Chapter 10: 10 Stalks: Perfection, completion


Notes:

I wanted to do a bit more with this chapter, but it wasn't happening so~
Warning: Some graphic depictions of violence & emotional turmoil


Shen Qingqiu returned to his Bamboo House and took out a guqin. There were duties he should be attending to, like the morning paperwork to complete, the disciple lesson plans to revise, a tea set and accompaniment sweets to prepare for tea with Li Qingrong. He should be reviewing the cultivation manual edited for Ning Yingying's personal training plan, or checking the array on Luo Binghe's to seal it to all but his qi. There were whispers from his network to check against the Library, implications to plan for, details to confirm.

But seeing them, those weapons turned against one another, the stark realisation that these were children.

Children, who had under a decade of life left in them if the path was not changed, if Shen Qingqiu could not change it. They were all doomed to die, terrified and in pain.

The strings rippled under his fingers. There were pictures in his head, memories of a dead man gained through the nightmares That Beast tormented his mind with when he was too weak to stay awake.

He drew a breath and tasted smoke.

(-The great billows of chocking black smoke rising from the Peaks of the Great Sect, fire always fire crawling through the ironwood trees of Bai Zhan, the orchards and fields of Xuan Shu, Zui Xian and the priceless medicines of Qian Cao; cackling crackles and spitting tongues lapping at the Wan Jian peatland, devouring the careful Huang Ye habitats, the sectioned An Ding timber stocks...the beauteous lush temperate forest of Qing Jing up the swaying bamboo.

And the screams -)

The disciples hadn't stood a chance. They couldn't even run (-nowhere to go, children trapped in rings of flame that toyed with them and slowly circled closer and burned- ).

Notes rang out in the room, wavering and climbing, frantically flickering higher and higher like- (sweeping flames devouring all in the wake of the Red-Eyed Malice, the shrieks and screams of the Spirit Eagles and flying summons of Huang Ye and the cultivators who flew with them, ripped apart in showers of gore lost in the smoke)

(Landslides. The ground giving way beneath unwary feet. Giant Armoured Centipedes bursting from the ground, tunnels collapsing behind them, iridescent carapace soon streaked with violence)

(Then, as punishment to the last survivors, He called the Ants.)

(Wave upon wave of tiny scuttling, engulfing All in black legs and glowing red eyes and horrifying silence as not even bones remained)

( A tunnel collapsed into a deep, narrow pit, a Boy, a Young Man, so strong, so so foolish, still fighting despite the inevitable to meet his death with Honour, a careless hand on his chest a push and-)

(A foolish young man was swallowed by the black and red glow )

The door slammed open.

And he was back in the Bamboo House, with green bamboo sighing on the breeze.

And Yue Qingyuan in his doorway, holding the door in a white knuckled grip.

Then he was in. Rushing forward, too fast, too close, grabbing his wrist with large warm fingers curling and gripping and pressing tight.

Shen Qingqiu flinched.

The hand like spirit metal around his jerked as if not retract, but stubbornly remained until heavy qi finished sweeping through Shen Qingqiu's mangled meridians, fingers pulsing with yang-favoured earth. Then they ripped themselves away as if a moment's longer contact would taint them with his poison.

And yet sweet, syrupy qi like stolen berries of tanghulu shared in a dim back alley settling through raw spirit veins and soothing the chaotic, destructive upheaval of his qi, gently directing his water to regulate his fire and interacting without truly mingling... just like the man himself.

( The last time he felt this qi was when he tasted it - )

Shen Qingqiu tensed his jaw, "Zhangmen-shixiong may own this Peak, but he might be expected to respect the privacy of another's dwelling."

"...I'm sorry Xiao Jiu-" A fission of viciously hissing steam tore through his veins. If not for the viscous coat of sugar qi Shen Qingqiu might have Deviated slightly right then, even so something started bleeding and the surge shoved at his scarred spirit veins and made them ache. His next breath tasted of iron.

"- Qi-ge was worried, he learned from Mu-shidi about Liu-shidi in the Caves and-"

"And Zhangmen-shixiong was worried that this Shen Qingqiu had done something, that this one had taken advantage of his martial brother in weakness and struck. "

There was a moment's pause, Yue Qingyuan's face folding into shocked denial, but in those deep dark eyes there was a flicker that said Guilt.

