon Realm could start at any moment.
But, for now, he was going to reject the offer.
“Something more?”
“No, but I think this is already enough,” Ba Haiyan answered.
Mu Qingfang nodded. He was used to the other sect’s demanding things about Qian Cao like it was the normal thing to do, but the list of problems to deal with were growing.
He needed more equipment, material and time to train his disciples properly, which he couldn’t do if he had to search for a cure to some weird poison for Zui Xian and give away his best healers. And, in addition to that, more equipment, material and disciples meant more money, and more problems to An Ding and Shang Qinghua, who always looked as sleep deprived as him.
“I’ll start to search for some cure, and I’ll write to Yue Qingyue to talk about his requests,” he said. He entered the house and went to the kitchen, searching for some black tea. He was sure it was there…
“Shifu, with all my respect, this is bullshit,” Ba Haiyan pointed out.
And Mu Qingfang knew it, but he also knew that he could delay things long enough to find a solution. Mu Qingfang wasn't a fan of shady plans and threats, the same he wasn't a fan of politics and games of power that his fellow sect leaders sometimes played. He wanted to heal people, to help them, so he didn’t see the use in secrets or useless conflicts. He was nice, but straightforward, not powerful, but he did his job better than anyone.
And he wasn’t stupid. He knew other sect leaders, like Wei Qingwei, Qi Qingqi or even Liu Qingge, thought that he was too nice, and maybe a little bit weak. Because he didn’t draw his sword in meetings when someone insulted him or had a mean reply in his lips. He was too nice, so they thought he was also naive.
Mu Qingfang put black tea in his favorite teapot and dismissed Ba Haiyan. He didn’t like people around him when he was working, not even his disciples. Although, Ba Haiyan wasn’t exactly his disciple. She was there to help him in some matters and probably spy on him, another motive why he didn’t want her to be around his notes.
It’s not like Mu Qingfang had secret books about how to become as powerful as a god- every book in his library was about medicine, plants, anatomy and the diaries of old healers. No, Mu Qingfang didn’t have anything about forbidden rituals or demonic cultivation. But that doesn’t mean that he didn’t have something.
Maybe he was nice and hated games and manipulations, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have secrets. He had, unfortunately. Even if he hated it, Mu Qingfang had kept three important things from himself.
The door opened with a BAAM, and Mu Qingfang had three seconds to finish his black tea and run to the door before Liu Qingge fell to the floor.
Bai Zhan sect leader had a new scratch on his face that was still bleeding, his right knee had an unusual turn and he had strained at least three fingers.
He had been worse.
“You shouldn’t fly with your knee broken,” Mu Qingfang scolded him.
Liu Qingge’s answer was a deep and really nice: “urggh”
Mu Qingfang lead- not carried, because even if he was strong enough Liu Qingge would let nobody carry him- to the nearest bed.
“How was the fight?”
“I lasted one hour and thirty three minutes,” Liu Qingge answered, pretty unsatisfied with himself.
“Did he use one of Bai Zhan techniques against you again?”
Liu Qingge didn’t answer. So, he did.
“Luo Binghe is a fast learner. Watching you use it over and over again is like giving him a free class.”
“He’s a bastard,” Liu Qingge added. He was not wrong. “I should have known that there was something weird about him.”
Mu Qingfang sat on the chair near the bed and started to wipe away Liu Qingge’s blood. The scratch wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding a lot.
“And what? You would have killed him?”
Liu Qingge didn’t answer. Both of them knew the answer.
Maybe Liu Qingge could have done something against 20-year-old Luo Binghe, who had go through an emo phase and looked like he was about to commit murder, but there was one simple reason that stopped him.
If he had hurt Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu would have never forgiven him.
Mu Qingfang lowered his head, and said:
“You need to be more careful. He’s smart, and if he keeps beating you like this-”
“So, I should give up?” Liu Qingge inquired. They had this conversation over and over again.
