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Chapter Text

“Will you go yourself?” Shen Qingqiu says, cold and sneering.

His face is a blank mask of hatred, his still hands holding Xiu Ya steady. The tip of the blade is still several steps away, but Luo Binghe feels himself take an involuntary step backwards despite it. The movement brings him closer to the gaping maw in the ground, leaking acrid air and raging noise. Over the pounding of his heart in his ears, he can just barely hear monsters howling and screaming far below.

Luo Binghe is still steadily bleeding in several places where the Black Moon Python Rhinoceros had grazed him, the rest of him covered in smaller cuts and bruises. His chest aches, too, pulling sharply with each too-quick breath. He grasps the worst gash on his arm, trying to make the bleeding slow, like it still matters.

Worst of all, the flow of his qi is choked and strangled. It burns like lines of fire as it forces itself onto new paths, overlapping and running adjacent to the meridians supplying his spiritual energy.

“Shi– Shizun, please!” he cries. His eyes burn, tears really threatening to fall for the first time since he was accepted into Qing Jing.

“Go down where you belong or I shall make you,” Shen Qingqiu threatens, stepping forward. Xiu Ya gleams in the light, still pointed at Luo Binghe’s chest. “Beast. I should have disposed of you from the start.”

Luo Binghe can't stop himself from flinching away. He hates it. He feels weak and pathetic, staring teary-eyed and defenseless at the man he's called Shizun for so long now.

Shen Qingqiu's face twists briefly with disgust. Somehow, it stings.

Luo Binghe is beginning to realize what he should have long ago: Shen Qingqiu never cared.

He never intended to make Binghe a true disciple, welcome in his lessons and respected —safe — on his peak. He is a servant, something small and pathetic to order around, something to entertain the cruel young masters with.

The force of the sheer hate and rage burning through him makes his hands shake, his voice tremble.

Anything Luo Binghe means to say is abruptly cut off as the brush nearby rustles. Shen Qingqiu turns without moving Xiu Ya, waiting to see what beast or cultivator will come through. It isn’t as if he’s doing anything wrong, after all, not with the damned mark of sin blazing bright on Binghe’s forehead.

The rustling stops as suddenly as it began, as if whoever is there has realized they’ve been caught.

For a bare moment, everything is still, the whole world holding its breath with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe.

“Out,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, brisk and demanding. From the space between two wide trees a man dressed in Conference-issue robes steps out.

He’s young, likely only a few years older than Luo Binghe, and wearing the gold accents indicative of a Huan Hua disciple. His dark hair is pulled back into a long tail behind him, messy strands falling around his eyes. His robes are torn and bloodied in places like he’s just come from a fight—and he has, if his sword still in hand dripping red says anything.

The other disciple looks between them. His face twists, uncertain.

The air feels thick in Luo Binghe’s lungs. He’s barely standing, broken and beaten from fighting for hours and his seal breaking.

He doesn’t know what to do, stuck between two cultivators and the Endless Abyss.

Luo Binghe is bloody and injured, exhausted. The man doesn't look much better.

Shen Qingqiu is still infuriatingly bright-eyed and clean, his qi suffocatingly around them and his robes barely mussed.

He supposes this is the end, then. Luo Binghe thinks a quick prayer for his mother and himself and braces for a sword through the chest, or stomach, or neck. Shen Qingqiu is cruel; he knows how to make a wound fatal but slow, and he'd cast Luo Binghe down to the monsters waiting to tear him apart below after.

Without a word, the man flings himself forward. He moves like someone personally wronged, with a speed and aggression that takes Luo Binghe's breath away and makes him cringe back, again.

The d sword meets Xiu Ya in a clash of metal, sparks flying.

Luo Binghe watches in stunned disbelief as the Huan Hua disciple engages Shen Qingqiu in a vicious, quick exchange of blows.

The disciple somehow maneuvers himself between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, like he’s trying to protect Binghe. His chest burns, now, with hatred and wonder both — a disciple from another sect protecting him, after seeing his demon mark and dirty blood.

Protecting him from Shen Qingqiu, the Peak Lord who should have been his shizun.

The fight comes to a draw. Both fall still, panting. Shen Qingqiu looks worse for wear now, with his robes torn in places and blood beginning to stain the white and green.

He snarls. “Filthy traitor,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, and his eyes are blazing. Luo Binghe has rarely seen him this mad, incensed. It stings, somehow, to realize that Shen Qingqiu had intended to cast him down with dull apathy, little real feeling behind it. Like Luo Binghe isn't worth even his anger. “Die with the beast you protect. He won’t thank you for it.”

Never one to waste words in favor of physical harm, Shen Qingqiu looses a blast of qi that forces the disciple back. It throws him into Luo Binghe, knocking both off them of their feet.

Luo Binghe tries to catch the disturbingly limp disciple and the ground both, fingers scrabbling desperately at the disturbed earth. He hopes for a root, a rock, something he can grab and use to pull them back up, away from the heat and stench and howling screams—

He slips.

The last thing Luo Binghe sees as his arms wrap around the unconscious disciple is Shen Qingqiu’s disgusted, satisfied face, already turning away.

Then the hole in space seals itself, and all he can see is the dark Abyss sky swirling far, far above.

Luo Binghe walks.

He walks and walks, carrying the unconscious disciple with him. The limp weight of him, slung over Luo Binghe's shoulder, tips him off balance more than once. The ground, uneven and rocky and slanting uphill, doesn't help. He grits his teeth forces himself to half-climb the steep terrain until his feet burn and he can't feel his legs. Until he's stumbling under the weight he carries and hardly able to hold on, until only the memory-threat of bloodied teeth and claws and pain keeps him moving.

Strips of stained and tattered cloth flutter around them, hanging from both disciples. Luo Binghe's hair is almost slicked to his face and his neck, his white Conference-issue robes turned red with thick patches of tacky, drying blood. It's all he can smell, itching at his newly heightened senses.

They had been welcomed, as he’d guessed, by a horde of monstrous creatures. They'd been lucky that these were the ones too weak to make it into Jue Di Gorge, and that they'd already been picking each other off.

