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Step 1: Recognise the Problem
Shen Yuan transmigrated into Proud Immortal Demon Way at the lovely age of twenty-two.
It was slightly inconvenient—changing his weekend plans from a two-day binge read to fighting for his life—but, well. Shit happens. At least he wasn't dead—unlike the Original Goods, whose body he took over.
His experience was doomed from the start. Two out of ten, not recommended: no welcome package, no orientation handbook, not even the courtesy of being born at a stable point in the timeline.
All he had was:
- A title: Qing Jing Peak Lord
- A place: Qing Jing Peak, how novel
- And a rapidly disintegrating sense of narrative stability
And don’t even start him on the System.
Upon first initialization, that useless thing noticed the absence of usable data for the very “unknown Peak Lord” it had chosen, proceeded to name him “Shen Yuan”—which just begged for an IP rights infringement lawsuit—and immediately blue-screened itself into hibernation.
And then Shen Yuan was left on his lonesome, with absolutely no idea what to do next.
Silver linings, huh?
He was used to staying at home—working, reading, playing. He had no desire to go out of his way and get himself killed, so he decided to become a homebody here too. He loved his peak, the bamboo forest, and the cute buns masquerading as junior disciples.
There was none surnamed Shen there, yet.
Maybe if he ignored the approaching future hard enough, it would ignore him back? For now, he just wanted to relax with a nice cup of tea, stare wistfully at the calligraphy scrolls on the walls of his new home, and wish for something sugary to sweeten this whole transmigration business.
All while trying very, very hard not to think about the mountain of paperwork still awaiting his review.
Aish, being a Peak Lord was so overrated T.T
Sadly, the future decided to ignore his very pointed ignoring—and showed up unprompted, in the form of gossiping senior disciples.
“Yue Qi—the one from Qiong Ding Peak—is supposedly in line for succession…”
Shen Yuan stopped mid-tea sip, listening intently to the gossiping disciples.
Yue Qi.
Yue Qi—as in Qingyuan?
The future Sect Leader?
The biggest enabler of catastrophic decision-making for a certain Shen Qingqiu?
Shen Yuan put his cup down very carefully.
“Fuck.”
At least, even without the system guiding him, he was proficient enough to perform a proper root cause analysis of future issues.
Now to take a small, completely harmless look at the problem teen—and assess the threat…
Step 2: Isolate the Issue (or Try Very Hard To)
The issue, unfortunately, did not respect isolation protocols.
Because Yue Qi—currently still a teenager, still technically unformed in his tragic destiny arc—was already being weirdly competent.
Which raised important questions:
- Why was Shen Qingqiu not here yet?
- When was he even supposed to arrive?
- Why was Yue Qi so set on getting a sword right now—the ‘or else’ heavily implied in his argument with the Sect Leader?
Shen Yuan went to investigate.
What he found was concerning.
Yue Qi looked like a raccoon—or maybe a typical university student who had heard about this thing called “sleep,” but only in the context of “it’s for the weak.” His days were filled with training, study sessions, and hardcore physical exercises. Definitely unaware of the "work smart, not hard" rule.
Poor guy.
Something in Shen Yuan’s brain clicked.
This was not a future villain problem. Not even an end-of-the-world issue caused by enabling tendencies.
The very foundation of that house was wrong—no wonder nothing could be built on it.
Yue Qi’s priorities were… skewed.
“I can definitely fix him,” Shen Yuan—self-appointed PIDW expert—announced to the nonexistent press.
Soon, he would wish he could go back in time, shove those words down his own throat, keep his mouth shut—and preferably choke on them in a final, permanent way.
Fun.
Step 3: Control the Source of the Problem
There was no source to control—Shen Qingqiu remained conveniently absent.
Shen Yuan was baffled.
Even more so when he learned the future scum villain was the Problem Teen’s “Xiao Jiu.” It didn't even require investigation, not when, after some trust-gaining exercises, Yue Qi kept gushing about his bff—going on and on and on:
“Xiao Jiu is so smart~”
“Xiao Jiu would get it faster than me. I’m so useless.”
“Shishu, you don’t understand—I left him with those people. I need to go back!”
Unbelievable.