“Even if my answer is yes, you’re going to fight him again,” he answered. “You had been fighting him for almost a year now. Aren’t you tired?”
“I have to do it.”
Mu Qingfang hated watching his shidi appear every day at his door in this state. Even if it was something that he could heal in a day, thanks to his treatment and Liu Qingge's spiritual energy.
“Next time, take some disciples with you so they could help you come here,” Mu Qingfang said. Not for the first time, he was tired of asking Liu Qingge for small things like that, but his friend was too stubborn to ask for help. Mu Qingfang seemed to be the only exception, and he was, somehow, glad that Liu Qingge trusted him enough to let him attend his wounds.
His inner voice reminded him that, actually, Liu Qingge wasn’t exactly trusting him. Liu Qingge needed someone to heal him, so he would be ready for the next fight. He wasn’t asking for his help, he just needed someone, and Mu Qingfang could be easily replaced for another healer.
He tried to not think about it.
“I know you don’t want to put them in danger,” Mu Qingfang continued. Liu Qingge opened his mouth, but Mu Qingfang didn’t let him interrupt. “But if Ba Haiyan has to deal with Yang Yixuan one more time I think she’s going to kill him.”
“If he gets killed so easily then he wasn’t fit for Bai Zhan.”
Mu Qingfang wanted to punch him in the arm, jokingly, but stopped himself.
“If you’re making jokes then you really are tired.”
“Who said I’m joking?”
“Me. I can read your emotions in every line of your face,” Mu Qingfang said. He took one of the ointments and put it over Liu Qingge’s scratch. The Oh Powerful War God pushed away like a little kid.
Mu Qingfang pressed his lips, trying not to laugh.
“It’s cold,” Liu Qingge said. This time, he didn’t turn aside, but he made a silly face.
Mu Qingfang finished with the ointment, and took a bandage to cover the wound.
“Liu-shidi, stop trying to hide your smile. Who do you think you’re? Shen Qingqiu?” he said. Apparently, out loud. Mu Qingfang had described himself as smart? Because he definitely wasn’t.
Liu Qingge turned his eyes to the other side of the room, and gave Mu Qingfang his hand so he could research his body for some trace of internal injuries. The air around them was suddenly cold, and Mu Qinfgang knew that he had screwed up.
Naming Shen Qingqiu in front of Liu Qingge was like piercing him with a sword. One year, Shen Qingqiu had been dead for one year, but Liu Qingge’s pain was as fresh as new.
Mu Qingfang had been hurt when he heard the news, who wouldn? Shen Qingqiu was his shixiong, his friend, and he was dead. But, unlike others, he had to process the loss quickly, because Qian Cao wasn’t a place where you could think about death. Not when everyday you had to help someone to stay alive.
He sighed and focused on the spiritual energy running through Liu Qingge’s boddy. He noticed that his knee was in worse state than he had anticipated, probably because his shidi flew all the way from the Demonic Realm to Qian Cao.
The bones were not only broken, they were fucking shattered, and one small section had gotten into the muscle. How the fuck was Liu Qingge still awake!!??? He should be in constant pain from this!! But no, he had the same stoic face as ever, like his knee wasn’t basically destroyed and he didn’t have a bone nailed in his pedal muscle.
“I’m hating you so much right now that I’m considering the idea of operating you without anesthesics,” Mu Qingfang said, because holy fuck this man. He went to the cabinet, searching for a pair of sanitized gloves and the anesthesia.
“It isn’t-”
“Shut up, you’re still awake thanks to the spiritual energy blocking the pain and the adrenaline.”
Mu Qingfang had never let his anger get the best of him, but when you’re with your idiot friend you trust him enough to show him your worst side.
"What are you doing with that?" Liu Qingge asked. He retreated his arm and looked at Mu Qingfang with narrowed eyes.
“You have a bone nailed in the pedal muscle, so I have to extract it before healing it.”
“Can’t you use spiritual energy?”
“Have you fucking lose your mind!?”