There's still more than enough monsters left to have him breathing hard and aching head to toe by the time the wasteland around them falls still. Below him, the disciple is unharmed but spattered with blood and dirt.

Luo Binghe's Zheng Yang has shattered. He has the hilt, still tucked into the sheath strapped to his side, but without the blade it’s useless in a fight.

He uses the unconscious disciple’s sword instead. It doesn’t respond to him as a spiritual sword should, without its owner’s permission, but it’s still a sharp piece of metal. It serves him well enough.

Luo Binghe feels something heavy and leaking shame settle in his chest.

He shouldn't be using this sword. It feels like betrayal – to Zheng Yang, to this shining blade, to the disciple unconscious against him — to do so, and he feels as if his touch will leave a grimy sheen on the hilt.

He was never trained properly, and he fights like it — like an ignored and bullied disciple, forced to do chores instead of attending lessons.

He fights with sloppy movements, pulling away too slow and striking out too fast. He's unbalanced and jumpy. His muscles strain and pull in unfamiliar ways with the force of swinging the sword, formed from chores rather than an excess of training.

That's not to say Luo Binghe can't fight. He can defend himself, even if he has to rely on dirty tricks and raw force. Even if he more resembles the street child, fighting with dogs for half-rotted scraps, than any cultivator.

In short, he's nothing like the polished, practiced disciple he carries. The one who defended him against his venomous shizun.

The first person since his mother to look at Luo Binghe and see something worth protecting.

Luo Binghe's emotions swirl uncomfortably inside him, pressing against his skin like a water sack overfilled.

He wants to cut himself open and drain them out. Bleed himself dry of feeling, of this overwhelming fear and hatred and panic and shame and terrible, desperate hope.

He knows he can't. He's already battered and bruised, cuts healing as fast as they're inflicted.

Luo Binghe pushes past the guilt in his chest and adjusts his grip on the disciple's legs.

As he leaves behind the field of carnage, the last few monsters flee from him, seemingly smarter —or more cowardly—than the creatures already killed. They disappear into the miasma with quickly fading howls and yips, flinging blood and tearing at each other as they go.

Luo Binghe steps over and around corpses and gore, making his way carefully out of the valley.

The disciple doesn’t wake.

Luo Binghe walks until his feet go sore and his muscles sting with strain. He walks and walks and walks, carrying the disciple on his back, and he doesn’t stop even when everything in him screams to.

He needs to find somewhere safe. He needs this disciple to wake up.

He doesn't know how long it's been, if he's been walking for days or hours. He doesn’t know if the disciple will wake again, or if Luo Binghe is dragging dead weight along. The only comfort he has is the shallow breathing ghosting along his neck and the tiny, desperate flame of something burning in his chest.

Until he wakes or dies, Luo Binghe lives in a terrible limbo. The disciple threw himself between Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe, defending Luo Binghe. Protecting him. Just that alone is almost more than anyone’s ever done for him, save his mother.

Remembering her strikes through him. Luo Binghe suddenly, fiercely, misses her with a strength that makes him ache. It's just another old wound, half-healed and scarred over, piled over with new bruises. Luo Binghe shuffles his hold on the disciple and lets the aching sting of movement take his mind away from it all.

But he doesn’t know if he can trust the disciple. Maybe he just didn’t see clearly, didn’t realize Luo Binghe’s demon blood. Took the blazing zuiyin on his brow as another smear of blood in the haze of battle.

He's desperate enough to risk sleeping, shoving the man's body into a shallow crack between two tall, weathered rocks. As Luo Binghe is carefully arranging the disciple’s limbs into a comfortable position, the man's sleeve slips just enough to show a long string of round, faintly glowing beads.

His Conferance prayer beads. A lot of them, too--enough to put him in the top ten for sure, by Luo Binghe’s judgement. He hesitates for a moment before sliding the bracelet off and into his qiankun pouch.

Luo Binghe tucks himself between the disciple and the outside world, curling up tight and pressing head to his knees to conceal the dim light of his mark of sin. He draws his qi signature in as tightly as he can and closes his eyes, sinking into sleep within seconds.

It's a useless effort.

The dream realm is oddly colorless and chaotic, the landscape shifting wildy around Luo Binghe and forcing him to move or trip. It's far more desolate than Luo Binghe is accustomed to, only the dull and formless dreams of distant monsters catching his attention.

When Luo Binghe reaches for the space next to him where it would be, focusing hard, he finds something soft and pulsing and vulnerable.

Got you.

If Meng Mo is correct, and Luo Binghe is inclined to think so, it's likely the man's mind is gone, damaged beyond repair by his injuries.

But there's a chance the man is only deeply unconscious. That he can heal and wake up.

Before Luo Binghe has the chance to investigate further, a blinding pain erupts in his leg. He jerks awake, finding himself being slowly dragged out of the crevice by a long, sharp-edged tentacle wrapped around his calf.

He makes short work of the creature. The man breathes, undisturbed. Luo Binghe's injuries heal even as he pulls at them, dragging the disciple out and preparing to keep moving.

He just has to wait until this strange disciple finally wakes or dies.

Until then, Luo Binghe doesn't know if he carries an ally or enemy. Until he wakes, the only company Luo Binghe has are the far-off sounds of creatures and shallow breaths to count.

Whichever this strange man is, Luo Binghe hopes above all else he knows how to get out of this situation.

The disciple doesn’t wake.

He finds a cave.

It’s small and damp, with a low ceiling and walls covered in slime — and already inhabited.

Luo Binghe drops the disciple with a yelp as insect-like creatures, each as big as the wheel of a cart and covered in glowing spikes, fly at him. He’s swarmed in seconds. They flutter around his head in a cloud of legs and wings and glowing spikes, swirling in dizzying patterns.

He scrambles for his borrowed sword. Luo Binghe strikes with panic overwhelming his little skill, getting in lucky hits and sending the bug-monsters crashing into each other.

Luo Binghe fights like that, frantic and desperate, until one of the creatures gets a lucky hit that sends his sword to the ground. He’s swarmed too fast. He can’t risk the pause to regain his weapon, so he lashes out with his bare hands instead.

