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April 7 - April 11, 2023
To tell the truth, this Mobei-Jun character held an unusual significance to him. It could have been said that Mobei-Jun was the type of man “Great Master” Airplane had always dreamed of becoming: strong, cool, doing as he pleased—just like how every little kid had dreamed of becoming Ultraman. How could he just stand by and watch himself kill Ultraman with his own hands?!
I can’t, I can’t—the more I look, the more I feel this face is just too damn mesmerizing! In truth, deep down, Bing-ge’s fair and clean pretty-boy type didn’t really suit the tastes of “Great Master” Airplane Flying Towards the Sky. He had only assigned this sort of configuration to the protagonist to meet his stallion hardware specifications.
women preferred men who looked cultured, pretty, and even a bit soft and feminine.
Bing-ge had a fan every three steps and a hater every five. But Mobei-Jun wasn’t the same. Supporting characters inevitably attracted a lot of love, and Mobei-Jun had practically never been hated on.
Don’t ask why Luo Binghe wasn’t the embodiment of his ideal man; Luo Binghe’s use had primarily been to fulfill his desire to be a badass and get revenge, as well as his desire for wanton 【 this section has been censored 】.
Even this young Mobei-Jun, who hadn’t yet grown into himself, was unconditionally in line with the sixteen words that described the author’s true aesthetic: “Eyes deep as night, nose straight and high, full of heroic spirit, icily arrogant beyond compare.” This was the beautiful man of his dreams!
To stand steadfast by this demonic young heir and protect him while he had been weakened by a sneak attack—what a wonderful opportunity to garner some goodwill.
Renting a room already stretched the limits of his economic ability. So, as a matter of course, it was a single room. So, as a matter of course, there was only one bed. Who this bed belonged to was also a matter of course. Of course it was for himself!
“You were hugging me.” A sudden realization, thunder from a clear sky. Sleeping in this damn heat was like being baked in a furnace, and Mobei-Jun’s body temperature just happened to be cold. In a muddled state of sleep, Shang Qinghua had subconsciously moved toward the cooler side of the bed, and the closer he got, the cooler and more comfortable he’d become. No wonder he had dreamed of a giant popsicle around which he’d happily wrapped his four limbs like an octopus as he licked and cried happy tears.
“Your body was ice-cold,” he said cautiously. “I was afraid you weren’t going to make it, so I was holding you.” At this, Mobei-Jun scoffed. “Fool. This is my natural state; the colder my body is, the better my condition. I’m not a human, for whom cold means the onset of death.”
Mobei-Jun said, “The assistance you lent me, was it for ‘opportunities to rise in status’?” As proud and arrogant as expected. He hadn’t used “save,” a verb that would have implied being the weaker party in the situation, but rather “assist,” which implied it had been merely support. Shang Qinghua chuckled, playing dumb.
Fortunately, Mobei-Jun had already come to a conclusion, and he slapped the label of “Greedy for Life, Afraid of Death, Slippery Bootlicker, Sect Sellout” right onto Shang Qinghua. He didn’t need him to respond before letting out a cold snort,
Shang Qinghua huddled in the corner, chewing on some rations he had with him while watching Mobei-Jun undress, nursing both extreme envy toward and extreme admiration for the figure and abs he had longed for in his dreams. As he watched, he suddenly realized Mobei-Jun had stopped undressing and was staring at him, an unhappy look on his face.
Shang Qinghua swore that if he ever had the opportunity to change back into “Great Master” Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, his next book would be high-fantasy xuanhuan of the sort where wild plot bunnies ran rampant and science was fed to the dogs. Characters would weave clouds into garments and trim the moon into a belt, and all manual labor would be resolved with the twitch of a pinky finger. There would never again be a need for dismal existences like those of An Ding Peak’s disciples!
He sat on the ground, tears in his eyes and voice trembling. “My king, you won’t let me on the bed. What if during the night you get cold, thirsty, hungry, or want to turn over… What then?” Mobei-Jun lifted an eyebrow. “Easily seen to.” So, he ordered Shang Qinghua to find a length of cord. One end was tied to his finger, while the other was tied to Shang Qinghua’s… Finger? In your dreams. It was tied to his neck, nothing more.
The only comforting thought he could scrounge up was that at least Mobei-Jun wasn’t some sort of pervert; the other end of the cord could’ve been tied to his 【beep—】. That treatment would have been truly inhumane.
Sure, he had become a bit skinnier because he wasn’t eating well, but what was with that “don’t even look human” remark? Moreover, Shang Qinghua had been to Wan Jian Peak’s sword trials terrace at least three times to polish swords for Wei-shixiong and his buddies, and every time they’d wanted him to sweep their rooms while he was at it, and to make them food, and to also feed their pangolins—how could they have already forgotten his face?!