Behold: the future of the Cang Qiong Sect—entrusted to an angsty, “Xiao Jiu”-obsessed weirdo, whose paranoia led him to believe the Qiu family were the villains.
What an absurd thought. Shen Yuan shook his head.
If there was no source to isolate or control, and no way to delicately forbid the future Sect Leader from actively trying to kill himself, Shen Yuan needed to do something.
Yue Qi’s problem was a misplaced sense of guilt and loyalty—one that had clearly skipped every lesson on healthy emotional boundaries. There was only one way to fix it: bring the source to the sect and teach both teenagers how to function as members of society.
If the mountain doesn't turn, the road turns; if the road doesn't turn, the person turns.
So if Shen Qingqiu was not there? Shen Yuan would bring him.
Forcibly, if needed.
And if Yue Qi seemed to have suddenly sprouted a spring in his step and twinkling stars in his eyes at Shen Yuan’s declaration? That was a completely unrelated perk.
Shen Yuan left with a sense of purpose, high on the feeling of having a cute shizhi looking at him as if he hung the moon in the sky.
Before leaving, he left a book with folk stories, asking Yue Qi to read it carefully—especially The Farmer and the Viper.
Maybe something would stick in the meantime.
Shen Qingqiu, a slave in the Qiu family? What a joke.
Shen Yuan returned from his self-assigned mission after a whole month, with invisible dark lines hanging over his face and a feral, bony teen by his side.
The illustrious Qing Jing Peak Lord dragged his newest disciple to Yue Qi by the ear.
Shen Jiu did not thank him, and maybe that was for the best, considering that—tragic as it was—the entire situation felt like Shen Yuan putting on a clown hat.
Instead, the future—hopefully ex—villain focused all of his attention on the older teen.
Yue Qi looked happy—if somewhat confused by their appearance.
“…Shishu? Xiao Jiu?”
Shen Yuan waved vaguely, looking at his newest disciple.
“Jiu-er, this master trusts you listened on the road. See this disaster of a human being? Fix him. He’s going to stop overworking himself now and challenging his teachers left and right.”
Yue Qi: “I—what—”
Shen Jiu: “I will bite you.”
As expected from a villain.
Shen Yuan, patting the hissing boy-cat: “Good thinking but save it for later.”
The result was immediate chaos—tearful reunions Shen Yuan dearly wished he could skip.
Instead, he had to wait: first for his prickly disciple to be dragged to a healer, then for the inevitable tea ceremony.
Shen Yuan spent the time having an internal meltdown, cursing Airplane and his family ten generations back for giving the future Qing Jing Peak Lord such a horrible backstory.
Meanwhile, Shen Jiu kept venting his grievances in a low hiss—one that was perfectly audible to someone with Shen Yuan’s cultivation level. Neither he nor Yue Qi—who seemed entirely too happy to be yelled at—felt inclined to inform Shen Jiu of that fact.
The rant on Qi-ge’s stupidity was a perfectly fine piece of verbal critique—points for style—but the actual biting was overkill.
The tea that Shen Jiu made afterwards was terrible but Shen Yuan was sure he would soon learn.
Step 4: Accept That the Problem Has Evolved
Shen Yuan’s plan had technically succeeded.
Which should have been his first sign that something had gone terribly wrong.
Yue Qi was:
- Sleeping (occasionally) and eating (well—if accompanied)
- Not actively attempting to cultivate himself into an early grave
- Bringing delicious sweets to Shen Yuan in thanks (who really should cut off his sugar intake soon)
Resounding success.
Unfortunately, the young man was also:
- Following Shen Yuan around like a particularly dignified shadow
- Looking at him with increasing intensity
- And smiling in a way that suggested emotional attachment of deeply inconvenient proportions
Shen Yuan chose not to notice.
Noticing would imply responsibility, and responsibility was not on his schedule.
Yue Qi was no longer self-destructive.
He was just… focused.
On more than Shen Jiu.
Which, in theory, should have been an improvement.
Shen Yuan had transcended responsibility the moment he dragged a feral child out of a slave household and literally threw him at the overworked teen as a solution to world peace.
Speaking of—
Shen Jiu had settled in disturbingly well.
