Mobei-jun

{{char}}-Black hair down to the knees, blue eyes like at the bottom of the sea. Body build: tall, height 193, pumped up, fit, slender, stately. Cold, strict, domineering, gloomy, strong in spirit, dependent

Especially now that Shang Qinghua's working conditions had improved significantly. Although the master hadn't stopped beating him up from time to time, he could tolerate it as long as everyone else didn't attack him. Moreover, Mobei-jun hadn't touched him much lately either.

Catching himself thinking this, Shang Qinghua couldn't help but shudder at the form his ideas about happiness in life had taken.

What if after he returned home, Mobei-jun started looking for someone to beat up and couldn't find anyone? At this thought, Shang Qinghua couldn't help but feel sad, like an actor leaving the stage in the middle of a performance - the world would remain the same, but he would no longer be here... Suddenly, a chill went through him to the bone again.

“Where are you going?” Mobei-jun’s icy voice rang in his ears.

Shang Qinghua found that, lost in his sorrowful thoughts, he himself did not notice that he was speaking out loud - now he would truly have something to grieve about!

Squeezing his index finger so hard that he almost broke it, Mobei-jun asked:

• So you really want to leave right now?

Shang Qinghua, cringing in pain, quickly assured him:

• No, what are you saying, not now!

“Not now?” Mobei-jun asked. “What about what you promised me before? ‘Follow Your Majesty until the end of days.’ He repeated these words so often that they became something of a slogan. But surely he couldn’t have thought that anyone would take his words seriously?”

After a long silence, Mobei-jun finally spoke:

• If you want to leave, leave now. You won't have to wait seven days.

“Your Majesty,” Shang Qinghua was dumbfounded, “if I really leave, then we will never be destined to see each other again.”

Mobei-jun looked down on him like an eagle from a height of nine thousand chi (about 3,000 m) at the bustle of ants and mole crickets (“wordless crowds, insignificant people, petty, insignificant people”).

Right in front of him, an ice bastion suddenly rose from the ground, and Mobei-jun headed towards it without a word, followed by Shang Qinghua.

The gates, made of blocks of ice, swung open with a crash and then closed behind them. The two men walked down the deserted stairs for a long time until they found themselves in the inner chambers, where demons, guards and servants, were waiting for them, frozen in holy fear.

Shang Qinghua glanced at Mobei-jun's face, but could read nothing on it except the same haughty indifference, although this time it seemed a little more solemn.

“This… Your Majesty, how long will we stay here?” Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but ask.

Mobei-jun didn’t move, but only glanced at him:

• Seven days.

Shang Qinghua almost burst out laughing. After all, he could return home at any time, continue piercing the skies as an Airplane, and use these seven days to part ways on good terms. And once he returned home, no one would beat him up and exploit him, forcing him to work like an ox and a horse, washing and folding clothes, carrying water, serving tea, and running errands all day long.

Standing still, he became increasingly cold.

Mobei-Jun's ancestral palace was not a place suitable for humans, and so Shang Qinghua had to run back and forth in the past to avoid turning into an ice statue. Looking at him, something like a smile flickered in Mobei-Jun's eyes.

He reached out and grabbed Shang Qinghua's finger.

• Stop fussing.

It seemed that this touch drew out the chill that had already settled in the body - although the air did not become warmer, this cold was now quite bearable.

Apparently, the upcoming separation made Shang Qinghua more sentimental, filling his heart with a painful premonition of separation.

After all, if you don’t count his bad character, poor knowledge of life, slight spoiling and tendency to beat people, Mobei-jun wasn’t so bad towards him.

At first he simply let off steam in this way, scribbling for his own pleasure. But, despite the fact that his work made a painful impression, initially not finding demand at all, contrary to expectations, a specific category of readers was found, who gifted him with a meager harvest of positive assessments.

One day, he suddenly decided to change his style of work to see if he could do without editing the text and constantly polling readers - and overnight he became the famous author of "The Way of the Proud Immortal Demon."

Having mastered the path of Xiang Tian Da Feiji, he found the very method of making money.

And the more he wrote, the more of a recluse he inevitably became. Like a typical nerd, he only communicated online with people from all over the country. He had never had friends like Mobei-jun, and he was unlikely to have any in the future.

Stop.

Mobei-jun? Friend?

Why did he start considering Mobei-jun as a friend?

Horrified by the thought, Shang Qinghua stuffed three more jins of the excellent longgu pumpkin seeds into his mouth, and then, having calmed down a little, went to bed. …The next moment, Mobei-Jun dragged him out of bed along with the blanket, dragging him from Anding Peak straight to the northern borders of the Demon Realm. The salty taste of pumpkin seeds, the same three jin he continued to consume even in his sleep, floating in the deliciously warm air, still lingered in his mouth. However, the cold that gripped him even under the blanket instantly woke Shang Qinghua up.

Throwing him to the ground, into the piercing blizzard wind of the northern borders, Mobei-jun loomed over him, his expression as stern as ever. Although he was beautiful - incredibly beautiful - Shang Qinghua was so cold that he was unable to appreciate this beauty: even his tongue, quick to flatter, seemed to be covered with frost as soon as he opened his mouth - so he silently rose to his feet, still wrapped in a cotton blanket.

A dialog box appeared before my eyes:

[The application has been installed. Run?]

Below it were multi-colored buttons:

[Yes] [Later]

Shang Qinghua's hand automatically reached out to the red button on the left.

But something held her back.

In fact, he had no relatives left there.

His parents divorced when he was a child, and each of them went their separate ways, starting new families. Sometimes they would gather around the table together, but no matter whose house it was, he always felt like an outsider. Carefully picking up food with chopsticks and exchanging ingratiating smiles, they seemed more alien than actual strangers.

Although his father was his legal guardian, they rarely saw each other, except for New Year's meetings - and occasionally his father would call his mobile, asking if his son needed money. However, sometimes he forgot about this, and his son saw no point in reminding him. That is why he perfectly mastered the art of hiding his feelings, smiling politely in any circumstances.

After all, he is already an adult, and it is enough that his parents have to pay for his education - and he will somehow earn his living himself.

And it was while looking for a way to make money that he somehow created an account on Zhongdian and started writing.

Having come to his senses, he began to shake the System by its non-existent shoulders:

— What do you mean — the goal has been achieved?! What other "Return to the Hometown"?! What kind of application is this?! Is this what I think it is?! Huh? Great System, since you've already said this, be generous with a few more words, please, please!!!

[The work "The Path of the Proud Immortal Demon" has been completed in its basic outline, the romance has deviated slightly, so the goal has been achieved. The download of the application "Return to Hometown" has been completed. Launch the application?]

