Chapter Text
A boy was abandoned.
The earth split and bared its fangs, revealing a ruthless, scalding maw. An Abyss, heated by the primordial energy of the universe itself, scarred the land in a wound that sowed fear at a glance.
And Luo Binghe was thrown into that hell.
His consciousness shuddered. The young demon rested weakly against a rough cave wall that clawed minor scratches into his back. They did not heal. He did not pay them the slightest bit of mind.
The air was disgustingly humid and smelt of burnt hair and flesh, allowing no reprieve from the senses. Moisture clung to the rocks and hung densely in the air, acrid and perturbing. Xin Mo jutted out of his chest and stabbed nearly through the other side of the boy's body.
He ached.
He was weak, starving, and tired.
The Abyss had many horrid qualities, the worst arguably being how time moved. Days went on for eternities while the nights were over in the blink of an eye. Luo Binghe had no real sense of how long he had been stuck here. He woke up with most of his bones broken, in utter despair at how his Shizun had looked at him. Like he was worthless. And he was forced to fight. Down here, the monsters were often mindlessly violent, and fighting for his survival every waking moment was something he had long grown used to.
Ah. That was another thing.
He was always awake.
On the rare occasion he had a moment of respite, it was notoriously interrupted by the next life-or-death battle. So he had kept rest to an absolute minimum at the cost of his sanity.
He had met a few characters in the Abyss, some simply pitiful and seeking protection, others leaning to take advantage of him. He had motioned through it all in a daze, always ending up alone again. Truly, there was only one presence he wished was by his side. Luo Binghe often thought that if Shen Qingqiu had been here with him, he would have continued fighting like this for centuries. Alas, his daydreams stray far from his reality.
Dark veins rooted themselves throughout his sternum, stemming from the sword while they invaded countless capillaries. His skin felt like it was being soldered by the creeping streaks. They climbed as the sword crooned in delight, feasting on the boy's energy ceaselessly.
The instant he touched this godforsaken sword, it flooded his psyche with thousands of voices. Screams, cries, and whispers overlapped each other in a horrifying hum of desire. It was between his eyes where he felt as though the Abyss had extended, splitting his temple in agony. He thought of his Shizun. His breath quickened as he was filled with the will of Xin Mo. He wanted to conquer. His body had begun trembling as his vision went in and out of focus. He tried to focus on fighting back, but he was unable to drag his mind back from his master. There was so much he wanted, and he could take it all with the power this sword holds.
Luo Binghe was losing this battle. He knew that he would not end the victor if this went on, a fight of wills for days on end. Luo Binghe would become the demon his Shizun saw in him that day.
He needed to win.
Its hunger seemed endless, indeed a weapon befitting the Abyss. It hungered so profoundly that he could not rival it. As the sword pierced his skin, he hoped that hunger would feast on him until he was nothing but a dried corpse. Xin Mo ruthlessly pushed past his ribs, and almost blissfully, Luo Binghe felt his body dying.
He would not let it make him into what his Shizun thought he was.
And it was finally quiet.
The screeching in his mind settled in slowing thrums as his headache went from skull-splitting to a mild throbbing.
Perhaps this was what his master had wanted to happen.
Maybe the man had wished he had perished neatly and without suffering from the fall.
Or perhaps he wanted him to suffer.
A sharp sting drew him from his thoughts. It felt like thousands of fire ants crawling through his body as his meridians were dried. He looked inwards to his core, steeling his resolve.
Self-destruct and feed the rest of his qi to the blade.
He knew what desire felt like. He knew that this sword held nothing but desire, and with this… at least one of them would get what they wanted.
He wasn't afraid of this outcome. He had realized by now that he shouldn't have been born, to begin with… but the boy mourned the life he could have had. A quiet one on Qing Jing Peak with Shizun. Cooking for him, handling mundane peak tasks, taking care of his master as much as he could. He would have stayed with Shizun forever. And this desire would have never surfaced.
Another round of grating stinging attacked him as his body was further consumed.
It was now or never. He had to remain conscious for this to work.
"I'm sorry, Shizun...” he choked through tears that took with them the dirt and blood caking his face.
He took a rapid, shuddering breath and pulled forcibly at his core.
“—Binghe?” Shen Qingqiu called, the shifting leaves outside drawing his attention.
There was no response.
The same as it had been for a while.
Get a grip! There are still three more years until Binghe comes back…. Fuck— don't think about it! That's a problem. For. Later! A sigh escaped his lips as he returned to his tea.
It was challenging to think about the hardships his poor white lotus was experiencing now… but the Abyss was a scholarship the protagonist had to take!!!
The peak was calm. Ming Fan had long grown used to this new routine his Shizun had created in his grief. The evening calm was interrupted by his master calling out for that boy at the slightest disturbance, and then a tragic sigh followed. Although it had grown less frequent these days, he still glanced at Ning Yingying, who nodded knowingly at him.
