Chapter Text
Luo Binghe’s introduction to Huan Hua Palace Sect is performed flawlessly.
He stages himself at the banks of the Luochan River, soaked to the skin by cold spring water, artfully collapsed with his sword still in hand. Blood trickles gently from his injuries, not so deep that his surviving them would arouse any suspicion, but serious enough to spark alarmed concern in any who might see them. His robes are dirtied, but not so much that anyone would be disgusted at the idea of touching him. His hair lies wet and tangled, draped half over his face so that he might squint through his lashes without being noticed.
He lies there for less than a quarter of an hour before being found by the patrol from Huan Hua Palace. He had timed it well.
“Look!” one of them cries. “Over there!”
A gasp, murmuring as the rest of the patrol sees him. Huan Hua Palace disciples patrol in groups of at least half a dozen, when in territory as close as this to Abyssal Tears. Demonic creatures pass through them sometimes. Not often, but sometimes.
Luo Binghe is one such creature. The cultivators fail to notice this, however, flocking to him with fuss and concern.
“He must have washed up from the river!” one of them cries.
“Look at those horrible wounds,” another of them gasps. “He must have been attacked.”
Luo Binghe inflicted those ‘horrible wounds’ with his own claws. And so, of course, they look appropriately beastly - as if he just barely survived a fight against something monstrous.
“Quickly, pull him up!” one of them orders, and then hands are reaching down and grabbing at him. Luo Binghe lets himself be pulled like a dead weight, even if he keeps his grip on Xin Mo firm. He doesn’t want to give any of the disciples a chance to hold and examine it. The blade is just a little too demonic looking for comfort; it’s a shame that it can’t be disguised the same way that he can.
“Is he alive?” one of them asks, and then he’s turned over onto his back. A delicate hand gently pushes his hair out of his face.
There’s a sharp gasp of recognition.
“What is it? Do you know him?”
This is when Luo Binghe lets his brow furrow, allowing his lashes to flutter tentatively open. He makes his gaze hazy, unfocused, but it still lands unerringly on the one pale face looking at him with wide eyed shock.
“Qin… Wanyue?” he croaks, looking up at her.
He is unsurprised. This part had been carefully planned as well. Who better to first introduce himself to? Qin Wanyue had seen him kill many beasts during the survival event at the Immortal Alliance Conference, and he’d even saved her life from the poison called Without-a-Cure. Although she likely thought that it had just been a delayed reaction from the flower he had found for her, not what happened after.
The important part is that he left her with no reason to doubt or resent him. He had made a good impression; he’s certain of it. Having her here can only help color his character to her comrades in the best light possible.
“It’s… it’s Luo Binghe!” she cries, still stunned at his apparent return from the dead. “He’s alive!”
Like a good actor, he takes this as his cue to pass out.
The Huan Hua Palace disciples, as the heroic and righteous cultivators that they so clearly are, take him back to their sect at once. Luo Binghe allows himself to ‘wake up’ again about halfway back, gives them a hazy and confused explanation that is just suggestive enough to make them all excitedly jump to their own conclusions to helpfully fill in the blanks for him, thanks them for their generous rescue, and then stumbles so pitifully that half of the group rushes to urge him not to strain himself so. Explanations and gratitude can wait! He needs medical attention!
He concedes their point, and pretends not to hear them all whispering to each other about him. The things they say only satisfy him, their assumptions all running downhill like water just as he’d planned. Lost in the Demon Real for so long, they whisper, aghast. It’s incredible that he survived. He must have fought so hard, must have struggled so. But didn’t his Peak Lord say that he…? But that can’t be right, after all…
Luo Binghe is content to let the seeds sprout on their own for now. Fanning the flames too eagerly may just as well put them out. A little bit of mystery can intrigue far more than immediate answers. Let them wonder and speculate amongst themselves.
Huan Hua Palace is… a palace. There really is no other word for it. Instead of spreading their wealth across twelve whole mountain peaks, it is all concentrated in one long, rolling plot of land. It’s so large that Luo Binghe can’t see all of it at once, and suspects that the only way of doing so would be to fly high above. It sounds like a city, there are so many people talking and walking and casually living their lives inside of it. The palace glimmers in the sunlight, gems and gold gilding every edge available. Lush, colorful, lovingly tended gardens bloom like a veritable forest, and man made rivers artfully crisscross the grounds, trickling meditatively.
It’s beautiful. It’s opulent. It’s bright and clean and expensive and gaudy, and Luo Binghe looks at it and thinks that’s going to be mine. All mine.
Xin Mo hums with dark approval in his mind. It likes it when he’s greedy, possessive.
The patrol group helps him stagger through the gates, Qin Wanyue nobly shouldering half of his weight for him. His appearance is so obviously bloodied and bedraggled that attention immediately gravitates towards them, curious eyes turning on them one by one.
“Don’t just gawk!” one of the patrol members snaps. Tang Enlai, Luo Binghe knows. He paid careful attention during the journey, tucking away every crumb of information that they thoughtlessly spilled in front of him, gathering anything and everything that might become useful. “We found a wounded cultivator! Someone go get a healer!”
Tang Enlai rather likes having an excuse to boss people around, Luo Binghe suspects. But it works, because after a moment of dithering one of the watching disciples turns and runs towards, presumably, the palace infirmary. The patrol group continues to guide him in that direction at a more cautious pace, considerate of the injuries that he has to put effort into not healing completely.
They don’t get far before the group stops in its tracks, however. A young man is walking towards them, being impatiently pulled along by his sleeves towards them by two younger disciples that are noisily and badly explaining the situation to him, talking over each other. He has an armful of scrolls tucked into the crook of one arm, having clearly been interrupted in the midst of some task. He’s looking down at the two younger disciples with indulgent exasperation, so Luo Binghe has a moment to examine him unseen.