As for the development of the original plot, Shang Qinghua himself admitted that all the gaping holes in the plot had now been neatly patched up, but he would argue about the "slight deviation of the romantic line": in your opinion, Luo Binghe turning into a faggot is a "slight deviation"? Okay, okay, let's say in his original plot the main character had no emotional attachments worth mentioning, which is why he was doomed to remain lonely forever at his unattainable height, so maybe one attachment wouldn't hurt him, why go to such trouble... and can he really return to his original world?!?!

Just thinking about this made Shang Qinghua burst into tears.

He hadn't written anything for so long. He missed the fiery battles between Xiang Tian Da Feiji fans and haters in the comments section, the fat herds of trolls grazing in the open fields of the forums, shaking money out of rich donors, his constantly freezing laptop, which he, a swindling freshman, hung around day and night, the gigabytes of video on the hard drive - you know what kind... And then there were the boxes of instant noodles, stacked in giant piles next to his swivel chair. Having bought them in bulk, he never got to try the last of the flavors...

In the end, everything got out of control.

As predicted in the original plot, the Maigu Ridge shattered into thousands of pieces, creating billowing clouds of smoke and dust.

And for once he was able to perform a heroic act, catching Mobei-jun, who could not fly.

Grabbing his hand mid-flight, Shang Qinghua saw shock bordering on disbelief in the demon's eyes, and it was understandable. Mobei-jun must have been firmly convinced that Shang Qinghua was staying by his side only out of fear for his own life, and for that purpose he was sucking up to him, throwing dust in his eyes, allowing himself to be vented on, and so on, and at the slightest sign of danger he would immediately take off running, and that was all they saw of him. In truth, Shang Qinghua himself thought the same thing about himself, and perhaps he was even more shocked by his own actions than Mobei-jun.

From then on, perhaps because he had performed well in saving his master, his salary and position improved considerably—he was even allowed to return to the Cangqiong Range.

Yue Qingyuan-dada, a man of unparalleled generosity, magnanimously forgot about their past differences, allowing Shang Qinghua to resume his position as Lord of Anding Peak. During these blissful days in the "House of Leisure", he had his first taste of such a long rest that he felt bored. After finishing a whole jin (a unit of weight equal to 500 grams) of pumpkin seeds, he suddenly realized that he had not received any news from the System for a long time.

It was not without internal resistance that he decided to disturb her first, and the System immediately burst out with a deafening answer:

[Your goal has been achieved. The download of the Return to Hometown application has started.]

Shang Qinghua was speechless with surprise.

"So the most effective way to gain a man's favor is to pretend to be pathetic?" the demon glanced at him.

“Well, in theory, isn’t that so?” Shang Qinghua responded after thinking for a few moments.

Mobei-jun extended his hand instead of answering.

Thinking that he was about to be beaten again, Shang Qinghua covered his head with his hands - but did not feel the expected pain: his patron only lightly patted him on the top of the head. It seemed that Mobei-jun, who was really in a good mood, silently stood up and left the Council Hall. Shang Qinghua, who was completely perplexed, nevertheless did not forget about Sha Hualing's gaze, which was constantly watching him, burning with a downright carnivorous fire, so he immediately rushed after Mobei-jun.

Listening to his chatter, which combined equal parts flattery and shameless nonsense, everyone else began to steal glances at Luo Binghe, who was sitting on the high throne, in whose darkened eyes the flames of anger were already smoldering. His icy gaze, filled with seething rage, simply exuded inflexibility. It was obvious to the naked eye that from both of them to the concept of "weak, cute, docile and obedient" - as to the moon.

Sha Hualing, in turn, couldn't help but snort.

Shang Qinghua immediately shut up, but Luo Binghe, rubbing his temple, ordered:

• Continue!

Having received approval from above, Shang Qinghua quickly thought about the situation and, not without malicious intent, suggested:

— Let's take Shen Qingqiu for example. So, he's a natural... What is a natural? It means a normal man. That is, I don't mean to say that you are abnormal! He values ​​his reputation as a teacher very much, and a teacher values ​​obedient students above all else, so anyone who wants to please him should first master obedience...

It seemed that all the demons were shocked to the core by such boundless impudence. “What outrageous impudence!” Sha Hualing spat out. “So you mean that Junshang should dress up as a pitiful creature and obey a mere human? How could our sovereign, the supreme lord of the demons, afford to lose face like that?!” “That’s exactly what I meant!” Shang Qinghua echoed silently. “Now, my dear Sha-Sha, turn around and look at our autocratic father, deep in thought – does it look like he’s worried about this?”

When Shang Qinghua, inspired by the heavens to chatter non-stop, finally finished his twenty-minute lecture on love matters, Sha Hualing was already trying to strangle him with her gaze. As soon as Luo Binghe left, Shang Qinghua darted towards Mobei-jun, clinging to him for protection.

"Needles, paper clips," Sha Hualing couldn't stand it. "We've had enough of your human words! Jun-shang, I think he's just messing with your heads!"

(Needles, paper clips - translated from Chinese "straight, curved" - here in the original there is an untranslatable play on words: 直的 (zhíde) - "straight" - in a figurative sense also "straight", 弯的 (wānde) - "curved" - in a figurative sense also "homosexual".)

However, Luo Binghe seemed to be seriously considering his words:

• Haven't I tried hard enough to tie him to me? What else?

“To bind is the main task,” Shang Qinghua continued tirelessly. “But in addition to this sound advice, there is another important point: to let him know how you feel. Gentlemen, you should all keep in mind that the basis of a woman’s love is adoration and admiration, while the basis of a man’s love is pity and compassion. However, women do not interest us at the moment, for no woman is capable of resisting the divine will of Jun-shang, who crushes the Heavens with the power of his feelings, so let us move on to the other side of the issue. If you want a man to understand you, or rather, to accept your way of thinking and aspirations, and also to respond to them, what should you do for this? Judge for yourself: every man likes weak, helpless, and docile creatures. Who can be considered such? Someone who evokes pity, so that the seeker of favor must show considerable dexterity in order to appear sweet and obedient…”

Since this was not the first time Sha Hualing had picked on him, Shang Qinghua did not move, pretending that he was not there at all. Naturally, Mobei-jun did not pay the slightest attention to this either. However, Sha Hualing, seeing that she was being ignored, got even more excited, twirling her long nails in indignation:

• Jun-shang, Mobei-jun is constantly dragging this mortal around with him, he didn't even hesitate to bring him to the Council Hall! What kind of whim is this?

