Chapter Text
"Fuck off!" Xiao-Jiu stomped his foot down on the other boy's toes. "This is our corner! Find your own spot!"
Si jumped back, shouting. "You little brat! How dare you!" Shisan and Shiwu bristled behind him, fists raised on instinct as they prepared to try and beat up Xiao-Jiu for probably the third time that week. Xiao-Jiu couldn't be too sure, time was weird, especially when he'd never been properly taught how to tell it.
Qi-ge quickly cut between Xiao-Jiu and the group of boys, hands raised in a show of peace that almost never got across. The other boys were too stupid to understand that Qi-ge was too nice to hurt them.
He was always too nice to the other kids.
Xiao-Jiu stepped around Qi-ge and threw the first punch before he could stop him. He didn't win the fight, but Si had a bloody nose and bitemarks the next day and left the spot to him and Qi-ge, so he counted it as one.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid Qi-ge! Stop worrying about the other kids!" Xiao-Jiu yelled, even as he followed Qi-ge into the road. Shiwu might've been small, but Qi-ge alone probably couldn't pull him out of the way fast enough.
They reached Shiwu just before the carriage did, yanking him so hard they all toppled into a pile together. The carriage sped by like there had never been any obstruction.
Angry, Xiao-Jiu chucked a rock towards the horses. He didn't think it would reach them; they were too far gone at this point.
He should've known miracles only happen when they cause him trouble.
Not even sensing the impending doom that decision would cost him, he whirled around, pointing a finger at Shiwu. "What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?! Why would you just stand in the middle of the road like that? Are you fucking stupid?"
Shiwu just spat at his feet and left. Xiao-Jiu probably should've counted himself lucky that was all he did, Shiwu was usually one of the most eager to start a fight, but he was too pissed off to even attempt to rein himself in.
"Xiao-Jiu shouldn't say such things," Qi-ge started gently.
Xiao-Jiu bared his teeth at him. "'Such things'? What, like fuck? Are Qi-ge's ears too sensitive to hear bad words now? Can Xiao-Jiu not say whatever he wants to anymore?"
Predictably, Qi-ge changed his tune. "Of course Xiao-Jiu can say what he wants. This Qi-ge just knows other people might care, and he doesn't want Xiao-Jiu to get in trouble."
"Who cares what other people think. We're all that matters."
"What the fuck—?"
A slap rang out across the room.
Xiao-Jiu blinked in surprise. He hadn't even done anything that time. He could feel blood starting to pool in his mouth from where he had bitten his cheek.
"There will be no foul language around my Tang-er. Do you understand?" Qiu Jianluo shouted, spittle flying into Xiao-Jiu's still turned face.
"…understood," he said. There was no need to make things worse. Not now, at least.
Xiao-Jiu hadn't known that restriction of speech could feel almost worse than physical restrictions, or that realizing he was doing the restriction naturally now would hit him so hard. He had to put more effort into putting a curse into a sentence than taking one out; he would intentionally try to slip one into his words while alone and find himself automatically thinking of replacements for it.
Xiao-Jiu felt like something that wasn't him anymore.
Shen Jiu looked down at the blood covering the sword in his hands. Qiu Jianluo's lifeless body laid in front of him, soaked in more blood than Shen Jiu had known was in the human body. There were gaping holes in his stomach and chest, and dozens of smaller holes where Shen Jiu's stabbing had gone erratic.
He tightened his grip on the sword and left the room.
What followed was the same as in many other worlds.
Shen Jiu killed all the men in the household, leaving only the women alive; he seemed crazed, out of his mind, as he walked around the halls covered in the blood of his abusers. No survivor can agree on how he did it, but the mansion was engulfed in flames as soon as he stepped out of the house and onto the grounds.
A low whistle came from the distant treeline. Shen Jiu didn't flinch, or give any indication that he heard it. He simply stood there, sword still in hand, dripping blood onto the dirt.
"Damn, kid," the man said, stepping out of the dark between the trees. The fire illuminated his face, but only barely, enough to show that he was scarred, aging, and desperately trying to regain the peak of his attractiveness. "Your spirit veins really are impressive, aren't they."
The only light in his eyes came from the fire. It disguised the hungry glint within them. In that moment, though, Shen Jiu couldn't have been stopped by any sign.