It reminds him of when he was a child. His years on Qing Jing, too. Fighting with no skill and no weapon, driven by fear and hunger. He hates it.

The fluid from the glowing spikes burns where it touches him - but it seems to burn them, too. Luo Binghe ignores the pain like embers pressed to his skin and grabs one of the creatures, tearing at the crown of spikes around its neck.

The monster bursts apart as Luo Binghe rips a spike away.

The crowd seems to pause, the world holding its breath for a bare second as Luo Binghe takes in this new information, as the creatures realize he’s more threat than food. Luo Binghe learned not to hesitate on the streets, and then again on Qing Jing. He grabs up his borrowed sword and swings.

It slashes through one of the creatures and digs deeply into the side of another. His sword sticks briefly and he has to take one of his hands off its hilt to defend himself.

He grabs another of the creatures by its neck spikes and pulls. It tries to free itself, splashing that burning, glowing fluid over him as it struggles, but Luo Binghe is stronger.

Battle-fear rushes through him, swift and icy and dripping like melting snow down his back. It makes his vision clear, the pain fading, his hands going still and steady around the worn-smooth leather hilt of his borrowed sword. He pulls it from the body it’s stuck in with a terrible wet noise and—

Luo Binghe lashes out with more than his borrowed sword. He swings and as he does a force tears through him, writhing under his skin and through unfamiliar paths before blazing outwards, smelling like smoke and ash and prickling at his spiritual veins. It takes the rest of the monsters down in one strike, leaving Luo Binghe standing dumbfounded as pieces of the monsters fall like hail around him.

It’s still. Silent.

The suddenness of it hits him like another blow and he staggers. Abruptly, he can feel all the places the fluid - acid, it must be acid - touches him. It burns and leaves little raw patches behind, smearing instead of wiping away when he half-heartedly tries to rub it off onto his tattered clothes. He’s healing almost as fast as he burns. That hurts, too, in a stinging, satisfying way.

His meridians feel strained. He knows they’re tangled and snarled, formed wrong and stunted, and they’re usually uncomfortable in some way. This, though, feels like a sunburn on the inside of his skin, burning and stretched thin, overlapping his spiritual veins.

Luo Binghe had never heard of another demon-human hybrid. Feeling how the two sets of opposing pathways tangle and ache, he has a few guesses why.

He's hit with a sudden wave of weakness that makes him drop his borrowed sword and stumble backward. He trips over something warm and soft, barely catching himself.

The disciple—!

Luo Binghe throws himself to the ground, ignoring his hurts to check over the other. The disciple is breathing slow and deep still, chest rising and falling steadily. Though his robes are now dotted with tiny holes from the acid, it doesn’t seem to have gotten down to bare skin. Luo Binghe peels his sleeves back just to be sure. The disciple’s bare arms are warm and alive, unmarred from acid. Luo Binghe wants to keep holding on.

Good. He’s fine.

Luo Binghe had long learned to associate touch with pain. It had never stopped him wanting it.

Luo Binghe rolls the disciple’s sleeves back down and tucks his arms across his body. His hands burn, but not from the acid.

A scream breaks through the thick air, startling and harsh and distant - a death scream. Luo Binghe grabs for the sword where he’s set it next to the disciple, his heart pounding in his chest.

After moments of stillness and renewed silence, Luo Binghe calms enough to tuck the sword into its makeshift sheath on his belt.

Then he begins to drag the bodies into a pile. It wouldn’t do to have the acid leak into the cave they’ll be sending the night in, after all.

The disciple wakes shortly after Luo Binghe settles them both in the cave.

Luckily, those bug-things really had been the only inhabitants. With them out of the way, it’s not too bad. The cave is close and damp, too short for him to fully stand and not long enough for him to stretch out. The walls are covered in a thick, dripping slime, gross and drying slowly but not seeming to have any effect. He's slept in worse places - though not by much.

He wonders how many of the bug-creatures had lived in the cave before. It was just barely large enough to fit both disciples and their meager belongings — and that had been a swarm.

It doesn't matter. Luo Binghe can't scrape together enough viscera to make one full beast, let alone begin to count.

Luo Binghe is going through his meager supplies, leftovers from the Conference, when the disciple next to him groans. He drops his bag and turns to the man, grabbing him by the front of his torn gold-white robes.

Luo Binghe stops. He doesn't know what to do. The last time he was in a situation like this was with his mother, and nothing had helped then.

He won't let this be the same. He won't be alone down here.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Luo Binghe chants, the words thick and clumsy in his mouth. He scrambles for his waterskin. It's only half full, now, and the strings holding it closed are ragged and torn.

The disciple groans again, louder, and his hand twitches. His eyes open slowly.

Alive, alive, alive!

Luo Binghe helps the disciple sit, pulling him up to lean against the rough cave wall. The ceiling is too low for them to sit fully upright, and the disciples head slumps sideways onto his shoulder as his eyes flutter. As soon as they open, dark and hazy and looking at him, Luo Binghe speaks.

“You're alive,” Luo Binghe says, the words rushing from him. “How are you alive, how am I alive, where are we, why did you defend me?”

[CONGRATULATIONS, CONGRATULATIONS, CONGRATULATIONS! Storyline: Endless Abyss and Endless Hatred successfully activated! +200 B point, +50 protagonist satisfaction points!]

[ERROR_UNEXPECTED VARIABLE. CALCULATING NEW SCENARIOS…]

[ERROR, ERROR, ERROR! User 02 is in restricted area. -500 B points, -500 protagonist satisfaction points]

[PUNISHMENT PROTOCOL activated by User 02_SELECTED: Trapped in a Nightmare! DURATION: 2 days]

[ALTERNATE PATHS DETECTED! NEW QUEST: HELP LUO BINGHE!]

[Please continue to do your best, the System thanks you for your efforts!]

Gongyi Xiao startles awake in a place that is very definitely not his rooms in Huan Hua.