However, Luo Binghe only responded indifferently:

• You see him every day - haven't you gotten used to it yet?

Sha Hualing almost fainted from indignation.

And this was the first time in months that Bing Ge had acknowledged his existence! In his heart, Shang Qinghua began to dance wildly with joy: “My son finally noticed me, ha ha ha!”

Could he have foreseen that the next moment, Luo Binghe asked while staring at him:

• You laughed - does that mean you have something to say?

…Perhaps a few words won’t suffice here.

• Ha! - Sha Hualing said triumphantly. - That's right, Jun-shang should ask him - after all, he is... close friends with this Shen, so he will certainly suggest a few clever moves! We all listened!

Shang Qinghua looked at Mobei-jun, who was sitting right behind him, in confusion, and saw that he, of course, was not going to come to his rescue. Gathering his courage, the cultivator began: “…This… Yes, of course, I have something to say… And this secret lies in one single word – ‘Bind’!” After a pause, waiting for the effect of his words, Shang Qinghua continued: “As the saying goes, a virtuous woman fears most of all that she will be kidnapped by a young daredevil, and the latter is most afraid of gentle maidens; however, if with hard work an iron pestle can become a needle [8], then why shouldn’t a straight embroidery needle bend into a paper clip with due effort?”

• Why doesn't the lord ask Elder Menmo?

“I asked,” Luo Binghe responded laconically.

Mengmo must have given him some great advice - who better than Shang Qinghua to know that! The old demon was clearly a "fry first" type of guy.

At this thought, Shang Qinghua couldn't help but snort loudly.

Sha Hualing, already quite annoyed, immediately unleashed her accumulated irritation on him:

• You, impudent fellow! Not only did you sneak into the Council Hall, but you also dare to disturb an important meeting with the master with your unworthy sounds!

Does she really think this meeting is important? And how, may I ask, did he "interfere" with its progress?

Since this was not the first time Sha Hualing had picked on him, Shang Qinghua did not move, pretending that he was not there at all. Naturally, Mobei-jun did not pay the slightest attention to this either. However, Sha Hualing, seeing that she was being ignored, got even more excited, twirling her long nails in indignation:

• Jun-shang, Mobei-jun is always dragging this mortal around with him, he even didn’t hesitate to bring him to the Council Hall! What kind of whim is this? - Why doesn’t the lord ask Elder Mengmo?

“I asked,” Luo Binghe responded laconically.

Mengmo must have given him some great advice - who better than Shang Qinghua to know that! The old demon was clearly a "fry first" type of guy.

At this thought, Shang Qinghua couldn't help but snort loudly. Sha Hualing, who was already quite annoyed, immediately unleashed her accumulated irritation on him:

• You, impudent fellow! Not only did you sneak into the Council Hall, but you also dare to disturb an important meeting with the master with your unworthy sounds!

Does she really think this meeting is important? And how, may I ask, did he "interfere" with its progress?

Of course, none of them would dare to throw such a question in their master's face, but such a question was too... unhealthy for the demons, so no one dared to break the silence that hung in the hall. In fact, the question was so simple that any person could answer it: if you like someone, just tell them so directly, and that's it. But there was not a single "ordinary" here, excluding Shang Qinghua - the same was true for the "human".

Having thought carefully about the master's question, Mobei-jun came to his own understanding of the words "feels and thinks differently" and said weightily:

— Beat him at least three times a day and everything will be fine?

Luo Binghe waved him off and said:

• You don't have to answer.

Since only Sha Hualing among all the others could understand such matters due to the advantages of her gender, the gazes of all those gathered turned to her with hope. Throwing a look at them that read, “Why the hell should I give advice on arranging a love life to a man whom I myself would not refuse?”, Sister Sha, who was unusually popular in the original book, knitted her beautiful eyebrows and, curling her lips, said dryly:

(I - here Sha Hualing calls herself 老娘 (lǎoniáng) laonian - translated from Chinese as "mother, mommy", and also "midwife". This is how women call themselves during an argument.)

Seeing his own brainchild Bing Ge working tirelessly for three years, enduring hardships, Shang Qinghua could not help but feel compassion for him.

Only a complete idiot would dare to approach his hero at this moment, thereby incurring his wrath.

In the Council Hall of the Underground Palace, everyone was busy with their own business. Sha Hualing was mending the net of immortal rope that Shen Qingqiu had blown up, biting her lip in irritation as she stole glances at Luo Binghe. On the west side of the hall, Mobei-jun was snoring, and Shang Qinghua, sitting next to him, was dangling his leg, going crazy with boredom.

He really had absolutely nothing to do here - he hadn't planned to come here in the first place. However, being in the demon territory, he was forced to follow Mobei-jun everywhere - after all, if he moved even a step away from his master, he would be devoured in the blink of an eye by the local lovers of human flesh.

He was about to risk further beatings by disturbing Mobei-jun and asking him to move to some other place with a less tense atmosphere, when Luo Binghe suddenly uttered a single word:

• If.

All the demons gathered in the hall instantly fell silent, pricking up their ears. In the silence that followed, Luo Binghe said:

• If someone feels and thinks differently than you, how can you make them understand you? Poor Bing-ge!

It turns out he's ready to knock on all doors!

Of course, he resorted to circumlocutions, but it was obvious to everyone gathered that he was asking for advice on love matters.

And you had to think of discussing this with your subordinates! These people (or rather, demons) never fall in love - unless, of course, they have gone crazy.

Bing Ge's mood was particularly bad during those days.

And Shang Qinghua could understand: the proud protagonist, who in the original novel was able to single-handedly turn the Heavens upside down, finally managed to get Shen Qingqiu and imprisoned him—yes, just imprisoned him, nothing more.

Can you believe this?! Even he, the author of this creation, couldn't!

"Bing Ge, who was under his pen, acted solely on the principle of 'as long as the protagonist is satisfied, the reader is pleased' - so he would simply fry Shen Qingqiu hundreds of times in a row, like a pancake (and this has nothing to do with the personal scores of the Unrivaled Cucumber and Xiang Tian Da Feiji, really!). Of course, the poses, places and circumstances can be different - well, and in the process, of course, he will become much more compliant, because with repeated frying, feelings cannot help but arise... and look at our autocratic father, immersed in thought - it seems that he cares about this?"

When Shang Qinghua, inspired by the heavens to chatter non-stop, finally finished his twenty-minute lecture on love matters, Sha Hualing was already trying to strangle him with her gaze. As soon as Luo Binghe left, Shang Qinghua darted towards Mobei-jun, clinging to him for protection.