She had long been tasked with distracting Shizun whenever he got like this, lest he fall into another slump of mourning.
Without hesitation, she got up and walked to Shen Qingqiu’s door. With a small inhale, a goofy smile was painted on her face as she knocked and walked in, planning on talking her master's ear off until he sent her away to rest.
Late into the night, an ear-piercing metallic screech startled Shen Qingqiu from his rest. The noise was horrendous as he sucked in a sharp breath, heart pounding. He stared at the screen before him, unable to understand why the system suddenly came online again without warning.
【ERROR! ERROR! ERROR!】
Could it not even have taken a moment to adjust its volume?!
Another round of alerts rung off before the screen was finally able to settle on one text box:
【PROTAGONIST STATUS: Deceased !(;´Д`)】
The sound from his surroundings suddenly lost their intensity. The ringing in his ears was the only thing that persisted. It was like the system was vibrating or… shaking. Shen Qingqiu couldn't understand what was happening in front of him, abrupt crackling reminded him of the sound old TVs made when you put your ear up to them.
Overwhelmed, he tried to cover his ears to dampen the noise, not taking his eyes off of the system’s words. His breathing became unsteady as he read the line over and over again.
Fucking impossible! Binghe— Binghe had—?!
Once more, the screen struggled to change; Pixelated sections switching before the rest.
【SYSTEM ERROR: Severe canon divergence! #majorcharacterdeath. Diagnosing…………………….. IMMEDIATE RESOLUTION NECESSARY!】
Bullshit! He yelled internally at the system, practically biting through his lower lip.
It was Luo Binghe! How?! What about his halo?!
He watched as a buffering symbol spun in the center of the crackling screen, coming to realize something. Was it his interference that caused this?
Was Binghe not strong enough before he was tossed into the Abyss? Shen Qingqiu’s fingers subconsciously dug into his scalp, clenching a fist full of hair.
Yes, he went OOC the minute he could— but the fact that he could go OOC without punishment meant that the system didn't deem it necessary to stay the same anyway! Where had this gone wrong? Binghe was far more adept than the original, thanks to the proper training he had received… So what happened? Loosening his grip on his head, he thudded a fist on the wall beside him, cursing.
Hey!! System, what the fuck?! Tell me what the hell is going on!
The system sputtered. Its light flickered as it seemed to force the screen to shift again. Shen Qingqiu held his breath with his night robes in a death grip on his lap.
【Solution found. Protagonist’s Rebirth: Lament of the Weeping Spirit. Angsty au created!】
His brows furrowed deeply. Did this mean the plot was too far gone? Or could a new objective rectify the situation? His heart was in his throat as the system had another fit before him.
Damn! Should he have saved the Sun Moon Dew Mushroom for his disciple instead?! This was just too unreasonable!
【New Objective: Reunite with one once lost! We hope you can continue the experience with minimal issues. Reentering hibernation mode to debug and recalculate.
Good luck, host!ヽ(￣﹏￣;)ノ】
What the fuck was this?! Shitty system!!
“Have you heard, ah? A weeping spirit escaped the Abyss!” A round-faced woman spoke, her back turned to the dim kitchen as she wrapped buns with waxed paper. The sun had long set, and homes were filled with domestic scenes such as this one.
“A weeping spirit? Those aren't very scary,” her child replied with a puffed chest, finishing up her bun with crumbs stuck to her chin.
"That's true. Though, this one is quite fierce,” she sighed, finishing the last bun and adding it to the small stack. “I heard that it comes deep into the night and drags children who stay up late into the Luo River…”
As she spoke, a distant whistle of wind grew louder. As it howled, it began to contort and almost mimicked the groan of a monster.
“Ah,” the mother sighed exaggeratedly once more as she turned around. “I hope it doesn't take my sweet little A-Li.”
The wind picked up again, and the house shook slightly from it.
“Wu…” the young girl slipped off her kitchen seat and tiptoed to the bed without a fuss.
The night was quiet, except for the infrequent gusts that pushed at the house.
A polite knock sounded on the woman's door a few moments later.
She glanced at the window, confirming it was well past dusk.
So late! Who would come knocking on this Auntie's door at this hour?
After a short moment and a start, she was greeted by two well-kept teenagers dressed in Can Qiao disciple robes.
“Hello, ma'am.” He gave a polite bow, which the other disciple mirrored. “My shidi and I are passing through and spoke with the village head, he said you might have a spare room for the night? If it isn't too much trouble, of course.”
The woman gave a genial smile to the boys, extending a hand to invite them in.
“Please, call me Auntie. I have two guest rooms attached to the yard that should work. They aren't large, but they block the wind well,” she said, leading the two to her kitchen.
“Would the cultivators like anything to eat?” As she finished the question, the wind picked up once more. A cry seemed to follow from outside, barely distinguished from the whistling breeze. The two martial brothers seemed to perk up slightly at the sound.