Liu Qingge didn’t look too convinced about it, but Mu Qingfang didn’t have time to tell him about the importance of medical care. Next time, if Liu Qingge wanted, he would give him an entire presentation about the pros and cons, but now wasn’t the moment.
Liu Qingge fell asleep in a matter of minutes. Mu Qingfang prepared the place to operate the best he could, but he needed something more to do it.
He hated what he was about to do.
[Welcome to the System Online Shop, where fellow transmigators can echange B Points for some useful things from their original world!]
“System, I need an electronic scalpel. Can I have one, even if I don’t have electricity?” Mu Qingfang asked, because he wasn’t going to lose points for nothing. “Can I have a magic electronic scalpel?”
[Magic electronic scalpel will cost 500B Points]
[Right now, user has 550B Points]
[Is the user sure about this? You may regret it]
Mu Qingfang counted to ten to stop the increasing anxiety on his chest. It had always been like this, since he entered the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way, ten years ago.
Every time he got some B Points, the System found a way for him to lose them. Medical equipment from his world, a miracle flower to save one of his disciples, a sun mineral with a strong energy and other things that Mu Qingfang had forgotten about.
He lived with the threat of death over his head, but he was so used to it that it didn’t bother him anymore. He was a doctor, he had been a doctor in his past life, he was so used to death that he welcomed it as an old friend.
The System asking him if he was sure of his decisions was what annoyed him. The System knew he was ready to risk everything to save someone, so why it was always asking him this stupid questions? It felt like a mockery. The System was remembering him their deal, and his place.
He was a filler character. He was there to survive, and save people, but not to change the story.
“I thought about it, and I want to buy the electronic scalpel.”
[The System is glad to give you this new device! Please, use it with care. Remember: with great power comes great responsibility.]
Great, now Mu Qingfang wanted to see Spiderman. Fucking System.
…
Mu Qingfang carried Liu Qingge to another room, one without a bed full of blood. He had cleaned Liu Qingge’s knee and arm and changed his clothes. Liu Qingge would kill him for changing him, but he wasn’t going to let his shidi sleep in that . Maybe his friend was the God of War, but he wasn’t ready to see the effects of the anesthetic (read: don’t have control over your bladder).
This world didn’t have things like an electrocardiogram or an arterial catheter, but the magic and spiritual power was useful enough to cover some needs. The first time he had to operate someone, he had been so mad about all the medical neglect he had to commit.
Mu Qingfang sat beside Liu Qingge, tired after the hours of working. With a syringe, he made his shidi drink some antibiotic that would prevent an infection. Finding a flower that could be used as an antibiotic (if you mixed it with other ingredients) had been a challenge, but after four years studying he had found the right formula.
Sometimes, Mu Qingfang felt more like a herbalist than a healer, but he liked to learn about the plants of this world and their effects. Those details of worldbuilding had been what caught his attention and made him read Proud Immortal Demon Way in the first place.
That, and Liu Qingge’s character, who had died too soon, in his opinion. He had thought that Liu Qingge was so cool, the God of War who could defeat anyone, with a stoic and beautiful face. His death was his principal reason to dislike Shen Qingqiu’s character, and he kept reading hoping that he would come back.
Now, he had Liu Qingge before him, asleep and fucked up after a fight and terrible decisions. He had his hair down. He didn’t look like a War God. And Mu Qingfang knew him enough to see more than his stoic facade. Liu Qingge was dense, and straightforward, and wasn’t the best with words, and got angry so easily. He was different from the character he had read so many years ago.
And he loved it, because the real Liu Qingge was much better. Mu Qingfang loved to see him try to talk to his martial sibling, even if he was so bad at it, because he wanted to maintain a good relationship with the peaks. Or the fact that Liu Qingge always went with him to difficult missions to get some weird ingredient that Mu Qingfang needed but he knew nothing about, and slayed monsters like it was the best weekend ever. God, Liu Qingge was such a weirdo with a love for fights and monsters and a direct way to talk. How could Mu Qingfang not fall for him?
