Chapter Text
-630 days
Thoroughly distracted from the inn two houses down with the most amazing beef in the village, Shen Yuan could not take his eyes off that guy in dark grey robes lined with orange—that cultivator. He knew he was staring, but that knowledge didn't do jackshit for him.
Besides, who could possibly blame him? That guy had not just one, but three swords on him. So it was only natural for Shen Yuan’s eyes to be firmly stuck to the figure currently talking to one of the merchants on the other side of the street—the asshole one who always threw stuff at Shen Yuan when he even just walked by. Everybody would stare.
In another situation, Shen Yuan might have suspected at least one of the swords to be cursed. He could have sworn he felt something around it, something he couldn't quite grasp. It didn't make any sense for some random sword to have this kind of pull on him! But no, that one idiot cultivator's sword who had passed through last month had definitely been cursed and this felt nothing like the slimy, syrupy sense Shen Yuan couldn't get rid of even days after. He shuddered as the memory resurfaced.
The swords were breathtaking, both elegant and powerful, a silent strength emanating from them. Whoever this guy was, he had to be someone highly skilled to have a weapon like that, no doubt. Ever since he had transmigrated around a year ago (already too late to join any sect even Luo Binghe was already a disciple at this age why couldn't he have transmigrated any earlier at least this was such bullshit), Shen Yuan had seen quite a few cultivators passing by—like that gaggle of golden robed Huan Hua disciples that one time that did nothing but posture around until the beast they had come to eliminate had wandered off on its own—yet none of them could hold a candle to this guy’s sheer presence, even as he did nothing but stand a few feet away from Shen Yuan, talking. It was both awe inspiring and intimidating.
And yet, Shen Yuan could have sworn the guy never even appeared in the web novel. Someone like this was sure to leave an impression, right?? Thanks for absolutely nothing, Airplane. What was even the point of his transmigration? Couldn't he have at least transmigrated into someone as cool as that guy instead of a random kid who Shen Yuan was pretty sure never even appeared on page? At least then he could have gone out and seen some Glittering Century Starlings or Shadow Fey Night Foxes before they would go extinct during the realm merging.
Shen Yuan was cowering in the shadows of a semi-popular teahouse that usually let him be out of sight, and it gave him a perfect view of the sword hanging from the cultivator’s waist. He narrowed his eyes. Something about it felt off, somehow. Shen Yuan couldn't pinpoint what made him think so, but he was pretty sure this sword was different in some way from the two on the guy’s back.
Without any other swords conveniently there to compare it to, Shen Yuan couldn’t be sure, but it was big, probably bigger than most he had seen on other cultivators. He wondered why that was. Did the size of a sword change how well it could channel qi? But no, then why wouldn’t everyone go for the ideal size. Maybe it was different for each cultivator?
…or, knowing Airplane, maybe it was just a pissing contest and it was not about the size at all.
Without conscious thought, Shen Yuan leaned forward, eager to commit as many details to ponder over to memory as he could. And with every one he noticed, he became more and more aware of the exceedingly high quality of the sword, a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Even with what little actual expertise he possessed—well, none—Shen Yuan could tell that this might very well be one of the—if not the—highest quality sword he had ever laid his eyes on. Just the material alone seemed like it was worth more than Shen Yuan many times over.
But the longer he looked at the sword, the more insistent a little part of him became that something was off about it. Shen Yuan could not quite pinpoint the feeling or what it meant or why he was feeling it, and yet something about it rubbed him the wrong way.
Shen Yuan shook his head, leaning back against the wall. No, this made no sense, he was probably just imagining things. Maybe he should cut his losses and head down to the little cave in the woods tonight and worry about food tomorrow. Maybe an okay night's sleep would fix him. Well, enough to not lose it over some random guy and his just as random swords anyway.
(Gods did he miss his bed, and the simple luxury it represented.)