The young man looks like he’s in his early twenties, roughly around Luo Binghe’s age. He’s handsome enough with dark eyes and a strong jaw, his straight, silky hair hanging down to his waist, some of it gathered up into a high bun. It’s his smile that really highlights this beauty, though. It turns his eyes into something soft and warm, giving his face a gentle light. He’s wearing the same embroidered gold and black robes that almost everyone else here is, a sword sheathed at his back - but Luo Binghe notices a detail of ornamentation that no one else has on them. A small golden medallion hanging around his neck, the shape of a flower etched into it.
As soon as the patrol group sees that this man is headed towards them, they stop moving. Luo Binghe instantly knows that this must mean that this person is someone of importance - and thus, someone that he must pay attention to.
“Head Disciple Gongyi Xiao,” Tang Enlai calls out, and ah. So that’s him: the person that Luo Binghe is going to replace. Becoming Head Disciple is a necessary stepping stone to becoming the sect leader of Huan Hua Palace, after all.
Head Disciple Gongyi Xiao looks up from the two noisy children leading him, and looks at Luo Binghe. Their eyes meet.
The scrolls he’d been holding all come tumbling down onto the ground.
“Gongyi-shixiong!” one of the noisy children cries out, startled and scandalized. “Don’t be careless with our library’s scrolls!”
She sounds like she’s quoting someone.
Gongyi Xiao looks down at the scattered scrolls blankly, as if he had entirely forgotten their existence, but very quickly looks back up at Luo Binghe. His eyes are wide, his face pale. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost.
It’s a rather dramatic reaction, Luo Binghe privately thinks. It’s not as if he looks that terribly wounded.
He quickly gathers himself, however. His expression smoothes out into something serious and earnest, and he brings his hands together. When he speaks, his voice is clear and firm. “My apologies, Xie-shimei. Would you please assist me by gathering and returning these scrolls for me? This shixiong would dearly appreciate the help.”
The young disciple instantly puffs up with self important pride at the prettily made request, and she modestly agrees to be of assistance. Gongyi Xiao thanks her, and moves towards the group that brought Luo Binghe to Huan Hua Palace. His back is straight, his gait quick but not rushed. Not a drop of the shock from earlier is apparent on his face any longer.
Luo Binghe looks at him with the recognition of a fellow liar, seeing this man quickly and efficiently hide himself away underneath a performance that snaps shut over him like it’s second nature.
Definitely someone he’ll have to pay attention to, then.
“We found him during our patrol, Gongyi-shixiong,” Qin Wanyue rushes to explain as soon as he’s close enough. “Passed out at the banks of the Luochan River, wounded by some awful beast!”
“It… it was like a cat the size of a cart, but with the tough, scaled hide of an alligator… It was so fast,” Luo Binghe offers, his voice wavering just the slightest, as if he has to muster his strength to speak. “I can remember killing it in the end… but then I must have fallen into the river…”
“Don’t speak, Binghe,” Qin Wanyue urges him tearfully. “You can explain later.”
Gongyi Xiao’s eyes sharpen with recognition.
“A Scaled Panthator,” he says, instantly correctly guessing the beast Luo Binghe chose as his imaginary foe based on such a barebones description. Powerful enough to be impressive to survive and kill, but not so much that anyone might doubt his story. It’s been years since he was weak enough to let such a creature wound him so heavily, of course. He could kill one unscathed, these days. “They live near rivers and are incredibly violently territorial, indiscriminately killing any creature that dares stumble across them.”
Intelligent, Luo Binghe mentally notes. Or at the very least, well read.
“... You must have fought well, to survive such a fierce creature,” Gongyi Xiao says, his eyes sweeping across Luo Binghe’s form, taking in his torn and bloodied robes that speak of a brutal battle. “Might I know the name of this skilled cultivator?”
“This one's name is Luo Binghe,” he says, watching Gongyi Xiao carefully for a reaction.
His dear Shizun told everyone that he died at the Immortal Alliance Conference, he knows. He would have been a fool not to get the lay of the land first before making his entrance back into the cultivation world. Gongyi Xiao is skilled enough to be Head Disciple of Huan Hua Palace, and of the right age to have participated in that event. Did he hear of Luo Binghe’s death? Does he remember his name? Or was it instantly forgotten and lost in the face of the overwhelming list of all the others lost that day? Luo Binghe was just one dead disciple from another sect entirely, after all, someone he had never even met. No sect lost more disciples at the Immortal Alliance Conference than Huan Hua Palace.
But whether or not Gongyi Xiao recognizes his name, his expression remains schooled as he gives Luo Binghe no reaction at all.
“Luo Binghe,” Gongyi Xiao says, and he gives a polite nod of his head. “This one is Gongyi Xiao. Please, don’t allow me to keep you from medical attention any longer. Tang-shidi, could you remain behind to give me a more detailed report?”
“Certainly, Head Disciple Gongyi!” Tang Enlai says, looking pleased to be singled out as the patrol group all bow to Gongyi Xiao before carefully leading Luo Binghe away again towards the infirmary.
Respected, Luo Binghe notes. Head Disciples generally are, but he knows that it isn’t a universal rule. Ming Fan of Qing Jing peak, for example, had more generally been obeyed out of fear than out of any kind of genuine respect. People spoke of him insultingly behind his back, resentful and bitter towards him for lording his position over everyone. Petty bullies might have power, but that isn’t the same as being respected.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like Gongyi Xiao is any kind of Ming Fan. He gives out orders like polite requests, and everyone eagerly jumps to fulfill them anyway. It is immediately clear to see that he is popular and well liked in Huan Hua Palace Sect.
Luo Binghe is going to have to change that.