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Demonic energy crackled along Luo Binghe’s skin, dancing like sparks of lightning over his figure and into the air around him. His palms burned where they were wrapped around Xin Mo’s hilt, flesh rending away only to regenerate anew just as quickly. His head was screaming, blood singing, and body ringing with the raging power of his sword.
His limbs were shaking, the urge to leave and find something to either maim or fuck rising like a bloody tide in his body. He shrugged it off with a proficiency built over many years. He’d satiate it in a moment, by eviscerating his lesser twin and claiming what should have been his long ago.
Suddenly, Xin Mo flared out against him, sending a shock of white-hot pain lancing through his arms. The force of it nearly dislodged him from its hilt. Its energy was swirling now, rebounding in the air and flinging itself back against Luo Binghe.
If he was going to cross over, Luo Binghe needed to reconnect the energies of his blade and its twin. But like a toddler throwing a tantrum, Xin Mo was refusing to cooperate. It kept flinging the searching energy back at Binghe.
Luo Binghe gritted his teeth and squared his stance before wrenching the sword’s energy back under his control. He felt it writhing in his grip, growing nearly desperate in its flailing against the control of its master.
Something was ringing in the back of Luo Binghe’s mind, crawling up his spine and whispering in his ears. He ignored it.
The air around him was so thick with demonic energy that it had turned dark and swirling, obscuring the room around him. Vaguely, Luo Binghe heard the cracks and groans of a building getting ready to give way. He paid it no mind.
He’d gathered Xin Mo’s energy signature and tangled it with his own mixture of demonic and spiritual energy, before directing it outward and pushing. If that whelp thought he could keep him out, he was sorely mistaken.
For a long moment, the energy didn’t connect to anything. It seemed to flail wildly about in an endless void with nothing to grasp onto. Then, there, Luo Binghe felt it. The distant tug of his sword’s counterpart connected with it across time and space, creating the beginnings of a pathway.
Xin Mo was shaking in his grasp, the force of the connection bending its blade into a deep arch. Its metal was groaning, and its influence in the back of Binghe’s mind had grown strange. Normally it was like a buzzing in Binghe’s mind and body; a restlessness and desire for either violence or sex that was almost indiscernible from Binghe’s own emotions and desires.
Now, though, it was distinct; it broadcasted itself as an outside influence in Binghe’s mind rather than masquerading as his own wants and needs. It felt desperate, wild, almost pleading. Binghe ignored it, focusing on the echoing call of his own sword across worlds.
He didn’t pay any mind to Xin Mo’s wailing, nor how the blade was bending more and more in his hands. He didn’t notice that the echoing call was much more distant and finicky than he remembered it being, feeling almost distorted and nearly impossible to pin down. He didn’t concern himself with the dangerous surging of demonic energy around him, the sound of stone and wood cracking and splintering, or how his body was trembling from the strain.
What he did finally take notice of was the harsh ringing sound of a sword breaking with a horrific crack. Something in the back of his mind seemed to snap, and he lurched forward as Xin Mo’s hilt tilted forward and its voice went utterly silent.
He was falling forward, the world turning into a blur of color. And then there was nothingness around him, as his body seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. He might have screamed; if he did, the sound was lost to the twisting, contorting void he was flung through.
His fall seemed to last for an eternity. Luo Binghe’s body screamed at the edges as it crashed through the endless void of space and time. And yet, as quickly as it started, it was over, and Luo Binghe was colliding with the ground at an incredible speed, Xin Mo’s shattered hilt still clutched in one hand.
He heard, more than felt, his neck snapping on impact. The world went fuzzy and dark around the edges.
He was aware only long enough to register sloping, dark walls and the scent of demonic miasma in the air before he fell into unconsciousness as his body worked to repair the damage.
~*~
It took time for Luo Binghe to wake fully. He faded in and out of awareness in increments, rising long enough to work his crumpled body into a better position for healing, then waking enough to lay himself out fully, then finally awakening properly and completely.
As he sat up, several ribs shifted uncomfortably. There were definitely lacerations along his liver. His neck had repaired itself, so he was able to stand and begin assessing his surroundings. Immediately, his heart sank into his stomach as he recognized the roof of the temple he’d pulled Xin Mo from all those years ago.
When he turned to look, he found the sword buried in a mural of stone, undisturbed.
Impossible , he thought, surveying his surroundings. Aside from the broken wall where he’d landed, the temple was untouched; the door was still sealed shut, dust and grime on the floor undisturbed. The sword itself was clean and unmoved.
For a moment Luo Binghe stood there, feeling unmoored.
He should have landed wherever the Xin Mo his counterpart held was located. The connection between the blades allowed for a portal to be opened and entered. This Xin Mo, however, was untouched, its temple intact—which meant this couldn’t have been that world he’d found.