How could he survive the way Liu Qingge thanked him every time he was tending his wounds? Knowing Liu Qingge and falling in love with him had been two inevitable steps.
But this, the way his heart started to run every time he saw him, wasn’t one of his secrets. He wasn’t going to confess, he knew his feelings weren’t reciprocated and he didn’t want Liu Qingge to feel uncomfortable around him. Mu Qingfang was his friend, and his doctor, helping Liu Qingge was his first priority.
That didn’t mean that he was trying to keep it a secret. He was discret, and didn’t talk to anyone about it, but he was sure that some of his disciples knew about his crush. Ba Haiyan definitely knew.
Mu Qingfang put one hand over Liu Qingge’s heart and the other over his head, and channeled his spiritual energy. This type of healing was really useful to deal with physical injuries, and faster. He wasn’t doing a lot, just reinforcing Liu Qingge’s own energy and leading it to the right direction, giving instructions about what parts of the body required help and building enough energy to heal the broken bones.
Others found this type of work difficult and tiring, probably because they didn’t know enough about anatomy and their spiritual energy was working without guidance, going where the pain was and covering it. Mu Qingfang’s energy acted as an amplifier and as a guide.
He had to use all his concentration to do it. He had stayed entire hours like this, sitting beside Liu Qingge’s bed, transmitting all the spiritual energy he could, until he was drained.
At some point, Mu Qingfang started to hum. It was an unconscious reaction, something he did everytime he needed to concentrate. He wasn’t an expert on music- even in a world where playing an instrument could be useful, he hadn’t had time to learn.
But music was still a big part of him. In his previous life, music had accompanied him: during his hours of study, the long trips on bus, to calm his panic attacks, to help him sleep. Not having music was the most difficult part of transmigation. He had started to hum or sing to calm himself, and before he had known he was doing it at every other moment.
He worked all night, and when he finished he fell asleep on the bed.
When he woke up, hours later, he was inside the bed, the sheets covering him and his head resting over the pillow. Liu Qingge, as always, was gone.
…
Being a sect leader sometimes meant sitting in a room with your martial sibling and hearing them talk about nonsense while Yue Qingyuan tried to calm everyone.
Mu Qingfang had learnt long ago to hear the gossip, take mental notes about who was fighting whom that month and talk only when they said his name.
And also, to sit with Shang Qinghua. An Ding’s sect leader was taking notes about what was going on, but sometimes he drew his fellow comrades as funny caricatures, and Mu Qingfang had to try very hard to not laugh.
He was pretty sure that Shang Qinghua was a transmigator, he knew since the moment he saw him drawing Yue Qingyue as Kermit crying in the bathroom. And Shang Qinghua probably knew that Mu Qingfang was a transmigrator, but he hadn’t made a comment, nor did Mu Qingfang.
So, their relationship consisted in sitting together at the meetings (with Shen Qingqiu, when he was still alive), comment over some gossip and look at memes that no one could understand. And, also, being the most overworked sect leaders that didn’t get any recognition.
Mu Qingfang kind of understood why Shang Qinghua was working for Mobei Jun, although he didn’t think that the Demon King was better at compliments.
Shang Qinghua being a spy wasn’t also one of his secrets. No one seemed to care about the fact that someone was giving information to the demons, and Shang Qinghua hadn’t done anything to be a threat to Cang Qiong. He was still doing paperwork and keeping the sect away from bankruptcy, so Mu Qingfang wasn’t going to intervene.
He had too much on his plate with his own sect. Hell, he hadn’t had a vacation day in eight years!! He didn’t have time or energy to get into plot shenanigans like Shen Qingqiu, who had been probably a transmigator too.
I mean, he had seen Shen Qingqiu's disciples calling someone a noob and T posing to assert dominance. He was pretty sure that that wasn't part of the original novel.
