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Trepidation isn’t the right emotion for an older sibling to have when their excited little brother tells them he has a surprise for his birthday.
But most little brothers aren’t the Heavenly Demon, the absolute pinnacle and despotic ruler of the Demonic Path.
Two figures climb the stone steps of the mountain footpath, traversing ever deeper into the Hundred Myriad Mountains—the sacred land of the Demonic Sect. The pair are of a height with handsome appearances, one an off-reflection of the other. Yingxing sedately makes his way, snow white hair neatly pulled back with a silver pin, embroidered crimson-lined coat fluttering in the wind. He’s the world-renowned Furnace Master, currently an unaffiliated wandering cultivator, previously of the Zhuming Sect within the Orthodox Alliance. By his side is the reason for his un-affiliation, his younger brother Ren, sovereign of the demonic cultivators, who is, disturbingly, skipping as he drags Yingxing by the hand towards the summit, black silk robes sweeping behind him. Their destination is a towering white seven-story pagoda, exuding such formidable energy that Yingxing could feel it from a mile out. Having passed two warded gates guarded by the Demon Lord’s personal elite squad, each more fortified than the last, they now approach a third.
The last gate is even protected by two sect elders, making Yingxing increasingly nervous. What on earth is in that pagoda that would require the venerable pillars of the sect to move?
The Tusha Elder on the left walks the bloody Path of Slaughter that cultivates through massacre, the Gui Elder on the right the horrific Asura Path that sacrifices the mortal body to resentful ghosts.
And yet, on seeing their Lord in such high spirits, these two monstrous devils feel their scalp go numb, necks shrinking back as they bury their heads low. On a normal day, Ren’s temperament is one of indifference and deadly boredom, just as likely to kill for the smallest slight as to disregard a grave offence depending on his mercurial mood. Only once in a blue moon can one see this devil smile, laughing in delight as blood flows like a river, reveling as he paints the world in sanguine red.
“This subordinate greets the Lord, greets the Furnace Master,” the elders crisply call out. There are those that disdain Yingxing for associating with the Orthodox cultivators, but anyone with half a brain would treat him well, the most sought-after craftsman in the cultivation world and, more importantly, their only possible life-saving grace when the Demon Lord is enraged.
Ren doesn’t acknowledge them, gliding through with a somewhat reluctant Yingxing in his wake, the sealing formation parted with a careless wave of his hand.
On passing the barrier, the reason for the immense ambient energy the pagoda gives off becomes evident. There’s an insane multi-layered array on it, sealing whatever-the-hell it is within.
“Ren,” Yingxing says, very calmly, “is that the legendary 99 layer Sky-and-Earth Sealing Formation?”
“Gege could tell with just one look?” Ren’s chuckle is jovial. “What am I saying, of course you can.”
Which just about confirms that Yingxing’s ‘gift’ is above the level of a nation-level calamity. He can already feel a migraine forming. “This had better not be another mythical monster like the Qiongqi.”
“Do you know how hard it was to catch it alive?” Ren grumbles. “I don’t understand why you didn’t like it. What’s not to like about a flying tiger?”
“A mythical flying tiger is not an appropriate pet. It eats people. It’s a disaster that destroys—everything.”
Ren shrugs. “It won’t eat if I tell it not to eat. Besides, there’s plenty of Yingxing-disapproved people to feed it.” He makes a wide encompassing gesture. “Just look at my sect.”
Yingxing groans.
**
On climbing to the third floor, Ren presents Yingxing with his birthday gift with a grand flourish.
“Ta-da! Happy Birthday!”
The situation is about a billion times worse than Yingxing could have imagined. Having stayed at Ren’s side these many years, there’s little left that can faze him, but what sits silently in the center of the cell, red-lined eyes closed in tranquil meditation despite being behind bars is enough to make him feel faint.
The person’s white silk robes are no longer pristine, smudged by dirt with small tears here and there, but the delicate embroidery of cranes along the wide sleeves is still recognizable. He’s even more beautiful than Yingxing remembers, cerulean horns rising elegantly from the crown of his head, a graceful tail curled around his legs.