If his counterpart had Xin Mo, he would have needed to disturb this place to get it. Even if he’d returned it to the temple, he couldn’t have repaired the seals on the door, which were very much still there, glowing softly in the miasmic air.
Luo Binghe took a breath, calming himself. It was fine. He simply hadn’t anticipated that there would be yet another reality, with another Xin Mo his sword could latch onto. A foolish mistake on his part, but he could try again.
Then, he glanced down and lifted the shattered remains of his own Xin Mo. The sword was deathly still and silent, both in his hand and mind. Besides the point where it had snapped in twain, there were more hairline fractures and splintering cracks along its surface. The sword had been utterly destroyed.
Luo Binghe almost laughed. He’d always assumed doing such a thing was impossible; many had certainly tried and failed. He wondered if it was his own demonic energy that had snapped the sword, or the strain of reaching across worlds.
He let the sword handle fall to the ground and approached the other Xin Mo still buried in the stone. The loss of his sword wasn’t anything to be concerned over; he had another waiting for him here. He paused briefly as he reached for it.
Most likely, there was another him somewhere in this reality; possibly lost in the Abyss at this very moment. If Luo Binghe took Xin Mo, that other self would likely never escape it.
His hesitation didn’t last long. After all, he would be trapped here without the sword. So, he grasped the handle, only to stop short a second time.
The first time he touched Xin Mo’s hilt, he was nearly overwhelmed by the surge of demonic energy and willpower the blade thrust upon him. It had taken years of discipline and effort to tame the sword. Even then, it still attempted to manipulate him, the blade never truly resigning itself to a master.
While there was a surge of demonic energy and willfulness as Xin Mo struggled against his influence, it was weakened, and shaky around the edges. Luo Binghe pushed his demonic energy through the blade and cursed as he felt hairline fractures across its surface.
It seemed his arrival had not only snapped his own blade, but damaged the one pulling him across. For a moment he stood there, contemplating what to do. He doubted this blade would be able to pull him into another reality. Attempting to do so would probably shatter it, trapping him here forever. He’d need to repair it first.
Wrestling control over it was an easy thing. Luo Binghe pulled the sword from its perch with ease, Xin Mo trembling in his grasp. He nearly sighed at the work that now lay ahead of him. First things first; he needed to get out of the Endless Abyss. He was certain the blade could handle the strain of one simple portal out, and sliced it through the air.
He was wrong.
There was an explosion of demonic energy. Reality warped, and a voice screamed in Luo Binghe’s head. The air tore asunder and he was flung forward through a more familiar portal, out of the Endless Abyss. Luo Binghe felt Xin Mo’s blade cracking and shattering in his palm for the second time in as many hours.
What’s more, as he tumbled forward, the shock of the explosion loosened his grip. As he fell through the portal, Luo Binghe lost his grip on Xin Mo’s hilt, leaving the broken sword behind in its resting place in the Endless Abyss.
~*~
Luo Binghe’s first course of action was to begin making his way to the Underground Palace in the Demon Realm.
While there were ways to enter the Endless Abyss (Luo Binghe knew this better than anyone), getting out was another matter entirely. If he wanted to retrieve Xin Mo’s pieces, he needed to secure an exit strategy. Surely there’d be something at the palace that could do so. If not, he’d simply reinstate himself as the emperor, and find something that could.
Unfortunately, the portal had deposited him in the human realm. Thankfully, it didn’t bring him too close to town, or a cultivation sect; a burst of unchecked demonic energy like his own would no doubt have attracted unwanted attention. It was an easy task from there to locate the nearest settlement—a mere two days trip away—mask his demonic features, and set about getting some new robes.
This particular goal was also blessedly easy; while he received many odd stares and wary looks, the shopkeeper he settled on was all too happy to trade some new, plainer dark robes in exchange for a ruby earring plucked from Binghe’s own ear. He had plenty at the palace, giving this one away was inconsequential.
From there it was simple enough to pinpoint his location (he was in Cang Qiong territory, unfortunately) and begin making his way to the nearest crossing into the demon realm.
As he was walking out of the town, he heard a pair of voices remarking, “They say all of the cultivation clans were present, and that Cang Qiong’s Sect Leader was incredible in the battle! Like an avenging god sent from heaven!”
He paused for a moment, brow furrowing. So, Yue Qingyuan was alive in this reality. That was… potentially problematic. He’d met few beings in his lifetime who stood a true, genuine chance of besting him in combat, and Yue Qingyuan was one of them. Luo Binghe was not so prideful that he couldn’t admit the man outclassed him, both in martial prowess and raw power. He needed to tread carefully until he could either escape this reality or secure the means to bring this version of Yue Qingyuan down.