It's dark, the air warm and thick. When he squints, there's just enough light to see the rough stone walls, too close and covered in some sort of dully-shining liquid. His entire body is sore, bruised; his meridians feel strained, his qi thin and trickling.

And his head is leaning against something unsettlingly warm and soft.

Wha—

He groans, because his everything hurts.

Immediately, his pillow tenses, shoving him away only to grab his collar. Gongyi Xiao yelps, trying to figure out where he is and who he's with.

Qi flares and the cave fills with light, bursts like little stars hovering in the air.

It illuminates the man Gongyi Xiao is half-draped across in flickering shadow and light, shining on a face he can't quite put a name to, both known and unfamiliar.

The red zuiyin, glowing faintly on his forehead, gives it away.

“You're alive,” the protagonist himself says, speaking so quickly his words almost slur. “How are you alive, how am I alive, where are we, why did you defend me?”

It takes Gongyi Xiao a moment to turn the sounds he's hearing into words, and another to actually understand them. When he does, he chokes on a breath and sputters. It causes Luo Binghe to lean over him and stare, wide eyed, into Gongyi Xiao's face, releasing his handful of Gongyi Xiao's robes to thump him heartily on the back instead. You aren't helping, protagonist! Are you trying to beat me to death already? And stop staring at me with such intense eyes, save it for the wives!

"Ah, am I," Gongyi Xiao rasps stupidly. He flushes immediately, cursing his awkwardness in the face of such intensity. "Ah, I mean—! This disciple is alive, yes."

Alive and lost! Where the hell am I?

He sneaks a look around, wracking his mind to remember what had happened to get him here.

He gets brief flashes — he remembers running towards the sounds of a distress, stopping short and hiding in the bushes when he'd caught sight of Shen Qingqiu's teal robes. He remembers seeing him, Luo Binghe, with tears shining even at a distance— and then anger like he's never felt before, surprising in its strength. He remembers parts of a fight, something fast and brutal, and and the feeling of flying through the air as the world faded.

The Immortal Alliance Conference had come and gone, attacked as per the plot. If he’s with Luo Binghe, and everything else had gone to plan—

Well.

He hadn't really wanted to go into the Abyss, but he doesn't have a choice in that anymore. He might as well make the most of it and cling to the protagonist's thighs — then he might actually make it out of the Endless Abyss.

"This disciple does not know how either of us are still alive," Gongyi Xiao croaks, aiming for wise older disciple and landing somewhere in the region of 80 year old chainsmoker instead. His voice is thick and raspy, and he has to clear his throat before he speaks again. "But this one does know where we are — the Endless Abyss, the realm between realms."

Luo Binghe stares, frowning. His hair is wild and snarled, forming a tangled crown, and his white conference robes are torn and muddied. His arms are crossed over his chest, sleeves ruined with dark patches and tears. There’s dirt smeared across his face and something like fear and hope in his starry eyes, fixed unwaveringly on Gongyi Xiao.

All the breath leaves Gongyi Xiao.

This is it!! This is what I've been waiting for! The OP stallion protagonist right in front of me!

"Endless Abyss," Luo Binghe repeats under his breath, eyes still boring into him.

Gongyi Xiao hums an affirmative, nodding.

It occurs to him then that he should probably introduce himself. Gongyi Xiao levers himself upright, leaning away from Luo Binghe’s warm side. He bows his head and brings his hands up in a proper greeting.

"This one is Gongyi Xiao, head disciple of Huan Hua Palace," he says formally. "This one thanks his companion for saving him, and carrying his body all this way."

Luo Binghe squints suspiciously. "Luo Binghe, of Qing Jing Peak," he says, and his voice cracks. "Though not anymore, this one imagines. Shen Qingqiu—" his voice breaks and he falls silent, hate burning in his eyes.

At the thought of his cruel former master, Luo Binghe scowls. His qi begins to taint the air, leaking like black smoke around him.

Gongyi Xiao panics.

"That immortal from above?" he asks rhetorically. "If Luo Binghe can survive this Abyss, he can pay him back all he deserves."

Luo Binghe's scowl doesn't ease. If anything, his brows furrow harder.

Gongyi Xiao continues panicking.

"This one only means that if we find a way out of the Abyss, then Luo Binghe can take vengeance," he adds inanely, trying to ease the dark look in the protagonist's gaze. "The—

"Shut up," Luo Binghe growls, eyes flashing like stars. "Do not speak on what you do not know. Answer my question: why did you defend me?

Gongyi Xiao laughs.

He knows it's a mistake as soon as he does it watching Luo Binghe's face draw tight with anger, his lips drawn back to show his newly sharp teeth.

"No, I didn't mean that," he hurries to say, and now he's the one rushing out words, tripping over them. "This one apologizes, he is — I mean — Ah, it was so fast!"

Luo Binghe’s eyes narrow further. They're just dark slits, now, and Gongyi Xiao imagines he can understand why so many cannon-fodder characters turned into low-IQ chumps after facing the protagonist.

He risks taking a moment to collect himself, smoothing the torn pieces of his robe into place and brushing dirt and ash off his hands. When he's sure he can speak without stumbling over himself, he meets Luo Binghe's gaze again.

And promptly looses all composure he's managed. Luo Binghe, who said you aren't terrifying?? This lousy disciple would have to make them eat their words!

Gongyi Xiao flushes, fingers plucking at the ragged hems of his sleeves. "This one only means, it happened very fast," he says slowly, thinking. He's not lying — his reaction had not been planned. He wasn't supposed to get anywhere near the protagonist during the Conference, as per the System. "This one saw a disciple being attacked, and defended him. He, ah, didn't mean to pass out, apologies."

Luo Binghe huffs. It's clearly not the answer he wants. "Did you not see this?" He asks caustically, gesturing to the blazing zuiyin on his forehead.

"I thought it was just some blood," Gongyi Xiao blurts, lapsing out of the formal speech Huan Hua drilled into him. He prays to Airplane that Luo Binghe will accept his answer and not question him further.

He's only half-saved when Luo Binghe laughs, bitter and surprised.