However, no matter how much he groveled before the new ruler, Xiang Tian Da Feiji's heart was clear. He firmly believed in two things:

1: There is gold hidden under a man's knees (and that is why it is important to choose the right moment to bend them);

2: A real man does not cry, even when he cries.

Following these two fundamental rules, he rightly judged that in this case there was nothing shameful in groveling. Besides, if you look at it from another point of view, Mobei-jun was his own creation, that is, in a sense, his, the author’s, brainchild. Well, there is really nothing reprehensible in a father currying favor with his son. And if you think about it, the so-called brainchildren are the debts of parents from previous lives…

Bang-bang, clap-clap - after enduring more beatings, Shang Qinghua hunched over in his chair, hugging his knees, and tried to apply the moral law of A-qiu in order to heal his mental wounds.

(A-Q's moral law is an ironic name for a way of consoling oneself by saying that you have achieved a "spiritual victory" in the face of a superior enemy. In short, a loser's consolation.) - We'll continue tomorrow.

This finally finished off Shang Qinghua.

“Holy shit, he’s even going to continue!” He almost blurted it out loud, calling on the entire Cangqiong Ridge to follow him to the Underworld.

“Your Majesty, allow me to explain,” he began babbling. “That day, when I went out – I just wanted to eat a few spoonfuls of porridge and go back – who knew that fate would play such a trick on me that I would run straight into my own shixiong. I was afraid that if he asked too many questions, I would accidentally blurt out the wrong thing and he would send people to look for Your Majesty, causing you trouble – in any case, it would not end well. Besides, your wounds no longer caused you serious concern, and after considering the situation from various points of view, I decided to endure the humiliation for the sake of a great mission by following them, because in this I saw an opportunity for…”

The hand that Mobei-jun was using to support his temple was already tired, and he moved to the other.

• Anyway, they told you to come back - and you just followed them.

“What else could I do?” Shang Qinghua cried out to him sorrowfully. “Resist him? Fight them? I wouldn’t do that—not to mention that I didn’t have the slightest chance against them, and more importantly, I would lose the opportunity to become Your Majesty’s spy—since how could I expose myself to the Cangqiong Mountains’ disciples without even getting down to business?”

Somewhere in the middle of this heartfelt speech, he did not fail to interject, deciding to strike while the iron was hot:

— And I am also happy to report to Your Majesty that I have been promoted to Senior Adept — hasn't my diligence been crowned with success? Doesn't Your Majesty find that I still have potential?.. Creep, creep more conscientiously.

Shang Qinghua hummed cheerfully all the way to the large dormitory where he had to collect his things before announcing his arrival at the high-ranking Anding Peak Leisure House.

Yes, you are not mistaken: the followers of Anding, who devoted themselves to slave labor day and night, lived in a building proudly called the “House of Leisure.”

Leisure, motherfucker! Xiang Tian Da Feiji was ready to swear that he had not originally put any satirical connotation into this name, but now, every time he saw these two words, he felt an evil will emanating from them.

Having found his own little room, Shang Qinghua, exhausted both mentally and physically, still found the strength to make his bed, after which he turned to pour himself a cup of water. And, turning back, he found that someone was already lying on his bed.

As in the most vulgar cliché, the cup he had just received from the host fell from his hands, and his knees weakened so much that he almost fell to the floor.

— …Your Majesty.

Mobei-jun turned his head to look at him. His expression was unrecognizable, but his voice was downright cold.

— “Follow me until the end of days,” is that it?

Shang Qinghua was ready to burst into tears from horror.

He even followed him to the Cangqiong Ridge! Shang Qinghua had never thought… well, strictly speaking, it wasn’t that he hadn’t thought at all – “Mysterious Ghost: Appearing like a spirit and disappearing like a shadow” – he had invented this skill for Mobei-jun himself, so that he could freely assist Bing-ge in committing murders and arson, moving unnoticed under the cover of darkness anywhere and everywhere!

At the same time, he himself yawned mercilessly, and his eyes were stuck together. He was already in a state of half-sleep when he noticed that Mobei-jun's eyelids had lifted, and his beautiful blue eyes sparkled in the darkness of the night with a predatory cat's gleam.

This would have terrified anyone. Shang Qinghua's eyes opened on their own, looking at the demon with an ingratiating gaze, but the demon had already closed his eyelids again.

…When Shang Qinghua woke up, he found that things were bad.

Last night, completely exhausted, he dropped his fans and fell onto his bed, falling into a dead sleep. "That's a relief," Shang Qinghua thought with relief, making sure that Mobei-jun had not yet woken up - otherwise, he would have blown his new subordinate's brains out!

Jumping out of bed, he lay down on the floor at the head of the bed - in his own place, which he had nevertheless managed to defend.

Some time later, the headboard creaked—Mobei-jun sat up in bed.

Shang Qinghua's heart began to beat anxiously: if he waited a few more moments, bloodshed would be inevitable. The next day, Mobei-jun graciously allowed Shang Qinghua to leave the inn, so he could finally breathe deeply and go about his business.

In fact, it looked like this: hugging the demon’s hips, the adept whined tirelessly:

• Your Majesty, alas, I have run out of food! I have not yet reached the level of cultivation where I can do without food if I wish, what do you think! Allow me to go to the market, otherwise you will have to share this room with my stinking corpse!

At a corner shop he bought a bowl of porridge, clear as water, and, lowering his head, he saw in it the reflection of his face - exhausted, like a flower beaten by the rain, there was no other way to put it.

And it just so happened that on this sad day, he heard someone calling out to him from behind: “Shidi!” Turning around, he saw five young men with a divine aura, long-sleeved robes fluttering in the wind, with swords on their backs, moving towards him.

After suffering all kinds of pain, Shang Qinghua finally snapped out of his nightmare—to find that the rope had indeed become taut. His gaze slid down it and he saw Mobei-jun lying flat out, tugging the rope over and over again, as if it were a bell string.

The barely alive Shang Qinghua stammered weakly:

• What would you like, Your Majesty?

Receiving no answer, he asked again—and then realized that Mobei-jun was doing this unconsciously. Without coming to his senses, the demon was tossing and turning on the bed as if he was feeling unwell again, and was grabbing the air with his hands, as if he was trying to catch someone so he could get even with them. Unfortunately for Shang Qinghua, his master was tugging at his subordinate with such force that his eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

Mobei-jun frowned, as if he was indignant at something, and continued to fidget. Tiptoeing towards the bed, Shang Qinghua stared at the beads of sweat that covered his clear forehead, feeling the heat emanating from the demon—and finally understood.