Mu Qingfang had tried to talk to him, but every time he opened his mouth to say something plot related the System had appeared to give him dialogue prompts, which weren’t related to what Mu Qingfang wanted to say.
He decided long ago, after failing and losing points, that he couldn’t fight every battle, or at least not with the conventional methods. He was doing his job the best he could while observing what war he could participate in and win.
What his brothers and sister were discussing right now wasn’t a war he wanted to get involved into.
“The disciples in Hua Hua don’t have any discipline,” Qi Qingqi was saying. “We tried to talk to them, but they didn't listen.”
“His master is still gone. We need to find first, so he can help us to battle the demons,” Wei Qingwei answered.
“He’s probably dead,” Qi Qingqi pointed out. Mu Qingfang wasn’t sure. In the original novel? Sure. But this world was different, and he didn’t want to take things for granted.
“We don’t know that,” Ye QingYong said. He was the sect leader of Zhoushou Peak, the one in charge of the animal husbandry. Zhoushou and Wan Jian were on really good terms, so it wasn’t strange that Ye QingYong chose Wei Qingwei’s side. “We never looked for him. He could be alive, somewhere. He’s our best chance to get Hua Hua Palace back.”
“That mission would be useless!”
And they were fighting again.
“Who do you think it’s going to win?” Shang Qinghua whispered to him.
“I think Yue Qingyue it’s going to stop them before they reach a conclusion,” Mu Qingfang answered.
“I don’t know. I think Qi Qingqi it’s going to hit someone.”
Three minutes later, Yue Qingyue ordered them to sit down and leave the conflict for later. Mu Qingfang smiled at Shang Qinghua, taking pride in winning their little bet.
“Now, can we talk about the motive why we are having this meeting?” Yue Qingyuan demanded. He had a passive aggressive smile on his face, the one he used when he was at his limit.
It had been a rough year for him too. Losing Shen Qingqiu had been terrible not only for Liu Qingge, but all of them. Maybe Yue Qingyuan didn’t know that the one inside that body wasn’t Shen Jiu, but he had felt his death like it. Mu Qingfang, as a reader of the original novel, knew there was something more between those two than a master / sect leader relationship, but the book never gave him their backstory.
The other sect leaders stayed calm, for once, and listened to Yue Qingyue while he gave the usual ted talk about the enemy and the last demon encounters.
Three chairs were empty.
One was Liu Qingge’s, who was on his usual appointment with Luo Binghe. Yang Yixuan was there as head disciple, standing on the corner and taking notes, representing his sect leader.
The second empty chair belonged to Gui QingMing, the leader of Wan Yanjing Peak, the sect of the beggars. He never showed up to the meetings, or celebrations, or important events. He had been cursed after the fight against Tianlang - Jun, years ago, and his condition was so bad that he couldn’t leave his sect, so he always sent one of his disciples. He didn’t let anyone in, either, except for Mu Qingfang, who was the only one who knew how to manage the curse.
The last chair was Shen Qingqiu’s. A reminder of what happened, and what was at stake.
“It doesn’t look like the Demon Realm is expanding,” Qi Qingqi explained. She showed in the map of the table where the demon’s territory ended. “After Luo Binghe’s ascension to the throne there’s a lot of internal fights. He’s probably trying to establish his new empire before taking more territory.”
“His only stable alliance seems to be Mobei Jun and the north demons,” Wei Qingwei said. At his side, Shang Qinghua started to sweat, nervously, but only Mu Qingfang noticed.
“He seems to be interested in the western colonies,” Yue Qingyuan noticed.
Qi Qingqi nodded. Wei Qingwei stared at the map, before saying:
“If he gets some colonies from the west, with the Hua Huan disciples, he could have an army strong enough to conquer the rest of the demonic realm. And we would be next.”
A tense silence took over the room. If Luo Binghe tried to attack Cang Qion with all the demons at once, that would be-
“Oi, the western colonies are not where the Lake of Mirrors is supposed to be?”