“Mama?” The small girl poked her head out from the bedroom, her eyes red from fright. “Is the spirit coming for me because I can't sleep…?” she said, sniffling as tears welled in her eyes.
“Ai, come here,” she cooed, scooping her child into her arms. “The spirit won't come, it won't come." She sighed, smoothing down the girl's hair as she rocked her.
"Forgive us for listening, Auntie, but what spirit?” The taller disciple questioned, once more hearing a cry.
She took a seat at the table and continued to comfort her daughter: “A few weeks ago, we began to hear sobs and cries throughout the night. The wind had since picked up, and the sounds howl through the village at night. They are quiet, but just loud enough to her,” she said, looking towards the window.
“It hasn't caused anything but a bit of trouble sleeping. No one has seen the spirit, so I wonder if it is just some kids messing around trying to get a rise out of us. It has become a way to make rowdy children go to sleep on time.”
The disciples looked towards each other, speaking to each other with minute expressions.
Should we go and take a look?
The other boy blinked. It would be nice to take care of a small spirit and get praise from Shizun, no? He's been quite down lately.
The boys turned to the woman in unison. “Auntie, we can take a look. It sounds like a small issue we can handle before we rest.”
The disciples fought against the growing breeze, heading towards the Luo River, which sounded like it was traveling in a roar. The long grass was flattened against the gusts, curving thinner trees in round arcs. Even the regrowing leaves were being ripped from branches and thrown at them. Truly, it was a bit cumbersome.
“Shixiong, do you think this is a good time to do this?” The younger boy held his arm in front of his face, avoiding any natural debris flying towards them. “It might be best to report back to the sect first…” His skin prickled against the cool air that permeated his robes as if he weren’t wearing anything at all. His hair was actually standing on end… but that was due to the eerie atmosphere around the dark clearing ahead.
"Are you afraid of the ghost story, shidi?” The teen chuckled. Although his hand rested on his spirit sword, he was far less phased than his martial brother. With a light tone, he asked, “Worried it'll drag you into the river for staying up past bedtime? The auntie said it hadn’t actually attacked anyone. It’s probably just wandering around by instinct.”
“No, just… it sounds like it's getting worse, right?” he said, anxiety growing.
As they moved closer to the river, not only were the cries growing louder, but they were also increasing in intensity. The sobs became wails that came from deep within one's chest, choked and desperate. The sound was so dire that it made him emotional, his eyes reddening as he used his sleeve to wipe away any stray tears.
It sounded so painful.
The older teen steeled his gaze, searching for the source of the cries amongst the riverside trees. Something did seem a bit… off about this. He felt his emotions stir as well, despite having no real empathy for this ghost he had yet to lay eyes on. Was it an effect of being in proximity to it? He clenched the grip of his sword tighter, scanning on guard.
His eye was drawn to the flutter of red robes that hung over the river. A man gripped at his chest and head, hovering just over the rapids. His eyes were shut tightly in agony, appearing as though his soul were in pain.
He released a deafening scream that disrupted the quickening flow beneath him. A qi pulse flew from its body, forming a crater beneath him that even the river avoided. It screamed and clawed at itself, seemingly wishing it could rip the skin off of its bones. The water rose, blocking the disciple's view. The river dropped from in front of them and encircled the ghost in a sphere of liquid, qi fluctuating as it cried. Waves crashed against the dropped bank, and the older disciple had to grab onto his shidi’s robe, stabbing his sword into the peat so as not to be tossed away by the typhoon-like winds. Stray droplets were flying about like a strong storm had arrived.
What on earth had caused an outburst like this?! According to the woman, there hadn’t been a single issue thus far!
The screaming was muffled by the water globe the spirit had encased himself in, turbulent and churning. It fluctuated with dark energy that resembled demonic qi but felt different… almost cleaner. It was unlike anything he had felt before, clearly above their realms and perhaps even on the level of his Shizun. If this spirit was able to control the water and wind, just what kind of destruction could it wreak on the village?
Before he was able to formulate his next move, the energy suddenly disappeared, and the water returned to the river in an instant.
The spirit drew quiet, still hovering. The surroundings stilled, and it was as though nothing had happened, even the wind calmed. The man turned to the two with a look of glass, tears still endlessly streaming down his face. Expressionless, as though his turbulent emotions hadn’t nearly caused a devastating hurricane mere moments ago. The older disciple sucked in a breath and yanked his sword out of the ground. The spirit turned away, slowly sinking beneath the steady stream until he could no longer be seen.
“Shidi, we have to report this to Shizun. Immediately.” His face was dark as he spoke. Without waiting for the other boy to respond, he grabbed his shidi’s wrist and mounted his sword, his mind turbulent. It was hard to believe, but he was pretty certain…
The— the spirit was the head disciple Luo Binghe!!!!
Chapter images!
Luo Binghe's spirit design by me: