Svsss Au - Shen Jiu who was Shen Yuan but wasn't Shen Yuan
Shen Yuan died, while cursing out the shittiest novel he had ever read.
Shen Jiu opened his eyes and screamed, for what else was an infant supposed to do?
Shen Jiu, formerly Shen Yuan, didn't have an easy second life. His parents sold him to slavery almost as soon as he could walk. The slavers and later his master were never kind. He lost his Qi-Ge. Destroyed the foundation for his cultivation for following the wrong path. Felt the betrayal when he realized, that while Yue Qi wasn't dead, his Qi-Ge might as well be.
Shen Jiu was bitter. He was hurt. And when he finally realized just who he had become , it was much too late for Shen Qingqiu.
Once again he died cursing this stupid novel, while the qi deviation wreaked havoc on his spiritual veins.
In another world another Shen Yuan also died doing much the same. A system soon latched onto his dying soul and pulled it into the recently vacated husk of Shen Qingqiu.
Because apparently, being Shen Jiu was always what Shen Yuan was meant to be.
Zak’s heart clenches at the thought, his chest tight as he wrestles against his restraints. The chair he’s tied to tilts and he freezes at the movement, letting it fall back to the floor. His mind casts back to an hour earlier when he had charged in to the house.
When his eyes finally met the girl who had been kept there, with a collar around her neck.
The rest was instinct, attacking her captor before grabbing her hand. He thought they were going to get out easy when that grey-eyed boy stopped them.
If I see him again, he’s in for it.
He saw how the light died in her eyes; he shouldn’t have given her hope like that.
No, we’re getting out of here. Both of us. As soon as the others get here.
But were they coming? He hadn’t told his team where he was going, once they talked about delaying the girl’s rescue, he couldn’t think straight.
Because she’s like me.
Then dread pooled at the pit of his stomach.
They’re not going to do the same to me, right?
He heard footsteps approaching the room he was held in. He’d find his answer out soon enough.
“Hello, mutant.”
Zak snarled as he looked up at the man at the doorway. Rage burned in his chest and lit a fire in his eyes.
“Let her go! She doesn’t belong to you!”
“Oh, really? How do you figure?”
“Because you can’t own people, you fucking freak.” he hisses out the words, hoping that they alone would be enough to knock the man off balance.
But instead, Rosie’s captor seemed unaffected, except for a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
“Oh, I do love the young ones, so naive.”
The man steps closer, close enough, Zak realizes, to spit in his face.
He does.
The creased lines around the man’s face run deeper as fury blazes in his eyes and his right fist clenches.
Zak’s head is whipped to the side by a punch to the side of his nose. His eyes widen before slowly bringing his head back centre.
“That all you got?”
The rage on the grey-eyed man’s face simmers away as he straightens himself.
“You monsters are slow learners. But you all learn, eventually.”
Zak’s eyes narrow at the insult, the image of his team leader flashes in his mind.
“We aren’t monsters, monsters are the ones who kidnap girls to be their slaves. Monsters are the ones who tie people up who try to save them.”
Rosie’s monster tuts before turning to the doorway.
“Ashaan!”
he called.
The grey-eyed boy appears at the door, Zak’s hatred burns bright again.
The boy’s eyes barely acknowledge him before turning to the man. For some reason, Zak finds himself getting angrier.
“What is it, father?” the boy’s soft tone carries into Zak’s ears.
At least he has a nice voice. Wait, what am I thinking?
“You bastard! Selling us out!” Zak yells out.
The boy’s eyes narrow, “You think I’m on the side of you monsters?”
“He’s going to hurt Rosie for this, you know!”
Zak catches the tiny hesitation in the boy’s expression before his blank look returned.
“Enough.” The man sighs, “Ashaan, you’re here to watch me train this mutant. It’s important knowledge in this household and you are old enough now.”
The boy nods carefully as his father rolls his sleeves.
“Train me for what?” Zak asks with a bored tone, ignoring the sense of dread at the pit of his stomach.
“Well, your first lesson is to speak only when spoken too.”
Zak scoffs, “Right, is the second lesson to be seen but not heard?”
He’s proud of that one, Nasira’s been pretty tough on feminist history lessons.
His captor didn’t seem too pleased, however.
Ashaan watches as his father, twice the size as the boy in the chair, puts all his weight into his assault.
Every punch causing skin to reverberate around it. Every knuckle heavy on the boy’s small frame. Every elbow a dagger into his victim’s weak spots.
The thuds turned to cracks. The short yelps turning into stretched out screams.
He covers his ears and shuts his eyes, but his imagination drives him further to his limit.
“Father, wait!” the words escape the his lips before he even registers them.
His father pauses, before turning to him. His eyes blazed in the way they did when he stepped a foot out of line. His facial expression contorted.
“What is it, Ashaan?” a threat hidden in the deadly quiet words.
He tries to swallow down his fear
“M-Maybe don’t break him right now. Take it slow, r-right?”
His father actually seemed to ponder this. As he did, Ashaan takes a moment to understand the consequences of the words out of his mouth.
It was just an excuse for him to stop hearing the boy screaming but as he watched him bloody and breathless, slumped on the chair, forcing back tears, he wondered if he wanted to be part of the reason he was tortured later.
Is that what this is? Torture?
“Don’t worry, my boy. I’ve been training these animals for years now.” His father’s voice break him out of his thoughts. “They’re tougher than they look.”
He lifted his fist to strike again and Ashaan felt his heart in his throat.
“NO!”
His eyes meet with the boy he just yelled with. Then he turns to face father, who’s features were contorted more now.
“What was that, Ashaan?” His father’s tone rises at his name. He let out a small whimper.
“I-I just don’t think that I’m ready for this, you know.”
“You just turned twenty, that’s plenty old.”
“M-Maybe I need to build up.” Ashaan nervously tugs at his collar, hoping he would be let off.
“This is building up, you’re not the one doing the training, are you?”
He could sense the tension in his father building.
“B-But what are you even training him for?”
“This,” his father hisses, pulling the boy up by his hair who squirms at the grip.
“This is a monster, if you don’t train them, they go savage. I told you, I hate repeating myself.”
Ashaan stares at the golden irises of the mutant blurred with tears, his mouth twisted in pain and he sees the white points of his teeth pierce his lip.
“H-He doesn’t seem –“
“Ashaan,” his father’s voice low, dangerous, “I didn’t raise you up for disrespect.”
“But, father-“
“I fed you and looked after you for twenty years. And now when I’m trying to teach you something, you decide you suddenly know better!”
His eyes sting, “N-No, father, please-”
“Stay here and I’ll come back for you.”
His father storms out of the room. Ashaan’s breaths are quick and shallow as he waits for him to return.
He looks back at the boy in the chair, his shirt now stained red and his breath rattling in his chest. The eyes look up at him and the gaze burns him. He hears the boy’s silent plea.
He calls for a medic, figuring his father has already damned him anyway