Across the street, the cultivator had finished his conversation with the assholish old merchant. He stepped away and as he turned, he gave Shen Yuan a head-on view of the two swords strapped to his back—
Shen Yuan was not aware of moving, but suddenly he stood right behind the cultivator, his hand reaching out as if it had a mind of its own. Those two swords—two beautiful, beautiful jian swords—seemed to be calling to him, a siren song Shen Yuan couldn't even hear and yet did not know how to resist. It was as if the swords wanted him close, as if they were meant to be with Shen Yuan, but that was stupid of course, it made zero sense. And yet, he couldn’t stop his hand from inching closer—
A hand caught Shen Yuan’s wrist before he could make contact. Shen Yuan looked up, protest already on his tongue, but when he me the dark eyes already on him, the words died before he could utter them. “How interesting,” the cultivator in grey mused, his voice sounding way too amicable for someone whose swords had been about to be manhandled by a random weirdo. “Ying Zi usually does not like anyone getting close to her.” He raised his eyebrows, a weirdly delighted spark dancing in his eyes. “Congrats, little one, very few people can say they have her favour.”
Shen Yuan pulled at his hand and as the grip around his wrist immediately loosened, he snatched it back, cradling it against his chest. He narrowed his eyes, glaring up at the annoyingly tall cultivator. “Who’s little here? I’m perfectly average, taller than half the kids around here even.”
He fumed. Shen Yuan might not know his exact age, but he was definitely not fully grown yet, and starving at that. Objectively, he knew he was a kid again, but that did not make him little. If anything, that damn cultivator was just inhumanly tall!
“Those damn street urchins,” the old merchant hissed, making to grab at Shen Yuan, and oh right, he was still there. Fuck.
Shen Yuan shied away, already feeling the bruises his hands would inevitably leave behind. “Stop bothering my customers, you brat. Sorry, Immortal Master,” he added in the cultivator’s direction, his tone showing none of the disdain it had only moments ago, “don’t pay that brat any mind, I’ll take care of him.”
“Thanking Lao He, that won’t be necessary,” the cultivator cut off, his voice suddenly void of all the warmth it had just held. He put a warm hand on Shen Yuan’s shoulder and gently steered him away from the old merchant’s booth towards a less busy part of the street. When Shen Yuan risked a look back, he caught the dark expression on the merchant’s face and felt a shiver run down his spine. Well, looked like Shen Yuan would need to avoid this specific part of town in the next weeks, this did not bode well at all.
Shen Yuan sighed internally. Pity. There went his chance of snatching some scarps of leftover beef from the inn this week, no way would he be able to sneak close enough now without drawing attention. (His stomach growled just thinking of the heavenly smell. Surely even Luo Binghe's protagonist level cooking couldn't compare.)
Whatever. He'd manage somehow.
As if feeling Shen Yuan’s disquiet, the cultivator lightly squeezed his shoulder, pulling Shen Yuan’s attention to him instead and his steady presence that promised security.
And even knowing this wouldn't last, that the cultivator, as kind as he was, would leave very soon and Shen Yuan would only have himself to rely on once more, Shen Yuan felt himself relax the slightest bit under the man’s care. This—someone standing up for him, even in such a small, meaningless way—was… nice.
As he replayed the conversation, Shen Yuan's mind snatched on a particular tidbit, and his gaze shot towards the sword hilt he could barely see over the man’s shoulder, the same deep, irresistible pull as before filling him at the sight, beckoning him closer. “Xiansheng mentioned a Ying Zi. Is that one of xiansheng's swords?”
With an amused glint in his eyes, the cultivator stopped near the entrance to a rarely frequented alley without a care for anyone around them having to dodge out of the way, and removed his hand from Shen Yuan’s shoulder (Shen Yuan did not immediately miss the feeling of its warmth, he just had to catch his footing after losing that bit of extra support is all). With a fluid movement he drew one of his swords and held it up to Shen Yuan, making the people around them give them a wide berth at the sight. “This is Ying Zi, perfectly average one.”
Shen Yuan decided to ignore the teasing of this weirdo—there were way more important things to pay attention to!
