Chapter Text
Broken sword’s pieces lay on the floor of the Water Prison. Gone was the once powerful and gentle aura of Xuan Su. For once, Shen Jiu – he was not Qingqiu, he had not been for a while, not after his sect publicly demoted him by sending him to the beast – looked up from the feet that betrayed a dominating posture, confidence oozing from the beast. He scanned the beast’s face, the disciple he had failed, smirking as he brazenly kicked one of the pieces closer to him, his one eye following involuntarily the movement, the arch of the piece. A piece that seemed to scream for him that ‘Qi-ge is dead! Qi-ge is dead! Qi-ge is dead!’
“Shizun has been in my care for a while, and all it took him was one leg for him to run for Shizun!” He roared in laughter, “What a pathetic man, falling for an obvious trap even though he handed Shizun in a silver plate for this one.”
Even though the man was talking, Shen Jiu was barely listening to him. He could only focus on his brother’s sword, his soul companion, that was lying there, completely and utterly broken, dead, because of him. For all he did for him, his loyalty and life for this life and the next, he only caused grief and humiliation. Yue Qi died that day, the day he told him to leave without him, lying about broken legs. Even then, his loyalty belonged to the man that he became, Yue Qingyuan. He hated him. That man forgot him. Broke their promise. Even then, he would not break his promise. He was not like him. A lot of good it did him. He died coming for him. Why? Why?
He had already forgotten about little slave nine. Why would he come back for the lecherous and child-abusing Shen Qingqiu? But here it is, his final moment spent thinking about him, dying for him. He caused this, caused both Qi-ge’s death and the loved Yue Qingyuan’s as well.
Suddenly, a foot met his face, forcing him to glance up, to look the emperor of the three realms in his eyes. The anger in his blood-colored eyes could not be hidden.
“Shizun should look at this disciple when he so graciously brought him this gift.” He let his foot down and crouched down to be at the same eye level as him. The chains that held him from the neck and the torso rattled at the sudden movement. “So, what does Shizun think? A good surprise? I knew Shizun would love it, since that man allowed you to do everything you wanted, even abusing little kids. Yingying was the one who suggested it.” He cackled. He grabbed his former Shizun with such care that one could forget that he was the torturer and not a love-sick partner tending to their lover. “She seems to have learned something from Shizun at least, since Shizun didn’t seem keen on teaching her-”
The beast cut himself as he noticed something wet touching his fingers. It was blood. Shen Jiu’s blood was leaking from the hole that didn’t host an eye anymore. A guttural sound came out of him. As close to a cry as one could do without a tongue. Shocked, Luo Binghe let his face go. Soon, blood hit the floor as Shen Jiu cried and allowed himself to grieve. His sect leader, his brother, died without explanation, excuses always hanging on his tongue. He had come back. Too late and unwanted this time. But he came. And he died. And Shen Jiu, Shen Qingiu, hated him. He did, from the bottom of his rock-hard heart.
He was gone. Even after Shen Jiu tried to protect him and get him to live the way he should have, uncaring for the slave and the scum he was.
Somehow, the tears couldn’t stop, and they flowed like a bloody river, filled with corpses after war. Full of grief, they tainted everything they touched. Just like him.
“How dare Shizun cry for that man!” Several emotions seemed to swirl in the halfling’s mind. His anger burst out as he saw his Shizun finally make an emotion, but not for him. He had emotions; he could cry. It meant that Luo Binghe, emperor of the three realms, a heavenly demon, was just not important enough for his Shizun to care. His twisted actions, his abuse were unfounded, and there was no logical reason; the man simply hated him.
He stormed out of the room, his rage boiling as Xin Mo whispered to him.
Finally, alone, Shen Jiu glanced at the sword’s pieces. They were close enough. He tried to crawl, to slither like a snake would. Ungraceful, as the leaky blood stained his face. Slowly, he swallowed every piece. His soul connected with Xian Su and what was once his brother. The blades sliced up his throat, the imperial cables impeding his healing. It was at the same time one of the worst pains he had lived through and also the most soothing healing he got. The sword spirit was slowly soothing his mind.
Nothing hurt anymore. He smiled as he freed himself. He became something he was not born to do. As his soul left his mangled body, he felt free. He saw a glimpse of what his life had been like. He saw a young Qi-ge picking him up from a ditch and their lives together. Despite the pain and hunger, those were his best memories. The Qiu manor, the pain he lived through as well and Qiu Haitang's relief. The fire, Wu Yanzi, his crippled cultivation, the betrayal of Yue Qingyuan, the sect, his sisters, his daughter, the beast, Liu Qinge’s death, the abyss, and finally the trial.
As his resentment left him, he recognized that he didn’t deserve all this pain and abuse. He had, however, continued the cycle of abuse and became Qiu Jianluo for Binge. He cringed at himself and at his horrible behaviour. He had known he was scum, but to see it without his resentment clouding his judgement, he could see he was the problem. He didn’t deserve to live. His heart was full of malice, his insides hatred and resentment. Luo Binghe wished for him to die horribly, and he only had himself to blame.
His soul was probably headed for purgatory. He would soon be punished, but in the meantime, he was free, his soul taking shape of the kid that he once was. He was sitting under a tree, resting his head on someone’s lap, as they gently threaded their fingers through his coarse hair. He looked up, but no face registered with him. He tried to speak, but the figure shushed him. “Relax, Jiu-er, you are not to be harmed here. You can sleep. This one will protect you.” Somehow, he trusted this figure and slowly brought himself closer and closed his eyes, enjoying one final moment of respite before his soul was to be tortured. Nothing hurt anymore as the care seeped from their fingers, and he fell asleep, safe and content for the first time in a while. Free at last.