"How do you feel now, knowing you defended a demon?" Luo Binghe demands, voice hard and teeth bared. "That you fell into the Endless Abyss with one, that you'll die down here?"

Gongyi Xiao panics, again.

"Are demons and humans not two sides of one coin?" he hazards. He wipes his sweating hands on the legs on his pants, though it doesn't help. Luo Binghe's eyes flick down to the movement, then resume boring into Gongyi Xiao. "Surely if there are good and bad humans, there must be good and bad demons as well. And no one deserves to be attacked just for their blood —it's not like you can control who your parents are!" Gongyi Xiao ends passionately, forgetting where he is for a moment.

Luo Binghe glares, his brows drawing tighter, the corners of his mouth tense and turned down. The balls of qi lighting the cave flare brighter before dimming again, casting the protagonist's face in shadow.

"And Shi—Shen Qingqiu?" he demands. "Even if you believe demons can be good and cultivators bad, you must have recognized him, even if only as a master cultivator of Cang Qiong."

Gongyi Xiao shrugs. "They all look the same," he says flippantly, waving one hand. It's barely a lie. "Tall, flowing robes, self-important expression and better-than-thou attitudes."

Luo Binghe exhales what might be a laugh in better circumstances, tense expression disappearing. He shakes his head, but lets the topic drop.

A tense silence falls in the cave. Luo Binghe seems unwilling to leave himself unguarded, still watching Gongyi Xiao.

Gongyi Xiao, for his part, is slowly calming down. He feels panic beating at the inside of his ribcage and fluttering at his temples, demanding and distracting and entirely unhelpful. A few deep inhales and slow exhales, a technique he'd often used in his first life, help to slow his heart.

"You know a way out," Luo Binghe accuses. Gongyi Xiao startles, face flushing, but nods.

"This disciple…has heard legends," he says slowly, slipping back into more formal speech. He picks his words carefully, weighing them before he speaks. "There is a sword, the mythic Xin Mo. This one heard once that it was cast into the Endless Abyss when its last master went mad."

"And that's the sword you think will help?" Luo Binghe asks incredulously. "The one that might not even exist and if it did, drove its last master insane. That sword?"

Gongyi Xiao, taken aback, opens and closes his mouth a few times. He does feel a bit ridiculous when you say it like that, protagonist! Have a little faith in a guy!

"Ah, yes," he says weakly. "That sword."

Maybe he shouldn't have included that last detail.

Luo Binghe leans back against the cave wall, a few of the balls of qi lighting the air flickering out. The darkness feels a little heavier, now, like it's pressing down around them.

"Alright," Luo Binghe says. "How do we get to this Xin Mo, then?"

Chapter Text

Shen Yuan wakes in an unfamiliar room with a blinding headache.

He squints, waiting for the pressure behind his eyes to recede. It does, slowly, breath by breath.

Shen Yuan opens his eyes.

When he tries to sit, a wave of dizziness keeps him flat. His legs don’t stretch as far as he’s used to, his hands unfamiliarly calloused and marked with scars. There’s hair draped around him, long and dark and curling like his has never been.

Where the hell am I!? Is this a dream?

It feels real when he pinches his arm, a sharp burst of pain quickly fading.

Shen Yuan takes stock of his surroundings instead of giving into the swirl of panic and confusion building in his chest.

He’s in a fine if plain bed, worn-smooth and lacking any design. The blankets are swelteringly warm, more heat trapped by the heavy curtains around the bed.

He is, notably, not alone.

They haven’t noticed him yet, a man and woman turned away from him standing in the open doorway. They lean into each other to whisper conspiratorially.

Shen Yuan can’t hear them from the bed. He also doesn’t recognize the style of their clothes, some kind of layered, draping robes in black and gold.

The room is entirely unfamiliar. The furniture is old fashioned and looks handmade, none of the mass-produced pressed sawdust and plastic Shen Yuan is used to. There’s no plastic in the room at all, actually, not in his view.

And then he sees it.

The man has a sword on his belt. It’s tucked neatly into a sheath on his belt, radiating a hum that isn’t quite noise but Shen Yuan feels like a vibration in the air.

A spiritual weapon.

There’s only one explanation for waking up in a strange room and strange body: he’s transmigrated!

But where? And more importantly -- who!

He must make some kind of sound, because they both spin to face him.

The woman almost trips in her haste to reach the bed, steadied by the man’s hand on her shoulder. They reach the bed in bare seconds, standing over where Shen Yuan squints.

“I’ll draw the curtains,” the woman says, noticing Shen Yuan’s pained expression. The room grows darker by degrees, covering the strange windows.

“Thank you, Lian-mei. A-Xiao?” The man asks, voice low and even. It sounds like it should be familiar, the tension seeping from his shoulders and back at the comfort it brings. This must be someone the original goods was close to, then, for his body to still react.

He cannot sit up when he tries. His voice comes weak and strained with disuse and illness. “What…?”

“It's okay, A-Xiao, the man says, leaning down to take Shen Yuan’s hand in his. “Jiujiu is here.”

That answers one question, at least. This man is the original good’s uncle -- and hopefully a kind one, given how he reflectively relaxed.

Shen Yuan's mind is racing. He's trying to figure where he is, who he is, how he should react.

Fuck it, amnesia storyline it is.

Shen Yuan prepares to act his heart out. He needs this to be believable, or he might lose his life! He's seen too many shitty xianxias to not know being possessed is a real threat, and he really doesn't want to find out if an exorcism will boot his soul from his new body!

He opens his mouth to speak.

Before he can make a sound, the world falls still and silent, abrupt as pressing pause on a video. The man still stands poised above him, hand so strangely still around Shen Yuan’s. Behind him, the woman holds a handful of curtain, the cloth falling open just enough to cast a long beam of warm light across the floor. Not even the beam of light, falling warmly across the floor, wavers at all.

Shen Yuan closes his mouth.

What?!?

A box, blue and floating and impossible, glows softly before him. Characters and numbers scroll across it in shining white and disappear too fast to read. Finally, the screen clears and legible text appears.

[Loading…Loading…]

[Welcome to the System, User 02! Bound Character Role: Gongyi Xiao, Huan Hua's Fallen Head Disciple! Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations!]