“Please tell me I’m dreaming. Please tell me that is not the Yinyue-jun Dan Feng of the Vidyadhara, the Dao Venerable, the revered leader and hero of the righteous sects that you’re holding captive.” Yingxing would take a hundred Qiongqi’s over one Yinyue-jun. This level of disaster can’t even be described.
“You don’t have to dream about him anymore, gege. I brought him—mmph!”
Yingxing leaps at Ren in panic, clapping his hands over his mouth. “Shut up! You—I can’t believe you! Are you insane?!” Yinyue-jun’s position in the Orthodox Alliance is the equivalent of Ren’s in the Demonic Sect. Yingxing tugs at his hair in distress. “This is enough to start a war!”
Also, Yingxing maybe has the teeniest, tiniest crush on Yinyue-jun and his soul is positively wilting at what Yinyue-jun must think of him now.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. Yinyue-jun doesn’t want a war.” Ren pats Yingxing on the back soothingly. “He’s just here for a little date, and then we’ll send him on his way.” A pause. “Unless you want to keep him. I can do a war.”
“No wars allowed!” Yingxing shrieks. “Ren, you can’t just kidnap people—good people! We talked about this!”
“We’re giving him back, so this is just borrowing,” Ren argues righteously.
“You can’t borrow a person.”
“I just did.”
Where did he go wrong in teaching this child…
Giving up on the incorrigible miscreant, Yingxing turns to Yinyue-jun. “Yinyue-jun, I am so so sorry for this. No apology is enough.”
No reaction. Yinyue-jun is like a stone buddha.
Yingxing pulls Ren next to him by the elbow. “A-Ren, apologize,” he hisses.
“But I’m not sorry. He’ll know I’m lying,” Ren points out. His tone turns apologetic. “I did consider a princess-in-a-tower scenario. Gege could dashingly save Yinyue-jun from the evil Demon Lord—”
What princess?! This is the Yinyue-jun! “That is not better!”
Ren continues on blithely, undeterred. “But your current cultivation level isn’t sufficient and everyone knows our relationship. The plot would have to be too convoluted to make it believable.” He sighs. “I made two revisions, but it was still OOC. In the end, I had to discard my script and go with a straight shot.”
Yingxing drags a hand down his face. This person’s brain can’t be fixed. He can’t understand a word Ren is saying. Whatever. “You will release Yinyue-jun. Right now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Yingxing repeats suspiciously.
Ren’s nod is solemn. “Since gege told me to, I’ll do my best.”
Yingxing has a sinking feeling he knows where this is going. “Don’t do your best, just do it.”
Turning to the wall, Ren lifts his hands, brow scrunching with concentration. The fine hairs on Yingxing’s arms rise, static dancing over his skin as the intricate golden network of the array appears, power shifting and flowing.
And then, an ominous rumble. The entire building shudders, from its ground floor to its pointed white tip, and a cracking sound snaps through the air.
“Oopsies,” the demon lord says.
“…What did you do.”
“No big deal. I just accidentally locked the array. Temporarily. Until dawn.”
Yingxing draws his sword.
**
The room gains a few scars, the prison bars a few scratches, but remains valiantly intact.
The miscreant demon lord is also, unfortunately, cheerfully intact.
Forced to accept defeat, Yingxing puts away his sword and surveils the room. Though he called it a prison, it’s admittedly a very luxurious one occupying nearly the entire floor with a living area, dining area, and bedroom, tastefully done up in soft blue-greens and whites with cozy throws and pillows scattered about. The furnishings are of carved oak and ivory, the space illuminated by priceless moon pearls.
Yinyue-jun is seated on a thick blue rug in the central living area, legs folded under him and hands cupped in his lap.
Where Yingxing and Ren are standing is a comfortable space, a floor couch and cushions set just outside the bars for their use.
With his foot, Yingxing pushes the cozy seating and pillows aside. “Come here.”
When Yingxing was ranting and raving, Ren had been playful and amused. It’s now, when Yingxing has calmed, his gaze meeting his steadily, that Ren becomes wary. Still, he walks over to Yingxing.
“I’m going to kneel in penance,” Yingxing informs him. His tone turns slightly cold. “You…do as you like. You always do.” Facing the bars, he kneels down on the hard stone floor, sweeping the long end of his coat behind him.