With the sword now so close, the itch in Shen Yuan’s fingers returned. He clenched his fists. Like hell would he lose control as he had earlier. No matter how much he might want to touch that sword, to run his fingers over its cool (or maybe not) metal, to feel those little carvings he could barely make out. Shen Yuan felt like it might burn if he gave in and closed the distance, or alternatively maybe he would ascend on the spot, and he was not particularly eager to confirm either possibility. And yet, even with the sword before him calling to him, Shen Yuan could have sworn there was a more quiet echo of it, somewhat breaking the spell it held over him. He could not say how, but he instinctively knew that the two swords the cultivator was carrying on his back were twin blades that amplified each other when wielded together in close proximity.
With great effort, Shen Yuan lifted his gaze back up and took a little step back. A breeze coming from the alleyway now right behind him made him shudder, and Shen Yuan rubbed his arms to stave off the cold. He narrowed his eyes, hastily sinking into a bow before the cultivator could catch his expression. “Thanking xiansheng for showing his sword to this lowly one. It’s exceptionally great.” Shen Yuan couldn’t stop himself from peeking at the sword once more. Its shine was otherworldly blinding, something that didn't seem like it should exist in the same space as some random guy like him. “The metal, it seems especially well suited for her. Like it helps xiansheng to channel his spiritual energy especially well. Whoever made her has to be a genius blacksmith.”
The cultivator hummed. “You perfectly average one have a good eye.”
Shen Yuan had to suppress a snort. Yeah, right. Those were just things anyone with eyes could see, it was a reasonable assumption to make. Certainly not anything worth commenting on.
When Shen Yuan shot a quick glance up through his eyelashes he found the cultivator openly examining him from head to toe. Shen Yuan became overtly aware of the filth covering his single layer of clothes, suddenly self-conscious of his matted hair he just wasn't able to get clean no matter what, his feet caked with mud. He shifted from one foot to the other, his hands worrying his thin sleeve that threatened to rip at any moment.
The cultivator resheathed the sword, not letting Shen Yuan out of his sight, and the weird spell it had over Shen Yuan muted to something less distracting. “Say, little perfectly average one, how old are you?”
Glaring at the stupid nickname, Shen Yuan shifted under the weight of the cultivator’s gaze—heavy and yet comforting and… warm, as if Shen Yuan wasn’t some dirty, scrawny kid living on the streets. It made a small glimmer of hope raise its head, but Shen Yuan nipped it in the bud. This was not one of his novels, he reminded himself. Nobody was coming to help him and a cool nice cultivator was certainly not taking Shen Yuan with him to become one himself. This was not how any of this worked, Shen Yuan thought bitterly, meeting the other's gaze with narrowed eyes. “Too old.” He hesitated for a few moments before he added, “It’s Shen Yuan. Stop calling me little already.”
“Little Shen Yuan,” the cultivator said with a way too amused glint in his eyes and yeah, okay, Shen Yuan should have seen that one coming. “How about this: join me for a meal and hear what this master has to tell. Whatever will happen after that is all up to you, little Shen Yuan.”
As if sensing the promise of an actual meal, Shen Yuan’s stomach twisted painfully, complaining of the days that had passed since he last managed to snatch up some scraps. He clenched his fists even tighter.
Shen Yuan knew he was probably being stupid to even entertain the thought. Stranger danger was a thing here too! But something about the cultivator—about his swords—put him at ease, just enough to actually consider it. And why not? What did Shen Yuan really have to lose? His life? That was bound to be short anyway. And Shen Yuan had already died once, so what was once more or less at this point?
Lowering his hands, Shen Yuan decidedly stepped forward, away from the alleyway and closer towards the crowd on the main street, not waiting for the cultivator to take the lead. Technically, he had been the one to ask Shen Yuan for a favour and who was Shen Yuan not to take advantage of that?
Shen Yuan lead the probably-not-kidnapper towards the little stall of the old aunty two streets further, tucked away between the bookstore and a seamstress’ shop. “Fine,” he said, watching the guy for any weird reaction, “What does xiansheng think of dumplings?”