[User 02 Mission: [UNAVAILABLE]. Mission Parameters: [UNAVAILABLE]. Please do your best to earn [ERROR__POINT TYPE A] and fulfill your mission!]

The screen almost stutters, blinking blue and white. Shen Yuan — Gongyi Xiao now, he supposes — tilts his head sideways, trying to see if a new angle will resolve this strange system glitch.

It doesn’t. A loading wheel replaces the words and begins to turn slowly instead.

He waits. Nothing changes. It's hard to tell how long it's been with the world frozen around him.

"Stupid system, shitty service!" he complains. He pulls his hand from the man's grasp, a shudder running down his spine. "What is this shitty AI, huh?! Load already!"

The wheel on the screen keeps turning.

If he could throw up blood on this stupid thing, he would! Unfortunately for him, nothing happens when he tries.

Gongyi Xiao exhales forcefully. "Can you at least tell me who these people are? There's nothing about Gongyi Xiao's backstory in PIDW; they'll think I'm possessed!"

For a long moment, nothing changes. All Gongyi Xiao can do is sit in the still, silent world, waiting for the System to load. He takes the time to examine the people in detail—the woman doesn't look much older than Shen Yuan had been, but the man was far older. At least 50, by his estimate. They look like they could be related to each other, too, the same graceful lines and elegant curves to them.

Gongyi Xiao is about to throw the blankets away and attempt to leave the bed when the screen finally changes.

The loading wheel disappears, replaced with faintly glowing white script.

[Host does not need to worry! No OOC restrictions have been applies to USER_02.]

"Not reassuring." (Slightly reassuring. One less worry, he guesses.)

A noise like a phone turning on battery saver rings through the room, the System's screen glitching briefly before it returns to a blank blue slate. It seems a little dimmer, now, but that might just be the lack of text.

[SYSTEM IS IN LOW POWER MODE! Functions limited to conserve energy. Please do your best and earn points to transform this shitty xianxia stallion novel in a first-rate classic!]

[NEW MISSON: To The Top of the Golden Palace! Parameters: Become Head Disciple. Good luck!]

Gongyi Xiao frowns hard and swipes at the System's screen. It barely flickers as his hand passes through, intangible under his touch. What does it mean?

The screen doesn't change again.

Gongyi Xiao taps a few places uselessly, trying to find something that will elaborate a little more. Don't worry? Doesn't this stupid thing know that's the worst thing to tell someone?

After an uncomfortable length of time spent sitting in frozen silence, he notices the X in the top corner. Slipping his hand back into the motionless cradle of the man's fingers and laying back, he fixes his gaze on it and prepares to act his heart out

Within moments the System is gone. The world bursts into motion and sound, brighter and louder and so much more than just second ago. He has to blink hard, trying to stave off the wave of vertigo that crashes over him.

The man squeezes his hand comfortingly, saying something Gongyi Xiao can't make out over the roaring in his ears, and withdraws.

His mind races, undetered.

He has only the vaguest memory of Gongyi Xiao, that bland character foil that had been thrown away so uselessly. This transmigrator will definitely be clinging to the protagonist's thighs, thank you! He wants to survive to enjoy the protagonist's reign!

But first — he needs some sort of power or position. Obviously, the position for Luo Binghe's right hand man is already occupied. And Mobei Jun can keep it, thank you! Gongyi Xiao remembers how much of the dirty work of running a kingdom Luo Bingge had dumped on Mobei Jun. This week transmigrator can't handle all that!

But Luo Bingge had never had a left-hand man—everyone other than Mobei Jun was disposed of eventually.

Which means Gongyi Xiao has a chance to take that position. He sees his hopes for the future, spinning out endlessly before him.

He'll become Head Disciple, like the System demands, and turn Huan Hua into a place he can hand over to Luo Binghe proudly.

Luo Binghe, wait for me!

They don't travel at first.

Gongyi Xiao needs the time to heal, still weak after his days of unconsciousness. Luo Binghe, with his demon blood healing him almost as quick as he's hurt, is far better off, but seems willing enough to stay for a while.

Gongyi Xiao can't stop himself from thinking what might happen to him if Luo Binghe decides he doesn't want to wait anymore. Gongyi Xiao needs Luo Binghe if he wants to make it out of the Abyss, but he's all too aware the reverse doesn't apply.

Consumed with the memories of the most vicious and terrifying creatures of the Abyss, he doesn't think about what happened before he woke. He doesn't summon the System, either, and dismisses the notifications that crowd like wisps of blue smoke as soon as they appear.

Instead, he throws himself into Gongyi Xiao, Huan Hua's Head Disciple. Gongyi Xiao, Responsible Young Cultivator.

The cave proves to be a safe enough shelter. There's no more of the bug-things Luo Binghe had described to him — Acid Spitting Horned Wasps, he suspects, but there are number of smaller pests always skittering just out of sight.

The creatures of the Abyss are well adapted and generally unwilling to risk taking on a larger threat, so the mice with disturbingly long teeth and the beetle-spiders with legs edged razor-sharp, though anxiety inducing, keep to their shadows and crevices.

That doesn't stop them making minor trouble, though. Nothing in the Abyss is truly harmless, after all. Gongyi Xiao’s qiankun pouch looses a few of its decorative tassels; they both wake to pinching bites and long, thin claws rummaging through their clothes. Still, the cave is safer than the rest of the unknown Abyss.

When he steps out of the cave for the first time, there is no evidence of the fight Luo Binghe had described. There's nothing organic as far as he can see, just sand and stone and dull red skies. Still, the back of his neck prickles with the unmistakable feeling of being watched.

He eyes the cracks in the stone around him with a new suspicion, suddenly too aware of he sluggish flow of qi in his meridians.

Just how much life is out there, hidden away where he can't see?

When another distant scream breaks the eerie silence, he hurries back into the safety of a sheltered area with a Heavenly Demon, his heart pounding in his chest.