This attack had been too sudden, and Shang Qinghua couldn’t make up a seamless alibi on such short notice. So he just swayed a couple of times, his face deathly pale, then fell to the ground with a plop.
Shang Qinghua suddenly heard the tinkling of sword tassel pendants, and a youth wearing Qing Jing Peak’s uniform slowly approached him. This youth had snowy-fair skin, slender brows and eyes, pale lips, and a somewhat harsh appearance. His black hair was neatly tied behind his head with a light-green ribbon, and a sword was held in his arms. It was precisely that inauspicious star, that heartless ghoul, that certain, uh, eccentric fellow from Qing Jing Peak, Proud Immortal Demon Way’s scum villain par excellence of the next generation: Shen Qingqiu.
The Shen Qingqiu of this world functioned in accordance with his original settings. He wasn’t like those low-IQ, paper-thin cannon fodder villains, and he was under no circumstances easy to deceive.
Shang Qinghua coughed until tears poured from his eyes. Shen Qingqiu backed up a step, a shade of disgust on his face. Everyone has a weakness—just you see who I’ll summon to deal with you! Sure enough, after five seconds of this, Yue Qingyuan’s voice came from behind them.
Shang Qinghua knew in his bones that if these two struck up a conversation, they would inevitably part on bad terms by the fifth exchange.
But all things had a silver lining. After this incident, perhaps because the old An Ding Peak Lord wanted to console Shang Qinghua or whatever, he was promoted to an official inner disciple.
On An Ding Peak, the disciples who ran around here and there all their lives like exploited servant girls lived in a dormitory called the “Leisure House.” Leisure, my ass! “Great Master” Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky swore he hadn’t come up with this name with any satirical intent, but nowadays every time he saw those words, he was overcome by the incredible malice of this world.
Shang Qinghua found his own small room. Exhausted in both body and soul, he persevered and laid out his bedding, then turned around to pour himself a cup of water. But as soon as he turned back, there was another person lying on his bed. In an utter cliché, the new teacup he had just received from the steward’s office dropped from his hands right onto his foot. His legs softened, nearly sending him falling onto his rear. “My king.” Mobei-Jun turned to face him. He was expressionless, but his voice was cold as ice. “You’ll follow me for the rest of your life, hm?”
Mobei-Jun had a special ability: “Mysterious Phantom: Come and Go Like a Shadow.” Shang Qinghua had thought it up in the first place so Mobei-Jun could help Bing-ge slaughter and pillage, and so he could move under the cover of darkness anywhere and at anytime.
He had always firmly believed: 1: There’s gold when a real man kneels (yes, in that order);6 2: A real man doesn’t cry for no reason—but if he doesn’t cry at times like this, then when will he?!
If you thought about it another way, Mobei-Jun was a character Shang Qinghua had created, and as the author, Mobei-Jun was like his own son. For a father to concede a bit to his own son, to show a bit of love—that clearly couldn’t be called anything strange. What was that saying? “Children are the debts parents owe from their previous lives…”7
“My king, this is Cang Qiong Mountain.” A highly lethal pillow flew over and struck Shang Qinghua, making him grimace in pain. Shang Qinghua picked up the pillow. He attempted tact. “My king, that is my bed.” Mobei-Jun stuck up a finger and waved it at him. Cool and aloof, he said one word: “Mine.” Understood.
Only with this had Shang Qinghua fully realized just how unscientifically god-tier the cheat he’d given Mobei-Jun was: Three. Days. In three days, there had been no warning bell, no suspicion, no nothing! Not a single person had found out that a demon had strutted all the way up to live on An Ding Peak and ordered about a future elite (logistics) disciple as his own beast of burden!
At least Mobei-Jun was a capable protector. Shang Qinghua thought Mobei-Jun had already tossed him to the back of his mind. But on several later occasions when he ended up in hot water, he would be fished up in passing by some strange creature that was clearly demonic in appearance, and he was thusly able to remain intact. This really counted as “stick close to me, and I’ll protect you,” didn’t it?
As everyone knew, all the cannon-fodder supporting cast in Proud Immortal Demon Way only had an IQ of 40. Therefore, the so-called “palace intrigue” was pretty much all at this level: So, the old An Ding Peak Lord already had a head disciple, let’s call him A. A was outstanding to the max (where outstanding meant being a master of serving tea, changing water, washing clothes, and folding blankets, and that he was considered a dab hand at the housekeeping services center). Some days, the old peak lord requested that A make twelve delicious flatcakes and send one to each peak. All Shang Qinghua
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This was called: If you don’t have enough IQ, make up for it with stupid plot twists. If you can’t do the best, then be the worst. If the plot is so imbecilic that readers roast it like crazy, that’s also kind of a success!
