namio

Did you think I was dead? Unfortunately, no. It's a disappointment, I know. That aside, I'm still too tired to finish the half-finished February's Rain chapter, so this week it'll be a bit of a schedule swap. Hopefully next week everything will be back to normal. Thank you for reading!

The next few days were pretty peaceful; Xuan Lang, being the popular person he was, found himself busy for days as the Sect Head called upon him several times for this and that. Some disciples from the other peaks came by, too, to ask if there were anything he was willing to trade away— Holy Tree Peak disciples, for one, wanted to know if he’d chanced upon some beast venoms or poisons, and the head disciple of Blue Soul Peak asked if he had any beast cores. Xuan Lang had the latter, but not the former. If Shen Jing remembered correctly, he traded a two-tailed fox beast core for a small stack of lightning talismans that could be applied to his sword.

Shen Jing, on the other hand, had dedicated his days to getting used to the rhythm of life here, fine-tuning the main plot points and antagonist background with Assistant 51C. She had been reporting back on the development of the wolf based on the new input; the wolf had named himself Xuan Shi, after his oath to look after his savior’s son. Shen Jing gave a sad smile at that.

“Is he doing anything else?” There were about five or so years to this sect arc; Xuan Shi must’ve gone to track down Xuan Lang for part of it. Actually, Shen Jing wasn’t sure of the beast’s age either. Must be older than Xuan Lang’s 19, though.

<He just found a friend yesterday, a white deer god, pet of a forest god. The deer is helping him with his wounds right now. And with cultivation stuff. Also, Xuan Shi is about 50 years old, according to the magic calculation thing the system spat out.>

Oh, Shen Jing remembered the white deer. It was a mysterious figure more or less, and had met up with Xuan Lang several times to dissuade him from open confrontation with Xuan Shi. It was clear that he was trying to de-escalate on both sides; there were hints of the consequences of trying to reason with the so-called Demon Dog of the Dark Wolf. But then the white deer was killed, causing the Demon Dog to lose all reason, and that led to He Jiangshan’s death. All hell broke loose then.

“The white deer can’t die,” Shen Jing surmised. “Is plot armor something we can assign…?”

<Well, you can. I can apply it for frivolous deaths for now, though, would that be okay?>

“Frivolous death?”

<Deaths unrelated to the plot. He won’t get shot at by a rando hunting, for example.>

Shen Jing thought about it. It was probably good enough. “This isn’t a saving everyone story, I suppose… We’re just here to make it flow better?”

<Yeah. If the main side characters themselves don’t have full plot armor, I don’t see why the so-called antagonists should. That, at least, is pretty fair.>

Mhm. Mulling over the situation with the white deer, Shen Jing finished sweeping the courtyard and left to hide in the library.

There wasn’t a strict schedule in the Silver Forest Peak, not outside morning and evening classes and form training. Even then, Bai Nian’s disciples weren’t mandated to join the latter, as they might have special manuals or instructions. Shen Jing, however, had no such things, so he had been joining the form training along with the outer disciples, spending the rest of his time either meditating in a secluded spot or going through the entire library catalogue.

It had been some time since Shen Jing had the time to read for anything but exam prep. When one was reading for leisure, even long, meandering essays hypothesizing on the nature of qi and its relationship with illnesses felt interesting.

“I had an inkling I’d find you here.” Shen Jing looked up from his book— Ji Hualiu stood in the doorway to the library, the morning sunlight a halo around her body as she looked down at him. “Come, Xiao-shidi. Shizun’s returned, and they asked us to come over to Holy Tree Peak.”

Shen Jing scrambled to his feet. Putting the books back on their shelves, he then stumbled to catch up with Ji Hualiu, who only gave a small smile at his fumbling.

“Third Shidi and Fourth Shimei already went ahead,” she explained as they walked towards the white staircase down the Silver Forest Peak. It gently encircled the cliffside, leading to the lower levels where all peaks met— 1002 steps for Silver Forest Peak, 《Through the Eye of the Storm》 wrote out. There was a gash on the bottom-most step, left there by the third Peak Lord after she had a big argument with the Sect Head of that time. A plateau-like area, branched out with staircases to all the other parts of the mountains. 1299 steps up the Holy Tree Peak.

“Ji-shijie!” several disciples greeted, all wearing different uniforms. Ji Hualiu nodded at each of them, somehow able to know each and every one of their names. Shen Jing glanced at her with more than a bit of awe.

She must’ve noticed, though, because she gave him the subtlest of smiles. “First and foremost, look at people in the eyes. If you can see them and how they are clearly, remembering names is easy.”

“...It’s Second Shijie’s skill and prowess,” Shen Jing said, voice small. There was a time before he was this timid and avoidant, and he didn’t succeed in remembering all his classmates’ names either.

