Chapter Text
“Shen-shixiong!” A nervous disciple calls, but Shen Yuan is too enthralled by his research to hear it. Instead of looking back at the sound of his own name, he continues walking, quickly exiting the Peak.
Left in his wake is a sword, obviously dripping with ill intent. The disciple stares blankly at it, unsure what exactly he should do. He’s not going to chase down his shixiong, but he’s also unwilling to touch the sword and give it to someone else to give to his shixiong. Caught in between a rock (his unreadable shixiong) and a hard place (the very clearly demonic sword), the disciple simply plants himself down around three meters from the weapon. Close enough to keep an eye on it, but far enough to be unaffected by the evil aura radiating off it.
With a weary sigh, the disciple prepares himself for a long night spent vigilantly guarding his senior’s peerless sword.
As the day goes by, Shen Yuan is yet to return. However, many other disciples of Cang Qiong find themselves passing the sword by. Every single one either making a large curve to avoid it or settling themselves to the side to help guard it. By the time the moon is gradually climbing the sky, a group of around ten disciples has gathered.
“Should we tell someone..?”
“Eh. Shen-shixiong will surely remember his own sword.”
“Uhhh,” a much more realistic disciple hesitates, “are we really sure about that?”
All at once, the medium sized group realizes exactly what senior they’re waiting for. Shen Yuan. His memory is selective, and his disregard for time is legendary. He doesn’t even need his sword! Who’s to say he’ll ever come looking for it??
“Shit.”
Alas, they’ve already waited this long, and Cang Qiong disciples aren’t quitters. Thus, they continue to observe. However, a couple takes turns napping while another five or six play a meditation game. They’re in this for the long haul.
It takes two days.
TWO DAYS.
And it’s not even Shen-shixiong that picks it up! It’s Liu-shidi! What the heck!
In what world is that fair??? How can he have the willingness, the bravery, to touch such an obviously evil sword??? It’s not even his! Bullshit!
All at once, the gathered cultivators are burdened by mostly unwarranted jealousy. Why are they upset that Liu Xing is able to pick up the sword? It means they can finally leave! Go eat! Sleep! Cultivate!
And yet, it’s sort of a let down to not see Shen-shixiong in the end.
Oh well.
Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is curled up in his shifu’s room, his favorite bestiary held in a death grip as he struggles to stay awake. His eyelids are losing the fight against gravity though…
“Shen-shixiong! You lost your sword, and I brought it back to you! Fight me!”
Shen Yuan drops the book, the sound startling him fully awake. As his brain processes the words, he groans irritably.
“When did I lose my sword..?” He mumbles unhappily. With an extremely put upon sigh, Shen Yuan rolls out of his bed and pulls Liu Xing into the room with him.
He takes Jue Shi from his shidi and smiles gently. “Thank you, Liu-shidi, but this one is a bit tired, so we’ll have to reschedule…”
Liu Xing’s puppy dog stare goes into effect, boring straight into Shen Yuan’s own sleepy gaze. Sighing once again, Shen A’Yuan relents, “Fine, since you brought Jue Shi all this way… I suppose we can spar. But only once!”
“Yes, Shen-shixiong! Only once!” Liu Xing nods excitedly. Eyes bright with untapped energy.
They do not, in fact, stop after one round.
They spar until Shen Yuan falls asleep mid battle. Nearly three days after he first left his sword behind.
After that, Shen Yuan is much more careful when it comes to leaving his belongings behind. His weapons always stay on him now. He’s extremely reluctant to give Liu-shidi another way to beg him to spar. He gets tired, you know! It’s not easy being Qing Jing’s Head Disciple, okay!