After a long moment, there’s a rustle of cloth, and then Ren is joining him, kneeling silently beside him. The scene on the other side remains serene.
…Is Yinyue-jun a bit too still? If he’s ignoring them, that’s fine, but there’s a few blood stains at the collar and knee.
“Is Yinyue-jun injured? Ren.”
“It wasn’t me! And he’s fine.”
“It wasn’t you…How exactly did you bring him here?”
“Eh, you know, the Five Great Sects had a small war with the Twelve Unorthodox—”
Holed up in his forge, Yingxing only heard whispers about some disturbance in the Unorthodox sects when he briefly surfaced for air. He didn’t pay it any attention; the Unorthodox factions are perpetually in turmoil. He hadn’t known it was a war.
…He should probably leave his forge more often. Touch some grass.
“—And then Yinyue-jun killed this and that, and then he killed a rampaging three-headed Xuanwu.”
One of the four celestial beasts, enough to give even the Dao Venerable a hard time.
“Yinyue-jun was exhausted from heroically slaying that legendary terror and you abducted him,” Yingxing finishes flatly.
“Yeah, see, it was perfect.”
Yingxing grabs Ren’s ear and pulls.
“OW, ow, ow, Yingxing!”
“In what way is that perfect?”
“How else am I supposed to take him peacefully? If we fought seriously, we’d probably obliterate a mountain range. People would die, he’d be injured, I’d be injured,” Ren rattles off in a bored monotone, “and then you would cry.”
“I don’t cry. And you could just not kidnap him.”
“But then you’d never meet him, and I’d have to put up with your moon—mmph!”
Yingxing darts a glance over, but that person still has his eyes closed. “And now he probably hates me,” he hisses at Ren.
“Hate is better than apathy,” Ren tells him sagely, pushing Yingxing’s obstructing hand away. “At least you can have torrid, steamy hate sex. It’s pretty great if you haven’t tried it.” Red eyes go a little hazy.
Yingxing stares. “Which orthodox cultivator have you been hate-fucking?”
The demon lord stiffens into a stone statue, gaze fixed straight ahead at the wall.
“Ren. Spit it out.” Yingxing pokes him.
“No one.” Ren hurriedly changes the topic. “Anyways, this wouldn’t be necessary if Yinyue-jun didn’t discriminate against demonic cultivators. You’re not even one, you’re just associated with one.”
Perhaps, but Yingxing isn’t so sure about that. “He’s the leader of the Orthodox Alliance. His every action is scrutinized for meaning, and my history is problematic.”
“You mean I’m problematic,” Ren drawls.
“Yes, my brother, the Demon Lord, who kidnaps orthodox cultivators, is problematic,” Yingxing returns blandly.
Ren rolls his eyes.
Yingxing lets out a frustrated breath. “What were you expecting me to do here? Sit and stare like a creep?”
Under Yingxing’s cool, knowing gaze, Ren represses several vulgar responses with massive effort. He clears his throat. “I thought you’d do your magic, work your charm. You could just pretend I’m a flower vase.”
A demon lord flower vase…Ren intended to stay; meaning he’s not so confident in the sealing array that he would leave Yingxing alone with Yinyue-jun. But here Yinyue-jun is, meditating instead of trying to break through the wards.
“Did you seal Yinyue-jun’s golden core?”
“…No.”
That makes it even more unlikely that Yinyue-jun would just passively accept the situation. Yingxing’s frown deepens. “Does Yinyue-jun have internal injuries?”
“……Maybe.”
Yingxing holds out his hand in a demand. “Highest-grade healing elixir.”
“Yingxing,” Ren whines, “do you have any idea how long it took to make this array? 99 layers!”
“I. don’t. care. Elixir. Now, Ren.”
Sullenly, Ren brings out an elixir from his spatial storage ring, glass bottle smacking into Yingxing’s hand.
Yingxing slips his hand through the bars, setting the glass bottle on the ground. “Please take this to treat your wounds, Yinyue-jun.” His heart jumps on lifting his gaze to find Yinyue-jun’s eyes open, glittering coldly at him.
