Chapter Text
Bastards. Every single one of them. He did not spend years tolerating useless martial siblings gossiping over his every move, judging every word he said. He did not drag himself out of the mud by his teeth, beating every last breath of a dirty street rat out of himself to replace it with rigorous, refined scholarly grace. He did not endure guilty eyes following his form, useless apologies spilling forth without any real substance.
Just to fail at the last step.
He refuses. He will not fail the ascension as Qing Jing’s Peak Lord simply because those dirty beasts disdain him. All because of the tradition of every succeeding disciple having to bond with a strong spiritual beast. Supposedly to be another pillar of support to protect the respective peak in the Peak Lord’s absence. Utter idiocy, trusting a mindless beast to be capable of taking care of anything without its master around, keeping it on a tight leash. The height of stupidity, to have such a requirement.
Shen Qingqiu— no, still Shen Jiu, paces around in his room, scrolls and papers scattered on the ground after sweeping them off his table in a fit of rage. His face is twisted with anger after yet another failed attempt at bonding with one of the stronger beasts on Ling You Peak. He left with his head held high, he would rather drink the sweat of a seven-hundred-sprints sloth than show any reaction to the barely hidden whispers and snickers at his defeat. He would never give them even a scrap of weakness.
After shutting his fan with a resounding snap, Shen Jiu seats himself back at his now cleared desk, slamming the fan on the table and burying his face in his hand. He would usually never show this kind of vulnerability, but the head disciple’s bamboo hut is removed from the other disciples’ quarters, as well as fortified with all kinds of alert, trapping and privacy talismans courtesy of his own handiwork.
He lowly curses the founders of Cang Qiong under his breath for setting up such a ridiculous tradition. This was his last chance at getting a beast from Ling You Peak. All the suitable spiritual beasts have rejected him now.
His last resort was the hundred year old Willow-Horned Oxen, which was frankly almost an insult to himself. What scholar would willingly be represented by a bull-headed animal like an ox, willow-horned or not. He tried regardless, desperation of the encroaching deadline in the following month forcing his hand.
He had tried to move to Ling You Peak in a discreet manner, but one of his martial siblings must have graciously ratted him out, as the second he stepped foot onto the peak he was surrounded by other disciples of every peak. Gripping his fan to the point of almost breaking its handle under all the malicious and anticipating stares, he had walked towards the meadow hosting the oxen undeterred.
A smug looking Ling You Peak disciple had opened the gates for him, preening in the attention of all the different disciples that came to watch the show. He no doubt found the rat spreading the news. He had made a mental note to remember the disciples name and face, before walking up to the overgrown ox.
The Willow-Horned Oxen is a strong but stubborn beast, defending its chosen territory and everyone in it until its last breath, making it a good fit as a Peak Lord’s bonded beast. It easily towers over Shen Jiu by several metres, body covered in grass-like fur with actual herbs and flowers growing on its skin. Its horns resemble willow trees, the gnarly, winding trunks sprouting from its head and covering the beast with a curtain of willow leaves. How it can even see through it is a mystery, Shen Jiu had thought cynically.
It certainly seemed to have seen him well enough, as it had puffed out a threatening gust of air out of its nostrils at the sight of him. That had been the first sign that the bonding would fail spectacularly. Still, out of options, simply giving up was impossible and frankly, never Shen Jiu’s style. So he had approached undeterred, locking gazes with the beast now that it blew the strands of willow leaves out of his face. He had found his own disdain mirrored in surprisingly intelligent, dark eyes.
Intelligent for a beast, that is.
“You.” He had said, summoning Xiu Ya in his hand and pointing it towards the beast. “You will submit to this master and heed my orders to protect my peak in my absence.” He had stated with cold words, killing intent rolling off him in waves, the “or else” hanging threateningly in the air even if unsaid.
For a couple of seconds, both of them had simply stared at each other in silence. Until Shen Jiu had extended a tendril of his qi towards the beast's core to initiate the bond. That had been when the tense atmosphere shattered, the bull suddenly charging at him, eyes blazing in rage. Shen Jiu had met its burning anger with cold fury, jumping out of its way but not without cutting off a hefty chunk of its willow leaves, causing the ox to cry out in outrage.
Several things happened in quick succession after that. The gathered disciples laughed amongst themselves at Shen Jiu’s failure, while the outraged Ling You disciple who let him into the meadow started screaming at him to stop and get out without hurting their oh so precious ox further. Shen Jiu had simply mounted Xiu Ya and flown back to his residence, where he now sits and contemplates the consequences of missing his last real chance.
Almost all of the other head disciples have already bonded with their beasts, turning them into true succeeding disciples with the gift of their generational courtesy name of “Qing”. The only other without a beast is Qian Cao Peak’s head disciple Mu, though it’s more likely that he simply hasn’t gotten around to trying yet unlike Shen Jiu. It’s only a matter of time he finds his own beast.
Even that rat Shang Qinghua from An Ding Peak has found a rather respectable beast of a Hoarfrost-Rosette leopard, though he would squeak and quickly run away whenever questioned over how exactly he managed to bond with one of the fiercest predator of the demon realm’s northern desert.
The more demonic counterparts of spiritual beasts are somewhat of a grey zone regarding acceptable beasts for succeeding disciples. But generally as long as a stable bond is in place to control the beast they are hesitantly tolerated, if not widely accepted. A respectable peak lord should strive to bond with a respectable beast though, rather than a filthy demon breed. But the mousy Shang Qinghua has always been an… eccentric presence among the head disciples.
Shen Jiu lets out a world-weary sigh. At this point, he’ll have no choice but to roam around looking for a beast to bond with in the wild. The idea fills him with disgust, to not only be settled with a beast but a filthy, untamed one no less. He has no need for some useless, brainless animal on his peak that he has to take the time to train. There are already enough disciples and martial siblings visiting him regardless.
His Shizun is probably drinking her tea smugly smiling, no doubt already informed over his latest failure to bond. She wanted him to train his own beast from the start, something about building his character and that only a beast tamed by oneself could fulfill the expectations befitting Qing Jing Peak.
Out of the twelve peaks, Bai Zhan and Qing Jing have a history of taming their own beasts, while most of the others have opted for bonding with beasts from Ling You instead. Initially, Shen Jiu couldn’t be bothered to put in more effort than necessary, but once again the world decided to throw rocks in his way to make his life as hard as possible.
Spending the last month before the deadline outside, hunting for beasts instead of solidifying his position on the peak is certainly not ideal, but there is no way around it. Begrudgingly, he plucks an empty sheet of paper from the floor with his qi as well as his inkstone and a brush and begins writing to his Shizun to inform her of his absence for the next month. He doesn’t have to worry she won’t approve of it, if anything she’ll urge him to leave even quicker.
Shen Jiu hates it, but in the end, he has no choice. He sends the letter off with a burst of qi and packs his Qiankun pouch with everything he’ll need in the next month.
He leaves Cang Qiong at dawn the very next day.