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Chapter Text

Wei Wuxian died. 

Wei Wuxian died, twice over. 

His soul was scattered, torn into dazzling shards that danced across the forests of Gusu and flowers of Lotus Pier. Some say the haunting echoes of Chenqing’s music could be heard in the dead of night, and that the Yiling Patriarch never truly left this world, instead retreating back into a wreath of shadows and places unknown, awaiting the moment he would be needed again. 

He became the boogeyman; the one parents warned their children about. “If you misbehave, the Yiling Laozu will come and steal you away at night,” they said. He became a legend, something greater than human. History is written by the victors, and so they painted him as an irredeemable creature cursed to walk the shadows for eternity. 

But that, of course, is not the truth. Wei Wuxian simply ceased to be, and his rebirth, thirteen years in the coming, simply felt like an extended nap. 

But not all can be well, for death is not a kind thing, not to a human mind already wrought with pain and grief and regrets. To cross the threshold once more as a mortal would mean Wei Wuxian’s mind would shatter, and his legion of shadows protested this. Something had to change. 

And so, when Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, in a body made by magic and shadows and the sacrifice of one Mo Xuanyu, it was understandable, then, that he returned somewhat… other. 

He did not realize, not at first. He looked at the carefully written array beneath and realized what Mo Xuanyu — he didn’t bother questioning how he knew who the youth was, for now was not the time — had attempted to do. The soul-summoning array, he thought, one trembling, ghostly finger tracing the lines, How much pain had he been in to attempt this, I wonder? You poor kid. Ah, wait! What is this? This line here, who taught this young master how to do that!? This is all wrong!  

And it was indeed wrong, for the sigils meant to tie Wei Wuxian’s soul to Mo Xuanyu’s body were incomplete and marred with patchwork repairs that had no hope of succeeding. 

It would have been over before it had begun. 

But then, Wei Wuxian bit his lip, pacing, glad for the moment’s respite the dead of night had given him, Why did this work?  

And that was when he felt the differences. 

A missing golden core. 

A missing heartbeat.  

This was not Mo Xuanyu’s body. 

Oh, fuck.  

A moment’s search showed him that Young Master Mo’s body was behind a crate. Another moment made it apparent that Mo Xuanyu was still alive, though injured. 

Wei Wuxian wasted no time in ripping off a sleeve and using it to bandage the still bleeding cuts on the younger man’s arms. Haste and a desire to see no more lives lost by his hands spurred his actions. Don’t die on me, he thought, I know blood loss is a serious matter, but you are stronger than that!  

And Mo Xuanyu’s soul, fragile and near-expired as it was, flickered gratefully in response and then settled into a healing rest, and Wei Wuxian knew that this young man would survive. 

Ah, wait, the Yilling Laozu paused, eyes wide in alarm, How do I know that?  

He used his shadows, the ones that curled around him like surly and overprotective cats, to feel along Mo Xuanyu’s meridians, and that’s when he realized that he had come back changed. And it scared him. 

Fighting the bubbling panic that clutched at his chest, Wei Wuxian sat back and huffed a weary, bitter laugh. What have you done, Young Master Mo? Don’t you know that the threshold between the dead and the living can only be tampered with by spirits and gods, demons and immortals?  

Turning inwards, he checked himself out. This body, it was as close to his original as he remembered, but a little different. Teeth that felt too sharp to align with memory, senses that seemed more keen than previously experienced, and an innate knowledge of the status of Mo Xuanyu’s soul. And the souls around them. Lonely little flares that burned in the peripheral of his mind. 

Taking stock of this, and deciding that he could panic later, he felt past himself. He let his magical sense drift until he brushed his mind with the spirits of the dead at the Burial Mounds. His former home greeted him warmly, protectively, perhaps glad that its favourite human walked the earth once more. 

Wei Wuxian allowed himself a small smile, and gave the slumbering coagulation of malevolent spirits a gentle, affectionate pat. 

His army of shadows were as obedient as ever, though from them he felt a slight irritation at being left idle for over thirteen years. As the first human who had dared to attempt cultivation with resentful energy, Wei Wuxian had earned some form of loyalty from the darkness itself. The kind of loyalty human minds could not comprehend, for it was so distinctly other, and knowing this, all Wei Wuxian had done was acknowledge it, and no more. 

But even still, for shadows and yao that were left to be forgotten for eons on end, a single soul’s acknowledgment was more than enough. 

And when the ritual Mo Xuanyu had attempted showed signs of failure, these spirits of darkness, their power forgotten by all but one, saw fit to give their master a single gift: a body made of shadows and death, and with it, a second chance. 

Thank you, Wei Wuxian thought, and then he added fondly, though you could’ve payed a little more attention! How am I supposed to pass for human without a heartbeat?  

His shadows swirled at his feet petulantly, defiant, and with them came the sense that Wei Wuxian’s inhumanness was not a thing to despise, for it made their master all the more harder to kill, and how was that anything but a benefit? 

Ahhh, so am I a ghost? He wondered, deciding he could have a crisis about it later, for Mo Xuanyu could wake at any moment. 

He poked his chest. It felt solid. 

He kicked a post, and then immediately regretted the action. Pain bloomed from his stubbed toe, and Wei Wuxian sat down with a string of curses. 

Nursing the aching foot, he scowled at the post as though it had done him some great offense. Which, perhaps, it had, if Wei Wuxian had not been the one who decided to kick it first. 

So not a ghost, he thought sourly, Just a human without a heartbeat. Or perhaps a demon. Either way, I can’t do anything until this foolish Mo Xuanyu wakes up and lets me properly interrogate him!

Sighing at the potentially night-long wait, Wei Wuxian settled down and made himself comfortable. 

-- -- -- 

It was nearing dawn when Mo Xuanyu first showed signs of consciousness. 

“Ahh, about time,” Wei Wuxian murmured teasingly, poking the other man’s cheek. “Wake up, little mini-me. You summoned my soul and couldn’t even stay awake long enough to greet me!” 

And he really does look like a younger version of myself, Wei Wuxian mused, mildly creeped out by the coincidence, With longer bangs and softer features, sure, but the resemblance is eerie. Hmm.  

“Wha…?” The sleeping youth muttered, shifting to a side and wiping his mouth. Grey eyes blinked blearily, then focused on the grinning man in front of him. “Wh- what!??” 

“Welcome back, Young Master Mo!” Wei Wuxian cheerily replied.

The following scream made Wei Wuxian’s ears ring.

“Shhh!!!” he hushed, jerking back, one hand over his ear and the other on Mo Xuanyu’s lips, “I’m not here to harm you!”  

The screaming stopped. The silence that followed felt oppressive. 

“You’re… Wei Wuxian?” Mo Xuanyu asked, voice faint and eyes wide. 

“Yep!” Wei Wuxian replied, keeping his tone cheerful and light. It would be best if he came across as harmless as possible. 

“....” 

“....” 

“... how?” The summoner asked, voice trembling, “I was supposed to die, how are we both here?” 

Wei Wuxian scratched a cheek. “To be honest, I don’t know either.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

So much for my cool image, Wei Wuxian thought with no small amount of dispair, Even this kid is looking at me like I’m some kind of idiot!  

“I thought,” Mo Xuanyu began, “That this summoning array was one of your inventions?” 

“What?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, slightly offended, “One of mine? Seriously!? Something this badly made!?” 

“Badly… made?” 

“Yes! Look at this line here, see how it goes against the circular magical gradient formed by these other lines? And see how this line, however fancy, blocks the meridian flow between the hemispheres? It would never have worked! The soul-tethering mechanism is entirely incomplete!” 

“...oh,” Mo Xuanyu muttered, looking dejected. 

“Ah, but Young Master Mo, none of this is your fault,” Wei Wuxian soothed, feeling sorry for the kid, “It’s the fault of whoever taught you how to do this.” 

The teen bit his lip, rubbing an arm. “I taught myself,” he admitted, “From your books.” 

“From my books?” Wei Wuxian echoed, frowning. From his memories, patchwork as they were, he was certain his stash of research papers and notes had been destroyed when he tried to-- Not now, Wei Wuxian, he warned himself, Crisis later, not in front of the kid!  

“The ones at--” Mo Xuanyu began to explain, but then cut himself off. “Nevermind.” 

Wei Wuxian made a noise. “Do you have these books with you?” he asked, fully suspecting that whatever this source of knowledge was, it was not something he had made. 

For all his experiments and once-impossible inventions, Wei Wuxian had never attempted to mess with matters of the soul. The closest they had gotten was the transferring of golden cores, and after that, Wei Wuxian had kept his interest tied to ghouls and spirits and helping Wen Ning, or creating protective talismans for the people under his care. 

The soul-summoning array was something far more sinister. A banned art. Perhaps because of its sacrifice, or perhaps because it re-writes the laws of death as they currently are.  By whatever means Mo Xuanyu had come upon this array, Wei Wuxian was certain that it was no mere coincidence. 

The youth in question scuffed the floor with his foot. “They’re back at my… room,” he muttered. 

“I suspect something more tricky is at play here,” Wei Wuxian explained. “Because this array that you used, it seemed to have been altered in a very deliberate way. Those books you have are most certainly not mine, because I’ve never dabbled in something so risky for the returning soul.” 

“Oh,” Mo Xuanyu said again, looking like Wei Wuxian had just pulled his worldview out from beneath his feet. After a moment though, the lost expression turned into one of determination, and Wei Wuxian felt a soft admiration for how quickly this child mastered himself. “Okay,” Mo Xuanyu agreed, “I’ll um, take you to the books. And… what will you do?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wei Wuxian said, grinning, “I’ve been brought back for a reason. It’s only natural that I find out what this reason is!” 

-- 

Wei Wuxian had been on this earth, as a corporeal something, for 6 hours and 35 minutes, and the urge to solve yet another problem with murder had already returned. 

Apparently this Mo Xuanyu, who was 19, had been a former disciple of the Lanling Jin Sect. He was one of Jin Guangshan’s bastard children, and was kicked out for being a cutsleeve, of all things! And perhaps a lunatic too, Wei Wuxian wasn't sure. The only thing he was sure of was that Mo Xuanyu was far more intelligent than anyone here gave him credit for. 

These moronic villagers seem to take great pleasure in reminding them about "The loony Young Master Mo." 

Already, Wei Wuxian had to pull a nearly crying Mo Xuanyu aside and remind the teen, with gentle words, that being a cutsleeve was not something Wei Wuxian would shun him for. That, in fact, no one who matters would care about such a thing.

And as he held the trembling teen to his chest, shadows curling protectively around them both, he decided that he'd protect Mo Xuanyu as well, because the poor kid seemed to be facing the world alone, and as someone who had been there, Wei Wuxian felt his heart ache. How can he not help, when he himself was like this once? 

The next person to look at Mo Xuanyu in disgust, Wei Wuxian thinks, anger and protectiveness lighting a fire within, I’m going to scare them so badly they’ll have nightmares for their next three lives! 

They reached the entrance to the Mo Household at late morning, but before midday, when the morning sun was pleasant and not too bright, painting the sky in cheerful blue. The donkey, who Wei Wuxian had dubbed Lil’ Apple, was irritated with them both, and made it plainly known by rolling her eyes every time a sound escaped Wei Wuxian’s mouth. 

“Why does your donkey hate me so?” Wei Wuxian asked after he'd received his sixth glare from the animal. 

“Maybe because you keep bugging it,” Mo Xuanyu snickered, one sleeve covering his mouth to hide a smile. His new disciple had washed off the garish makeup that was painted on before, and Wei Wuxian was struck, again, by how similar they looked. 

Ahh, the Gods have it out for me, he lamented, but playfully put on a show to keep Mo Xuanyu’s spirits up. Mo Xuanyu really does need more reasons to smile. 

“Is this it?” Wei Wuxian asked, once they had arrived. He eyed the overly-decorative gate. 

His companion nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Are you ready? 

“... no,” Mo Xuanyu admitted, “but let’s get this done anyways.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Wei Wuxian cheered, idly playing with his hair, now in a single braid down his back. He’d stolen a straw hat from a vendor as well, using it to cover his face and shade his features. He hoped these simple changes would be enough to make him seem like a stranger to most. “If anyone talks down to you, A-Yu, let me handle them.” 

“A-Alright,” Mo Xuanyu stammered, then stalled at what to call Wei Wuxian. “Senior… Wei?” 

Wei Wuxian ruffled Mo Xuanyu’s hair. “Just call me Laoshi!” he said, “Or I suppose, Senior Wei works as well, just…” He thought for a moment, considering names, “Wei Aoyun! That’s who I am, as far as anyone else is concerned.” 

Mo Xuanyu frowned. “Won’t anyone recognise your last name?” 

“Wei is common enough that most won’t care,” Wei Wuxian replied. “Don’t worry, A-Yu, we’re here for your books, and after that, we can leave and never come back.” 

“... really?”

“If you want to, yeah.” 

“Okay. I’d… I’d like that.” 

There were things Mo Xuanyu hadn’t told him, but Wei Wuxian could infer, from bruises and Mo Xuanyu's hesitant manner, about what had gone on in that household. He didn’t like it. If he could get A-Yu away from there, it would be better for them all. 

-- -- --

But of course, Wei Wuxian’s luck was never as simple as that. 

They had gotten the books, and Wei Wuxian had been able to confirm that those books were not something he had made. They did, however, look like something a desperate soul had pieced together in a mad rush, taking bits and snippets from Wei Wuxian’s own works. 

“Do you see this paragraph here?” he explained to Mo Xuanyu, admiring how quick the teen had grasped the concept, “And do you see how the style of diction differs from mine? And how the entire theory seems to turn on its head?” 

Mo Xuanyu nodded, lips pursed. 

“Someone pieced these together, and then added their own theories. And they didn’t do it very well, either! The question now, of course, is who would do such a thing?” 

And so they left, with the tattered books stuffed into a bad, along with the rest of Mo Xuanyu’s meagre possessions and money.

That’s when it all started to go wrong. 

While leaving, they ran into Madame Mo, who was serving tea to two disciples from the Gusu Lan Sect, who were here because of some kind of demonic activity in the area. 

“Who is this!?” The sour-faced woman asked, pointing at Wei Wuxian. 

Because Mo Xuanyu looked petrified by her presence, Wei Wuxian decided to intervene and answer himself. “I am Wei Aoyun,” he said, keeping his tone mild, “And I am A-Yu’s teacher.” 

“Bah,” she scoffed, “Why would you want to teach him? He’s a lunatic, not even Lanling Jin want him. He's got more than a few screws loose.” 

Wei Wuxian's dangerous red eyes narrowed. "Watch your words, Madame Mo.” he said icily, “Mo Xuanyu has plenty of potential. I would warn against speaking ill of others, but I doubt someone like you would listen.” 

“Hmph,” she scowled, “If you’re taking him with you, then I suppose you’re doing us all a favour.” 

Wei Wuxian simply nodded, his smile sharp like a demon's. Madame Mo, visibly disturbed by this stranger, returned to entertaining the two disciples from Gusu. 

The necromancer turned to Mo Xuanyu, “It might be worth it to stick around and see what goes down,” he said. 

“O-Okay.” The teen replied. “Why... why did you tell Madame Mo I was your disciple?” 

Wei Wuxian smiled and ruffled the young man's hair again. “Aren’t you?” 

“Oh.” Mo Xuanyu said, eyes wide, then, “Thank you.” 

“No need,” Wei Wuxian said, “It was your mishap that brought me back to life. Consider us even. Now, A-Yu, let’s go stand over there and listen in, hm?” 

The teen nodded, lightly blushing from embarrassment at Wei Wuxian’s teasing of the incident with the soul-summoning array, and followed his new teacher behind the pillar. 

“I’ve heard remarkable things about youths from prominent cultivation clans,” Madame Mo was saying, her tone saccharine, “Now that I have met you, you really are dashing, impressive, vigorous and valiant! Truly distinguished amongst peers!” 

“Madame Mo,” one of the disciples said, picking up his cup of tea, “As you said earlier, the hills behind Mo Village were not troubled by zombies until recently.” 

“Indeed,” Madame Mo agreed, “Some even encroached on the village.” She adopted a concerned expression. “Several master cultivators have come these past few days. Speaking of, night hunts?” 

“Ah,” the same disciple that had spoken earlier made a sound of agreement, “Cultivators travel far and wide, banishing evil. These demonic beings often appear at night, hence the term “Night Hunt.”

“Oh, I see, I see.” Madame Mo tittered, “To be honest, my son has had an aspiring wish to be a Cultivator since he was young. He has proper etiquette…” 

“He really doesn’t,” Mo Xuanyu whispered dryly, and Wei Wuxian stifled a laugh. 

“... and extraordinary talent…” 

“I assume he’s lacking in this field as well?” Wei Wuxian asked, and Mo Xuanyu nodded sagely. 

“... he would be a promising cultivator!” 

The sounds of thundering footsteps caught the attention of the two eavesdroppers, and they turned just in time to see Mo Ziyuan, Madame Mo’s son, storm into the room. 

“A-Niang! A-Niang!” The burly man-child cried, “It’s that scoundrel Mo Xuanyu again, he stole my belongings!” 

Wei Wuxian turned to his new disciple with a raised eyebrow. Did you? Mo Xuanyu shook his head, eyes fearful, and Wei Wuxian patted his student comfortingly. I'll make sure your side is heard, he vowed. 

“Oh my poor son,” Madame Mo soothed, holding a wailing Mo Ziyuan. It was bizarre, considering her son was at least a foot taller than her and twice as wide. “Where is Mo Xuanyu!? Servants, find him!”  

“I’m afraid it can’t be him, Madame Mo.” Wei Wuxian said cheerfully, stepping out from behind his pillar. “For you see, Mo Xuanyu was with me all morning, and we were out in the forest, nowhere near here.” His words were light, but his eyes were cold and sent shivers down any observer’s spine. 

“Are you calling my son a liar!” 

“That depends, Madame Mo. Is your son a liar?” 

“Why you--! How dare you! How shameless!” 

Wei Wuxian laughed. “How is this shameless, if all I’ve said is the truth?” 

Mo Ziyuan, fed up of this stranger ridiculing him, lost his temper and lunged for Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian nimbly side-stepped the poorly executed attack, causing the spoilt heir to fall on the ground. 

Mo Ziyuan lunged again, this time having to reach past one of the Gusu Lan disciples, but the disciple, frowning, caught his arm. 

“This,” the disciple muttered, glancing at Wei Wuxian, before turning patient eyes back to Mo Ziyuan, “Young master, we can settle this like gentlemen.” 

“Piss off!” Mo Ziyan yelled, jerking his arm back, and Madame Mo rushed to grab him. 

“I beg your pardon, Cultivator,” she said, “My son was insulted out of nowhere. He wasn’t mindful of his words in his rage.” 

Mo Yiyuan began to protest again, but Madame Mo hissed, “Zip it!” 

“It’s impolite to interfere with your family matters,” that same disciple said, apparently the designated speaker, while the other watched with poorly concealed amusement. “However, it is near sunset. Luring and purging the zombies is more important.” 

The other disciple decided to speak now, “Oh, right! Please inform your household to shut all doors and windows after nightfall, and avoid the backyard or anything within the Spirit Lure Array.” 

Wei Wuxian took a moment to observe the two. The one who had spoken first was prim and proper and every bit the image of a Gusu Lan disciple. The second was as well, save for the fact that his hair was cut shorter, with the ponytail ending at the nape of his neck, and he had a few locks of hair falling over the left side of his face. 

Hmm, Wei Wuxian thought, watching as they left to set up their magical tools. Why does one of them seem familiar…? Ah, it’s probably nothing. Where’s Mo Xuanyu?  

Mo Xuanyu was sitting on an outside bench, arms crossed, watching the cultivators set up the spirit lure flags. 

“Senior Wei,” Mo Xuanyu said when he approached, “Aren’t the Spirit Lure Flags one of your inventions?” 

“Mhm, they are.” Wei Wuxian confirmed, “The Cultivation Sects may have hated me in life, but they seem to have no problem putting my inventions to use.” He sat down beside the teen. “How’s your arm?” 

“It’s not bleeding anymore,” Mo Xuanyu reported. 

“That’s good. You should get it cleaned, when you have the chance. We don’t want infection setting in, especially since I lack the spiritual energy to heal it, and if I do use resentment to heal you, it might try to... make improvements.” He gestured to himself, in explanation.  Mo Xuanyu nodded, still examining the healing cuts. 

Night fell, and with it, the shadows crept back to their usual waiting spots. They curled around Wei Wuxian protectively, and in this light, skin pale and eyes bright and dark robes blending into the night, he was very much the embodiment of some ghostly, wicked immortal. 

Mo Xuanyu observed this, and decided that he’d gotten extremely lucky in having such a powerful being as his teacher. For the first time in a long time, Mo Xuanyu was glad he wasn’t dead, and he owed it to Wei Wuxian, who had somehow turned his life upside down, and made his future all the brighter. He would not let this man, who had already lost so much, suffer alone again. 

“Excuse me,” one of the disciples from earlier said, approaching them, “Aren’t you gonna go inside?” 

“We’re cultivators too,” Wei Wuxian assured him, “Don’t worry about us.” 

“Oh!” the disciple gasped. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Lan Jingyi. My partner is Lan Sizhui.” 

“I’m Wei Aoyun,” Wie Wuxian said, “And this is my disciple, Mo Xuanyu.” 

“What sect are you from?” 

“None.” 

“Oh.” Lan Jingyi pursed his lips, “Hmm, are you a wandering cultivator?” 

Wei Wuxian smiled. “Something like that.” 

“Do you travel a lot?” 

“Hey, leave Senior Wei alone.” Mo Xuanyu interjected, scowling. 

“It’s alright, A-Yu.” Wei Wuxian soothed, “I don’t mind answering a few questions.” 

Once Lan Jingyi had asked his questions, and had left, thanking “Wei Aoyun” for his time, Mo Xuanyu had a question of his own. “Senior Wei, are you going to help them?” 

Wei Wuxian prodded his shadows and the restless spirits of the night. They seemed content, with only a few irritable souls. Only one, dormant enough that Wei Wuxian couldn't get a proper read on it, appeared capable of causing any real trouble, and a single soul wouldn’t be too much trouble for two accomplished Gusu Lan Disciples, right? And, he thought, I’d rather not get too involved.  

“That depends,” Wei Wuxian eventually said, “On whether they need help or not.”

Mo Xuanyu huffed at the cryptic answer, but settled down to wait without complaint. 

-- -- --

It was a wandering servant who happened upon Mo Ziyuan’s dead body, and then screamed. The shrill, scared sound echoed piercingly through the otherwise silent night. After sharing an alarmed glance, Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu immediately headed in that direction, reaching the scene next. Wei Wuxian squatted down, examining the body of the dead Mo heir. 

This looks far more decayed than a freshly-dead body should be, he mused, poking the corpse’s skull, I wonder what drained all his meagre spiritual energy so much?  

A crowd had gathered quickly, and rumours of how Mo Ziyuan had died were afoot. Many accused Mo Xuanyu of murder, and the poort teen hid behind Wei Wuxian, anxious and unwilling to be out in the open. Wei Wuxian glared at those who dared speak ill of his disciple, but didn’t say anything yet, for Madame Mo had just arrived and was causing quite a ruckus. 

“Let me through! Let me through!” She cried, “My poor A-Yuan! Impossible! It can’t be!” She pushed her servants and other inhabitants of Mo Manor out of her path, “Get out of my way” 

“A-Yuan,” she said, sounding broken as she glanced at her dead son’s corpse, “A-YUAN!” Madame Mo rushed forwards and embraced him, crying, “My poor son, you died such a miserable death! Gone from me just like that, what will I do without you? My boy…” She gripped his arm, only to realize that the arm was missing. “Ah?” She said, surprised, then glared at Wei Wuxian. 

“You killed him!” She accused, hysterical, “You insulted him earlier and because he attacked you, you killed him!” 

“Ah, no. Wasn’t me.” Wei Wuxian said flippantly, and stepped protectively in front of Mo Xuanyu just in case Madame Mo tried anything drastic. 

“Madame Mo,” Lan Sizhui interjected, “Your son’s flesh and energy were sucked dry. He was obviously killed by some Yao, something demonic.” 

“This stranger is the murderer!” Madame Mo hissed, pointing at Wei Wuxian. 

“I’m afraid not, Madame Mo.” Wei Wuxian shrugged, “Turn your eyes to your son’s body.” He kicked Mo Ziyuan over, and in the corpse’s robe, was a spirit attraction flag. 

“Spirit Lure Flag,” Lan Sizhui said, frowning. 

“What!” Madame Mo screeched, “Why would my son have that on him?” 

Lan Jingyi swiftly snatched the flag up and handed it to his partner. 

“Madame Mo, This is quite clearly the cause of your son’s death.” He turned to her, holding the flag, “This Spirit Lure Flag summons demons and spirits. Your son carried this, making him a live target for the nearby spirits. The evil spirits summoned by the flag caused his demise.” 

“Bullshit!” Madame Mo cried, snatching the flag. “He only took a shitty flag from you, how could it…?” She clutched her son’s body again, “A-Yuan…” 

Wei Wuxian watched the scene, but only felt the smallest amount of pity for them, considering Mo Xuanyu’s past. 

“Ah!” Mo Xuanyu gasped, glancing at his arm. “Senior Wei, look, one of the gashes has healed fully!” 

“Huh?” Wei Wuxian said, and then looked for himself. Indeed, one of the gashes was now fully healed. “So it had. How interesting.” 

This makes little sense, he thought, frowning, But considering the ritual was incomplete, perhaps there was some backlash? I’ll have to look into it later and make sure this array holds no harm to Mo Xuanyu's continued health.  

Madame Mo kept crying over her son’s body, and the gaggle of bystanders hadn’t dispersed. The two Lan disciples seemed a little lost as to what to do. But… there!  

Movement in the background caught Wei Wuxian’s attention. What was that-- A ghoul? Here? 

“A-Yu, stay behind me.” He ordered, watching it approach with narrowed eyes. “Oi, Lan kids, there’s a ghoul coming!” 

Just as he had finished saying that, the ghoul leapt into the air and over the bystanders, nearly taking out Madame Mo. It lay on the ground or a moment, left arm writhing and pulsing in a grotesque and unnatural manner, before beginning to slowly stand up. 

“RUN!” one of the servants screamed, sending the civilians into a panicked rush. 

“Over here, ugly!” Wei Wuxian yelled, getting the ghoul’s attention and drawing it away from Madame Mo. He moved in the direction opposite to Mo Xuanyu, and kept his voice loud and taunts sharp. The ghoul seemed to take offence and ran after him. Grinning, Wei Wuxian danced out of it’s way, they darted behind a cluster of bushes. Behind his back, he put two fingers together and began to prepare a spell to trap the ghoul. 

But then, a flash of silver caught his eye, and in the next moment, the ghoul’s demon arm parried Lan Sizhui’s sword. The disciple fiercely pushed the ghoul back to the centre of the courtyard, striking and then dancing out of the way, but somehow the ghoul’s demon arm managed to block every shot. 

Jingyi appeared a moment later, leaping over and placing a talisman on the ghoul’s face. The talisman seemed to struggle at first, but the ghoul’s resentful energy failed to burn away the gold paper, and the ghoul eventually slumped over, subdued. 

“There’s a ghost! There’s a ghost!” Madame Mo cried out, frightful and hysterical. 

“Madame Mo, you stay there.” Lan Jingyi ordered. “Don’t run around.” 

Lan Sizhui lifted his arm and sent out six more talismans. They flew, wreathed in blue-white magic, and settled on different pillars surrounding the courtyard. Then an array appeared, floating above the courtyard. 

“Spirit Expulsion Array,” Wei Wuxian explained to Mo Xuanyu. His mind was foggy about the details of it, but he knew this array should work. 

The teenager nodded. “They’re quite skilled aren’t they, Senior Wei?” 

“Yep,” Wei Wuxian agreed, “but I’d expect nothing else from the Gusu Lan Sect.” 

“... will I be able to do that?” 

“A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian ruffled his new student's hair, “You’ll be able to do better. Now come, let’s listen to what they’re saying.” 

“The array was set up earlier on,” Lan Sizhui was saying, “But there’s no damage.” 

“Could it be that this isn’t a vicious ghost?” Lan Jingyi asked. 

“If it kills every seven days, it can be ranked as a vicious ghost.” Lan Sizhui explained, “That’s the standard set by the Yiling Patriarch.” 

The mention of his former title made Wei Wuxian smile, though he ducked his head and hid it under the shadow of his hat. 

“While this thing killed twice in a row,” Lan Sizhui continued, “It's way more savage than the usual Vicious Ghost we encounter.” 

“That’s tricky,” Lan Jingyi huffed, “What should we do?” 

“Send the signal.” 

“But even if we send for help,” Lan Jingyi protested, “There are no masters around to assist.” 

Lan Sizhui pursed his lips, worried. “But that’s our only resort. As disciples of Gusu Lan, we must protect human lives. Even if it costs our lives,” He gripped his sword, determined, “We must defend this place until help arrives.” 

The two disciples set off the flare, a silver thing that flew into the sky and erupted in a shimmering shower of sparks in the shape of Gusu Lan’s cloud motif. 

Wei Wuxian watched this happen and grimaced. “My luck can’t be that bad, right?” he asked, crossing his arms. 

“What do you mean, Senior Wei?” Mo Xuanyu asked. 

“Ahahaha, it’s nothing A-Yu,” He reassured, “I just don’t want a certain old acquaintance to show up.” 

Mo Xuanyu frowned and decided, whoever this “old acquaintance” was, he refused to let them hurt his teacher again. Then he felt a pain in his arm. He looked down and gasped. 

“Senior Wei, they’re…” Mo Xuanyu lifted his arm up, confusion creasing his face, “It’s all healed.” 

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian hummed, examining his student's arm, which was indeed all healed. “Only Ziyuan and A-Tong died, right?” He asked.  

Mo Xuanyu nodded. “Y-yeah.” 

“Unless…” Wei Wuxian thought, then he snapped his fingers as the answer came to him. “Madame Mo!” 

In tandem, the pair of them glanced back to where Madame Mo was supposed to be, only to see a slumped, sickly-looking figure. Mo Xuanyu made a distressed noise. 

“It’s alright A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian muttered, pulling Mo Xuanyu aside so the teen didn’t have to see the corpse of his tormentor, “She should already be dead. But the question is, what’s possessing her?” 

His question remained unanswered, for no one new the answer. Yet. 

Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were examining the corpse of the servant. Lan Jingyi, patting down the corpse, realized one of it’s limbs were missing. 

“This servant's left hand is gone too!” He exclaimed, lifting the empty sleeve. An ominous crackle of leaves had them both turning around, just in time to see Madame Mo’s corpse rise from the ground. The left arm on the ghoul seemed to move on its own, commanding the body in a grotesque manner. 

"Shit," Lan Jingyi hissed. His companion grimaced. 

After sharing a quick glance, the two of them ran at it, talismans ready. They caught it off-guard and subdued it in only a few moments. The ghoul moaned pitifully a few times, but remained kneeling on the ground. 

Wei Wuxian walked over to them, clapping. “Quick reflexes,” he praised, and then mentally snickered at how both disciples seemed to preen at the praise. “Is it subdued?” 

“I think so,” Lan Jingyi answered, tickling it with a stray branch that had a leaf on the end, while his companion sighed and facepalmed.  

But then again, lady luck had never been kind to either of them. Just as Lan Jingyi had spoken, the ghoul shuddered, left arm twitching furiously, and in mere seconds, broke free of the supposedly secure seal. It immediately dashed at Lan Sizhui, who jerked back in surprise, unprepared for the attack. 

Thinking fast, Wei Wuxian kicked Lan Jingyi into the ghoul’s path, and like he’d suspected, the protections sewn into Jingyi’s outer robe burned the ghoul, stopping its attack. 

“Oi!” Lan Jingyi protested, glaring at Wei Wuxian as he shrugged off the burning robe. 

“The incantations on the robe are useful!” Lan Sizhui said, realizing what Wei Wuxian had done. “Jingyi, Right now!” 

His partner turned around, “Ah!? Alright!” 

Together they ran towards the ghoul once more. Lan Sizhui removed his outer robe and tossed it into the air, casting a spell. The swirling white cloth and the sigils on the robe became the centre of the new golden array, burning up and holding the corpse of Madame Mo in place with silver-blue fire. 

The two disciples circled the ghoul, swords drawn, letting spiritual power run through the blade. Then they struck their swords into the ground, spiritual power moving in a fiery circle around the zombie and the demonic arm. This trap, accompanied by the array, seemed to be working to subdue the ghoul. 

But then the demonic arm lashed out. Black resentful energy slashed through the air and the array, knocking the disciples aside. The ghoul screamed, sending a thrumming tower of resentful energy into the sky. 

Wei Wuxian watched this go down with a worried expression. Then he turned, eyes glowing eerie red, and calling upon his shadows’ aid, strode over to Mo Ziyuan’s discarded corpse. He lifted it by its collar and whispered in its ear, “Wake up.” 

The corpse rose, as did the corpse of A-Tong, and Wei Wuxian idly walked up to both. “Good,” he said, “Can you recognize the left hand on your mom?” 

The corpse lifted its head in acknowledgement, and Wei Wuxian glanced ahead at the fierce battle between the ghoul and the Lan disciples. The sound of metal clanging echoed through the courtyard, sharp and cutting. The battle seemed to be well matched but... Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. Somehow the hand was parrying all the strikes. That wasn't right. 

He then turned to the dead Mo Ziyuan with a wicked expression, “Go shred it.” 

And then it became a battle of two corpses against one, giving the exhausted Lan disciples a small break. 

“That’s new,” Lan Jingyi remarked, panting. “They were dead, and now they’re zombies.” 

“Ah, Senior Wei,” Lan Sizhui asked, turning to the newcomer, “Was that you?” 

“And what if it was?” Wei Wuxian said lightly, thought he was panicking on the inside. Ahh, I should’ve listened to Mo Xuanyu! Why didn’t I pick something like Zhou as a last name? Something not tied to the Yiling Patriarch! If they call me Senior Wei around anyone of note, it'll be a disaster. 

Lan Sizhui frowned. “Can you control them?” 

Wei Wuxian gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Of course!” 

The sound of growling had all three of them turn back to the fight amongst the ghouls, which had only gotten more intense. The blows shook the ground lightly, and the ferocious snarling sent shivers down the spines of the two disciples. Never had they seen a fight so rough, let alone amongst several zombies! 

And yet somehow, the corpse of Madame Mo, guided by the demonic hand, fended them all off with little difficulty, throwing Mo Ziyuan into a wall, breaking his body in half, and slapping A-Tong’s corpse away easily. The silver-black fire the hand was wreathed in thickened and became more intense, indicating that the ghoul seemed to have gotten more powerful. 

What the hell is this thing!? Wei Wuxian thought, If reinforcements don’t arrive soon, I’ll have to blow my cover even more to save these boys from the Lan Clan.  

He turned away, glancing at A-Yu, who was watching with an uneasy expression from behind a rock. The teen was shaken, but determined to see this through. Good kid, Wei Wuxian thought, But this is really a shit situation. Should I try to manipulate those zombies again? Ahh, probably…  

But just as he was about to do that, the ghoul made a dash in Lan Sizhui’s direction, catching the disciple off-guard again. Its clawed hand was reaching for Lan Sizhui’s throat, and had almost scratched pale skin, but the resounding thrum of a guqin echoed through the night, and the pulse of musical cultivation stopped the ghoul in its tracks, cracking the earth beneath it. The sheer power behind the attack seemed to freeze time, and when the world went back to moving again, the air had cleared and the ghoul was instantly subdued under a complicated containment array. 

A few more notes followed the first chord, the sound soothing after such an ordeal, and the disciples both looked up with smiles on their faces. “Hanguang-Jun!” 

Wei Wuxian watched the figure, balanced on his sword, guqin in hand, tall and ethereal with white robes flowing. The sight had Wei Wuxian frozen, resentful energy still swirling at his fingertips but he couldn’t find the courage to move. He simply stared, speechless, expression raw and vulnerable as the sounds of the guqin subdued the ghoul easily. 

Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian thought, feeling a pit of mixed despair and hope well up in his core, Lan Zhan is here.  

I am so fucked.  

-- -- --

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji, peerless white jade of the Gusu Lan Sect, descended upon the courtyard with the air of an immortal returning to earth. The air seemed to calm with his presence, bringing along a sense that everything would be alright. Despite the prickling fear in his veins, Wei Wuxian couldn’t find it in him to turn away, no matter how much he wished to. Luckily, the hedge kept him out of sight from his… enemy? 

It was only after the white-robed cultivator stepped of his blade and spoke to the disciples that Wei Wuxian finally managed to look aside. 

He didn't know what Lan Wangji thought of him. He didn't know what he thought about Lan Wangji. His last memory was when... No, he reminded himself, panic later, get away now. The demon hand is contained, it's time for me to leave. 

“A-Yu,” he called, catching the attention of his student, “A-Yu, we need to get out of here.” 

Mo Xuanyu gave the trio of Gusu cultivators one last look. He frowned. “Senior Wei, is that the old acquaintance you were trying to avoid?”

“Perhaps,” Wei Wuxian said, deflecting because he couldn't decide if he really did want to avoid Lan Wangji or confront him. “We need to be leaving either way. Let’s go.” 

“Sure.” Mo Xuanyu muttered, narrowing his eyes at Hanguang-Jun. I s this the person who hurt Senior Wei? He wondered, then scowled. A sense of protectiveness bloomed in his chest. If so, I’m not letting him do that again! Senior Wei has protected me all this time, the very least I can do is protect him too, best I can.  

The two of them slipped out of Mo Manor easily enough, for all the staff and inhabitants had evacuated due to the mess with the ghouls. They grabbed Lil’ Apple as they went. The donkey, as always, despised any attention from Wei Wuxian, but because even she could sense the haste in the air, she followed along, although bitterly. 

“Where are we going?” Mo Xuanyu asked, clutching his satchel of belongings. 

“To the forest,” Wei Wuxian replied, glancing at the expanse of dark trees bordering Mo Village. “I can feel that this isn’t the only malevolent soul stirring tonight.” 

“We’re going… night hunting?” 

“Ah, kinda. We’re going to investigate. To try and find the source that spawned the demon arm, and then purify it.” Wei Wuxian explained, “Don’t you think it’s odd, that right after you summoned me, this entire mess happened? It’s clear that there are more pieces at play than we can see.” 

Mo Xuanyu didn’t respond, instead taking the apple that was offered to him and munching on it, deep in thought. Lil' Apple looked at Mo Xuanyu in betrayal, and so the teen broke off a piece of his apple to give to her. They ate their snacks in companionable silence. Wei Wuxian observed his new student for a moment, expression fond, and then idly turned his thoughts to matters he’d shoved aside earlier. 

If I’m not human, he thought, unsure of his own feelings towards that fact, and felt the resentful energy hum with approval, and I’m not some kind of demon, what am I, a god? For whatever reason, the shadows saw this answer as the correct one. That can’t be! Wei Wuxian hissed at them, I can’t be a god, what have I done to ascend!?  

They answered not with words, but a feelings. The same helpless, cutting fear he felt when he sacrificed himself to get rid of the Stygian Tiger Seal. The same oppressing worry that curled in his soul during the golden core transfer. And with these feelings, came a sense, one Wei Wuxian understood even though it was never said. Sacrifice. Pain. Death. 

Oh, he thought, pulling his braid over his shoulder, just to give him something to do, something so he wouldn’t think more about this. Am I… am I immortal, now? It was a thought that struck a different kind of fear in Wei Wuxian, even as he sensed the affirmative. He tried to hide his shaking hands in his sleeves.  He bit his lip, and then winced when he tasted blood. Ah fuck, he thought sourly, sharper teeth. I don’t like them.  

“Senior Wei?” Mo Xuanyu asked, drawing him back to the present. “Are you hurt?” 

Wei Wuxian realized, blinking, that he had stopped walking. His left hand was pressed to his mouth. Whether to hide his teeth or the bleeding lip, he didn’t know. 

“Bit my lip, A-Yu,” he said, tone light. “Nothing to worry about.” 

Troubled by his recent revelation, and by his current divinity, Wei Wuxian thought hard as they travelled down the dirt path. He prodded the concept from many angles, panic and worry receding as he realize that it didn’t change much currently, especially since he had no knowledge of any new abilities save the soul-sense. In the end, he decided he’d continue doing what he’d always done. He’d help, anyone who needed it, anyone he could, and hopefully, it’d be enough to atone for his past sins. 

“Senior Wei,” Mo Xuanyu said, tugging on Wei Wuxian’s arm, pulling the new god of death back to the present, “The path ahead, it narrows.” 

Wei Wuxian frowned. The path did narrow, suspiciously so, and the faint glimmer of moonlight on taught diamond-wire let Wei Wuxian know exactly what was going on. 

“Oh, lovely. A-Yu," Wei Wuxian drawled, “Do you see the strings?” 

After a moment of looking, Mo Xuanyu replied, “It’s a Spirit-Trapping Net, isn’t it? Aren’t those expensive?” 

“Well done,” Wei Wuxian said, “You’re right. Now the question is, who would have enough money to afford one of these?” 

Mo Xuanyu's expression soured. “Probably the Lanling Jin Sect. What will we do?” 

Wei Wuxian smirked, eyes glimmering red. “Spring the trap, of course.” 

He took a stray twig from the ground, and threw it, forcefully, into the string. As planned, the string snapped, and a second later the trap sprung into motion, net pulling up and closing, creating an empty pouch. 

Lil’ Apple brayed in alarm, and Wei Wuxian shushed her. The donkey didn’t listen, and instead kicked the necromancer. It was only when Mo Xuanyu intervened that they quieted down. 

Lil’ Apple glared at Wei Wuxian, then snorted in what was clearly an insult. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” He muttered, and turned to the clearing with the sprung trap. 

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, and accompanied by the jingling of a bell, a gold-clad figure landed in a nearby tree. It was a youth, slightly younger than Mo Xuanyu, with fluffy bangs and long brown hair. He had an innocent look to him, but it was marred by the fierce scowl on his face. He was dressed in the gold of LanlinJin Sect, and he carried both a sword and a bow and arrows. 

“That’s Jin Ling,” Mo Xuanyu whispered. 

Jin Ling, We Wuxian thought, sorrow swirling around him, Jin Rulan, Shijie’s child. Jiang Cheng must be looking after him now. I’m so sorry.  He clenched his fist, nails digging into his palm, and felt the wave of anguish wash over him. In this moment, he looked more spirit than human, burning red eyes hidden behind the cover of a simple straw hat. 

“He’s all grown up,” Wei Wuxian murmured, then turned to Mo Xuanyu “Did you know him?” 

“I did but... Ah, it’s nothing.” Mo Xuanyu said, looking away. 

Wei Wuxian simply hummed and didn’t press. When Mo Xuanyu wanted to share his past with him, Wei Wuxian would listen, but until then, he would let the teen have his space. If he pushed, it would make him the greatest hypocrite, since he too was running from a past he'd rather not face. 

They watched as Jin Ling examined the empty net, actions agitated. 

“Four hundred nets spent!” Jin Ling was muttering darkly, “And not a single good catch.” He huffed and put his bow aside, “And now a faulty trap.” 

Wei Wuxian snickered. Lanlin Jin Sect. Loaded, as always.  

Mo Xuanyu shifted beside him, and accidentally stepped on a twig. The resounding crack felt awkwardly loud in the otherwise quiet air. The teen looked at Wei Wuxian with wide eyes, about to apologize, but Wei Wuxan shook his head. Then his shadows hissed a warning, and he jerked and immediately pulled the other aside. An arrow sliced through the air, impaling the tree behind their previous position.  

“That was close,” Wei Wuxian muttered. He straightened up and patted dust off his clothes. He turned to Jin Ling, who was approaching them with a murderous expression on his face. “Young Master, are you in the habit of shooting at every stranger you see?” 

Mo Xuanyu ducked behind Wei Wuxian again, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. Unfortunately, Jin Ling focused on him. 

“It’s you,” the Jin heir muttered, lips curled in distaste. “Hmph. Fucking lunatic” He then turned to Wei Wuxian with a sneer. “Who are you?” 

“My name is Wei Aoyun,” Wei Wuxian said, again cringing at his shitty fake name choice. “And this is Mo Xuanyu.” 

“We’ve met,” Jin Ling bit out, “... Why's he here? He's a damn nutcase.” 

“Young Master Jin, watch your manners.” Wei Wuxian warned. 

“Senior Wei, it’s alright,” Mo Xuanyu protested, expression worried. "Jin Ling, we're just leaving." 

“Shut up!” Jin Ling hissed, “Did your memory fail you after you left home? I said to never speak to me again!”

Wei Wuxian’s expression darkened. “Jin Rulan, mind your words! It’s almost like no one bothered to teach you manners.” 

“You…” Jin Ling was pissed. He’d had a shitty night, and now these shitty strangers were getting on his nerves! He grabbed his sword and lunged at the wandering cultivator, aiming for Wei Wuxian's stomach. 

Wei Wuxian, alarmed, dodged the slash easily. He danced out of the way of several more strikes, even as Jin Ling seemed to get all the more intent on making him bleed. The youth glared, attacking with more anger after each time Wei Wuxian evaded the blade. 

“Senior Wei!” Mo Xuanyu cried, watching the two of them worriedly. 

Wei Wuxian frowned, figuring he better end this now. He snatched a leaf from a tree and imbued it with resentful energy, making it a medium. Soul summoning! He thought, sticking the leaf onto Jin Ling’s back, activating the spell. For a moment, a large Buddha-like spirit appeared above the Jin heir, then fell on top of him, trapping him in place. No matter how much he struggled, Jin Ling couldn’t get free. In truth, it was a simple forest spirit: Wei Wuxian had summoned the soul of a jolly mushroom deity, all too happy to help. 

“How dare you use such vile tricks!” Jin Ling yelled, “Remove it at once! Or- Or I’ll tell my uncle! Then you’re so dead!” 

“Uncle?” Wei Wuxian murmured, thinking about Jiang Cheng and hoping his shidi wasn’t in this very forest right now. “And who might that be?” 

“Any last words?” A new voice said, and Wei Wuxian froze. There is no way, he thought, No fucking way that my luck is this bad!  

Jiang Wanyin, leader of the YunmengJiang Sect, stepped into the clearing, idly pushing aside a stray branch that had shaded his face. He looked at the three people in the clearing, and faint sparks of lightning crackled ominously around him. 

“Jin Ling,” he said, “I accompanied you to see you hunt, not to see you disgrace yourself. Get up this instant!” 

Wei Wuxian frowned. Jiang Cheng, he thought, Thirteen years, and you've become as cruel as your mother? But he set the worry aside for later, deciding to let Jing Ling free first. He made an action with his fingers, hidden by his leg, and expelled the leaf on Jin Ling’s back, letting the youth stand up again. 

“And who are you?” Jiang Wanyin asked, turning to Wei Wuxian with an unimpressed expression. 

“A demonic cultivator!” Jin Ling accused, sword drawn again. 

“Is that so?” 

“Ahaha, I’m afraid not,” Wei Wuxian said lightly, hoping the hat hid his features enough that Jiang Cheng wouldn't recognize him. “I’m just a wanderer with a few tricks. A-Yu and I were just leaving.” 

“Didn’t I tell you before?” Jiang Wanyin continued, fully ignoring Wei Wuxian, “If you see such demonic cultivators, kill them and feed them to your dog!” 

Jin Ling took this as permission to attack, pointing his sword at Wei Wuxian and charging. Wei Wuxian was prepared to dodge, but a gleam of white had him pause. Then a flying sword struck Jin Ling’s blade aside and landed in the ground, ending the fight before it had begun. 

When the dust cleared, the four of them were staring at the sword. 

“This is,” Jiang Wanyin murmured, “Bichen.” 

Lan Zhan’s sword, Wei Wuxian thought, inwardly panicking, Oh no. Lan Zhan must be close to here. He stepped back, standing beside Mo Xuanyu again. 

Lan Wangji landed moments later, looking almost like an immortal backed by the moon. He idly picked up his sword, then turned to Wei Wuxian, eyes widening for a moment. The second where their eyes met seemed to last forever, even though Wei Wuxian broke the connection as soon as he could. Lan Wangji simply looked at him for a moment longer, then inclined his head and turned to Jiang Wanyin. 

“Hanguang-Jun,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, “The second young master of Lan, appearing where the chaos is. Even descending in person to these remote mountains.” 

“Aren’t you here too, Sect Leader Jiang?” Mo Xuanyu, who had been silent so far, couldn’t help it. All these people were going on his shit list for upsetting Senior Wei! 

Wei Wuxian hid a laugh behind his sleeve and patted Mo Xuanyu’s head. 

Jiang Wanyin turned to the duo with a glare. “When elders are speaking,” he said, “You’re in no place to talk.” He continued, tone scornful, “The GusuLan Sect prides themselves on their manners and dignified cultivation, But this is who they chose to defend? Cutsleeves and ruffians?” 

As he spoke, two smaller white-robed figures landed in the clearing. It was Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, the disciples from earlier. Upon landing, they bowed to Lan Wangji and, oddly, Wei Wuxian, but not to Jiang Wanyin. Jiang Wanyin’s expression became even more irritated. 

“Master Jin,” Lan Sizhui spoke, “Fair competition is a rule of Night Hunts. If you set up traps all over Dafan Mountain, severely restricting other cultivators, isn’t that against the rules? 

Wei Wuxian smiled again. This Lan Sizhui, I’m liking him more and more.  

“It’s by their own foolishness if they step into the traps.” Jin Ling argued. “What can I do?” 

Just then, a YunmengJiang Cultivator ran into the clearing. “Sect leader!” he yelled, “Sect leader-?” He cut himself off upon seeing Lan Wangji, then he turned to Jiang Cheng and bowed. “Sect Leader. Moments ago, a flying blue sword sliced through all the nets you arranged for Young Master Jin.” 

Jiang Wanyin frowned. “How many?” 

The Cultivator paled. “A-All of them.” 

All of them, huh. Wei Wuxian thought, glancing at the man in white beside him. Lan Zhan, you’ve gotten bolder. 

Jiang Wanyin’s expression grew thunderous. The clouds seemed to roll in to cover the moon, bathing the forest in darkness. The wind picked up, scattering decaying leaves around them. Jiang Wanyin stroked Zidian, sparks of purple lightning flickering around him. The atmosphere instantly felt more aggressive. 

“Oh shit,” Wei Wuxian muttered. He turned to Lan Wangji. “Hanguang-Jun, this might not end well.” Lan Wangji remained silent, but stepped protectively in front of the younger Gusu disciples. 

Jin Ling frowned, then placed a hand on his sword, only for his uncle to hit it aside.

“Who said you could attack?” Jiang Wanyin muttered. “Put that back.” 

Jin Ling huffed and crossed his arms, but his sword remained in its sheath. 

Jiang Wanyin gave the assembled group a weighted glance, eyes lingering over Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu, before turning to Jin Ling. “Come on, we’re leaving. Your prey isn’t going to catch itself.” 

“Wait,” Lan Wangji spoke. His voice was quiet, but he immediately had everyone’s attention. “Dafan Mountain contains a formidable demonic hand tonight. Please be careful.” 

Lan Jingyi looked at his senior, then nodded and took up the explanation. “Mo Village, about ten miles from here, was disturbed by a demon tonight. It killed three people in less than an hour! It’s a strong one.” He pursed his lips and scuffed the ground. “We failed to subdue it, and it escaped into Dafan Mountain.” 

Failed to suppress it? Wei Wuxian thought, alarmed. Even with Lan Zhan’s help? What kind of insane demonic presence is this? 

“Oh?” Jiang Wanyin said, “What kind of demon can’t even be subdued by Second Master Lan?” 

“It’s not Hanguang-Jun’s fault!” Jingyi protested. 

“Do not argue,” Lan Wangji interjected, “The demonic hand preys on humans. If you detect it, please alert the others.” 

“Hmph!” Jiang Wanyin scoffed, then turned around and disappeared amongst the trees, Jin Ling tagging along behind him. 

Once they had left, Lan Wangji turned to Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi. “Scout the area as a pair,” he instructed, “Do your best given your abilities.”

The two disciples bowed to him and took off. Lan Wangji watched them go, then turned to Wei Wuxian. 

“...” he looked like he was about to talk, but was undecided. Wei Wuxian wanted to speak as well, but nervousness swallowed his tongue. Luckily Mo Xuanyu had something to say instead.  He stepped in front of his teacher.

“Don’t hurt Senior Wei!” Mo Xuanyu said, holding up a talisman. “He saved my life earlier. He isn’t a bad man.” 

At the name, Lan Wangji looked at Wei Wuxian in alarm, which melted into exasperation. Then he glanced down at Mo Xuanyu with a strangely fond expression. Wei Wuxian wondered when he'd gotten so adept at reading Lan Zhan's faint expressions. “I will not hurt Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji promised. 

“Ahaha, I’m afraid you’ve gotten mixed up,” Wei Wuxian interjected, “I’m not who you’re talking about. My name is Wei Aoyun, I’m a wandering cultivator, I’ve never met you in my life!” 

Lan Wangji looked unimpressed. “Wei Ying,” he said, seeing straight through Wei Wuxian, “You are not a good liar.” 

“Lan Zhan, my lies are perfect--” Wei Wuxian began, but then froze when he realized he’d just outed himself. He shared a despairing look with Mo Xuanyu and then sighed, adjusting his hat. “Ahhh, you’ve found me out, Lan Zhan.” He confessed, ignoring how he'd suddenly gone semi-transparent in his panic. “You always could. It looks like I’ve returned to this world again.” 

Mo Xuanyu looked at him with a worried expression. Wei Wuxian took a moment to assure his student, “It’s alright, A-Yu. It would’ve happened anyways, Hanguang-Jun always manages to find me.” 

“Senior Wei…” Mo Xuanyu protested, but didn’t say any more. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan began. 

Wei Wuxian turned to him “Lan Zhan? What now? Are you going to take me in?” 

“No.” Lan Wangji said, frowning. “Why… why didn’t you answer Inquiry?”  

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened. Had Lan Zhan… played inquiry for him? “I didn’t hear,” he said truthfully, “Did you play Inquiry for me?” 

Lan Wangji nodded. “Every night.” 

“Every night!?” Wei Wuxian said, shaken, “For thirteen years? Lan Zhan that’s…” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” Wei Wuxian said, then looked down. “Hanguang-Jun,” he said, emotions swirling and unsure, a part of him feeling like he should cry but not knowing why, “You’re really too good.” A moment of silence passed before he continued. “So you’ve found me. What happens now?” 

“Go with Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What?? Now?? Here?????” 

“Yes.” 

“Lan Zhan, that’s a horrible idea.” 

“Jiang Wanyin will try to kill you when he learns who you are.” Lan Wangji explained. “I will protect.” 

Again, Wei Wuxian was struck speechless at Lan Wangji’s selflessness. 

“Oh my god,” Mo Xuanyu interrupted, looking at the two senior cultivators with an expression of disbelief. “I thought you guys were enemies!” 

Wei Wuxian looked at his Lan Zhan in confusion. “We… are?” He said, but then Lan Zhan looked sad, so Wei Wuxian had to amend that statement. “Ahh, maybe not enemies anymore.” 