There's not much difference between day and night in the Desert. Far above, turbulent gray clouds threaten to storm, just enough eye-straining red light filtering through to see with. They figure out quickly that temperature is the best way to keep track of passing time, alternating periods of broiling heat and freezing cold that have them uncomfortable no matter what.

When the temperatures reach their peaks, they stay in the cave and rest. Gongyi Xiao rarely travels further than the entrance in those first days. Luo Binghe leaves often, disappearing for lengths of time Gongyi Xiao struggles to track. When he does, Gongyi Xiao sits in the darkest corner of the cave and watches the entrance, waiting.

He doesn't have the qi—or most of the tools—to scribe his usual arrays into the stone. The thought of being forced to rely solely on his swordwork against the monstrous creatures of the Abyss leaves him feeling more vulnerable than he has in years, waves of nervous dread rolling through him with increasing strength the longer Luo Binghe stays out.

More often than not, Luo Binghe returns covered in blood. His robes become more and more tattered and stained, unrecognizable from the sturdy white cloth they'd started as. After some convincing, he lets Gongyi Xiao care for the few injuries that linger long enough.

They sleep in turns, using Gongyi Xiao' bedroll and leaving Luo Binghe's packed away. If one of them sits further up in the cave, keeping watch, the other can just barely lay down comfortably.

The cave remains unfortunately dark and damp, but they had at least managed to burn away most of the slime.

They don't talk much. When they do, Luo Binghe uses as few words as he can manage, tone sharp. Gongyi Xiao maintains his Head Disciple facade, unfailingly polite, cool and composed through it all.

He pretends he doesn't see the way Luo Binghe stares unblinkingly at him, though it makes his heart beat fast and palms sweat.

He and Luo Binghe take stock of the meager supplies they have on Gongyi Xiao's second day awake. Neither comments on how much more Gongyi Xiao has or the better quality, only speaking to decide how best to arrange the supplies for travel.

Luo Binghe gives Gongyi Xiao back his Conference prayer beads with something strange and unreadable in his eyes. The beads shift and click on the long string as he runs his fingers over them, already warm under his touch, and clatter when he shoves them to the bottom of his qiankun pouch.

In PIDW, Luo Bingge's prayer bead bracelet had broken when the Black Moon Rhinoceros Python had thrown him into a tree, scattering beads among the torn-up ground—an action that, just moments later, saved his life. Disarmed by the attack, Luo Binghe had reached out desperately with his qi, picking up the dropped beads and pelting them like bullets at the monster charging him. The distraction had given him enough time to take up Zheng Yang from where it had been thrown away from him and slay the Rhinoceros Python with a single sword-shattering strike.

The beads must remind him of the loss of Zheng Yang, Gongyi Xiao deduces, and promptly resolves to leave them in the bottom of his qiankun pouch.

Fortunately, Gongyi Xiao has long been in the habit of carrying a hunting dagger with him. Multiple, actually, but he'd lost most of them in the chaos of the Conference. He pulls out the last one remaining from the bottom of his qiankun pouch: a sturdy, undecorated blade about the length of his hand.

"Here," Gongyi Xiao says, holding it out to Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe looks at him with dark eyes and an unreadable expression, mouth twisting. "This one apologizes that he can't offer more right now, but we should both be armed. It's too dangerous down here."

Luo Binghe takes it, a strange, unreadable expression crossing his face. Gongyi Xiao just hopes he wasn't offended he didn't give him his sword—but it's a spiritual weapon! It's not meant to have multiple wielders at a time, Luo Binghe won't be able to use it to its full ability.

And in the Abyss, they need every advantage they can get.

Luo Binghe stands. His wild curls brush the ceiling of the cave, posture hunched. "Patrol," he grunts, striding out of the cave and into the blazing heat of the Desert before Gongyi Xiao can speak.

Gongyi Xiao watches him go. He can't stop the frown that twists his mouth, something cold and snarling scratching in his chest. His throat burns with held back words. He swallows hard.

Luo Binghe doesn't look back.

In PIDW, Luo Bingge had landed on the edge of the vast Abyssal Plains, where it bordered several different climates. Luo Bingge, attempting to make his way through the Plains, nearly lost his life to the many dangerous beasts hiding among the tall, razor-edged grass before making a hasty retreat, nursing his wounds. He'd sworn never to return, only to find he had no choice: at the center of the vast Plains laid the legendary Xin Mo.

This Luo Binghe, however, had carried Gongyi Xiao's unconscious body in the complete opposite direction. Gongyi Xiao wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious, but it couldn't have been less than a full 24 hours with how far Luo Binghe had traveled.

Luckily, Gongyi Xiao recognized where they were: the Black Crystal Fire Desert.

Just thinking the stupid name makes him cringe! It's not even accurate, either—the crystals the Desert was named for were neither black nor on fire, but clear and sharp-edged, reaching high into the sky.

From the mouth of the cave, he can see the tops of the crystals disappearing into the hazy red fog of the sky. He can see, too, the distant shadow of creatures that look like moving mountains, slow and lumbering and terrifyingly huge.

Gongyi Xiao checks the System the morning of his third day awake.

It's not his fault it took so long! He's had better things to worry about—staying alive, for one! The Abyss isn't exactly a mountain retreat! And it's not like he'd talked to it all the time before the Abyss, either, since the only mission he'd had for years had been Become Huan Hua's Head Disciple.

Gongyi Xiao is sitting next to their cave, his sword laid across his lap. A short distance away, Luo Binghe is attempting to butcher an Armored Badger Frog---notable for its supremely ugly face, extremely thick skin and fur, and long, spiked tongues. It had crawled into their cave, hoping for an easy meal, and been promptly decapitated. Now, as was the way of the Abyss, it would become their meal.

Hopefully. Despite the Protagonist's allegedly awe-inspiring cooking skills, he doesn't have high hopes. The Badger Frog's oily fur and rubbery skin seemed to be proving itself a challenge, Luo Binghe's soft cursing a constant tune.

Gongyi Xiao is scrubbing furiously at a stubborn spot of blood dried to his sword when a System notification pops up in the corner of his eye.