Ji Hualiu glanced at him and said nothing. They walked to the gates of the staircase of Holy Tree Peak and climbed. Without realizing it, he sucked in a breath— on either sides of the stairs were mists shimmering with color, as if the northern lights were silk clothes being washed in this river. It was the protective barrier around the peak, but also served dual functions as a container of the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. It was for all, of course, and Holy Tree Peak’s medicinal herb fields thrived with such an abundant stream. After a hundred or so steps, the scenery changed back to the natural mountainscape, this time with massive ancient trees dotting the sides— one was the width of a car and jutted so high its shadows were softened by distance, diffused in the equally blurry sunlight. 

“Everything can be learned. We are cultivators going against the heavens.”

In his head, he could hear Assistant 51C make a noise that could either be agreement or amusement.

They reached the end at last, and stepped onto the courtyard of Holy Tree Peak. It was a vast, clean, eight sided space stretching out around a thin, bare tree; the tree that gave this peak its name. This tree was ancient. Mount Song Sect was over 500 years old; this tree was beyond recorded history.

Surrounding the area were greeneries, though, and everyone was here today. Ji Hualiu led him to the quickest route to their destination: the hall just beyond the courtyard, where lingering outside were disciples from both Silver Forest and Holy Tree Peaks, chatting. When Ji Hualiu passed, though, they all turned and greeted her— she nodded in reply before pausing by the doorway, turning to Shen Jing. “Xiao-shidi. First you greet the Sect Head, then the elders, then you walk off to where Shizun is and greet him before sitting near Xiaoxiao, you understand? We will do so together, but still.”

“O-okay, thank you for your guidance Second Shijie.”

And so they entered.

The main hall of Mount Song Sect was… big, and a marriage of milky white jade, warm browns of old wood, and gritted gray of stone. In an arguably understated way the centerpieces of the room were extravagant; jades carved so delicately it seemed to be woven, edges soft and flowing like silk. The gentle whites were juxtaposed with the strong darks, and all were arranged such that it brought the eye back to the center— that was, where the Sect Head sat.

Ji Hualiu strode onwards with purpose, Shen Jing hiding behind her.

There were so… many people.

Still, she glanced at him, and so Shen Jing stepped forward a bit more— “This disciple pays respect to the Sect Head,” they greeted, bowing in respect. Sect Head Ji Qiaofeng laughed.

“This is your youngest disciple now, Bai Nian?”

And the star of this banquet peered up from his cup.

Sword Saint Bai Nian was almost unbelievably beautiful, in a cold and rigid way. His long, straight hair was held back in a tight braid, letting everyone see his sharp grey eyes. Clipping it was a relatively simple metal and ribbon hairpiece; it was something commented on often by other characters, the fact that he only cared for functionality in dressing. The only jewelry he wore was a single small hoop earring on his right ear, a tiny red gem swinging along underneath.

Shen Jing was reminded of the one time he accidentally stumbled upon a Xuan Lang x Bai Nian CP post. He was looking for fanart to use as a phone background, only to find a fanfiction; it was cut off in preview but the line that struck out to him was, uh— “Bai Nian wore only simple clothing for the most beautiful, delicate thing decorating his visage was his soft, rare smile,” and wow, what a line to stick out in your head when the man was your teacher now.

<Oho, I think I know which fic you’re talking about. OP’s got good taste. Xuan Lang does seem more of a top than him.>

Shen Jing, “......” Wu-jie, please, I’m begging you, no.

Ji Hualiu took over, bless her, and gave him an almost imperceptible nod— greet the elders. Once they did that, Ji Qiaofeng waved at them to sit down, where tables had been set up with simple but plentiful cakes and snacks. Fang Xiaoxiao and He Jiangshan were already there, as was Xuan Lang; Xuan Lang sat beside and slightly behind Bai Nian, whose sitting arrangement was… a bit off. It took Shen Jing a moment to realize that it was moved far closer to the Sect Head’s seat, and that the immortal’s expression was one of forbearance.

“Shizun,” Ji Hualiu said quietly when they walked over to join Silver Forest Peak. Bai Nian nodded in turn.

"Mm."

Upon seeing Shen Jing, though, Bai Nian's eyes softened. Gesturing at him to come closer, he then said, "Sorry."

Shen Jing: ???

"I left immediately after taking you in," Bai Nian explained after seeing his expression. This might be one of the longer sentences he’d said to anyone not Xuan Lang, Shen Jing realized in mild horror. "But I have something for you. Later."

<Hey, breathe.>

"O-oh, okay…"

“Go sit.”

“Okay…” And back bent, Shen Jing scurried away to his seat next to Fang Xiaoxiao, who immediately pointed at some of the cakes on his table he ought to try. Upon looking up, though, he came face to face with the fact that they arranged so that everyone was seeing everyone else— Shen Jing paled.

Oh no.