Mo Xuanyu looked at his teacher, and then he looked at Hanguang-Jun. Both of them were looking at him like he’d spoken in another language. They were so blind to their own feelings that it made Mo Xuanyu want to burst out laughing. But he couldn’t, no matter how ridiculous it was. Though he couldn’t leave it alone either… 

They’re the most brilliant cultivators of their generation, Mo Xuanyu thought, how can they be so stupid? 

“It’s nothing, Senior Wei, Hanguang-Jun.” He said, bowing again. 

“You sure, A-Yu?” Wei Wuxian asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji hummed, and Mo Xuanyu figured that was about as good of an “okay,” as he’d get. 

Wei Wuxian stepped forwards. “Well, Lan Zhan,” he said, “Since you’re coming with us, you should know that we were going to hunt down the demonic hand.”

Lan Wangji nodded, falling into step beside Wei Wuxian. Mo Xuanyu tailed along behind them as they travelled deeper into the forest. 

“There has to be more at play here,” Wei Wuxian was saying, “The demon hand, my resurrection - thank you for that, A-Yu - it all happened too closely together. Something else is going on.” 

Lan Wangji glanced at him. “Wei Ying,” he said, tone gentle, “Are you okay?” 

Looking into golden orbs, Wei Wuxian felt his resolve crumple. He couldn’t lie to Lan Zhan. “No,” he muttered. “But I will be.” 

Lan Wangji studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. Wei Wuxian took that as a cue to continue his explanation. 

“Besides, a demonic entity of that sort strength? It’s rare. It’s usually a full fierce corpse, not just an arm. The resentful energy I felt didn’t want to listen to me.” 

“You cannot control it?” Lan Wangji asked. 

“Nope. It’s too thick, too cloying.” Wei Wuxian prodded his shadows, but they simply expressed discontent and unease. He narrowed his eyes, unaware that they were red again. “It’s not… something normal. Someone must have made it. It doesn’t fit into the natural order that resentful energy flows in, it's got it's own resentment. Lan Zhan, what did you use to suppress it?” 

“Sixth Element Seal.” 

“ Light Element Seal?” Wei Wuxian asked, and Lan Wangji nodded. “Hmm, that should have worked. Given your cultivation base, it should have worked for anything that wasn’t Wen Ning or a Second-Class Yao.” 

“Needs purification.” 

“You were unable to purify it?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. 

Lan Wangji sighed. “One person to make seal, one person to purify. Needs two people to suppress.” 

“Ah, right.” Wei Wuxian said. So that’s what Jingyi and Sizhui were attempting to do. He played with the end of his braid, slightly embarrassed. “So, the two of us hm? We’ll be able to purify that thing, no problem! A-Yu, what do you think?” 

“Me?” Mo Xuanyu squeaked, unprepared to be pulled into the discussion. He had been looking at the shadows that seemed to follow his teacher. “About what?” 

“The demonic hand.” 

“Oh. Um,” he took a moment to think, mentally going through the notebooks he’d gotten, “Could it… could it be affected by a talisman? Like the spirit gathering flags, but at a smaller level, so while it was trapped, its resentful energy increased over time, until it broke free… or something…?” 

The adults looked at him with impressed expressions, and Mo Xuanyu had to duck his head to hide his blush. 

“Well done, A-Yu,” Wei Wuxian praised, “It could indeed have been gathering resentful energy over a long period of time. If that is the case, then it’s definite that another person is involved in this.” 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agreed. 

They were interrupted by the sound of an explosion, somewhere east of their location. The trio looked at each other, alarmed, and made a mutual decision to investigate. Mo Xuanyu noted that Lan Wangji could have easily flown there on his sword, but instead chose to run alongside Wei Wuxian. 

The scene they reached was… a mess. 

Somehow, the demonic hand had possessed the statue of the Dancing Buddha. The Dancing Buddha was a statue of a woman, made of stone, that was well over 15ft in height. It moved absurdly quickly, for a stone creature, but then Wei Wuxian spotted the demonic left arm. Ah, it’s this again.  

Then he realized who, exactly, the Dancing Buddha was fighting, and thought, oh fuck.  

From the debris around the scene, it seemed like the other JunmengJiang cultivators had attempted to use a bell seal, but failed, further proving the sheer tenacity of this vicious demonic arm. 

Furthermore, all three of the juniors were there. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi were standing to the side, with Lan Sizhui holding Lan Jingyi up, who seemed to have gotten injured. Jin Ling recklessly rushed the demon, running up one of its six arms. He slashed all over, but his sword barely made a mark, and a giant arm batted the Jin heir aside with little difficulty. 

Frowning, Wei Wuxian pulled another three leaves, imbuing them with resentful energy. One leaf was for acting as a conduit to draw resentful energy away and the others were for suppression. He clapped once to seal the spell, then sent them at the Buddha. 

They landed on the demonic arm, glowing red as the makeshift talismans activated, and then immediately crumbled. Not good, Wei Wuxian thought, already drawing energy for another spell, It’s really resistant! No wonder Lan Zhan couldn’t suppress it.  

The wreckage of the Giant Bell-Trap began to smoulder and wither, and it set the area around them alight with fire. The trees provided ample food for the fire, and soon flames were reaching the topmost leaves. Sparks swirled in the air around them, as did the suffocating heat. The haze was only broken by the occasional sound of metal against stone as Jin Ling attacked the Buddha again, but then retreated into a tree, coughing. Wei Wuxian narrowed his eyes. This is really not good!  

“A-Yu, protect Jingyi and Sizhui. And Jin Ling, if he listens,” he ordered. He glanced at Lan Wangji, an unanswered question in his eyes. The other man nodded. “Lan Zhan and I will take care of this.” 

Lan Wangji stepped to the side opposite of Wei Wuxian and strummed a chord on his guqin, the sonic magic resonating through the air and freezing the buddha in place. I hope Lan Zhan can subdue it for long enough, Wei Wuxian thought, snapping of a stray piece of bamboo and cutting holes into it to make a flute. It was shoddy workmanship, but he was more concerned about time and making it work, not how good it looked. 

Once done, he stepped up and began to play, harmonizing with Lan Zhan to play Resonance. This was a calming song, and he knew Lan Zhan had chosen in because it could be easily modified to make Purification, which was the song needed to suppress the demonic hand. Or so Wei Wuxian hoped. His flute playing was subpar, considering the awful condition of the flute itself. Both he and Lan Wangji cringed at the first few notes, before Wei Wuxian managed to play something passable. 

Wei Wuixan’s robes were billowing from the force of the resentful energy the demonic hand fought back with. By now his hat had slipped off his head, hanging behind him by a string around his neck. His hair was wild and flowing, though the braid thankfully kept it in check, and his eyes glowed an eerie red. He looked like a force of nature. 

Lan Wangji looked ethereal in his own light, white robes dancing but his posture was perfectly poised as he played his instrument, making the effort seem flawless. The calm in the storm. Both of them looked like they were beyond human, instilling a sense of awe in the people watching. 

Wei Wuxian was shaken by the other cultivator's beauty once more, but then he smiled and focused back on the enemy. He did see Mo Xuanyu holding a simple barrier spell up, shielding the juniors behind him. Jin Ling, though he looked murderous, had his sword out, ready to protect, just in case. Lan Sizhui was still supporting Lan Jingyi, though Jingyi looked much better now. 

Good, Wei Wuxian thought, They can take care of themselves. He glanced again at Lan Wangji and they shared a troubled look. Then, as if by some unheard agreement, they both dropped the spell. 

“This isn’t working, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s drawing power from the spirit of the Buddha. To purify, it needs to be distracted. I’m going to summon a few corpses.” 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, then, “Be careful.” 

“I always am, Lan Zhan.” 

The look Hanguang-Jun gave the Yiling Patriarch in that moment conveyed just how much of a lie that statement was, and Wei Wuxian had to fight the urge to stick out his tongue. 

He brought his flute to his lips and played a different tune, reaching out with his army of shadows for any kind of corpse on Dafan Mountain. His call was answered, by something strangely familiar but unplaceable, and Wei Wuxian urged it to come to him. 

Lan Wangji, for his part, continued with Resonance, trying to contain the damage to just this clearing. 

A few moments later, there was a rumbling in the ground, slowly getting louder. Seconds after that, two chains shot out and ensnared two of the arms of the Dancing Buddha, then the ground split apart and a very familiar fierce corpse attacked the demonic entity. 

Amongst the people watching, a single thought ran through their minds. Ghost General!!???  

What is Wen Ning doing here?  Wei Wuxian thought, worried and shaken. I thought he had been destroyed! He didn’t falter in his composure though, ordering the fierce corpse to keep the Dancing Buddha occupied. 

Lan Wangji switched his song to Purification, and Wei Wuxian began weaving in snatches of that into his orders to Wen Ning. The end result was an eerie song, something beautiful and haunting at the same time, and soon the Demonic Arm had been suppressed. 

Upon defeat, the statue of the Dancing Buddha crumbled, and when the smoke cleared, all that was left was a still Wen Ning, and the demonic hand, suppressed under a golden light-element seal once more. This time, it seemed to be holding. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji spoke. A warning. Wei Wuxian glanced to the side and saw all the JunmengJiang cultivators (along with Jin ling) who were eyeing Wen Ning like some kind of prize to be captured. Oh, shit.  

He lifted the makeshift flute to his lips and played a quick order to run and hide, and come to him later. Wen Ning seemed to turn in his direction for a moment, before leaping into the trees and making his escape. Some of the assembled cultivators still ran after him. 

When that was all over, he let his arm drop and sighed, tired. “Man, that was a hassle,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and putting his hat back on. When he looked up, Lan Wangji was approaching him. “Ah, Lan Zhan?” 

The white-robed man simply snatched the bamboo flute from Wei Wuxian’s hands and snapped it in half. “Do not play,” he said, glaring at the pieces. 

“Ahaha, it was pretty bad wasn’t it?” Wei Wuxian said, snickering. “Okay Lan Zhan. I’ll get a proper flute before playing again.” He turned to the juniors and Mo Xuanyu. “You kids okay?” 

“Who are you calling a kid!” Jing Ling yelled, waving his sword. 

“We’re good, Senior Wei.” Mo Xuanyu assured. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi, who was now standing on his own, nodded. 

Sizhui stepped forth and bowed to both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. “Thank you for saving our lives, masters.” He said. 

Lan Wangji nodded. Wei Wuxian scratched his cheek in embarrassment. “No thanks needed,” he said. 

And that’s when he heard a crackle in the air, and then was whipped across the back by a whip he knew all too well. The blow tossed him aside, and he almost hit a tree, but didn’t sting too much. Not as much as he remembered, anyways. The bruises the attack caused seemed to hurt more. 

“Wei Ying!” 

“Senior Wei!” 

“I’m fine,” Wei Wuxian assured, getting up and patting his clothes. He turned in the direction of his attacker and swallowed. Jiang Cheng…  

“So,” The JunmengJiang Sect Leader said, voice laced with contempt. “You’ve decided to return to the world.”  

“I was called back, ” Wei Wuxian explained, “For a reason. Not of my own doing.” 

The silence that followed was tense enough that one could cut it. 

Jiang Wanyin glared at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether to attack or not, but then Lan Wangji stepped in front of Wei Wuxian in a defensive manner. Jiang Wanyin snorted, but let Zidian recede back into it’s ringed form. 

“Still protecting him, Hanguang-Jun? How pathetic.” Jiang Wanyin scoffed. Then he turned to Wei Wuxian. “At least I know you’re not possessing another person,” he said, “There are too many deaths by your hand. Jin Ling, come. We’re leaving. We don’t associate with his kind.” 

Wei Wuxian watched the duo leave, and felt helpless all over again. How can I fix this? He thought, Jiang Cheng hates me, rightfully so, and even still…  

“Wei Ying…” Lan Wangji said, concerned. 

“I’m okay, Lan Zhan.” 

Lan Wangji stopped glaring at Jiang Wanyin’s back to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes. He moved his arm, almost like he was going to touch Wei Ying, but then stopped. “Wei Ying,” he began, sounding strangely vulnerable. “... come back to Gusu.” 

Wei Wuxian froze. And then considered it. It would be most beneficial, especially since the mystery of what the demonic arm remained unsolved. 

“Lan Zhan, are you sure?” He asked, playing with the string on his hat. His nonchalant body language was a dead giveaway of his worry. 

“Mn.” 

Sighing, and already knowing his decision, Wei Wuxian turned to Mo Xuanyu. “A-Yu, what do you say we take a detour to Gusu for a while?”  

Mo Xuanyu looked up from his discussion with Sizhui, then glanced at Lan Wangji to gauge the sincerity of the offer. He thought for a moment, and seeing no lies in Hanguang-Jun’s face, nodded. The faces of the junior duo behind him lit up in smiles. Wei Wuxian had saved their lives twice this night, of course they'd gotten attached to the odd stranger. Even more, there was an intrigue to him. A mystery that the young cultivators found too tempting to not unravel. 

Seeing that he was blatantly outmaneuvered, Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji with fond exasperation. “Alright Lan Zhan.” He agreed, “I’ll come to Gusu with you.” 

The happiness that seemed to lighten Lan Wangji’s face almost made going back to the place of 3000 rules worth it. Almost. 

-- 

“FOUR-THOUSAND RULES!??” Wei Wuxian cried, staring at the rock face in despair. 

They’d reached the foot of the path leading up to GusuLan Sect’s compound. A shimmering waterfall flowed down the boulders beside them, accompanied by the soft sounds of birdsong and cicadas. The sun was pleasant on skin, and the air was peaceable and serene, quite unlike the dangerous atmosphere from the night before. 

The remainder of the night before had been spent trekking out of Dafan Mountain, so all members of their little party were sleep deprived and exhausted. On the upside, Mo Xuanyu and the Lan kids seemed to have become decent friends after their impromptu brush with death. Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu had spent the night debating the Lanling Jin clan until poor Lan Sizhui’s patience ran out and he threatened to tie them together if they wouldn’t shut up. Wei Wuxian could tell the interaction had amused Lan Zhan, though he didn’t say anything. 

