Chapter Text
The hall was unbearable. Not that Shang Qinghua was accustomed to luxury—after years at court, he had learned to appreciate even a warm stone at his back and a roof without cracks—but this chamber, with its vaulted ceiling vanishing into the darkness high above, felt utterly suffocating. Too many people. Too many scales, fangs, and sheer, unadulterated malice that the demons didn't even bother to hide.
In the center, upon a throne of skulls and molten iron, sat the man himself. Emperor Luo. Calm, gorgeous, completely unreachable—and blatantly bored, judging by the lazy way his fingers drummed against the armrest.
Lord Luo had once again demanded some impossible "god-knows-what" for his latest bride. The echoing arguments hadn't ceased for a single second, making Shang Qinghua’s head throb violently.
Somewhere to the left, a demon whose face was half-covered in green scales dropped to his knees right onto the floor, waving his arms wildly in an attempt to shout over the crowd. His voice sounded like grinding stones:
— Your Majesty! For you, great Lord Luo, I will rouse my entire clan! We will dam the rivers, level the mountains, dig through the earth all the way to hell itself, just to bring you whatever you seek!
Shang Qinghua let out a heavy sigh.
"Dam the rivers. Wonderful. That means another six months of clearing out complaints from flooded villages and adding them to the mountain of paperwork that’s been waiting in my quarters for hours."
His head was splitting. He could have gone on pondering his enviable future—specifically, how to slip out of this meeting unnoticed—but the din was simply too overwhelming.
From the far end of the hall, deep within the crowd, another voice rose—low, raspy, belonging to an elder demon with graying temples. He didn't shout, nor did he drop to his knees, yet his words cut through the air sharper than a blade:
— Fool. You don't even understand what you're asking for. This panacea is no simple herb to cure a cold. My great-grandmother was telling legends about it long before your people learned to walk upright. Green hornsters like you shouldn't just stick their noses out in front of His Majesty.
Shang Qinghua nodded—to himself, of course. For centuries, the locals had spun folklore about the Silent Valleys of Extinct Thoughts. If even half of those tales were true, venturing there meant certain death. A tempting, beautiful death, but death all the same. Though, considering Emperor Luo was already interested, it didn't look like anyone would have a choice.
He shifted his gaze toward Sha Hualing. She stood right beside the throne, waving her arms, her voice rising above everyone else:
— A-Luo, don't listen to these idiots! They don't understand a thing! You just need to...
Shang Qinghua looked away. Enough. Let them figure it out themselves. Mountain of paperwork, mountain of paperwork, mountain...
The silence fell so abruptly, so unexpectedly, that Shang Qinghua briefly thought he had gone deaf. But no—everyone had simply stopped talking. All at once. And now, hundreds of eyes—yellow, red, slit-pupiled, and completely ordinary, save for the malice glinting in them—were fixed right on him.
"What did I do?"
— Repeat that, — Emperor Luo addressed him. His tone was even, almost curious.
Shang Qinghua blinked:
— Huh?
The sound came out somewhat bewildered. Quite foolish, even. But what else could one utter when caught red-handed thinking about a stealthy escape?
— Stop playing the fool, you miserable rat! — Sha Hualing shrieked, her face flushed red with anger. — A-Luo, don't listen to this slacker!
Shang Qinghua looked at her, then at the Emperor, and then at the crowd of demons, who were still silently staring. Something was wrong here. He had missed something. Something important.
— Where can this divine panacea be found? — the Emperor interrupted his general, seeking clarity.
Luo Binghe tilted his head. There was a new glint in his eyes—not anger, not annoyance, but... interest?
Shang Qinghua froze:
— Oh. Ah, you mean the one in the Shrine of a Thousand Meanings?
The words slipped out on their own, without any intention of showing off. It was just a sudden memory—resurfacing from the depths of his mind, from the pages of a web novel he had written in another life. A simple fact that no one in this realm possessed.
The silence grew thick.
— ...Precisely that one.
And just like that, while trying to subtly hide behind Mobei-jun's back in the Emperor's grand hall, enduring hundreds of venomous, envious, and bewildered glares, Shang Qinghua signed his own contract for an expedition into uncharted lands—accompanied by the fiercest (strongest) and utterly unpredictable demons—all with a single, innocent "oh."
---
Shang Qinghua, who was in a state of profound emotional exhaustion, didn’t even register the moment when His King pulled him into the portal. He didn’t remember how he made his way to his chambers, how he automatically sorted through the reports, or how he fell into a troubled sleep.
He only came to when he was rudely yanked out of reality again: Mobei‑jun simply dragged him by the scruff of the neck into yet another dark transition.
They emerged in a completely unfamiliar and eerie place. Directly in front of them stood the entrance to an ancient sanctuary — gigantic doors, as if carved from a single block of dark stone. They rose no less than a couple of zhangs high and were entirely covered with intricate otherworldly patterns and ominous signs; just looking at them made the author of those very signs feel a chill run down the back of his neck and his liver.