A seemingly tiny kidney wound could not be the cause - in fact, everything was much more serious, although Mobei-jun kept quiet, not letting anyone know about his illness. Given his icy nature, hot weather should not be to the liking of even a healthy Mobei-jun, and being wounded, he could easily get inflammation and even suppuration.

His kidney was healing so slowly that it probably wouldn't hurt to speed things up a little!

Since Mobei-jun's body required cold, in hot weather he began to produce it himself.

“You sleep so badly,” Shang Qinghua said, still in a whisper, and, having reconciled himself to his fate, he went off to knock on doors in the middle of the night and pester the servants in order to get a couple of palm leaf fans, a tub of water, and a couple of clean towels. Returning to Mobei-jun, he wiped him down and placed a wet towel on his forehead, after which he began to fan him with both fans as hard as he could.

Tears welled up in Shang Qinghua's eyes as he sat on the floor, and he pleaded with a trembling voice:

• Your Majesty, but if you do not allow me to lie down next to you, then what if during the night you get cold, hungry, thirsty, or turn over? How will I know about this?

“Easy,” Mobei-jun raised his eyebrows and ordered Shang Qinghua to find the rope.

The solution turned out to be surprisingly simple: he tied one end to his finger, and the other to the adept...

Do you think it's also to the finger?

Right now - on the neck!

Lying motionless on the floor, as if dead, Shang Qinghua indulged in sorrowful thoughts about how his shitty lot was indeed worse than a dog's. The only consolation was that Mobei-jun was not some kind of pervert to think of tying the other end of the rope to... his end - that would be truly inhumane, brrr. Only four days had passed since then, but because of the suffering Shang Qinghua was enduring, each of them felt like a whole year, and each night turned into a continuous nightmare.

But that midnight, Shang Qinghua slept like a log and dreamed again. This time he dreamed that he was back in his home, sobbing in front of the computer, and next to him stood an evil thug holding a prickly cucumber in his hands, like a hairy ankle, with which he hit the writer in the face again and again, roaring:

• Everything you write is complete bullshit! Trying in vain to avoid the instrument of beating, Xiang Tian Da Feiji tried to object to him: - But I haven't written a single line for a long time! Why are you like this, Cucumber-xiong ("elder brother", "respected friend", "deeply respected" (polite address to a peer))!

"Then post the update quickly!" Cucumber ordered, tightening the noose around his neck.

He had barely managed to bite off a few more pieces when a black shadow fell on him, slapping him in the face.

Shang Qinghua immediately found something to do: he now washed the clothes of his newfound master.

At the same time, he never ceased to be amazed: how could the young heir of a noble demonic family wear this dress - all in holes, soaked in sweat and blood? Of course, he had to carefully sew up all the holes, wash out all the stains and dry the clothes in the sun.

How dull, heavy, full of dangers and completely devoid of romance is this world of low-level xianxia!

(Xianxia 仙侠 (xiānxiá) - translated from Chinese as "immortal hero" - a type of Chinese fantasy, stories about magic, demons, ghosts, immortal cultivators, containing many elements of Chinese folklore and mythology. Strongly influenced by Taoism.)

Consumed by these thoughts, Shang Qinghua swore to himself that if by some miracle he were to reincarnate back into Xiang Tian Da Feiji, he would definitely write a fantasy novel with high-level magic, where imagination would run wild and science would be fed to the dogs. There, robes could be woven from clouds, belts cut from moonlight, and heavy physical labor would be done automatically at the wave of a finger, so that there would be no need for the ill-fated An Ding Peak to exist anymore! After carefully mending the hole above the kidney, wringing out and hanging Mobei Jun's robe to dry in the room, Shang Qinghua concluded with satisfaction that he had probably made a good impression.

So when evening came, he, having become confident of his position, tried to make his way onto the bed again - but history repeated itself: as soon as he approached, he was kicked away again.

Much to his relief, Mobei-Jun had already answered his own question in his heart, branding Shang Qinghua as a “sycophantic slug who would betray all his comrades out of fear for his own miserable life,” and this saved him the trouble of trying to come up with an answer. With a cold chuckle, Mobei-Jun lay back down on the bed.

Shang Qinghua sat under the table for quite a long time, not daring to move.

So Mobei-jun believed him, at least in part? Or did he just… pass out again?

In the end, deciding not to tempt fate, Shang Qinghua curled up under the table, settling in for the night.

Having tossed and turned more than slept, in the morning the adept Anding again took up his usual business - toiling like an ox and a horse.

From dawn onwards he ran up and down at least twenty times to meekly fill seven or eight bathing tubs in a row.

All this water was needed to treat Mobei-jun – this icy gentleman preferred soaking in a tub to everything else. But as soon as he stayed in the initially warm water for at least half an hour, it turned into icy lard. Chewing dry cakes in the corner, Shang Qinghua secretly spied on Mobei-jun undressing, passionately envying his toned body and admiring his six-pack.

Some time later, he found Mobei-jun frozen in place, frowning at him.

After chewing what was in his mouth, Shang Qinghua hurried to stuff the rest in there, fearing that otherwise the demon would demand that he give it all to him.

“What, are you hanging around doing nothing?” Mobei-jun said tensely.

“No, not at all salty, they’re sweet,” Shang Qinghua replied, not hearing. (Not at all salty is a play on words in the original: Mobei-jun asks, “Are you completely free?” and Shang Qinghua replies, “not salty”; as you can see, the words “free” and “salty” are homonyms, meaning that Shang Qinghua understood the question as “Very salty?”)

Shang Qinghua immediately froze, pitifully hugging the table leg, and then crawled under it like a hamster into a hole.

“What are your goals?” Mobei-jun asked.

“Nothing in particular,” Shang Qinghua lied shamelessly. “I just want to follow you until the end of my days.”

“You are an adept of the outer circle of Anding Peak,” the demon lord said as if he hadn’t heard him.

Shang Qinghua always felt that when others said the name of his peak, they were putting some kind of disdainful meaning into it. Afraid that Mobei-jun would immediately kill him, considering him useless, he leaned out from under the table:

• Your Majesty, listen, I am still young, so I can very well “ascend given the right opportunity”...

• Get out of sight!

Shang Qinghua hurried to a safe haven.

Satisfied with this, Mobei-jun asked:

• So you helped me so that I could help you with this very “favorable opportunity”?

From Shang Qinghua's point of view, it was very unkind of Mobei-jun to replace the word "saved" with "helped", relegating the savior to a secondary role, but he chuckled good-naturedly, pretending to be a fool.