The demonic arm was trapped in a spirit-sealing pouch for the time being, and Wei Wuxian had used the hours spent travelling to put together a few more talismans. It was fully sealed now, as long as it was in the pouch. No more murders by the demonic hand, not if he had a say in it. 

What worried Wei Wuxian most, however, was the fact that he couldn’t control the resentful energy the hand emitted. This had only happened one other time in his life, during the battle where his-- 

He didn’t want to think about it. But it worried him. He shared his concerns with Lan Wangji and even Lan Zhan had no answer, not yet. 

“When did they add a thousand more!!?” Wei Wuxian pouted, glaring at the wall of rules like it had done him some personal offense. He clutched his hat in the same manner one might pull their hair. “Lan Zhan, how could this happen?” 

Lan Wangji turned away, so the others couldn't see the fondness in his eyes “After Wei Ying came to Gusu,” he said, “Elders decided more rules were necessary.” 

Wei Wuxian felt like fate had purposely made this life the most unfortunate one yet. “So it’s my fault?” He pouted, “Aiyaaa, Lan Zhan, I’m not gonna be able to smuggle in Emperor’s Smile now!” 

Lan Wangji did smile at this. As tiny as it was, it was a smile. “No need.” He said enigmatically, and began to walk up the steps. Wei Wuxian sighed, ducking his head to hide his fond expression, and followed, tugging on Lil’ Apple’s reins. The Donkey really didn’t want to cooperate. She made her displeasure known by sitting down and refusing to move.

Until Lan Zhan sneakily pulled out an apple from his sleeves! After that Lil’ Apple followed without complaint, and Wei Wuxian laughed, teasing Lan Wangji that it was about time that he finally gained a sense of humour! The juniors were in good spirits too, joking and chatting about meaningless things. It was a good start, but Wei Wuxian was worried about what the future held. 

And so the odd group headed up the mountain, back to where everything began.

-- -- --

Chapter Text

The first thing Wei Wuxian did, after arriving at the Gusu Lan Sect’s residence, was flop on the given bed and fall promptly asleep.

This was a lie--though it was certainly the first thing he wished he could do!

The actual first thing he did, once they had passed the entrance gate and stepped into Cloud Recesses, was catalogue all the way things had changed. He found himself mildly let down when he realized, in truth, not much had changed at all. Save the extra thousand (one thousand! How did they manage?) rules on the wall, Cloud Recesses remained as pristine, tranquil and as beautiful as ever.

A row of disciples passed their group. They were senior disciples, dressed in white and walking in step, as though they were copies of one another. A few were quietly murmuring amongst themselves, though too softly for any chance to eavesdrop. They were headed towards the dorms, to turn in for the night. A few of them clutched their swords. Wei Wuxian watched them fondly. Returning from a night hunt, he thought, fighting the urge to crack a joke. Just like us. I wonder, was everyone busy tonight?

Cloud Recesses really was a gorgeous place. The entire atmosphere was calming and with a soothing presence. The buildings were built of rich wood, with dark blue-grey tiles on the roof and shimmering cloud motifs embroidered on banners with care. The night breeze blew these banners towards them, as though inviting them in. For all his complaining about the rules and the strict teachers, Wei Wuxian was comforted by the fact that Lan Wangji still welcomed him back. 

Humming idly, he turned his attention to the juniors beside them. Sizhui and Jingyi were alert, as expected of them, trotting after Hanguang-Jun like little ducklings. Mo Xuanyu was more reserved, trailing closer to the back and nearer to Wei Wuxian. His eyes tracked all the new details, a look of faint wonder and awe on his face.

Ah, that’s right, Wei Wuxian realized, This is the first time he’s been to this place. It must be new and exciting for him.

“Hey, A-Yu,” he said, deciding to pass time with some idle conversation. “What do you think?”

“About what, Senior Wei?” Mo Xuanyu asked, blinking as he was pulled from his daydream.

“About Cloud Recesses.”

There was a change in pace after Wei Wuxian spoke, with Lan Jingyi slowing down to walk in line with Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu, interested in Xuanyu’s answer.

“It’s… very beautiful,” Mo Xuanyu answered, “It’s elegant, but not extravagant. Many of these buildings look old, but it’s also clear that they are maintained with care.” He paused for a moment, putting his thoughts into order, “It is not daytime, so I can’t say for sure, but I think it is very clean. The energy here is clean and sharp, but welcome. The people and buildings have a sense of purity. The environment feels… welcome, but also expectant.” He looked at Wei Wuxian, frowning a little, “Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian agreed, nodding. He agreed wholeheartedly, and gave Mo Xuanyu a smile. “A-Yu has a great talent for observation.”

The young man ducked his head, hiding a smile.

“Senior Wei is right,” Lan Jingyi added, “We all notice these things, because we live here, but I could never put those feelings into words like you can.”

“You won’t know unless you try.” Mo Xuanyu pointed out.

“Ah, okay. I’ll try, then!” Jingyi decided, “Give me something to describe!”

“Oh. Um… how about… “

Wei Wuxian watched the interaction fondly, then let his gaze wander. For some reason, his eyes were drawn to Lan Zhan’s form, walking two steps ahead of him. He found himself wishing that Lan Zhan would turn around, so Wei Ying could see his pretty face…

Wei Wuxian blinked, then felt his cheeks heat up. Damn it. He grabbed his straw hat and placed it on top of his head, fixing it so it hid some of his face. At least this way, others wouldn’t see his embarrassment.

He let out a sigh, sourly asking his shadows: without a heartbeat, and potentially without blood, why could this body still blush? The answer he received was teasing and patient, with a hint of mischief: Wait and see.

Fine then, Wei Wuxian thought, making a face under the shade of the hat, I'll wait, you horrible, incorrigible things. Keep your secrets.

A light breeze, filled with a fondness for their master, blew from behind him. It pushed him forwards, towards Lan Zhan. With tolerant exasperation, Wei Wuxian let it, and then decided to ask Lan Zhan about nightly accommodations and other responsible things. Like any good teacher would, he thought. See that? I'll totally make Mo Xuanyu one of the best in his generation. 

For the remainder of the already short night, and for the rest of their time at Cloud Recesses, they received rooms of their own. It was generous, Wei Wuxian knew, but also expected, given the Lan Sect’s prestige. Mo Xuanyu would be rooming near Sizhui and Jingyi, in one of the spare rooms of their dorm. Wei Wuxian was led to his room by Lan Wangji himself. It looked the same as any other Senior’s room, so Wei Wuxian was left to wonder why Lan Zhan had been so insistent on this room specifically.

Either way, there was a comfortable bed and Wei Ying was dead tired. Not even bothering to change out of his hastily acquired clothes, he flopped onto the sheets. It took some shifting to get comfortable, but once he did he was asleep mere seconds after.

- - -

As he slept, he dreamt.

He dreamt of hazy, halcyon days at Lotus Pier, of a time when Jiang Cheng still called him brother and Yanli’s eyes were filled with life…

He dreamt of going to Gusu for studies, of meeting Lan Zhan, of their fight against the Xuanwu of slaughter, of a stranger’s kiss at an archery competition…

He dreamt of how (everything had begun to go wrong. When the Wen Sect invaded, when Lotus Pier fell and he lost half his family, when he gifted his magic core to Jiang Cheng…

He dreamt of the Sunshot Campaign, of days filled with desperation and uncertainty, of fighting to hold himself together and the pain, the fear he felt, as everything he fought for came undone no matter how hard he tried to stop it…

He dreamt of his past life. A life that was somehow both long past and rawly new to him, and wished, in his tired and weary soul, that he hadn't.

- - -

When he woke, it was because the sun’s rays had fallen directly onto his face. Opening his eyes to that had been unpleasant. He had cursed and tried to throw the blanket back over him.

He did not accomplish this with any semblance of grace.

In fact, he did not accomplish this at all! Instead, he fell onto the floor in a rumpled and bleary heap. At the very least, this rude awakening had banished the last traces of sleep from his mind.

“Ugh,” he groaned, sitting back up. He ran fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face. The braid had come undone in his unruly rest, and parts of his hair stuck up in a ridiculous fashion.

Luckily, whoever had brought in a set of new robes (done in Gusu’s style, but with Wei Wuxian’s customary black and red) had also brought a comb, as well as a towel. Deciding that it was too late in the day for a shower, Wei Wuxian got to the task of combing his hair back into that loose braid and putting on these new robes. They were well made, and with a design along the hem Wei Ying approved of. He wondered if Lan Zhan was the one who’d gotten these for him… and then mentally slapped himself.

Silly, he scolded himself, thinking about Lan Zhan this and Lan Zhan that. It’s like I’m some woman with a crush! Which I’m not!

Even still, the thought that Lan Zhan had brought something specifically for him lit a warm feeling in his chest. When he left the room, steps light and eager, the smile adorning his lips hadn’t left.

-- -- --

So the reality of the situation, as he'd learned later, was that Wei Wuxian had awoken very, very late. He’d missed lunch, forcing him to sneak into the kitchens and steal a bun. Ah, but on the upside, he reflected, lounging in a tree and eating his makeshift meal, the security is as full of holes as always. Not that they need to watch the kitchen much, since the only thieves that building receives are hungry disciples, but the rest of this place? His brows furrowed. Mn, it’s lacking. Maybe I should tell Lan Zhan…

Entertaining that thought, which was followed immediately by the thought of sneaking up on the patrolling juniors himself, Wei Wuxian strolled aimlessly through the compound. Mo Xuanyu had been dragged into attending morning classes with Sizhui and Jingyi. Morning classes are taught by Lan Qiren. Or was Lan Xichen covering those now? Wei Wuxian didn’t know, but he still felt a pang of pity for the teen. Having to sit still and be proper all morning was no easy feat! 

A peripheral flash of white amongst the lush green grass made Wei Wuxian pause. What was that? He wondered, Some sort of animal?

Ah, it was an animal!

It was a rabbit, snowy white and unbearably cute, gently nibbling on the clovers underfoot.

Delighted, Wei Wuxian knelt down to examine it further. The rabbit was unafraid, seemingly accustomed to people. After a moment, Wei Wuxian ran a gentle finger down the rabbit’s back, and then grinned when the animal showed no desire to bolt. He carefully picked up the fluffy bunny and sat, cross-legged, then put the bunny in his lap.

Where did you come from? Wei Wuxian wondered, feeding it a few more clovers. And why are you not afraid?

Usually, animals went out of their way to avoid Wei Wuxian. Little Apple was a good example of this. Wei Wuxian theorized that it was because of his… inhuman nature. For all he seemed to appear as a normal, living, properly resurrected person, animals could always sense deeper than just looks. They could tell, somehow, that he wasn’t really living, not in the sense they were familiar with. He had no scent, no heartbeat, and it spooked them.

Come to think of it, Wei Wuxian thought, running through a mental catalogue of all the bodily changes he’d discovered, Why hasn’t anyone else noticed I came back different? Or am I just that good at faking it? Ahaha, probably that. His expression relaxed, and his fingers returned to petting the rabbit’s soft fur, It’s been ridiculously busy since I’ve gotten back, he mused, it’s no wonder no one noticed. And it’s for the best, because if they did, and then decided to ask, I don’t know what I’d do!

With a sigh, Wei Wuxian decided that this topic was far too depressing to be thinking of at this time, and promptly banished it to ball of thoughts he’d set aside for later. He’d been doing this a lot, lately. I really should reflect on some of those… but later! Rabbit petting now!

Some tug at his robes made him jump. Just a little. He apologized to the sweet bunny in his lap for waking it from its nap, and then turned around, wondering what had… bit the cloth?

Oh! Another rabbit?

Many more rabbits?

Aiyaaa, Wei Wuxian thought, gazing at the fluffy clusters of white that littered the grass of the courtyard, Where did all of you come from?

A moment’s thought had him remember: he’d given Lan Zhan those bunnies, so many years ago! Did… did Lan Zhan keep them? Did they multiply?

Amused, Wei Wuxian watched the scene. The little balls of fluff were usually calm, but a few of them hopped about and over one another. It was peaceful and tranquil, but also a little playful. It was nice, another thing he’d try not to forget.

Lan Zhan is ridiculous, he thought, unaware of the sappy smile on his lips and light blush on his cheeks, Keeping those bunnies all these years. And look at this, It’s an infestation! I can’t believe Old Man Qiren allowed this!

Then a thought occurred to him that had him throw his head back and laugh openly. Lan Qiren would make all the rabbits leave… unless, Lan Qiren had no clue these rabbits existed! Which would mean Lan Wangji had kept them all in secret!

Ahahaha, Lan Zhan, I’ve really corrupted you, you’ve become a troublemaker yourself!

-- -- --

With nothing much to do for the next hours, now that the rabbits had become boring, too, Wei Wuxian decided to head back to his room and take a nap. He was woken by a knock at the door, and Lan Jingy’s voice calling, “Senior Wei! Please come with us to dine, it’s almost time for dinner!”

“Yes, coming!” Wei Wuxian called, rolling off the bed. He got to his feet moments later, then stumbled to the door. When he opened it, he was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Ahhh, where’s Hanguang-Jun?”

It was Lan Sizhui who answered, “Our clan leader has been invited by Lianfang-Zun to visit Golden Carp Tower today, so Hanguang-Jun is seeing him off.”

“He’ll be back soon,” Lan Jingyi added helpfully.

“Lianfang-Zun?” Wei Wuxian asked, only barely remembering the title. He didn’t remember the person it belonged to, only a passing reference.

“You’ve forgotten Lianfang-Zun too?” Lan Jingyi said, incredulous. “Senior Wei, your memory must really suck!”

“Jingyi.” Lan Sizhui reprimanded, elbowing his friend. "Senior Wei was dead when those titles came about... I think." 

“Right, right,” the lively disciple agreed, “He’s the current leader of the Lanling Jin Sect, Jin Guangyao!”