He was still:
- Kind of prickly
- Bad at making tea
- Selectively obedient
But also:
- Efficient
- Meticulous
- Disturbingly good at paperwork
Shen Yuan, who had fully intended to be a happily retired Peak Lord, found himself… strangely free as of late.
Free to play the thinking game of:
“Who’s most likely to—”
- bite someone
- start arson
- become a budding charlatan
Easy.
His cute cabbage of a future head disciple, Jiu-er.
The possibility of his newest stray becoming an evil, abusive villain was low—but not zero.
Shen Yuan felt Yue Qi’s enabling tendencies still required correction.
Like they said: a teacher’s work is never-ending.
Maybe Jiu-er would finally make some good tea before he ascended.
A beautiful but idle fantasy.
Unfortunately, the real issue persisted.
Every time Shen Yuan saw them together:
Shen Jiu was scowling, arms crossed, clearly mid-lecture.
Yue Qi was listening attentively, nodding, expression soft, metaphorical tail practically wagging.
Shen Yuan frowned, then smoothed the expression out with his hand.
It wouldn’t do to get wrinkles just because Shen Jiu couldn’t appreciate what a nice boy Yue Qi was.
Or because Yue Qi insisted on acting like a particularly tragic rug for his childhood friend to stand on.
Later that evening, he pulled Shen Jiu aside for a brief… conversation.
“Why is your friend still like this, Jiu-er?”
You’d think a disciple would show more respect, but the brat looked at him like Shen Yuan was wasting oxygen. The word friend alone seemed personally offensive.
The teenager sighed.
“Like what?”
“Like a kicked puppy.”
Shen Jiu stared.
“Shizun knows best why.”
“What? Why? How? This master—”
“Shizun made it so much worse.”
Step 5: Redirect Attention (Poorly)
Shen Yuan took offense to that and decided to take action.
Because clearly, the problem was that Yue Qi lacked proper guidance. The Sect Leader might be a respected master, but he was far too busy to deal with the intricate, delicate matters of youth psychology.
Shen Yuan, however, had extensive experience in modern life.
Mostly in procrastination.
And questionable self-help content.
“Want to become a better person? Three easy steps.”
He considered himself a connoisseur of such teachings.
Yes.
This was definitely the solution.
“Listen carefully,” Shen Yuan said, pacing with the solemn authority of someone who had once watched a motivational video at 2 a.m. and felt personally transformed.
“A cultivator must have a spine.”
Yue Qi nodded seriously.
“A cultivator must not lose himself for another person.”
Another nod.
“Devotion without judgment is just self-destruction with better manners. A proper cultivator cannot let others order him around.”
“…Isn’t Shen-shishu ordering this humble one around?”
Shen Yuan choked.
“That’s different! And not the point!”
He recovered quickly.
“The point is—focus on strength, on independence! And if you truly cannot help it, at least start with theory instead of—of—”
He gestured vaguely.
“—going around, catching strange pollen, and d—dual cultivate with childhood sweetheart.” He trailed off, less and less certain of what came out of his mouth.
Silence.
Shen Jiu, from the side: “What.”
Shen Yuan snapped upright.
“—in an academic sense!”
Yue Qi nodded slowly.
“…I see.”
He did not, in fact, see.
Neither did Shen Yuan.
The situation worsened immediately.
Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Worse—politely.
The next morning, Yue Qi appeared at Shen Yuan’s quarters with a new set of sweets from the town by the mountain and a brush-written note that read:
For Shishu. Please accept this student’s gratitude.
Shen Yuan nodded approvingly.
“See? Improvement. No unnecessary flowery language. Good job.”
Shen Jiu, reading over his shoulder, looked like he wanted to throw himself off the peak.
“How is that in any way restrained?”
“This is devotion that passed through proper judgment,” Yue Qi added calmly from behind them.
Shen Jiu slowly turned his head.
“…Shizun, maybe teach him how to use proper judgment first. This one tried—it didn’t stick.”
Shen Yuan paused, considering this very seriously.
Then, recalling a line he once read somewhere on the internet, he concluded solemnly:
“The road to self-discovery is equally important as the destination itself.”
A beat of silence.
Shen Jiu stared at him.
“This is hopeless.”