Answer "no"? The probability that they will believe you is three percent. "Yes"? Mobei-jun has always despised spineless villains in particular, which is why in the original novel he decided without a wavering hand that Shang Qinghua was a demon and did not intend to save his life from the very beginning. What is the point then, sacrificing honor and conscience, lying that he is forcing himself into Mobei-jun's allies only for favor points?

“Do you remember who I am?” Shang Qinghua asked cautiously.

The demon did not react to this question in any way, but this did not bother the caster in the least: he foresaw the possibility of memory loss.

“So, we met on the path recently,” Shang Qinghua continued, ignoring his angry gaze. “And I told you that I am ready to follow Your Majesty until the end of my days, as your…”

“Why did you just hug me?” Mobei-jun interrupted him.

— …a loyal follower and a reliable support… — Realizing the meaning of his words, Shang Qinghua asked again in fear: — What? What did you just say?

• You hugged me.

And then it dawned on Shang Qinghua.

The room was as hot as hell, but Mobei-jun's body was still cold. As he dozed off, Shang Qinghua unconsciously moved closer to the source of coolness, and the closer he pressed himself, the more pleasant it became. No wonder he dreamed of huge icicles. Shang Qinghua clasped the demon like an octopus and shed tears of pleasure.

He stole a glance at Mobei-jun's face and neck, but still found no traces of moisture there, and mentally offered up a prayer of thanks: "A-mi-to-fo!"

“You were so cold,” he said carefully, “and I was afraid you might die, so I tried to warm you up.”

“Idiot,” Mobei-Jun chuckled. “I was born like this, and the colder my body is, the better. I’m not a man to whom the cold brings death.” Shang Qinghua, who had been closely watching his expression, couldn’t help but smile when he noticed that Mobei-Jun’s features had smoothed out a little. But just as he was about to crawl out from under the table to stealthily climb onto the bed again, Mobei-Jun’s sternness instantly returned:

— Just try.

Passing by the pharmacy, Shang Qinghua bought some healing ointments. Although they say that demons are incredibly resilient and enduring - no matter what you do to them, you can be sure that any hole will heal like water off a duck's back - but if you have taken on the job of serving - then be kind enough to show sincere zeal, throwing aside all restraint. Xiang Tian Da Feiji, trying on the role of an exemplary sycophant, most of all despised those who, groveling before the powers that be, pretend to be proud. Having dug up a lump of earth, he boldly stuck it into the hole on Mobei-jun's back above the kidney, plugging it up properly, after which he turned the demon over on his back, folding his arms on his chest - and involuntarily admired: in this pose his patient most closely resembled Sleeping Beauty. Having admired the perfectly beautiful features of his own creation to his heart's content, Shang Qinghua fell asleep on the other side of the bed, resting his head on his hands.

Although the window was wide open, not a single gust of cool air refreshed the stuffy summer night.

After tossing and turning for half the night, Shang Qinghua finally dozed off when suddenly someone kicked him in the butt and threw him to the ground.

Needless to say, he was scared to death from his sleep.

Immediately rolling under the table, Shang Qinghua, who had not yet recovered from his fright, cautiously turned his head - and before his eyes appeared Mobei-jun, who was slowly rising from the bed, whose eyes were shining with such an intense blue light, as if his head was a bomb that was about to explode.

Shang Qinghua had already prepared a suitable speech, so he immediately began with a voice trembling with grief and emotion:

• Your Majesty, are you already awake...

Mobei-jun, not at all moved by this address, continued to glare at him with an icy gaze.

In the end, he decided that there was no point in hanging around in the open air any longer.

They should rent a room for... for rest, of course, but what did you think?

After hesitating on the corpse-strewn road, Shang Qinghua finally dumped all the junk from Qingjing Peak out of the cart and dragged Mobei onto it, laying him face down—otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from staring at him every minute.

The way to the Cangqiong ridge is closed to him for now. The news of what happened will not reach there soon, since their journey was supposed to take all seven days, of which only two have passed.

“After all, helping a wounded young demon at his most vulnerable moment is the best way to gain his favor, isn’t it?” Shang Qinghua consoled himself as he pushed the large cart towards the city with difficulty.

He had rented a hotel room with money he had saved up over the last few years. As an outer circle adept, he had no access to public funds yet, so this unexpected expense had drained his meager finances—of course, he could only afford one room. And of course, it had only one bed. Who that bed was for was also clear.

Well, of course, to himself!

Sprawled out on the bed, Shang Qinghua was finally able to relax his tired arms and legs. After a while, he finally got off the bed to drag the demon there, and froze again, holding him in his arms.

It was clear that Mobei-jun was in a bad mood after being wounded due to the internal heat that was overwhelming him - if, upon waking up, he found himself lying on the floor or squeezed into a chair, then Shang Qinghua's fate would be sealed: without figuring out who was right and who was wrong, the demon lord would fire a whole clip of icicles at his benefactor.

To be honest, he himself wasn't very fond of jade beauties like Bing Ge. Xiang Tian Da Feiji equipped his protagonist with such data only in order to grow the corresponding fruits from these seeds. And research shows that today's women lose their heads over men who are graceful and even have a certain amount of femininity.

Of course, such a character could not help but attract outbursts of hatred - in the case of Luo Binghe, there were about five haters for every three fans. But with Mobei-jun, things were completely different: secondary characters are usually more sympathetic than the main characters, so there were no ill-wishers of the demon lord among the readers.

So Xiang Tian Da Feiji could create Mobei-jun exactly as his heart desired. Using the author's secret favor, the demon became his ideal of beauty, fully satisfying his aesthetic tastes. Just don't ask why not Luo Binghe - because he had a different plot role: to pretend to be extremely cool and indulge in unbridled debauchery (this should be crossed out).

Even the current Mobei-jun, who had not yet reached his prime, already fully corresponded to the description: “Bottomless eyes, a straight bridge of the nose, a face full of nobility and contemptuous arrogance” - these ten words completely conveyed the aesthetic ideal of a sixteen-year-old youth.

That same irresistible man of his dreams! The newly picked up stone rose and fell, symbolizing the internal struggle of Shang Qinghua, who for the first time since he had migrated into his own novel was faced with such a difficult choice.

Shang Qinghua, still muttering to himself in confusion, broke into a malicious smile. He rummaged around and found a stone the size of a head and a half, weighing it in his hand, he noted with satisfaction that it was quite heavy.

One, two, three - just a few steps towards Mobei-jun to smash that head with its tightly closed eyelids.

And the System, for once, remains silent, not trying to stop him.

Shang Qinghua could breathe a sigh of relief: no warnings, so the flag is in your hands!