Yinyue-jun doesn’t move to take the bottle, nor does he close his eyes again.
“Ah. It’s not poisoned or laced with anything,” Yingxing assures him. Taking the bottle, he undoes the cap, takes a sip, and places it back behind the bars.
“Drink half.”
…Alright, Yingxing is perhaps a bit pathetic, being this excited on hearing someone’s angry voice. However, that does not justify Ren’s insane actions.
Complying, Yingxing gulps half the elixir, making a face at the medicinal taste.
This time, when the bottle is set down, the tail sweeps out. A flick sends it into Yinyue-jun’s claws. He holds it to the light to examine and takes a cautious sniff. Deeming it acceptable, he downs it in one go. As the medicine begins to work, he circulates his qi.
An hour later, Yinyue-jun rises to his feet. One hand folds behind his back, the other held out, palm up towards the wards. Cloudhymn swirls around his white boots, dark locks fluttering as the scent of salt and brine pervades the air. Yingxing swears that he could hear the sound of waves, building to a low roar. Sizzling sparks begin to leap from the walls, stone rasping and groaning, shifting beneath his knees. An ominous rumble rises, the pagoda quaking. Yingxing hurriedly slaps a hand against the floor to steady himself as the building rocks, shaken down to the foundation.
And then—it stops. The building settles.
H-Holy shit.
Yingxing gulps. The demon lord gulps.
Yinyue-jun lowers his hand. The motion is graceful, showing no signs of the strain he must feel. His head lowers, expressionless, the room holding its breath.
Yinyue-jun folds himself back down.
“Another.”
Yingxing holds out a hand to Ren. When Ren dawdles, Yingxing slaps his thigh. “Hand it over.”
Ren pouts. “Aren’t you worried about me if Yinyue-jun breaks out of here?”
“Whatever beating Yinyue-jun gives you, you deserve it.”
“Tsk.” Ren puts an elixir in Yingxing’s palm.
Yingxing drinks half. Yinyue-jun drinks half. Yinyue-jun meditates. Once again, the building and sealing array’s structural integrity is put to the test, wobbling precariously—but holds.
There is a slight moue of displeasure on Yinyue-jun’s face, a violent swish of the tail, and then he drops back down into his original position, eyes closed.
Yingxing tries not to stare. He wonders if Yinyue-jun remembers him. Probably…probably not, right? It was only that one time, long ago, when he was still a young man. A chance meeting in a nowhere town just outside Zhuming city when Yingxing was at his lowest.
Ren was missing for two years by then, but Yingxing still hadn’t given up hope, had never stopped looking for him. Not until Ren’s life tablet in Zhuming’s Hall of Souls shattered, announcing his death. When Yinyue-jun happened upon him, Yingxing was sitting on a bench, hidden behind a building so no one would see the tears streaming silently down his face, dripping onto the broken jade tablet that bore Ren’s name.
He doesn’t know why Yinyue-jun was there that day, didn’t even know who he was at the time. He just knew that at some point, a person turned the corner of the building. Their steps paused on seeing him, and then they came over and sat down next to him on the narrow bench. Their face was obscured by the veil of a weimao and they didn’t wear the uniform of any known sect or clan. Dressed in white, they wore a fine silk robe with cranes embroidered on the wide sleeves.
It had been easier somehow, to accept the comfort from this faceless person. Their presence was soothing, the faint impression of their qi like a deep ocean, possessing an odd undulating character that reminded him of tranquil sea waves. From beginning to end, the person didn’t say anything, just sat there with him until the sun sunk below the horizon, when his cheeks were finally dry because he had no tears left to cry.
Mind dull with grief, he only registered that this person was strange, magic swirling gently from their fingertips to cleanse the tear tracks from his face. (Later, much later, he would realize it was Cloudhymn.) They placed a white handkerchief, embroidered with a maple leaf, on his lap, guiding him to wrap the broken jade tablet within for safekeeping, and then steadily pulled him to his feet, gentle but insistent. The gloved hand that took his was slender but strong, leading him back to a nondescript inn room where those graceful hands made him a hot cup of calming chrysanthemum osmanthus tea, a bowl of herbal porridge placed on the table for him to eat.