***
Ming Yue's—Wei Qingwei's other sword that seemed even more powerful yet also more subdued than Ying Zi—energy felt soothing under his feet, like a promise, almost as tangible as the warmth of the hand on his shoulder keeping him steady. Shen Yuan watched as the village he didn’t even know the name of—the only place he had known in this world—grew smaller, feeling conflicted. Was this…? But no, this felt nothing like what that cultivator—Wei Qingwei—had described spiritual energy as and neither did it feel how the small tendril of it he had sent through Shen Yuan's apparently at least existing meridians had felt like. Surely Wei Qingwei had made a mistake somewhere, he had probably confused Shen Yuan for someone else. There was literally no way his potential was as good as Wei Qingwei had implied, Shen Yuan was just some guy! How could some guy have what sounded like protagonist level potential? So OOC.
As Shen Yuan had stuffed his face with dumpling after dumpling, he had listened to Wei Qingwei talk about the mission that had brought him to this out-of-the-way village in the first place. As the peak lord of Cang Qiong’s sword peak, he was naturally more attuned to spiritual swords, so of course he was the one sent out to track down the sword of one of his hall masters who had lost it during accident on his most recent night hunt.
At that point, Shen Yuan had still been following his words, nodding along as he grew too full to finish his portion way too soon. Even though it made zero sense why Shen Yuan was able to tell, it somewhat explained why the sword on Wei Qingwei's waist felt different, he supposed. Which he maybe shouldn't have mentioned out loud, because Wei Qingwei had gotten that look in his eyes, weirdly determined to find whatever he was searching for.
It was when Wei Qingwei suggested his observation of Shen Yuan being well suited to his peak right after that he had lost him. That just sounded fake.
Even just thinking about it, Shen Yuan felt the frown return to his face. He twitched, feeling Wei Qingwei instinctively adjust his stance behind him as well. Taking a deep breath, he felt Ming Yue's energy pulse, just once, as if sensing his agitation.
Which was stupid, of course it didn't. This was just a fancy sword, it couldn’t sense anything. Not like that one sword Luo Binghe had gotten as dowry from the swan demon clan that had been mentioned twice and was then set aside to collect dust in Binghe's armory. Or that one sword that was able to track the last few of the Golden Midnight Foxes specifically. Or the one that one wife had used as—yeah okay, maybe not that one.
Taking as deep a breath as he could, Shen Yuan forced himself to think of something else. With only a sword between him and the ground and Wei Qingwei preventing his plummeting to his death, this seemed not like the time to ponder over why exactly this random peak lord was giving Shen Yuan of all people the protagonist treatment. Feeling the warmth radiating his body kept leaning into and the broad figure shielding Shen Yuan from the worst of the wind uncomfortably whipping his unbound hair around him, it was only natural that his thoughts settled on this weirdo of a cultivator.
Wei Qingwei. The third ranked peak’s peak lord of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. He had only ever appeared shortly in PIDW when Luo Binghe got to draw his sword only months before he joined the Immortal Alliance Conference; way too late to properly bond with it but still at least somewhat better than not having a spiritual sword at all during the carnage that was the Immortal Alliance Conference. But as much as Shen Yuan tried, he couldn’t recall anything other than that about the man—hell, he couldn’t even recall if Wei Qingwei ever even had any lines when he was on page! He had only ever been the peak lord of Wan Jian Peak and nothing else.
All this meta knowledge Shen Yuan had, and yet it had holes around the exact things that might have been of any use to him. Thanks Airplane, Shen Yuan fumed silently. If only he had bother to fill any of his plot holes as meticulously as he had every single female character's holes, but why make anything easy for Shen Yuan?
Well, considering all the information he currently had, Shen Yuan could pretty confidently say that this Wei Qingwei guy really wanted to have Shen Yuan on his peak. Hell, if Shen Yuan had interpreted that mischievous glimmer in his eyes right, he might have even been close to just throwing Shen Yuan over his shoulder and flying off. And okay, fine, Shen Yuan could work with that. If he arrived and found Luo Binghe was already in the Endless Abyss, he would have more than enough time to cut any ties to the sect and leave. And if not? Well, that just opened up more possibilities Shen Yuan had not even bothered entertaining before.