He was desperate, and Wu Yanzi knew that well.
While Shen Jiu held himself in nearly the lowest regard at this point in his life, he still knew that next to Wu Yanzi, he might as well be a saint.
And he was determined to keep it that way.
He would do what he must to stay alive, obviously, but at least for the moment, he cut off everything unnecessary. If one was to ask people from the towns they crossed what they thought of Wu Yanzi's disciple, they would likely answer something along the lines of "poor kid, it sucks to be him, at least it isn't me."
It was fairly simple by now. He had been restricting himself for so long at the Qiu manor, it felt more natural to continue to do so around his new so-called 'shizun'. He observed Wu Yanzi cursing with every breath, and decided then and there that he would not curse.
He could be better than him in this one way, at the very least.
He had to be.
Shen Jiu had seen blood on his sword dozens, if not hundreds, of times since he slaughtered half the people in the Qiu manor.
So when he saw it covered in the blood of Wu Yanzi, after driving it through his back before he could do the same to Qi-ge, it really didn't strike him as anything special. He wiped it clean on the dead man's robes and sheathes it again.
Qi-ge is gaping at him, eyes and mouth nearly equally wide.
"All this fancy training and Qi-ge is still as stupid as always, huh? Can't even watch his own back properly. It's a wonder you ever survived without me," Shen Jiu said, a sneer resting on his face.
He did not want to stick around to hear Qi-ge's response. Qi-ge was well-dressed, better than any of the other disciples he had killed encountered, and looked well-fed and cared for. He had no need for remnants of his past to come back to light.
And maybe this way, Shen Jiu could go back to believing Qi-ge had died trying to get back to him, instead of living in this horrible reality where he had been forgotten.
Unfortunately for him, Qi-ge grabbed onto his arm before he could leave, seemingly desperate. "W-wait! I, I can get you into my sect, you don't need to leave!"
"I have no need for your pity," Shen Jiu hissed, yanking his arm back.
Before he could finally go through with his plan for escape, Qi-ge grabbed his arm again. This time, however, he did something with the bracelet of beads on his wrist, transporting the both of them into a hall full of people. While Shen Jiu was still in shock and reeling from the sudden teleportation, Qi-ge dragged him over to a large group of tall and imposing men.
Shen Jiu bristled, resisting the urge to bare his teeth as all of their attentions turned toward him.
"Yue Qingyuan," one of them said, slowly, deliberately. "Who is this?"
Qi-ge Yue Qingyuan straightened and did a crisp, exact bow. "Greeting Shizun! This is— …a rogue cultivator, who saved my life from the demonic cultivator Wu Yanzi."
The whole group of men seemed even more interested. A man with a fan spoke up next. "Saved your life? How so?"
"Killed him." Shen Jiu said flatly.
Yue Qingyuan very quickly jumped in the middle of the conversation. It reminded Shen Jiu of when he would get in between him and the other group of boys, always trying to bring peace in all the wrong ways. "A-ah, well, yes, but only because that was all that could be done in the moment!"
The fan-wielding man gave him a piercing look. It wasn't even a glare, yet Shen Jiu could practically feel Yue Qingyuan trying to simultaneously wilt and freeze in place.
Qi-ge might as well be dead, but clearly remnants of him still remained.
The man looked back to Shen Jiu. "And what is your name, little rogue cultivator?"
"…Shen Jiu," he answered. As the man gave him an appraising look, the first man spoke again.
"Yue Qingyuan. What is the purpose of you bringing him here?"
Yue Qingyuan somehow managed to straighten further. "This one would like if Shen Jiu were offered a spot as a disciple within the sect, Shizun."
"And what gives you the right to make that decision."
Yue Qingyuan blinked, stunned. Shen Jiu gave him a disgusted look the longer he took to answer. If he was going to be roped into these stupid shenanigans, at least be prepared.
Eventually, the fan-wielding man rescued him. "It matters not in the end, Zhangmen-shixiong; this one would like to take Shen Jiu in as a disciple either way."
The first man sighed, a long-suffering thing that said he knew this was coming but had still hoped it wouldn't. "If shidi is sure. It is his peak, in the end."
"Shidi is sure. Shen Jiu, come with this master." The man swept off, leaving Shen Jiu to scramble after him.
He could feel Yue Qingyuan's gaze on him. He did not look back.