He sighs but relents, opening the System window. It appears with its usual eye-straining twist of air, a transparent blue pane with scrolling white text.

Gongyi Xiao will never get used to the way interacting with the System freezes time around him. Even the ambient noise of the wind and distant monsters falls silent, Luo Binghe's quiet shuffling next to him paused.

[Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations! Important things must be said 3 times. Plotline: >ENDLESS ABYSS AND ENDLESS HATRED, A SKY FULL OF BLOOD< successfully initiated!]

[Rewards have already been applied to account:USER_02! Punishment protocol: >TRAPPED IN A NIGHTMARE< Complete!]

"Punishment protocol?" Gongyi Xiao mutters, squinting at the fast-moving text.

[NEW MISSION: >Golden Finger, Golden Sidekick!< Parameters—]

"Who are you calling sidekick, huh?!" Gongyi Xiao demands, scowling.

The System scrolls a little faster, characters a little larger.

[Parameters: Help Luo Binghe Obtain Xin Mo. Reward: 5000 B Points. Please continue to do your best!]

Almost before the last characters disappear, the System window closes itself. It jolts Gongyi Xiao unpleasantly back into motion, as always. He has to close his eyes briefly to shake off the ill feeling it leaves him with, breathing deep.

Luo Binghe's shuffling resumes, then pauses again. "Hey," he says, quiet. When Gongyi Xiao opens his eyes, Luo Binghe is staring at him with something like concern. Luo Binghe returns his gaze to the carcass below him, face smoothing into neutrality.

Well, Gongyi Xiao thinks, now's as good a time as any.

"So," Gongyi Xiao starts, voice more confident than he feels. Luo Binghe's intense eyes fix on him again. Feeling pinned by the protagonist's stare, he continues "We should probably make a plan for how to get Xin Mo."

They leave the cave after Gongyi Xiao has regained enough strength to not be a danger to them both.

The terrain of the Desert is uneven and jagged, huge crystals jutting from the barren land. They refract the light in strange, dancing patterns, hypnotizing to stare at for too long.

More than once, the two sneak past huge, terrifying creatures standing like statues, transfixed by the reflected light.

There’s no sun in sight, just dull skies stretching to the horizon. The light they let through is dim and smothered, straining his eyes. Luo Binghe seems unbothered, but Gongyi Xiao regularly has to close his eyes and hold onto Luo Binghe's robes to fight back the ache clouding his temples, the tired blurring in his eyes.

It's hot, too, almost unbearable with the way the air hangs like a thick, heavy curtain, smelling like ash and metal and dust.

It's all sand and rocks, shifting and unstable underfoot, with too many places for creatures to hide. They're caught off guard more often than Gongyi Xiao wants to admit, but without a stationary camp to draw a warning array around he can't really do anything about it.

Both Luo Binghe and Gongyi Xiao suffer more than a few attacks to their legs and feet, monsters lunging from cracks in the ground or under deceptively thin stone. They develop of method of walking quickly and lightly, following in each other's footsteps. One watches their surroundings, leading them and spotting any threats from above, while the other follows, watching the ground.

In this way, they manage to move fairly quickly through, avoiding fighting more dangerous than a Three Headed Fire Cicada — big and terrifyingly ugly creatures, but not terribly hard to kill if you know to aim for the weak spot on the underside.

Gongyi Xiao still feels oddly worn down, his qi circulating weakly in stuttering bursts. He's hungry, too -- he hadn't quite reached the stage where he can practice inedia long term, but he can go much longer than the average human without food and water. The rations they have won't last long, but hopefully long enough to find clean water and edible food.

It's a concern he keeps to himself, for now. He still needs to prove to Luo Binghe that he's worth the effort of keeping around.

Luo Binghe is willing to follow Gongyi Xiao's direction, too, falling into step behind him without argument or complaint.

Gongyi Xiao had expected Luo Binghe to argue with him, to be as stubborn and suspicious he had that first day. It seems to have been an example of Luo Binghe in a particularly bad mood, though -- Luo Binghe is still suspicious and withdrawn, but he appears to be willing to listen to Gongyi Xiao.

It feels strange and wrong to be leading the protagonist like this. Gongyi Xiao isn't some peerless immortal leading a little white lotus, or an enemy in disguise waiting to betray him.

He's an obstacle in Luo Bingge's path, a stepping stone to higher places, to be used and discarded.

But Luo Binghe is smart and cunning; if Gongyi Xiao gives him an advantage, he might be willing to keep him around.

Thankfully, they don't have to venture far into the Desert. Their water is running out faster than he'd like with two of them, even if they can both go longer than the average person without. As they trudge through sand, wrapping loose cloth around their faces to combat the cruel whip of the winds, Gongyi Xiao thinks over his plan.

The first step to obtaining Xin Mo was to go get another sword altogether.

The sword had been Bingge's first since Zheng Yang, inspiring conflicting emotions that were ultimately lost in Airplane's waves of drawn-out fight scenes and equally, if not more, drawn-out papapa scenes. Anyway, Luo Binghe had shattered this sword too in the fight against Xin Mo's guardian in a blatant rewrite of the Black Moon Rhinoceros Python fight from the Conference. Shen Yuan had hit character limit commenting on that chapter —twice!

They just have to make it to where the Eternal Blood River cuts through the jagged crystal cliffs bordering the Desert, then they can follow the river downstream to the Forest of the Undying Night. In the center of the forest, buried in ancient ruins, was a powerful sword.

Not Xin Mo levels of powerful, of course! Nothing can infringe on the might of the Protagonist's golden finger — so says stallion novel law!

But the sword had gotten Bingge across the Abyssal Plains and to Xin Mo in one —albeit regenerating—piece.

It's not the same path Bingge had taken. That had been thrown out the window the moment Luo Binghe started dragging Gongyi Xiao's unconscious body the complete opposite direction.

But since Gongyi Xiao is avoiding most of the backtracking, aimless wandering, and most dangerous monsters, they hopefully won't have to spend the full five years down here that Bingge had.

With both of them armed and the Protagonist's Halo on their side, Gongyi Xiao thinks he just might make it out alive.