He suddenly felt cold. Small and constricted and so very, very cold. The world fell flat and receded. Silence screamed in his ears.

Shen Qingqiu curled his lips back from his teeth by reflex ( never show your weakness) "If the Honourable Lord-Master Yue Qingyuan fears such, he should release this-" poisonous "-one from his bond of fealty."

"What?!- no. Xiao Jiu-"

DON'T CALL ME THAT

"Release me!"

"NO!"

A shudder rattled his ribs. He had never heard this voice raised against him.

His spirit vein writhed around their meridian anchors. Burning blood bubbled up his throat, droplets spraying as he hissed, voice building into a hoarse cry " Then tell me Why ! "

Years. Years and years and years of waiting, of wondering and wanting.

Qi-ge stared at his red speckled lips, his own quivering with... words? With reasons? An explanation after all this time... Or perhaps they would move to form his truthful thoughts, words forming around 'promise', 'duty' and 'obligation', ('burden' and 'rejection').

-Yue Qingyuan reached out, moving to take his wrist, hold his hand, make some sort of CONTACT- He snarled like the animal he was, he might have used words, it didn't really matter, his hearing was fading in and out to the roaring of flames and waves-

Or maybe, as always-

"I'm sorry."

He turned to go ( again. Leaving without a backwards glance. Againagainagainandalways).

Acid spite mingled with the blood in his mouth and Shen Qingqiu called after him with bitter mocking, "Then this Shen Qingqiu will hold to his word."

Like this Yue Qi did not.

Broad shoulders hunched, silhouetted against the bright light, the strength in them pitifully diminished. But he did not turn.

And then he was gone.

The silence in his ears screamed like the cries of people burning. His skin blazed with heat.

And he was laughing.

Head thrown back, teeth bared and scarlet stained, throat exposed for a man to slit, whether the men arriving or the man just gone or any man or woman at all didn't matter, enough clamoured for the opportunity. What did his life matter anyway? He didn't even have a Name.

And he laughed.

Until his breath ran out and his teeth grit against a lurching sob. Until warm salt and sticky iron trickled down his face and froze into frost and boiled into steam. Until gentle hands took his wrist and the qi of growing things bloomed in his meridians and he grinned at the ceiling and gave them his throat. Until the painful flares and clashes of his own qi soothed slightly and darkness swept over him.

.

.

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Mu Qingfang rubbed soothing pressure and qi in circular motions into the Inner frontier gate on Shen Qingqiu's wrist and eased him into sleep. His eyes met troubled mauve over silky brown hair and saw the silent question. Mu Qingfang nodded and reached up to support the back of Shen Qingqiu's head as Li Qingrong settled more comfortably behind him, resting the scholars head on his shoulder and his feeling cool yin-flavoured earth begin flowing from the hands on their shixiong's back.

He and Li Qingrong had met on the path to the Bamboo Hut, much to his surprise as the Jing Shen Lord always looked slightly strained and uncomfortable around Shen Qingqiu. However, over conversation he veiled Lord revealed his worry for their martial brother from news of his latest Deviation, though Mu Qingfang thought there was more he did not share, as pale lips pressed together and thoughtful eyes like the petals of the Faery Feast Mallow shifted to the side behind his delicately embroidered weimao talisman veil.

Whatever it was, Mu Qingfang did not have the opportunity to press as the spirit-sensitive Twelfth Lord as his head suddenly shot up and he sprinted up the path towards the Bamboo Hut. Mu Qingfang raced after him, qi enhancing their footsteps to further, faster, like swooping birds of prey.

As they approached, he saw the Sect Leader mounting his ever-sheathed sword in the approximate direction of Qian Cao. He saw them and sagged in relief, an air of devastation about him that could only mean one thing: Shen Qingqiu was Deviating, or a hairs-breadth away from it, depending on how quickly Yue Qingyuan extricated himself from their encounter (he knew not to attempt to soothe it himself, decades of experience had taught Yue Qingyuan and Mu Qingfang that his intervention only ever made Shen Qingqiu's state worse, even as his qi was paradoxically best accepted after the episode passed.).