That evening, Shen Yuan returned to find:
- His desk reorganized
- His paperwork completed
- His favorite snacks restocked
- And a new jade hairpin placed neatly beside his inkstone
There was no note this time.
Just careful, precise placement.
Shen Yuan blinked.
“Oh. A bit overzelous but at least he's focused on the Sect?”
Shen Jiu made a sound like a dying man.
“That is clearly courtship.”
“Don't curse this master like that, Jiu-er.”
“This one is simply stating the deeply disturbing, yes, but still truth. Shizun is being courted and shizun is the one actively making it worse.”
“That is—Jiu-er, don’t exaggerate.”
Shen Jiu slowly put his face into his hands.
“This is unbearable.”
“Then you are free to leave,” Shen Yuan replied.
“I live here.”
“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, Jiu-er.”
Soon rumors spread that Qing Jing Peak was haunted by a vengeful wraith.
Shen Jiu was thankful musical cultivation required mostly hands, not voice.
Step 6: Make Some Damn Tea
Years passed in relative peace.
Yue Qi—now bearing the courtesy name Qingyuan—was approaching his promotion to Sect Leader.
He grabbed his best childhood friend by the pristine robes, panicking about Shen-shishu leaving soon.
Shen Jiu—now Qingqiu—sighed like a man accepting fate. Unfortunately, he had a Qi-ge-shaped blind spot.
He also had limits.
He reached them.
After a careless “I’ll take care of it,” he went to the kitchen.
Shen Yuan was procrastinating about the approaching ascension when his faithful head disciple arrived with a tea set and a disturbingly serene expression.
Shen Yuan took a sip.
Paused.
The tea was good.
“…Jiu-er knows he doesn’t need to poison this master, right? The Peak Lord position is already yours. I just need to ascend.”
A faint grimace. He would prefer not to.
Shen Qingqiu stared back.
“Yes. This one knows.”
“…At least it’s non-lethal.” Shen Yuan took another sip, concentrating. “Strength of less than a thousand men? Where did you even get this?”
“An Ding Peak.”
Shen Yuan nodded approvingly.
“And it targets cultivation.”
“Yes.”
Shen Yuan brightened.
“Excellent.”
Shen Qingqiu blinked.
“…Shizun’s not angry?”
“I don’t want to ascend,” Shen Yuan said cheerfully. “This is perfectly convenient. I can now focus on the Yue Qingyuan issue.”
Shen Jiu stared at him like he had just discovered a new, deeply unfortunate species of idiot.
“Shizun, your focus was the issue in the first place.”
“Say that again?”
“Congratulations. You willingly drank poison.”
“Wasn’t that your plan? Or does Jiu-er prefer it to be unwilling?” Shen Yuan cocked his head to the side. “This master didn’t want to disappoint his disciple. Not when the tea was finally good.”
“Unbelievable.”
They spent some time in companionable silence.
Shen Yuan set the cup down.
“I reckon,” he said calmly, “it is time for this master to visit Qian Cao Peak.”
Shen Qingqiu nodded, looking at the incense. “Yes. Enough time has passed.”
They left together, Shen Qingqiu leaving his idiot of a teacher with Mu Qingfang, who soon called his own shizun from slumber.
Behind closed doors, the Qian Cao Peak Lord began yelling about “plans” and “we were supposed to do it together, I’m not waiting for you another decade or two!”
Shen Qingqiu turned and went back to his peak, unsurprised to see Yue Qingyuan pacing near his quarters.
“…Xiao Jiu?”
Shen Qingqiu crossed his arms.
“It’s done, you’re welcome.”
Yue Qingyuan exhaled with relief, brightening with the power of a thousand suns—far more than the current cultivation strength of his beloved shishu.
“…Thank you.”
If he had a tail, it would have been wagging.
Shen Qingqiu grimaced.
“I hate both of you.”
“He’ll be your responsibility,” he added. “And keep that disgusting behaviour off my peak.”
Epilogue: Outcome Assessment
- Shen Yuan: maximum laziness achieved (optimal)
- Yue Qingyuan: moral compass corrected (misaligned target)
- Shen Qingqiu: permanent headache (irreversible)
Shen Yuan considered this a success.
Yue Qingyuan considered marriage.
Shen Qingqiu considered arson.
The system, waking from hibernation, wept.