Shen Yuan would have to find out where in the timeline he was as soon as possible. It hadn't really mattered before, Shen Yuan had always assumed he would die again before he ever got the chance to cross paths with the protagonist. But now? Now there was the possibility of catching even just a glimpse of Luo Binghe from afar. Or, on the off chance he transmigrated early on in the plot, maybe he would even get the opportunity to make things better for the little white sheep, like he deserved!
Wasn't that chance alone worth any potential risks setting foot into the sect might pose?
Wei Qingwei being the peak lord of Wan Jian Peak gave Shen Yuan at least somewhat of a clue. It meant that the Qing generation had already ascended and Luo Binghe was for sure already born. It also meant Cang Qiong Mountain was still standing, so Luo Binghe had not yet escaped the Endless Abyss to destroy which narrowed it down even further, but that still left about two decades Shen Yuan could have ended up in. Shen Yuan would only be able to figure out whether Luo Binghe was on Qing Jing Peak or not once they reached the sect. Maybe he could find some excuse to ask Ning Yingying or maybe even Ming Fan. As the head disciple, he was representing Shen Qingqiu and Qing Jing Peak to outsiders, so Shen Yuan thought he could probably reasonably count on him being at least somewhat decent to disciples outside his peak, so maybe Shen Yuan could use that to his advantage.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the Cang Qiong mountain range came into view and suddenly it hit Shen Yuan, the slow wave of excitement carrying him right past the mild exhaustion that had been gnawing on him the longer the flight dragged on. He felt himself almost vibrate and Ming Yue under his feet seemed to echo the sentiment. No matter how impossible or temporary this was, Shen Yuan was here! Despite already being too old to join a cultivation sect, he would still get the chance to try and learn to cultivate. And the thought of the simple luxury of actual food he wouldn't need to fight anyone for, or sleeping in an actual bed again, or even just having a roof over his head sheltering him from the whims of the weather made him almost tear up. In a manly way.
And swords. As long as Wei Qingwei didn't change his mind about taking Shen Yuan as a disciple, he would get to learn about swords! The objectively coolest thing he could possibly study.
Even before Wei Qingwei steered them towards one of the highest of the peaks, Shen Yuan could instinctively tell which one of them was Wan Jian Peak. He could swear he felt its power on his tongue, warm and welcoming and steady—kinda like Wei Qingwei, Shen Yuan realized, the peak seemed to feel like its peak lord, or maybe the peak lord felt like his peak.
Very interesting. Shen Yuan wondered how Qing Jing Peak might feel, knowing about its cruel master. Thinking back to how Binghe's time there had been described in PIDW, it seemed like he might have found a little nugget of lore he had never even considered before.
As they descended towards what looked like a landing platform, Wei Qingwei helped Shen Yuan step off Ming Yue. Still unsteady on his feet after being forced to hold the same position for so long, Shen Yuan stumbled, but Wei Qingwei steadied him before he could fall. “Careful, such a long flight can be hard on someone who isn’t used to it, especially a non-cultivator.”
Once he was sure Shen Yuan wouldn’t fall, Wei Qingwei jumped off his sword like the showoff he was and sheathed her with a smooth, clearly well-practiced movement. Slowly he made his way deeper onto the peak, careful to keep pace with Shen Yuan's stiff-limbed limp. Shen Yuan might have been embarrassed about it, but he was way too busy looking around—were those Velvet Willow-Pines? So cool! And Shen Yuan was pretty sure he had seen some creature rustle in one of the bushes they passed? He would need to investigate whatever was out there once he was free to roam!— to worry too much about keeping someone as important as the peak lord away from his surely way more important tasks, now that he had returned.
“Little Shen Yuan,” Wei Qingwei said from his side, and Shen Yuan puffed up hearing the grin in his voice at that stupid nickname. Somehow he couldn’t say he minded too terribly in that moment though, so whatever. “Welcome to Wan Jian Peak. This one will find someone to show you around after you are settled and taken care of.”
Even with the chilly air on the peak, Shen Yuan suddenly felt warm despite himself.
The words sounded like a promise. It made Shen Yuan almost believe them.
He clenched his fists at his side. This was only temporary, he reminded himself, one way or another. Best to not get attached.