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Ren, the Great Guardian of the South, the sacred Vermilion Bird, one of the pillars of the Spirit World whom not even Divine Spirits can summon—
—is summoned into a mortal’s circle.
“What the fuck,” Ren says, because what the fuck.
He has the mortal who summoned him by the neck, half listening to his frantic babbling as he looks around the room in bewilderment.
It’s a hell of a circle, twelve layers radiating outwards spanning a massive cavern, drawn in sanguine red smelling of copper.
Ren’s blood runs cold when he identifies how they summoned him here. The bodies of twelve Divine Spirits lie around the ring, bodies shriveled and drained of their power—sacrifices—and the entire thing sits on top of a nexus of power, the crossing point of multiple ley lines.
Twelve black cloaked bodies surround their position, mortal dark sorcerers slain by a sword. To have been able to activate this ritual they must have been at the apex of their craft.
Ren eyes the sole living mortal in his grasp skeptically. He doesn’t look very impressive flailing about as he is and this man killed twelve powerful sorcerers alone?
Male, thirties, well-built but top heavy—more like the muscle distribution of a laborer than a warrior, good sword, kind of pretty—wide violet eyes and fine silken hair as white as snow.
He interrupts the mortal’s blathering. “So you just happened to stumble upon a forbidden summoning, forty feet below the surface?”
“I just wanted to harvest energy crystals!” The mortal wails waving at an—alright, very substantial cluster of priceless crystalline stone, sparkling with light from within. “The highest grade crystals grow at the convergence of leylines!”
True…
“I’m just a blacksmith!”
Ren looks pointedly at the black blade in the mortal’s hand, dripping with blood. “Quite some bladework, for a mere smith.”
The stupid mortal smiles bashfully, even though Ren’s hand is around his throat. “I just know some self-defense.”
“So you came here for the crystals, saw the ritual and decided to disrupt it out of the goodness of your heart to save me, the Vermilion Bird—”
The mortal nods earnestly in agreement.
“—Except that you failed to kill the last summoner in time before the summoning called me and conveniently happened to receive the binding that enslaves me to you.”
The mortal pales. “Zhuque Shenjun, please believe me, I don’t want it at all. I thought—you must know a way to break it. I will do whatever is necessary.”
Ren locks his gaze with pale violet eyes. “I do know a way. You would not survive it.” He gives the mortal a nasty smile. “Whatever is necessary right? Shall we commence?”
“Wait! Let—let me think.”
Ren waits, interested what the mortal will come up with.
“What if—what if you bind me into your service? Would that balance the scales?”
Ren considers him. “A soul-bond Oath of Servitude. That would do.” Even with the binding upon him from the ritual, it would put the mortal beneath him because such an oath would give Ren power over the mortal’s very soul. It is more than necessary, something no one would agree to, but he wishes to know what this one will say. He withdraws his hand.
Will he run?
The mortal kneels down without hesitation, hand over his heart. “It would be my honor, Zhuque Shenjun.”
The reaction strengthens a conjecture. Ren tips the mortal’s chin up. “Do you know me? You have something of mine.” He can sense it, very faintly, beneath the mortal’s tunic.
“Oh—That—Twenty five years ago, Zhuque Shenjun saved my village, Qixi in Luofu country from a rampaging Flame Lion. This small life was saved by Shenjun, that’s why, when I realized who they were trying to bind well—I had to at least try to stop it.”
Ren’s fingers slide beneath the mortal’s collar, ignoring the hitched breath, and lifts out a crimson feather hanging from a silver chain.
“I found your feather at the site of the battle. It’s, well, it’s my treasure.”
Ren stares, because the idiot is blushing.
“I usually leave it on my home altar where I pray for your blessing, but when I’m on a dangerous trip I take it with me.”
“You’re very stupid,” Ren criticizes bluntly. “Just because I incidentally rescued your little life, you would so naively hand me your soul without question?”
Violet eyes sparkle up at him like the deepest amethyst. “When Zhuque Shenjun fought the Flame Lion, you warded our entire village—even the farmland.”
Ren twitches. “An accident. I just tossed out the ward. It didn’t warrant that much of my attention.”
“Okay. If Shenjun says it was an accident, then it was an accident.”
Ren glares at the mortal’s guileless smile. He rubs his forehead in annoyance, sorting through his knowledge of oaths and bonds for something serviceable.
“Zhuque Shenjun, I think an Oath of Servitude is a good solution. The sorcerers’ spell is to enslave so only something to the same effect could balance it out. Weighing it heavier on my side with my soul on the line would also be, in a way, a protection—both for myself and you, to make it impossible for others to use me to control you.”
Ren has never sworn anyone to his service, much less bound someone in servitude. It sits ill with him but…
“Your words have merit,” Ren admits reluctantly. “Your name, mortal.”
“This one is Yingxing, Forge Master of Xianzhou Luofu.”
“Swear yourself to me then, Yingxing. My personal name which you may use is Ren.”
Once the golden bonds have formed between them, Ren burns the feather in his hand to ash.
He blinks at the stricken look on Yingxing’s face, lower lip trembling, and scowls. “You’re mine now,” Ren clears his throat, “My person, I mean. Don’t carry around that old thing.” He plucks a fresh vermilion feather from his wings and stuffs it into Yingxing’s hands. “Here.”
He catches a glimpse of Yingxing’s wide-eyed awe before spinning on his heel to go examine the bodies of the Divine Spirits. Grimly, he notes the residue of a Great Demon’s magic.
“One or two Divine Spirits may be within the ability of a powerful group of mortals to defeat, but twelve?” Ren muses, he casts an expectant glance at Yingxing.
“Someone was behind them.” Yingxing’s brow is furrowed, understanding the implication.
“If you stumble upon something like this again, do not engage. Withdraw and call me. The one behind them is not something you can handle.”
“Understood, Zhuque Shenjun. I’m really just a craftsman though, so it would be rather unlikely. Unless Shenjun would like me to investigate?” Yingxing inquires uncertainly.
“Do not. You’ll just bring me more trouble,” Ren grumbles. He seals the bodies of the Spirits and then the sorcerers into two separate scrolls to send to the Divination Hall to be for Fu Xuan to examine with the Matrix of Prescience.
Movement from the Great Demons…he hopes it is not the groundwork for reigniting hostilities.