Now, he looked down at the bloodied man, always so elegant and immaculate and felt a grim expression press on his features. Another Qi Deviation... though it was brief, there was always damage and with Shen Qingqiu's recent upheavals, during the fever and the Liu Qingge's Deviation... his spirit veins were dangerously strained, warped awkwardly in their intended pathways.

If Shen Qingqiu was not extremely careful with his emotional state and qi usage for the foreseeable future, he might Misalign his spirit veins entirely which...well, in the best case, if not Realigned, his Golden Core would drain qi into the surroundings and collapse in on itself, snuffed out and leaving Shen Qingqiu mortal but living, or it could continue to drain until he dies, or qi could build up without a functional outlet system and release in a cataclysmic destruction magnitudes worse than Self-Destruction … or, at the point of full Misalignment, Shen Qingqiu's astral might be destroyed, leaving his casual body –his soul- detached from his physical body, lingering as a spirit, forever prevented from entering the cycle of reincarnation or joining his martial siblings in Heaven when they eventually Ascended.

There was no illness to cure here, no poison to counter or wound to tend...none that he could reach at any rate... still, he was the Lord of the leading medical division across Sects and there were rare herbs and rarer tinctures he knew of or grew himself in the Greenhouses, recipes in the Library Archives and state of the art instruments in the Alchemy Halls.

Perhaps...He had noted some more obscure and delicate treatment combinations not long prior to his appointment as Peak Lord when his shifu shared her full medical knowledge of the succeeding generation and discussed with him likely complications. One among the was the increased risk of qi-related damage and disfigurement in a powerful doubled yin nature cultivator like Shen Qingqiu, who would attract all manner of aphrodisiac plants, cursed artefacts and enterprising demons.

Now, Mu Qingfang had an array of dried leaves and flowers ready to be mixed in tea blends, powders ground to be refined into pills and salves and ointments set to stimulate qi flow between the environment, the skin and the inner body.

If Shen Qingqiu remained in the qi-rich environment of Cang Qiong... they could prevent Misalignment entirely and potentially strengthen Shen Qingqiu's spirit veins enough to reduce his susceptibility to full Qi Deviations under the pressure of his increasingly apparent Heart Demons.

For now, he took an everflow ewer and a cloth from a qiankun space pocket, wet it and methodically wiped away the blood on his scholar-brother's face. Sensing with his own that Li Qingrong's yin-leaning earth qi was dampening Shen Qingqiu's fire and redirecting his water away from stagnation points where his veins had warped, Mu Qingfang fed into Shen Qingqiu's fire to prevent any negative consequence of the inherent weakening cycle.

Gathering the man into his arms, he stood as Li Qingrong moved to open the partition to Shen Qingqiu's sleeping quarters, frowned when he found them and after a brief, fruitless search, pulled some simple pillows and thick blankets from space pouches- standard issue on the Twelfth Peak for displaced people during Jing Shen cultivator land remodelling in preventing or addressing environmental hazards.

Yes, Shen Qingqiu was in no shape to sleep like a Ku Xing cultivator, but he did have some softer, high-quality furnishings stored in... that small embroidered silk pouch tucked away out of sight. Though why he had them never to be use is a mystery to Mu Qingfang.

Setting Shen Qingqiu down, he retrieved the pouch from its hiding place and worked with Li Qingrong to ensconce their martial brother in softness and warmth (including the tawny Soft-Wool Cloud Sheep blanket he bartered a good deal of minor healing salve for. Why was it here? Though renowned for its softness, it was not fit for a noble's parlour like the numerous jade-beaded, gold-embroidered cushions, why were they stored together? Shen Qingqiu was nothing if not ridiculously meticulous in all things).

Lighting his orchid incense sticks to fill the air, the Peak Lords moved into the main room, leaving the partition half shut to unobtrusively monitor their nominal host.

Mu Qingfang made tea while Li Qingrong applied some white Tige Balm to his temples, then they sat in comfortable silence, waiting for Shen Qingqiu to wake.

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.