The one who broke the silence was Ru Qinghuan, the leader of Zui Xian Peak. Or, in other words, the liquor peak. She didn’t look interested in what they were discussing, as always. In the original novel, she was one of Luo Binghe’s wifes, but Mu Qingfang only remembered that she was the one who got Wei Qingwei killed.
She looked like the other female characters designed to romance Luo Binghe: incredibly beautiful, with long white and black hair decorated with flowers, and a light blue tunic that showed her attributes. She had been the funny wife, the one that took her comrades to drinks after a fight, but also the one that nobody took seriously.
That’s why Mu Qingfang found so interesting everything she had to say. He had to cure Zui Xian disciples (or Ru Qinghuan herself) from weird effects that probably had nothing to do with alcohol ingestion once per month. He knew that what they were doing was something more than just liquor.
“Yes. The lake mirror is on the top of the mountain of the western colonies. Why?” Mu Qingfang asked.
Ru Qinghuan smiled brightly at him.
“Well, that lake has like, a thousand legends around it, right? One of them says that, if you find the lake lady, and pass her trials, she’ll grant you a wish. Maybe that’s what Luo Binghe’s is looking for.”
Mu Qingfang considered the option while he judged the author of this stupid story and the fact that he used the lake lady of arthuric mitology. Was the lake lady really able to grant a wish? Or was that another cheap tactic to write some awful porn scenes? God, he couldn’t remember. Too many chapters and wifes! And there wasn’t even a glossary to keep track of them!
“That legend is just that: a legend. There’s no record of the lake lady or something powerful enough to grant a wish,” Ye Qingyong said.
“But if it’s true, and Luo Binghe gets his wish, we are as dead as Shen Qingqiu,” Qi Qingqi said.
Auch. Qi Qingqi, I know you aren’t the best with words, but you can’t say that in front of Yue Qingyuan! What do you want? To make him cry?
“That’s what I think he’s going to wish for,” Ru Qinghuan said. She was playing with the empty bottle of liquor. Mu Qingfang remembered that, in other meetings, she had sat beside Shen Qingqiu, and when she was bored he had let her play with his hand to calm herself. “Not our dead, but to revive Shen Qingqiu. Isn’t that what he’s trying to do? Get him back?”
Oh no. Oh no .
There was one rule over their official meetings:
YOU SHALL NOT MENTION THE WEIRD RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN LUO BINGHE AND SHEN QINGQIU.
A relationship that everyone was aware of, but no one was strong enough to point at. Except Ru Qingfang, because apparently she gives zero facts about appearance.
“Luo Binghe killed Shen Qingqiu,” Ye Qingyong remembered her.
“We don’t know that. We don’t really have information about it. And why was he going to keep the body all this time?” Ru Qinghuan asked. “Zhen-shijie, you are the leader of the adivination peak, couldn’t you look for some answers?”
“It doesn’t work that way, and you know it,” Go Qingzhen answered her, giving her shimei a glaring look.
The rest of the table ignored Ru Qinghuan’s idea. After some minutes, they started to fight again, so Mu Qingfang got closer to Shang Qinghua and asked him:
“What do you think about the Lady and the Mirror Lake?”
Shang Qinghua stopped whatever he was writing (was he doing numbers? In the middle of the meeting? While he was keeping records of their conversation? If he ever left Cang Qiong they would be so screwed. Mu Qingfang didn’t care at all that he was a traitor), and stared at Mu Qingfang. His gazes were always difficult to read, at least when he really wanted to hide something.
“I think that it’s not exactly a wish what she grants,” he said, and Mu Qingfang took it as his way to say: no, there’s no wish, I remember that plot.
At least he didn’t have to worry about that. Now he only had to worry about the other 368 things!!
[User should know that Yue Qingyuan is going to give you a new mission]
The google translator voice said on his mine. Ok, 369 problems. He could do it.
After the meeting, Ru Qinghuan approached him.