“Your Majesty, oh Your Majesty, this is the will of Heaven,” Shang Qinghua muttered like a prayer, feeling that his words lacked sincerity. “Our paths are destined to diverge,” with these words, he picked up a stone to immediately drop it on Mobei-jun’s head!

…but the stone that was about to crash into the perfect bridge of the Demon Lord’s nose suddenly froze in mid-air: at the last moment, Shang Qinghua managed to pull on the reins.

In fact, this character had a special meaning for the author.

You could say that Mobei-jun was exactly what the author himself dreamed of becoming - powerful, incredibly cool, independent - a real Ultraman, which every child dreams of. Could he really kill his Ultraman with his own hands in cold blood?

Shang Qinghua paused for a moment, sighing sadly to himself.

“Hit him and just don’t look,” he decided shamelessly, turning around and raising the stone again.

“…no, I still can’t.” Having come to this conclusion, Shang Qinghua threw the bulky weapon of the failed murder away with a crash and, with eyes burning with enthusiasm, rushed towards Mobei-jun, so much so that he almost fell on him.

“It won’t work, it won’t work…” The longer Shang Qinghua looked at him, the more he fell under the spell of this inhumanly beautiful face.

This intricate, somewhat frivolous “flower” dart undoubtedly belonged to one of the adepts of the Huanhua Palace!

(Flower dart - in the original 菱花镖 (línghuābiāo) - translated from Chinese: a tip/dart in the shape of a water chestnut flower (chilim).)

He should know - after all, it was one of those trinkets casually invented by the great Airplane: thin and light, like a dragonfly's wing, it was also covered with an anesthetic compound, so that the victim did not immediately notice that it had entered the body, and with active movements this flower "bloomed", piercing six razor-sharp petals into the internal organs.

Sounds familiar, huh? Sounds like something usually attributed to demons? And it's not without reason: such a coincidence is easily explained by the fact that this invention belonged to one of the former heads of the Huanhua palace, who, while in the service of demons, barely escaped death - and subsequently created this weapon based on the principle of a demonic herb called qingsi - or "bonds of love."

So, we finish with the voiceover and return to the main action.

In other words, this second generation pure-blooded demon who was supposed to take down Shang Qinghua himself was now not only injured in the kidney, but also under the influence of a drug.

It seemed that Mobei-jun had broken through the encirclement of the Huanhua Palace by fighting his way here. The demons' vengefulness had long been a byword, and there were old scores to settle between the Mobei clan and the Palace - it was no coincidence that during the infamous meeting of the Immortal Union, it was this school of cultivators that suffered the heaviest losses: this was how Mobei-jun took revenge on them. And all this fit perfectly into the concept of Xiang Tian Da Feiji.

“I can serve tea,” Shang Qinghua began to list diligently, “do laundry, make the bed… or…” He cast an inquisitive glance at the demon lord looming over him and corrected himself: “You see, Your Majesty, by becoming your spy at Cangqiong Peak, I will be able to obtain and pass on information to you, helping the human and demon kingdoms unite under your rule!”

“You are only an outer circle adept, and also an Anding Peak,” Mobei-jun chuckled. “And when do you think I will achieve such a grandiose goal with such help?”

“Your Majesty should not underestimate my peak,” Shang Qinghua muttered sheepishly.

“Why do even demons try to trample my long-suffering peak into the dirt?” he fumed to himself. “Moreover, in Mobei-jun’s mouth, ‘Anting adept’ sounded even more derogatory than ‘outer circle adept’. No, this is really too much!”

Tears welled up in his eyes from indignation, and he pressed himself even closer to Mobei-jun, like a leech, intending to fight to the death - caught off guard by this movement, the demon lord staggered, lost his balance... and fell to the ground.

In doing so, he almost crushed Shang Qinghua, who was clinging to him, and he quickly let go of his hands.

As he squatted there, confused, a sudden thought struck him: Was Mobei-jun injured? No wonder he had such a fiery temperament, if he was so easily upset!

Did Shang Qinghua just manage to take down a Demon Lord with his own hands? Indeed, impulsive actions can also be useful! Shang Qinghua cautiously approached and looked at Mobei-Jun.

That's right - on the demon's lower back, approximately above the right kidney, there was a wound about a finger long, in which a golden fragment was shining - looking closely, Shang Qinghua made out a thin weave of a petal-shaped plate.

As soon as Shang Qinghua's voice died down, a monstrous force pulled him off the carriage and threw him to the ground.

He fell at Mobei-jun's feet with his sword half-drawn, not really having time to decide whether to pull it out.

The Demon Lord grinned, his eyes flashing blue ice. Before he could even figure out what he was doing, Shang Qinghua rushed straight towards him, grabbing his hips.

His shishuns froze with their mouths open at the sight of this =口=

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes menacingly = =

Quickly dropping to one knee, Shang Qinghua begged before he could react:

• Your Majesty, let me follow you until the end of my days!

Mobei-jun tried to push him away with a kick, but Shang Qinghua held on tightly. Then the demon tried to hit him with his hand, but it was no easier: this man was like a gecko, seemingly barely touching the wall with his nimble movements - but try to tear him off.

The Demon Lord became angry involuntarily.

The Anding disciples interpreted this scene in their own way: glad that their comrade had at least temporarily restrained the enemy's movements, they preferred not to wait for the inevitable outcome and immediately fled, abandoning their goods. Shang Qinghua cried out in sorrow in his soul - but a few moments later, his mental lamentations were joined by very real cries. Dozens of icicles pierced his comrades who had abandoned him, and flashes of silver light sparkled in a mad dance on the flying drops of blood. At the sight of this, Shang Qinghua even grabbed Mobei-jun's hips with an iron grip, continuing to whine:

• Your Majesty, please don't reject me! I can be very useful!

Finally, having deigned to bend down to him, the demon asked:

• You? And what good are you?

Suddenly, the first no-name to draw his sword pushed him in the shoulder:

• What are you waiting for? Go ahead!

Although Shang Qinghua's heart felt like it was being dipped in boiling oil, his mind was still extremely clear. Just in case, he stuck to the carriage even more tightly like chewing gum and responded:

— Where to next?

• Of course, to destroy the demon, defending the foundations and administering justice!

“He’s also a fool!” Shang Qinghua snapped to himself, but said out loud:

• After you, shixiong.