It was just a small kindness.
But that day, to him, it wasn’t small at all.
Years later, Yingxing saw this person from afar, one of many amongst the crowd watching the procession of honored Vidyadhara daoists through the streets. Yinyue-jun led the group on his white steed, familiar gloves on his graceful hands and gentle cranes embroidered on his flowing sleeves.
**
Yingxing’s melancholy is interrupted by a dramatic sigh from the side.
“Are you really just going to kneel here like a sad sack all night?”
“That’s the point of penance. Does the venerable Demon Lord have a better suggestion?” Yingxing’s tone is sarcastic.
“Ugh. Just—do something. Show him something. I don’t know.”
Yingxing considers the meditating Yinyue-jun. He considers Ren, kneeling at his side.
“I wonder if Yinyue-jun would be interested in hearing Ren’s embarrassing childhood stories.” Would Yinyue-jun forgive Yingxing a little if he gives him some dirt on Ren?
Scoffing, Ren misses the tiny twitch of pointed ears. Yingxing, however, does not.
“Is this your payback? Please, as if I care about anything that happened back then.”
“Mmhm. Yinyue-jun, did you know this Great Demon Lord next to me was still wetting his bed at the age of eight?”
“YINGXING!” Ren howls,“THAT’S NOT TRUE!”
**
At the expense of Ren’s no-longer-existent dignity, Yingxing makes the corners of Yinyue-jun’s mouth twitch upwards a grand total of three times. Yinyue-jun’s eyes even slit open for a peek, and then do a double-take, going wide at the magnificent Demon Lord, the greatest horror of the orthodox cultivation world, shriveled into the corner in embarrassment.
He’s just a person too, Yingxing wants to tell Yinyue-jun.
Yingxing will never blame Ren for walking the Demonic Path, not when it was the only way he could survive the tragedy that befell him.
The orthodox sects denounced Yingxing for associating with Ren. So be it. He doesn’t care what they think. He’ll walk this road with Ren as far as he can go and, if one day Ren strays too far from the path, he’ll do his best to draw him back or die trying.
There are many things Ren has done that no apology can fix, but it is also undeniable that he has cleaned up the demonic sects, uniting them under his rule and cleansing the ranks of the worst of their filth. Nowadays, the Demonic Sect is more dangerous to contend with, banded together as one with a semblance of order, but it has also brought in an era of heretofore unknown peace between the Demonic and Orthodox.
Yingxing tries not to linger too much on the knowledge that who Ren chooses to kill is often based on the limits of Yingxing’s tolerance. Some days he feels like his hands are drenched in as much blood as Ren’s.
Still, some limit is better than no limit at all.
Yingxing whittles another petal in the block of wood in his hands, blowing off the sawdust.
Since witnessing Ren eat humble pie, Yinyue-jun hasn’t returned to meditation. He watches Yingxing carve a wooden lotus flower, a dragon incense holder, a crescent moon in a fluff of clouds, placing each completed piece inside the bars like an offering. Yinyue-jun won’t want them, but Yingxing is happy enough that he was entertained by witnessing their making.
On asking after refreshments, Ren points Yingxing to a kitchen on the lower floor. After a brief hesitation, Yingxing makes chrysanthemum osmanthus tea, bringing it up. He pours for Yinyue-jun, passing the cup through the bars.
At the first sip, Yinyue-jun’s eyes flicker to his.
Yinyue-jun…he remembers.
When the new Demonic Lord ascended the throne, did Yinyue-jun recognize the broken name carved into the life tablet Yingxing clutched in his hands?
Does Yinyue-jun regret that day, his kindness to the brother mourning the person that would become the Demonic Lord, leading the dangerous faction that opposes his to new heights?
Lowering his lids to hide his thoughts, Yingxing sips his tea, not looking up again until he’s finished his drink.
When Yingxing reaches over to collect Yinyue-jun’s empty cup, he’s startled when his wrist is abruptly snatched in a tight grip. Honestly, for a second, he’s worried that his hand is going to be torn off in revenge. Instead, Yinyue-jun traces two characters into his palm.
No regret.