“Jin Guangyao?” Wei Wuxian parroted, making a face. “As a Sect Leader?”

“Yes! I literally just said that!” Lan Jingyi huffed, tilting his head. "Do you have amnesia? Should we tell Hanguang-Jun?" 

“No need to be so rude,” Wei Wuxian chided, tapping the youth on the head, “Give this senior some slack, I’ve only just come back from the dead!"

“Shall we go?” Lan Sizhui asked, “Mo Xuanyu is waiting for us ahead.”

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said, suddenly remembering, “Was A-Yu alright today?”

At his words, Lan Jingyi seemed to slump. Lan Sizhui sighed and patted his friend’s back consolingly. Wei Wuxian frowned. Had something gone wrong?

“‘Is A-Yu fine?’ Senior Wei asks,” Lan Jingyi muttered, “As if he doesn't know Mo Xuanyu is the biggest bookworm to ever exist!”

“He did wonderful, Senior Wei.” Lan Sizhui said, “I think Teacher Lan was actually impressed.”

“Mm, that’s good.” Wei Wuxian sighed, relief blossoming in his chest. “I’m glad.”

“I’m not,” Lan Jingyi said sullenly, “I can’t believe anyone would voluntarily sit, in the Library Complex, for over six hours! It’s ridiculous!”

Normally, Wei Wuxian would agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment, but currently a few memories of research binges and lectures from Wen Qing about working for too long had him cough and look aside.

“It’s not that hard,” Lan Sizhui said, smiling lightly.

Lan Jingyi pouted. “Not for you, you like learning about the same thing over and over again.”

“It’s possible,” Wei Wuxian eventually said, “Given you find the right topic.”

Lan Jingyi’s petulant expression morphed into one of curiosity. “Has that happened to you, Senior Wei?”

“Many times,” Wei Wuxian admitted, “It’s quite fun, actually, you just need to be learning about something you like.”

“Like music.” Lan Sizhui chimed in. Immediately, Lan Jingyi protested, insisting that tactics and science were far more interesting!

Wei Wuxian was glad that the two teens had relaxed enough to openly argue in front of him. There were already so many responsibilities on their shoulders, it was good that they could loosen up a little. He listened to them talk, and then waved cheerily at Mo Xuanyu when he joined them. A-Yu was smiling openly as he joined the talk, a recount of some of the recent events Wei Wuxian had missed.

Apparently, Nie Mingjue had died of Qi deviation. It was odd, Wei Wuxian thought, given that Nie Mingjue had been such a proficient and disciplined cultivator. But perhaps his anger had gotten the best of him. With a sorry sigh, Wei Wuxian sent a quiet prayer that Nie Mingjue should find rest, and contentment in his next life.

Lan Jingyi’s alarmed cry brought him back to the present. He tensed, waiting for an attack of some sort but… no, no attack. Only… was Little Apple chasing one of the rabbits from earlier? And the Juniors were chasing after the donkey, trying to get her to stop. This is ridiculous!

It took Wei Wuxian a tremendous effort not to laugh, his cheek raw from how hard he'd bit it. As funny as it was, he figured laughing now would be cruel, especially at the kids' expense. It would be more improper since Lan Wangji was watching nearby.

The rabbit, too, had seen the white-clad man and run right into Hanguang-Jun’s legs. Blinking, Lan Wangji picked the scared bunny up, holding it close to his body. He gave Little Apple a single look, and the naughty donkey slunk back into the bushes, with enough decency to look ashamed.

“Hanguang-Jun!” The juniors chorused, coming to a stop nearby. Lan Wangji merely inclined his head in greeting. Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi bowed immediately, and after seeing them, Mo Xuanyu followed.

Lan Wangji watched the disciples for a moment, then turned to Wei Wuxian. There was an unreadable expression in his eyes, but it didn’t seem hostile.

Wei Wuxian smiled softly and said the one thing that seemed to fit. “I’m back, Lan Zhan.”

Wangji’s lips twitched upwards. “Mn,” he agreed.

- - -

It was later, while helping Mo Xuanyu study, that Wei Wuxian’s trouble-free streak was broken. A-Yu was having trouble with some of the musical theory, and so Wei Wuxian was going over the basics, and then attempting to play the songs on a makeshift flute he’d carved, again, from a broken bamboo stick. The sounds were far from desired, but the wonky tunes and Wei Wuxian’s exaggerated manner made A-Yu laugh many times, so Wei Wuxian knew a little humiliation would be worth it.

Besides, him? Humiliated? He had no shame, everyone knew this!

Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui were assisting with the purification of the demonic arm they’d captured last night. Wei Wuxian and Mo Xuanyu's quiet period of study was interrupted when Lan Sizhui burst into the room, expression worried, and exclaimed, “Senior Wei, there’s trouble! The demonic hand released a burst of resentful energy, the elders can’t suppress it any longer! Hanguang-Jun told me to fetch you!”

In an instant, Wei Wuxian was on his feet. He had felt the tense resentment from the hand earlier, like a coiled snake, but he had hoped it would lose its prickle and submit to the soothing melody of Purification or Clarity. Come to think of it, he thought, they probably used Evocation... which is strong, but tricky, since it needs two to complete successfully. 

When they came close to the source, the winds wrought from the maelstrom of resentful energy made them duck and shield their faces. Wei Wuxian called upon his shadows to create a barrier, shielding the two youths behind him.

“Its resentful energy is stronger than it was at Mo Village!” Lan Sizhui said, worried, “This has never happened during an Evocation in the Obscure Room.”

This is strong. And potent. it seems like this thing has a mind of its own, Wei Wuxian frowned, slightly alarmed at the sheer amount of resentful energy swirling in the air. To any non-cultivator, the environment would be deadly.

“Stay with Sizhui,” he ordered Mo Xuanyu, no playfulness in his voice this time.

Mo Xuanyu nodded. “Be careful, Laoshi.”

“Of course," He grinned, more excited than anything. "Be good little ducklings and sit tight. This will be over soon.”

Turning around, Wei Wuxian strode up the stairs to the gate. The winds and whips of condensed malevolence sliced the air around him, but was unable to penetrate his barrier of shadows. The gate itself was sealed shut in an attempt to block of the resentful energy. A poor attempt. The energy was so potent and powerful that it whipped and slashed at the door, making it quake.

“Senior Wei!” Lan Jingyi greeted, half ducking behind a pillar for cover. His tone was urgent, and worried.“The door won’t open. Wait, Senior Wei, what are you—“

“OPEN!” Wei Wuxian commanded, putting as much power behind the word as he dared. As he’d suspected, the doors to the Obscure Room eagerly blasted open, hitting them all with a fresh wave of resentful energy.

Wei Wuxian grit his teeth, stepping in front of Jingyi. This was not good!

Gaze fierce, his red eyes crackling with his own resentful energy, Wei Wuxian stepped inside the threshold. The gate slammed shut behind him in a loud, echoing boom, trapping the students outside. Wei Wuxian’s hat flew off his head immediately, hitting the wall behind him.

The inside of the Obscure Room was wild, with winds whipping and slashing at the walls. Ribbons of resentful energy lashed about angrily, only tampered by Lan Wangji’s pale blue Spiritual Array. Lan Wangji looked up, surprised to see Wei Wuxian, and then his expression melted into a fond one. On either side of him were other Lan cultivators, all passed out from either the strain or injuries.

A whip of resentful energy close to his position made him wince, though, and return to his reverent guqin playing. The purification technique was nigh impossible without two people, but somehow Hanguang-Jun was managing to, at least, keep the resentful energy at bay. Lan Zhan is incredible, Wei Wuxian thought. 

Now it was the Yilling Laozu's turn.

He lifted the makeshift flute to his lips, willing his crackling, red resentment to circle the room and close in. After testing a few eerie notes, and wincing at the out-of-tune shrillness, he set to playing a passable attempt at the duet of the Cultivation Song Lan Wangji was playing. It was… it really wasn’t the best. It was quite horrible, to be honest. But Wei Wuxian didn’t give up, and his ghosts were keen on a chance to attack.

The crimson resentful energy that indicated Wei Wuxian’s cultivation swirled into being. It curled around the scene and began closing in, trapping the feral resentment of the demon arm. The song they played was eerie and haunting, calm and strong, but with hollow, terrifying notes from Wei Wuxian’s shoddy flute. The blue and red energy worked in tandem, fitting together perfectly. Both of them knew what needed to be done.

At some point during this mess, Lan Qiren was woken by the painfully awful flute playing. He mumbled a few words, along the lines of, “Stop that infernal noise!” And then promptly passed out.

Lan Wangji’s expression flattened, and he gave Wei Wuxian a look. Wei Wuxian winced and shrugged apologetically, and then continued with the song.

Eventually, in the face of their combined effort, the demonic hand had to surrender. The music rose as, led by Lan Wangji, they shifted the song into one of sealing. A large golden circle appeared above the Obscure Room, descending slowly with a sense of finality, and condensed above the now begrudgingly tame demonic hand. It settled, and flashed, and the vile energy ceased, now trapped within the array.

Wei Wuxian let the last few notes trail into the silence, before dropping his arm to his side. He looked at Lan Zhan, who had an unreadable expression on his face.

“That was a mess.” Wei Wuxian muttered.

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed.

“Is it suppressed?”

“Should be.”

Wei Wuxian nodded, stranding up and dusting his robes. “Good.”

He turned around and found his hat again, and hastily redid his braid, which had come undone to the winds earlier. Lan Wangji began gently moving fainted cultivators aside, rousing some and healing others. Wei Wuxian watched the other man, something fond blooming in his chest, before strolling to the door to let the juniors in.

He was greeted by a worried chorus of “Senior Wei!” Followed by a volley of questions from Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu. After assuring them that both he and Hanguang-Jun were unhurt, and the demonic hand was suppressed, he ushered them inside and shut the door.

Wei Wuxian decided to sit down next to the demonic hand and study it. It seemed to have greater strength than a normal limb, which could be attributed to the influx of resentful energy it consumed, but then… his eyes widened. That’s…!

“Lan Zhan,” he called, tone serious, “A sliver of the soul remains in the ghost’s hand. I can feel it.”

"...Mn?” Lan Wangji asked, joining him.

“Yes, you’re right. It should be impossible for Evocation to fail.” And then something occurred to him. “Unless…”

“The soul of this hand’s owner has been cut apart, along with its corpse.” Lan Wangji finished, frowning.

Wei Wuxian grinned. “Dismembered body, shattered soul… I wonder, just how much fierce hatred could this person have?”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agreed. Then he turned to Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui. “Take the elders away for healing.”

The necromancer watched as Lan Wangji moved to talk to Lan Qiren, who'd recovered somewhat from his unconsciousness. Unwilling to be even in the same room as the conversation about him that was undoubtedly taking place, Wei Wuxian busied himself with helping the juniors.

Meanwhile, Lan Qiren watched the strangely familiar cultivator with a sense of dread and inevitability. “Wangji,” he said, tone flat, “Is that… ?” He didn’t say the name. He didn’t need to.

Lan Wangji nodded. “En.”

“I see…” Lan Qiren muttered, frowning and stroking his beard. “Do not let that demon linger in the Cloud Recesses. I presume you have summoned him? That is no man, Wangji, merely a ghost. How are you sure the past won’t repeat itself?”

“It won’t.” Lan Wangji said, tone firm.

Lan Qiren sighed. He was getting far too old for these things. He turned to his beloved nephew with a concerned expression. “Do not lose yourself chasing ghosts, Wangji. Quite literally” He warned, and then walked away, leaving Wangji and his troublesome… acquaintance to handle the demonic hand. It was best that he wouldn’t be here for anything else, Lan Qiren decided, for if asked, he could simply claim plausible deniability.

On the other side of the Obscure Room, Wei Wuxian and the juniors had come to some worrying conclusions.

“It’s very likely that this demonic hand was targeted at our clan,” Lan Sizhui was saying.

Wei Wuxian tilted his head. “How so?”

“The spirit lure flags we drew in Mo Village are effective for a radius of two miles. Due to the ferocity of the hand, if it had been there before we arrived, the entirety of Mo Village would have been drenched in blood.”

Mo Xuanyu gasped, reaching Lan Sizhui’s conclusion. “The hand must have only appeared after you arrived,” he realized.

Lan Sizhui nodded, expression sombre. “Exactly. In other words, some malicious person deliberately chose that point in time to release the demonic hand at that location.” The youth bit his lip worriedly. “And if that is the case, we’re probably responsible for the victims in Mo Village…”

“No, you’re not,” Wei Wuxian cut in. None of that talk has a place here. “It's the person who released the ghost hand who is responsible.”

At that moment, Lan Wangji came to join them, and Wei Wuxian turned to the other cultivator in interest. “Any new leads?” He asked.

Lan Wangji shook his head.

Wei Wuxian frowned. “The Soul Expel Seal,” he began, deciding to list his findings, “Is a type of demonic cultivation specifically used to keep one’s soul out of their body.” He twirled the bamboo flute as he talked, pointing at the seal on the back of the hand. The Juniors listened with rapt attention. “As we can see from this seal, our spell caster, who split apart this victim’s body and soul, must be a top-notch expert.”

Lan Wangji nodded, understanding. “Can you undo this?”

“Of course!” Wei Wuxian chirped, “It will just take some time. I’m more worried about someone with this level of demonic cultivation running wild and wreaking havoc.”

“Ah, that’s a scary thought.” Lan Jingyi agreed, shivering.

First, someone gave Mo Xuanyu the manual to summon my soul, and my soul specifically. Then the Mo Village incident, and Dafan Mountain, and Wen Ning’s appearance… and this damn demonic hand… Wei Wuxian smirked. Someone really didn’t want me to rest in peace.

Jingyi spoke next. He was crouching and staring fiercely at the demonic hand. “Are my eyes deceiving me or did that hand just move?” He asked. “Gah!”

The juniors flinched back as the demonic hand twitched and rolled, then shakily moved upwards like a possessed thing, which it might as well be at this point. With jerking, halting, eerie motions the clawed and inhuman fingers pointed vaguely toward a direction.