At the entrance, the Emperor of the Three Worlds himself — Luo Binghe — was already waiting for them.
Upon catching sight of his protagonist, Qinghua’s simple spellcaster’s mind produced a single sound instinct: “Hide!” He instantly ducked behind the broad, sturdy back of his employer, as reliable as a granite cliff. Unfortunately, he wasn’t given much time to play the part of an invisible man. Luo Binghe’s clawed hand stretched forward and, without much effort, pulled the unfortunate man out from behind the icy “wall.”
Hanging in the air like a kitten caught by the scruff of its neck, Shang Qinghua swallowed and, with a feigned, trembling smile, managed to stammer:
“Y-Your Majesty! Greetings to the Great Emperor!” — Qinghua, dangling in the air, desperately tried to fold his hands in a respectful bow. “I wish the Sovereign ten thousand years of prosperity! May all the worlds bow at your feet, and... may your subjects rejoice at every step you take!”
Luo Binghe didn’t even move. He merely regarded the spellcaster with a barely noticeable, predatory smirk, like a curious bug caught in a web. This silent, heavy gaze weighed more heavily than any interrogation.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to be granted the precious audience, and that the flattery was falling on deaf ears, Shang Qinghua finally lost whatever remaining composure he had.
“Your Majesty... a-e-e... and this insignificant servant... you really have no need of him?” — the caster stammered, squinting warily at the clawed paw holding his collar. "I did.".. I'm completely useless! Everything I said about the Panacea is just a fairy tale! A shell of madness! I read it once in a rotten book at a flea market, stingy scraps, honestly! The moth was eating her up! I wasn't even sure if this place existed! Your Majesty, I beg you, let me go... I’ll just be in the way! I’ve got a pot of soup boiling at home! And the reports on coal supplies haven’t been sorted out!..
— If you’re so useless, then why all the words? — Luo Binghe interrupted him gently, almost kindly, without changing his ironic expression. — So the little book didn’t lie. Since we’re here.
With this word, the Emperor of the Three Worlds unceremoniously placed the spellcaster right in front of the closed stone gates and nodded—meaning, open them.
Turning first to Mobei‑jun, searching for even a drop of sympathy, Qinghua encountered only cold indifference. His King was looking off to the side, with an air that said, “You brought this upon yourself.”
Shang Qinghua heaved a heavy sigh and stared at the colossus before him. And what on earth possessed Luo Binghe to drag such weak, vulnerable, intelligent, beautiful, and incredibly cute spellcasters along with him? He must have had so much fun in his chambers with his harem that all his strength was drained, and he was too lazy even to unlock the door! So, tell me, how is a weak person supposed to open these doors? They weigh at least a thousand jin each! It would be one thing if they’d allowed him to take tools with him… for example, a suspended battering ram. Or a couple of explosive talismans.
Reflecting on the injustice of the universe, Qinghua automatically placed his trembling hand on the massive door handle shaped like a ring.
Unexpectedly for everyone, the huge stone shutters began to hum heavily. With a deep, gloomy creaking sound, they slowly started to open inward into a dark, bottomless tunnel.
The caster, who a moment ago had been standing by the entrance, let out a squeak of surprise and horror, instantly jumped up to his King, and clung to his broad thigh with a death grip.
“I knew it!” Shang Qinghua exclaimed loudly, ignoring the fact that Mobei‑jun tried to shake him off like an annoying fly. “This place is absolutely cursed! Dangerous! We shouldn’t have come here, it’s dark and it probably smells damp! Let’s turn around and go home… please! I’ll make you all some tea!”
Unfortunately, no one supported his incredibly sensible idea. Mobei‑jun, heaving a heavy sigh, simply grabbed his man, picked him up under the arm like some sack of potatoes, and, maintaining a respectful distance from the Emperor, stepped after him deeper into the tunnel.
But the man, held in the demonic creature’s firm embrace, wouldn’t let go. Apparently, in his panicking mind, a truly important line from the original text finally surfaced. Qinghua flailed with renewed vigor and shouted:
— Wait! Wait, please! The Sanctuary of a Thousand Senses is also called the Sanctuary of Frozen Qi, if we enter now…
But as soon as Shang Qinghua's dangling ass crossed the threshold, the stone doors behind them slammed shut with a deafening bang. An ancient magic array flashed brightly under the trio's feet. At the same moment, everyone present felt their spiritual channels and demonic arteries being squeezed in a death grip — all the qi inside was simply blocked.
In the ensuing ringing silence, the unfinished phrase containing critically important information was completed only after the fact.
— …then all the qi will disappear, and the trials will have to be completed relying solely on one’s physical strength and knowledge…
To the author’s great regret, although the information was useful, it was clearly not relevant. And judging by the heavy, ominous sighs of Luo Binghe and Mobei‑jun in the darkness, it had also infuriated everyone immensely.