**
Dan Feng’s vigilance increases at break of dawn—too late—when the Demon Lord comes into the cell and seals his golden core. His flurry of attacks on Re—the Demon Lord is blocked with infuriating ease. Still refusing to speak, he glares fiercely at Yingxing who tries to placate him with apologies.
So they’re showing their true colors now.
Fuming, Dan Feng circulates his qi, already working at undoing the seal.
When he ignores their requests to follow them, the Demon Lord shrugs and lifts the rug Dan Feng is sitting on into the air with his true qi, floating him along behind as they go to the back of the building where a Qiongqi awaits them.
Impossible. The Qiongqi can’t be tamed, yet this one evidently has been, tail wagging as the Demon Lord rubs its ears.
Yingxing clutches at his hair. “You didn’t kill it?!”
“But gege,” the Demon Lord whines, “a flying tiger. Flying tiger.”
Dan Feng’s incarceration here has been…disorienting.
A bizarre flying tiger ride later, the Demon Lord and his brother sneak Dan Feng into Orthodox territory.
They’re…really releasing him? Without doing anything? There…there must be some trick.
“The seal on your golden core will gradually unwind on its own once we leave,” the Demon Lord informs Dan Feng practically.
“Yinyue-jun, please take this for your safety until then,” Yingxing adds, holding out a black cube the size of his palm. “It’s a warding artifact.”
Dan Feng doesn’t take it or look at him, hands folded behind his back.
Sighing, Yingxing places it on the ground. “I really am very sorry Yinyue-jun. I…I’ll craft something for you to make up for it, okay?” He bows deeply, exposing the back of his neck for a lethal chop but, with the Demon Lord watching his back so closely, Yingxing can indeed be this careless without worry. “Please take care of yourself, Yinyue-jun.”
…
They’re leaving, just like that?
Dan Feng watches in disbelief as the Forge Master and the formidable, dreaded Demon Venerable, nightmare of the cultivation world…
…swiftly run away.
What is this?!
Abruptly, he realizes something.
Is this…a catch and release?
“Insolent!”
With a furious fling of his sleeves, Dan Feng leaves.
**
Six months later, Dan Feng returns to his quarters to find a long mahogany box on his living room table. He double checks his wards but there’s no sign of intrusion, nothing detected, which is even more alarming. After scouring the box with numerous detection spells, he gingerly eases the lid open.
Lying within the case is a beautiful jade spear, a note tucked into the side.
To the Honored and Respected Yinyue-jun Dan Feng,
Greetings to Your Excellency, etc, etc. Gege finished your spear a month ago, but he’s been too shy to deliver it. This poor thing—its name is Cloud Piercer, by the by—has just been lying in his workshop forlornly, accompanying Yingxing as he gazes at it, drinking wine and sighing like a lovelorn maiden. It’s really too pathetic; please put him out of his misery.
Since this Venerable is such a considerate younger brother, I took it upon myself to appropriate the spear and deliver it to its recipient. No need to thank me, I was in the area.
Sincerely,
Supremely Evil Demon Lord
Dan Feng frowns at the letter disapprovingly. If only it wouldn’t start a war, he would fly directly to Ren’s that accursed Demon Lord’s palace to teach him a lesson. He reads the letter again, gaze not lingering anywhere except on the one troubling line.
The Demon Lord was ‘in the area’? Is one of their number really sleeping with the leader of the Demonic Cult?
…
No. Clearly that demon can’t be trusted, even stealing from his own brother. He must have been here for some nefarious business. Dan Feng will thoroughly check the premises and determine his true intentions.
Standing, Dan Feng turns towards the door.
A gloved hand flexes. Ocean eyes are drawn helplessly down, tracing the elegant length of the spear.
He just wants to know if that Forge Master is as talented as rumored. It’s important to know. For the Sect. In case Yingxing’s skills are needed, of course.
Snatching up the spear, Dan Feng goes out.
**
The seasons pass, completing a full cycle. Twelve months after the first, ahem, catch, on Yingxing’s birthday…
Yinyue-jun (In the pagoda. Captured. Again.): “…”
Yingxing (Outside the bars. Again.): “…”
Demon Lord Ren: :3c
A bellow shakes the tower.
“REN!”