“I hate these meetings,” she said, drinking the last of her liquor. She had lots of bottles hanging from her belt, but Mu Qingfang suspected there was more than alcohol in there. “They never take me seriously. First, Zhangmen-shixiong rejected my idea of ‘Hot Sect Leaders Calendar’ to earn money, and now this!”
Maybe Ru Qinghuan's ideas were sometimes kind of…off putting, for say the least, but she should have more merit. After all, 65% of Cang Qiong’s money came from the liquor her sect sold.
Mu Qingfang, Shang Qinghua and Ru Qinghuan were the holy trinity of sect leaders that kept Cang Qiong from bankruptcy and death but didn’t get recognition for it. They were just overworked and tired.
Yue Qingyue called him, and Mu Qingfang walked to him with the worst of the headaches. He thought that Yue Qingyuan was going to ask him about sending his disciples to other sects, so he was really surprised when instead, he said:
“Mu Qingfang, you’re the only one of us allowed in Wan Yanjing Peak, could you try to convince Gui QingMing to come to our next meeting? He has disciples on the borders of the demonic realms, and they’re good fighters. We need them, and the information he has gathered around the cities.”
“I’ll do whatever I can, sect leader,” Mu Qingfang said. He bowed to show his respect, before saying: “But you need to understand that Gui-shixiong is in a bad state, physically and mentally. Maybe his help isn’t as helpful as you think.”
“I know,” Yue Qingyuan said. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in the last five years. “But we need to show a strong front against demons, and we can’t do it if two of our sect leaders ignore our meetings and don’t face consequences for it.”
“I’ll talk to Gui-shixiong, but I can’t promise he will change his mind.”
Mu Qingfang was 100% sure that Gui QingMing wasn’t going to leave Wan Yanjing Peak.
[User’s new mission: make Gui QingMing join the battle!]
You have to be kidding’ me-
…
Every sect in Cang Qiong had their own characteristics. Qing Jing had its bamboo gardens, Qiong Ding its qi-condensated caves, even Qing Cao had its eternal trees, with leaves as golden as the first rays of sun.
But Wan Yanjing Peak was different. There was something about it, something that no one was able to put a name to. Things grew there, but they grew fast. And big. And different.
Things rise and die with the same facility. In silence. In the dark. In caves where, if you weren’t careful, you could get lost.
They hid in the shadows, and saw what no one wanted them to know.
To someone with secrets, Wan Yanjing was probably the most dangerous sect. But that was the trick: usually, people who wanted to hide something didn’t know about this sect's real business, or the identity of the disciples.
Wan Yanjing had just a few disciples, and only some of them stayed in the sect. They were in towns, on the border of the demonic realm, and some of them had infiltrated other peaks without the sect's leaders knowing. Those who stayed had their faces covered with masks, so no visitor could recognize them.
“Shizun is waiting for you in the usual place,” Ba Haiyan told him. Her smirk was bigger than usual, and that was saying a lot. She had changed the yellow tunics of Qian Cao for the dark robes of his sect. It was weird seeing someone as cheerful as Ba Haiyan in black.
Wan Yanjing sec leader was waiting for him at his usual spot. He was sitting before the table, the tea already served, reading a book that Mu Qingfang didn’t recognize, but for the way his eyes frowned, it shouldn’t be a good book. His black attire was fashionable but refined, with enough ornaments in white and gold to make him look graceful, instead of flashy.
When Mu Qingfang entered the room, his green eyes stared at him, demanding, like asking why he was there, losing his time. He closed the book and, in a quick and elegant movement, opened his fan, covering the lower half of his face and his thin lips.
Gui Qingming wasn’t going to leave his sect. He couldn’t. He couldn’t, because he was dead, and had been for seven years.
Nobody knew, only him, that the person in charge of Wan Yanjing Peak wasn’t Gui Qingming.
Shen Jiu closed his fan, and asked:
“What are you doing here, Mu-shidi?”