The way in which readers flocked together all year round to roast them could have been said to be one of the great spectacles of the Zhongdian comments section. And the fiercest roaster of all was none other than Peerless Cucumber.
On this one, the division of labor between the three of them was clear. Liu Qingge was the thug hired to be the vanguard, while Shen Qingqiu was in the center, in charge of feigning civility and deploying sneak attacks and finishing blows, as well as waving his fan and being a poser (but don’t let anyone know he said that.) And Shang Qinghua? Naturally he was the one in charge of driving the carriage, making inn reservations, carrying luggage, and managing both the trip’s income and expenses. Logistics, you know?
Usually, once the fighting started, any An Ding Peak disciples not in charge of replenishing supplies were supposed to scram as far away as possible and hang back at a safe location.
All his means of egress were blocked by the resentful spirits, which had taken the form of a white haze. Now that things had come to this, he could only bust out his special ability. His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on the spot. Playing dead was a time-tested technique!
In the chaos of battle, Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu accidentally pressed their backs together, and their faces simultaneously contorted with looks of revulsion. Shen Qingqiu had already shot out a spiritual blast, which brushed by Liu Qingge’s shoulder as it passed. Liu Qingge, angered, immediately retaliated with a blow. Great. The entiret...
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Shang Qinghua lay on the ground, eyes still rolled back. He had clearly seen when, moments ago, a faint white shadow peeked out from behind Liu Qingge. Shen Qingqiu’s attack had passed Liu Qingge’s shoulder to disperse it.
“You guys, don’t fight. Liu-shidi, you misunderstood; in fact, Shen-shixiong was just—” Shen Qingqiu flung out his hand, and several deep, deep cracks were smashed into the wall by Shang Qinghua’s head. Dust and pebbles streamed down. “If you’re going to die, then die completely,” Shen Qingqiu said icily. “Don’t change your mind halfway.”
Shen Qingqiu was leaning on the side of the carriage reading a book, but under Shang Qinghua’s stare, his expression grew darker and darker. He narrowed his eyes. “What are you staring at me for?” “Shen-shixiong, I…really wasn’t going to say anything,” Shang Qinghua said timidly. “But since you’ve asked me so sincerely, then… You’re holding your book upside down.”
He had gone to all that trouble to do a good thing, but the result hadn’t met his expectations. But if that was the problem, then he should just go and explain himself to Liu Qingge—just admit he was trying to help him out! But Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t do it.
Shang Qinghua looked at him with an earnest gaze, then spoke the most meaningful and heartfelt string of words he had spoken since an electric current had shocked him into Proud Immortal Demon Way: “If, in the future, you see someone fall into a qi deviation, don’t panic, and don’t rush up rashly thinking you can save them. You must stay calm and call for help; don’t try to do it yourself. If you don’t, you’ll definitely be more of a hindrance than anything, and you’ll make a big mess, and you’ll abandon yourself to despair from there on. You’ll never be free of it for the rest of your
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A busy life was still a busy life, but at least he had been promoted from “exploited servant girl” to “head of internal affairs”; this totally counted as rapid progress in long steps.
In the side hall of Qiong Ding Peak, ten of the twelve peak lords were present and accounted for. “Do you feel that Qingqiu-shidi…has been very odd these past few days?” Yue Qingyuan asked, completely focused on the topic.
“More than just odd,” said Liu Qingge in a solemn tone. “He’s practically a whole different person,” muttered Qi Qingqi.
I haven’t seen Shen-shixiong for a few days. Could everyone please elaborate? How exactly has he been odd?” “He had a calm and harmonious conversation with me for a whole two hours,” said Yue Qingyuan. Shang Qinghua was both speechless and terrified. “Aiyah, my god! How odd! That really is very odd!”
“In the Ling Xi Caves, he…helped me,” said Liu Qingge. Shang Qinghua finally remembered. Right, by now, Shen Qingqiu should already have “helped” Liu Qingge to his death. So how could Liu Qingge still be hanging about, sitting here to attend a meeting?!
The other peak lords continued to list Shen Qingqiu’s every behavioral oddity over the last few days. “Sustaining injury while beating back an impetuous demoness” this, “stepping forward to protect his disciples and showing care and concern” that… Shang Qinghua’s face began to twitch. He thought it over back and forth, but no matter how he looked at it, this kind of altruistic self-sacrificing character behavior was seriously OOC!
At the sword trials terrace of Wei Qingwei’s Wan Jian Peak, there was a mystical sword known as Hong Jing, which no person had ever been able to draw. But if something like a resentful soul or evil spirit were to approach the blade, it unsheathed of its own accord.