Without a sword, Luo Binghe was forced to walk where he knew an instability in the realms was located. It was a full five-day trek in total. Still better than journeying to the borderlands, which would take weeks.
The incident occurred on the third day of his journey. He was walking along the roadside, his gait relaxed and unhurried. Upon turning the corner, he came face to face with Shen Qingqiu, along with at least four other cultivators whose faces Luo Binghe couldn’t be bothered to catalogue.
Shen Qingqiu turned to glance at him. It was like lightning had struck Luo Binghe. Those eyes were as cold and harsh as he remembered, and that face bore none of the soft, kind gentleness the other Shizun had, despite them bearing the exact same features.
In defense of what happened next, Luo Binghe had been feeling strangely unmoored without Xin Mo’s presence. It was strange not to feel it humming and nagging at the back of his mind; to have all his emotions and desires be wholly his own. It left him feeling unanchored and unsteady in his own mind.
At the sight of Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe stuttered, and his carefully maintained control over his own demonic energy faltered, letting loose a burst of killing intent and fury into the air. He barely registered the pain of his claws sliding free and slicing into his palms when he clenched his fists, though he certainly noticed when the cultivators opposite him went for their swords.
Luo Binghe cursed under his breath as he squared his stance, readying himself to put up a fight before taking a ‘fatal blow’ and retreating to ‘die’ out of sight. While he was at it, perhaps he could kill Shen Qingqiu; the fewer versions of the man, the better.
Yet before he could so much as move a step, a blur of white robes and flashing sword glares filled his vision. Luo Binghe’s claws flew up on instinct and clashed with the blade of a gleaming, elegant sword. Faster than he could react, the sword swung and sent his claws flying sideways before it buried itself in his gut. A palm strike sent him flying backwards down the road.
He tucked into a roll and spun upright as he landed, his stomach wound already mending itself as he grounded his feet in preparation to meet his opponent. He nearly flinched upon finding the man was already upon him. Luo Binghe lacked a sword, and so used his claws to slash out and rebound the man’s strikes. Each hit reverberated with horrid intensity through his arms, and he was forced to take several steps backward down the road as they fought.
The man’s movements were as fluid as water and swift as racing wind; his form was utterly perfect, his slashes vicious and uncompromising. He was a vision of martial and physical prowess; poetry given form.
Beautiful, too, Luo Binghe noted as they fought. His features were sharp and refined, almost feminine in their beauty, his only flaw being a single dark beauty mark below his left eye. Frankly, the mark only enhanced his looks further.
There was something almost familiar about him, Luo Binghe thought as they danced through their battle. They’d long since left the road, now leaping and swirling through the tree line like a pair of dancers on wires.
Luo Binghe blocked fierce slashes and ducked underneath flying glares, only to receive a harsh kick to his knee. He gritted his teeth as it twisted sideways with a horrid crunching sound. It snapped back into place almost instantly, and throbbed when he rested his weight on it.
He saw the man’s eyes widen slightly. Despite his surprise, his form never wavered and his efforts never ceased. He grunted when Luo Binghe’s claws found his arm, leaving deep, vibrant red welts behind. With an elegant leap and spin, he ducked into Luo Binghe’s space and proceeded to cleave his arm off in one perfectly executed strike.
Luo Binghe roared and ducked the follow up swipe aiming for his neck. He levied a kick for the man’s leg, rage burning like a hot coal behind his ribs. It connected with the man’s thigh. Luo Binghe felt a rush of satisfaction at the feel of bones cracking. That satisfaction vanished as the tip of a sword plunged into his back, emerging from his chest and driving his body into the ground.
Blood splattered everywhere as the man’s weight landed atop him. Luo Binghe spasmed as his heart attempted to flutter around the blade piercing it. He could hear the man heaving on top of him. Luo Binghe had landed a few good blows during their match as they chased each other through the woods, but this man seemed far from ready to topple over.
Unfortunately for him, he assumed that stabbing Luo Binghe’s heart would mean his death. For most any other demon, it would have. Alas, Luo Binghe was a Heavenly Demon, and his body continued to live even as his heart faltered and blood welled in his throat. Though he would die if he didn’t get the man off him and the sword out of his heart soon.
So, he flung himself backward, sending his head crashing into the man’s face. He heard his jaw crack as he sputtered and flew through the air. Placing his palm against the tip protruding from his chest, Luo Binghe pushed the sword until he could reach around and grasp the blade where it sunk into the flesh of his back.
Blood welling from his lips and dripping from lacerations on his palms, he yanked it free and tossed it away. Then, for the first time since he’d been a boy attempting to escape beasts in the Endless Abyss, Luo Binghe ran for his life.