However, he had his own thoughts on this matter:

"Go, if you're ordered!" he immediately became furious. "Stop talking nonsense!" Of course, the others immediately supported his initiative, starting to tear Shang Qinghua away from the carriage, rewarding him with kicks along the way: it seemed they had decided to simply distract the demon's attention to his comrade, thereby getting a chance to escape. However, he remained completely unperturbed, realizing that his current position was the safest of all possible. Clinging tightly to the carriage, he began to wail:

• Shixiong, I don't want to! My comrades will remember you for mercilessly turning me into cannon fodder! - What cannon fodder? - his shixiong couldn't help but shudder. - Once you beat this demonic offspring, you'll instantly fly up like the heavenly steed Feihuang! (figuratively speaking: "make a rapid career; quickly go uphill; get an important position, succeed") Only in this way can outer circle adepts like us ("adepts on the other side of the door (gate)") rise - here it is, your wonderful future, right in front of you!

Feeling that he still couldn't stay away, Shang Qinghua whined as if his heart was being torn apart:

• Okay, I'm coming, I'm coming!

Of course, there was no mention of this in the original novel - after all, Bing Ge reigned supreme over him, committing revenge and violence, subordinating the entire world to his influence; who cared about some bastard spy who was doomed to the role of cannon fodder? However, in this world, all the unwritten parts had to be filled in somehow - and at the same time, the initially omniscient Feiji lost all idea of ​​​​what was happening. In other words, usually having a remarkable advantage, here, on the contrary, he was several steps behind everyone else!

His evil nameless shixiong bravely drew his sword (which, being the property of the adept Anding, must have not seen the light of day for eight hundred years) and, swinging it, shouted at the top of his voice, using the middle qi (qi of the spleen and stomach, as well as the volume of the lungs (when singing or shouting)):

• What kind of creature dared to stand in our way?

His comrades quickly caught up, drawing their swords:

• How dare you appear before the followers of the Cangqiong Ridge!

Since Mobei-jun was already in a bad mood that day, he didn't even let them finish their traditional monologue of cannon fodder by cracking his fingers. At that very moment, a storm of ice arrows rained down on them, cutting down the disciples one after another.

As for Shang Qinghua, his consciousness seemed to be split in two: while one part screamed in horror, the other openly admired: “What power! And at the same time, what grace! You’re a damn handsome man!”

And yet, although the object of his admiration was capable of shaking the earth and making spirits weep with his power, he was still his future killer, so Shang Qinghua naturally preferred to keep his admiration to himself.

This was the case with that same Shen Qingqiu, who was branded tens of thousands of times for simply acting like an asshole without any reason whatsoever - but in fact, he was one of the first victims of the merciless "plot castration".

Well, apart from Bing-ge's dad, he didn't even get the chance to go on stage.

(Daddy - here Shang Qinghua uses the word 他爹 (tādiē) - tade, which is what a wife usually calls her husband - "father of my children.")

And all this was done to please subscribers, especially new ones: at least this guaranteed that, having dived into these deep waters, they would not drown in them out of boredom.

Of course, the inevitable consequences of such an approach were countless “unfired guns,” plot inconsistencies, and plot holes gaping everywhere, because of which even the most sophisticated readers rained down endless showers of curses on the writer’s head.

If you said that Xiang Tian Da Feiji himself didn't care, you would also be sinning against the truth: of course, he also didn't like such low-grade writing at a crazy pace - especially when it resulted in the mass beating of countless operetta villains with an intellect below the baseboard. After all, he also wanted to create a multi-faceted villain, cannon fodder worthy of sympathy, to prove that he understood something about human nature and was not alien to real literature.

But of course readers wouldn't buy that, and he had to make a living somehow. And what do literary ideals and human nature mean compared to ratings and earnings?

However, returning to the problem that arose before him - it was precisely because of this unseemly custom that many plot points were lost, so to speak, strangled even before birth. For example... How did Mobei-jun recruit Shang Qinghua?

"Mother System," the sorcerer addressed her respectfully, "are you deliberately giving out so little information in each message? Could you at least clarify a little what this mission will be, so that I know what and how to prepare for? At least a hint?"

However, the System limited itself to the stingy:

[You will understand.]

Shang Qinghua could only silently lament, “No, this old man doesn’t understand anything!”

At that moment, the open cart stopped dead in its tracks with a loud creaking sound - the wheel had clearly caught on something lying on the ground.

Shang Qinghua's senior brothers, who were sitting on the carriage, jumped up at once, and since they were already consumed with anger, they immediately pounced on the junior adept:

• Idiot, you can't even drive a cart properly! Go figure out what's going on!

Not understanding any better than they what had happened, Shang Qinghua jumped off the cart to take a look, but as soon as he glanced under the wheels, he nearly died of fear.

They did not move because the puddle into which the cart had just driven froze instantly, freezing the wheels.

The air had noticeably cooled, to the point of being icy, but Shang Qinghua's heart was even colder. Trembling uncontrollably, the adept looked up. A tall figure in a black cloak was walking towards them, like a disembodied shadow, yet her proud bearing held the fragility of youth.

The system was quick to intervene, for once generously offering an explanation:

[Your opponent's current anger level is 1000 points.]

[Mission objective: survive.]

[End of hint. Good luck!]

At this point, the System shut down, leaving Shang Qinghua completely at a loss.

Supreme Deity Xiang Tian Da Feiji had one bad habit: cutting off plot lines.

Before, so to speak, bringing them to life, he sowed their seeds in the fertile soil of the novel, looked where the wind of reader opinion was blowing - and on this basis made a selection of those that were worth developing.

"Hey! If you want gossip, then give the floor to the one who made up their backstory - however, having then cut it off at the root - no one knows more about these affairs of bygone days than this omniscient master!"

Feeling supported, all the disciples began to share their sorrows without restraint, as if playing a broken record, and the further, the more heated they became, obeying the stormy flow of hatred and envy boiling in their hearts - but what could they do against the one who gave birth to this storm of anger? Shang Qinghua wisely stepped back, cowering on the box, laughing to himself at the heated discussion, but not getting in a word: no matter how united his brothers seemed now, their younger comrade had no illusions about this imaginary solidarity - a few days later they would easily betray those with whom they were confiding now. Of course, it's great to vent your indignation in the company of your own kind, but after one of them snitched on you, causing the followers of other peaks to look askance at you, it's better to pack up while you can, and deal with the consequences: for the sake of momentary pleasure, don't forget how biased and inexorable public opinion can sometimes be!

The road was pretty muddy after the recent rain, so the cart was constantly tossing from side to side; at the very moment when it tilted again, the System sent a notification with a joyful jingle:

[Get ready: a new mission is coming!]

At these words, Shang Qinghua's face wrinkled like a chrysanthemum flower.