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Li Qingrong stared through the wispy steam of his cup and allowed himself to slip into light meditation, heightening his spiritual awareness as much as possible without true, deep meditation. So much closer to the Heavens on the Tian Gong peaks and without the distance of mortal nations between them, the Peaks of the Sect shone like the brightest starfield, with each a crowning gem of a Peak Lord.

Shen Qingqiu... Li Qingrong's awareness drifted towards the tether point in himself that linked the Peak Lords together in a shimmering constellation, one link between each of them, stretching across the astral planes in a web of loyalty, trust and connection.

Shen Qingqiu was – in a word- a contradiction. He was fire and water, both yet neither. He was cold, sharp, distant and vicious, yet he had never looked at him with any more or less distaste than he did the rest of their martial siblings (...Liu Qingge and Yue Qingyuan exempt...), there was never any of the wariness or discomfort most people showed at the full sight of him, his ghost pale complexion and odd, murky poison eyes. Because he looked, he saw the way he protected them all, in an adjacent, twisty, prickly way as if it would lose him face.

In fact, Shen Qingqiu had once swept in and defended him against one such person at one social convention or another years ago, verbally eviscerating the offending party before turning and making some cutting comment about how Li Qingrong would have been able to handle it himself if he spent less time playing with mud and more on his social duties, all in the stretch of time between the person leaving and Li Qingrong beginning to thank him.

Sinking slightly deeper into meditation, he was hit with a sudden cacophony of sound, bright tinkling chimes of disciples, a steady drumming thrum of Mu Qingfang like drums with a mellow overtone of flute, the low mourning song of Yue Qingyuan with piercing bursts of staccato guilt, panic, regret and fresh sorrow.

And- the chaos noise of Shen Qingqiu, slightly suppressed in slumber. Clashing notes played on gugin strings, pitches reverberating and overlapping jarringly, shouting and screaming and bellowing and crying.

There was a definite remnant of the... attack, of the ashy, dead thing that crossed over the spiritual planes. The trace of it lingered like the scent of incense, or the tint of smoked glass.

But for the spirit itself... it, it seemed to have been absorbed by Shen Qingqiu's own soul. This... would be more worrying if there were signs of attempted possession or at least struggle, which would have caused the bonds between Lords to brighten in instinctive increase in spiritual power flow to lend aid. But there was none and from the echoes of this new dynamic from Sheen Qingqiu, it seemed almost familiar.

...Could it be a soul imprint from another plane's Shen Qingqiu? With his damaged cultivation... perhaps the rest of the generation Ascended and Shen Qingqiu, his core not strong enough, failed the Tribulation, destroying his body and shattering his soul as his bonds within the generation broke. Gods could not hold bonds with mortal souls after all, the sheer gulf between them incompatible and as such impossible.

If so, then whatever knowledge he had gained had clearly not soothed his Heart Demons, judging by the episode of this afternoon it might have made them worse.

Withdrawing his awareness from the spiritual plane, Li Qingrong sipped his tea (just on the edge of too strong. His brother could concoct any elixir known to him with absolute perfection, but he had never quite been able to apply these skills to making simple, non-medicinal tea. He knew the hazel-eyed man preferred to drink his strong enough to strip the lining of his mouth, so perhaps there were small mercies to be had).

Well. Shen Qingqiu had never asked for the aid of his martial siblings in these matters and it had obviously led him to ruin in another life.

Mu Qingfang was bound to know of plants and beasts with useful attributes for Cultivation, it would be no different from some other gathering assignments Jing Shen received while they travelled. He would speak to Mu Qingfang and the Sect Leader about it (his eyes drifted over to the shape buried under blankets, radiating old distress). Soon.

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Notes:

•Inter-regulating: Earth contains and directs water (dams or river banks), water regulates fire
•Weakening: Earth smothers fire, fire burns wood.
•Inner frontier gate: a pressure point for aiding sleep and soothing nausea, stomach pain & headaches, according to Google~

•Yinfeng: Silver Wind
•Red-Eyed Malice- demonic phoenix with crocodile scale patches and large horns dripping corrosive red 'liquid malice' that ignites on contact.
•Faery Feast Mallow- mallow flowers are mauve (and another name for the colour) and the seeds are faery cheese. They feed all sorts of small nature sprites.

As always, fell free to share thought on improvement, errors and just opinions in general! :)