Just as it had finished moving, a disciple burst into the Obscure Room. “Hanguang-Jun!” He cried, “Resentful energy has been found in many watch towers, support is needed!” He handed Lan Wangji a scroll with a map and some marked areas.

“All in remote locations,” he continued, after a moment to catch his breath, “No less than 150 miles away from Cloud Recesses.

“Evocation of the demonic hand caused a surged of resentful energy.” Wei Wuxian muttered. “Evil territories resonated with each other.” He turned to Lan Wangi, “These places might be related to the hand.”

Lan Wangji frowned. “Pass on my order,” he said to the disciple, “Send 20 disciples to each location.”

“Understood!” The disciple said.

“I will leave tomorrow to find leads about the ghost hand.”

“But…” the disciple frowned, “There are so many locations, where will you start?”

“That’s easy!” Wei Wuxian grinned, “We’ll start from…” he looked in the direction of the ghost hand, “Where our demonic hand is pointing at.”

-- -- --

Chapter Text

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian began. "Ne, Lan Zhan! Hanguang Jun~ We know the direction that the hand points to, does it correlate with any of the locations that the resentful energy emanated from?" 

Lan Wangji glanced his way. The bleak and rainy atmosphere of the environment they trekked through did nothing to dampen his beauty. 

Get a grip, Wei Wuxian thought, exasperated, and strangled the thought dead before it could spawn another, for then he'd just daydream about Lan Zhan this entire trip without understanding why. Focus, he chided himself, It's a mission! Not Lan Zhan this or Lan Zhan that—when will my traitorous mind do what I need it to? The betrayal! 

He knew he knew why. That didn't mean he had to admit it, though. Not even to himself.

"Mn. There is a village at the location." Lan Wangji answered, contentment in his voice as he gazed at Wei Wuxian. Yet, when Wei Wuxian met his golden eyes, his perfect face was marred by a slight frown. He looked like he wanted to say something, but eventually turned away. 

Well, thought Wei Wuxian, brow raised. Now that won't do.

"Aiyah Lan Zhan," he pouted, pressing himself into Lan Wangji's space. "I'm no mind reader, Hanguang-Jun. If you've got something to tell me, tell it straight! You know I'm dense as river stones sometimes." 

The frown turned almost affronted. "Wei Ying is not stupid." 

"I said dense, not stupid, Lan-er-gege! I know I'm a genius, just not genius enough to guess your illustrious thoughts." Wei Wuxian laughed. This man! Protecting my honour from myself, how sweet! Lan Zhan really is too good. 

"Wei Ying is smart." Lan Wangji agreed, a fond expression settling on his features.

Wei Wuxian beamed, tipping his hat teasingly with a bright, delighted grin. With a spin, he stepped back to Lan Wangji's side, hands clasped behind him as they walked. "What was it you were going to say, Lan Zhan?" He asked, curious. 

A long silence followed, but Wei Wuxian was content to wait, listening to the noises of the forest and the soft rustling of their robes, and occasionally stretching his spiritual sense to scout out the souls of their juniors, some fifty meters or so ahead. They'd been clingy little ducklings ever since the events of the night prior, and it was good for Mo Xuanyu to be making new friends.

I mentioned I'd take A-Yu and then Sizhui and Jingyi demanded to tag along as well, he thought, amused, and shook his head. I never realized how effective pleading eyes were on Hanguang-Jun's resolve, and Jingyi's arguments about it being a once-in-a-lifetime learning experience weren't incorrect. Truly, a troublemaker after my own soul! 

Eventually, Lan Wangji's soul lost the nervous edge Wei Wuxian had assumed was about the topic, and when Wei Wuxian glanced back, Lan Wangji was watching him, expression unreadable.

"Wei Ying's eyes," he said eventually, haltingly. "Are still red." 

Wei Wuxian felt all idle thoughts screech to a halt at this.

"They're still red?" He echoed, one hand touching his own cheek instinctively.

He'd suspected, of course, but he'd hoped it was incorrect. Avoiding mirrors probably didn't help the issue, and he knew that Lan Wangji was not just stating a fact, but also asking why. The deep undercurrent of unease that acted up whenever Wei Wuxian thought about his current state of life (or perhaps, more accurately, state of death) made itself known.

He bit his lip, thoughts tumbling over one another before he landed with nothing, and then decided that he'd simply tell the truth. Maybe then, Lan Wangji will see him for the wicked thing he is, and stop being so nice to him.  

"I don't know why they're still red," he told the other man, gathering his courage and ignoring the anxiety that made his heart itch. Wei Wuxian knew this was a conversation that needed to be had. "I think... Well, it's the Soul-Summoning array's fault. That's where it begins. Someone took my old notes, the ones from the Demon Slaughtering Cave. They were unfinished, and patchy, and I'd only created the frameworks of the array to make summoning a Fierce Corpse's soul back easier than, well, what we had to do for Wen Ning. You remember, right?" 

"Mn." Lan Wangji agreed, and then in a move that made Wei Wuxian's thoughts stall again, Lan Wangji took his hand, and gave it the faintest of squeezes. A reassurance, despite the shy, shy softness that coloured his soul. To his own surprise, Wei Wuxian found that the feeling of drowning had been effectively chased away. 

At least for now, this shy reassurance was all he needed.

"Lan Zhan, thank you," he murmured, squeezing back, and delighted in how Hanguang-Jun's ears pinkened. Still, he had a story to continue, so he turned ahead. He couldn't bear to look at Lan Zhan if he was going to admit his own inhumanity.

"Someone took those writings and through some research or their own intelligence, they wrote in the gaps themselves. Whoever they were was extremely bright, able to glean meaning from my coded scribbles. Incorrect meaning, but I'm impressed something workable was found." He explained. 

Ignoring how his hand trembled at the thought of someone being clever enough to recreate his most dangerous of experiments, he bit his lip, exhaled, tucked the panic away, and continued. He was a professional at ignoring feelings. 

"It wasn't A-Yu's work," he clarified, "A-Yu simply followed the instructions in the book. And that's where there was an error--this person after my research assumed I was sacrificing a current body to bring back the dead, instead of raising a corpse and coaxing its soul back into it. So given those parameters, a shoddy summoning circle was made, with two key issues that, in retrospect, are probably features instead of flaws, mn?"

'It's funny how that works out, how I'm an accident in both lives." Wei Wuxian laughed, a self-depreciating edge to it all. 

Lan Wangji looked sad. "Wei Ying is not an accident." 

Wei Wuxian winced. Ah, my fault, I should just shut up—no. No, I'm done running. He viciously chased the thought out, drawing strength in Lan Wangji's presence.

"Right, right Lan Zhan." He said, and steeled himself. "Continuing. The hemispheres of the array, between the life array and the interwoven death array, were incorrect and not properly connected. That's why Mo Xuanyu didn't die. That's why his body isn't mine. He ended up acting as a... a vessel, I suppose? It must have been extremely painful, but due to not using Mo Xuanyu's life energy, the array trapped into the resentful energy that simply permeates the world. There's a lot of that now, after the war. So much that it's impossible to not feel it. That's the energy that went into forming my body, although..." 

"There was no container?" Lan Wangji asked, following the train of thought. 

"Exactly," Wei Wuxian agreed, the unease welling up within him again. "There was no container, so the Burial Mounds interfered. Lan Zhan, no one understands this, but with so much resentment curled up dormant in one place, allowed to fester for centuries, the entirety of the Burial Mounds is... somewhat sentient? In the way a hive mind is, or those Hundred-Year-Spirits that form around ancient things."

"The key for resentful energy is emotion and intent, and with both, the burial mounds became something like... a Yao, but not like the Xuanwu of Slaughter?" He shrugged, tipping his hat so it hid his face, fear striking within at the thought that Lan Wangji may attack him after this. "I don't even know if I can explain it, Lan Zhan. But it brought me back. A debt repaid, after how I died and gave it my soul." 

"Wei Ying... is unharmed?" 

"Oh." Wei Wuxian said, lost, now that any expected attack had only given way to raw concern. "Yeah. Of course I'm fine, Lan Zhan. Do I look un-fine? It was hell, during the war, but after my death... after being reformed, we came to an understanding." He couldn't help the ragged smile that tugged at his face at the thought of his nagging shadows. "The Burial Mounds is my domain," he concluded, thoughtful, "I belong there as much as it belongs to me." 

He paused, waiting to see if Lan Wangji would react, and feeling only reassurance in how Lan Zhan held his hand, he finally breached the crux of the subject.

"The ghosts also tell me that I'm... well, I suppose those who called me a Yao or a demon got their wish. I'm not human anymore, Lan Zhan." He admitted, voice shaking only a little. "They were right. During the war, they were right. You were right. I fucked up, Lan Zhan, and now I've returned as a very powerful ghost-thing."

"There's no way to safely master demonic cultivation after—" after losing my golden core, he doesn't say. He can't. "After all I had been through. There wasn't a body I could return to, so the resentment unmade my soul and remade me to be able to survive, remade me as something a little extra, and created a body for its master and I— well, I guess I am a— a monster now." He couldn't help the way his voice cracked, pleading, with the admission. He bowed his head, waiting for... for... 

...A hug? 

Oh, He thought, his arms instinctively curling around Lan Wangji as the other man pulled him close.

"Lan Zhan," he protested, voice wet with unshed tears. "Lan Zhan, why are you hugging a demonic ghost-thing." 

"Wei Ying," was the reply, in the saddest tone Wei Wuxian had every heard Lan Wangji use, "I am sorry."

Lan Wangji sounded as remorseful as Wei Wuxian felt. He leaned into the embrace, hiding his face in the white cloth.

"Wei Ying should not have been forced to sacrifice his humanity." Lan Wangji added, gentler. 

"I don't— I don't know why it affects me so much," he admitted, closing his eyes and willing the hot, burning tears back. "I'm back, Lan Zhan. Resentful energy doesn't hurt me anymore. I might have even been in line for ascension in the next life. Maybe that's why I didn't hear your inquiry, you know? I would have—" He hiccuped, "If I had heard I would have answered, Lan Zhan. You know I can't stand being alone."

"I'm just— I'm so sorry," Wei Wuxian sobbed. "Everything is supposedly better now but it— it hurts, Lan Zan, and I don't know why. That's why my eyes are red, you know? I came back immortal and all I can do is cry about it. I'm so damn selfish." He looked up and oh, oh Lan Zhan. He felt his heart tear at the wetness on the other man's cheeks. "Lan Zhan, oh Lan Zhan, don't cry." 

A shake of the head. "Wei Ying has suffered so much." 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian protested. "You've suffered too. It's such a mess, is what it is. I'm sorry, now I'm getting tears all over your robes. Aiyah, what a pair we make."

A long silence followed in which Lan Wangji simply held him, and Wei Wuxian wrestled the sharp hurt and hollow loneliness under his skin back into the hole where he kept everything he couldn't afford to deal with. Still, despite the shame of crying on Hanguang-Jun of all people, he felt... he felt like perhaps there was less of that ugly, cloying darkness than when he had started. 

"Human or not, Wei Ying is Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said eventually. "I will cultivate to immortality. Wei Ying will never be lonely again."

It sounded like a promise. Wei Wuxian clenched his hand on the lapels of Lan Wangji's outer robe, feeling raw in the face of such sincerity. 

"Lan Zhan," he said, words becoming difficult as hope and shame warred in his heart. "Forever is a long time. A really long time, Lan Zhan, to spend with someone you hate." 

"Do not hate Wei Ying." 

"Even with the demonic cultivation? Even with the whole-- being a living ghost? A death god? Lan Zhan I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm a mess. I'm-- I'm everything your sect stands against. You don't have to promise this for me if it goes against your values, Lan Zhan. Don't do that." 

"Never hated Wei Ying." Was the response, and Lan Wangji sounded more vulnerable than Wei Wuxian had ever heard him. "I was worried. Did not want Wei Ying to die." 

At this, Wei Wuxian felt his heart crack, and shatter, and scatter into a million pieces of obsidian dust.

"Lan Zhan," he choked out, rubbing at his eyes again, "I thought— I can't believe I thought— Just, just tell me next time, Lan Zhan. I'm— I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Lan Wangji's soul felt as raw as he was, and that only made Wei Wuxian feel awful. 

"I am telling you now," Lan Wangi said, one hand coming up to gently pet Wei Wuxian's hair, his voice calm and gentle despite the distress Wei Wuxian knew he must be feeling. "Care for Wei Ying. Want Wei Ying to be happy, not alone. Reflected for 13 years, will not make the same mistake again." 

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lan Zhan" 

"No need for apologies between us, Wei Ying." 

"You deserve one," Wei Wuxian sighed, rubbing his face as the tears seemed to have finally ended. Perhaps there simply wasn't anymore. "After everything, I don't understand, Lan Zhan. Why? What am I to you?" 

Lan Wangji was quiet for a long, long time. "Once, I thought we were zhiji." 

Wei Wuxian could only stare, eyes wide. That broken feeling inside him was flooded with fragile, tentative, hope. It terrified him. He met the feeling gladly.

"I— We could still be." He said, throat dry. "If. If you still want that."

Lan Wangji's hand tightened on his, and he looked at Wei Wuxian with an expression so devoted that Wei Wuxian didn't even know how to feel.

"I would be honoured," he said, gazing at Wei Wuxian with such care. 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian whispered, and then hugged him again. He couldn't bear to look at Lan Zhan right now, with his face red and splotchy and his resolve shakier than a newborn foal. 

"Wei Ying," was the simple answer as Lan Wangji held him. Wei Wuxian closed his eyes, the curling black miasma that had manifested due to his emotions sinking back under his skin, melding with the rawness inside and soothing it, soothing all that hurt and fear and sharp brokenness with clear, healing hope.

"Okay," Wei Wuxian began, after several long heartbeats—His, Lan Zhan's, and the war drums of the Burial Mounds carrying the subtle approval from the darkness that claimed him. "Okay, let's try. I want to try, at being zhiji. You'll have to teach me, Lan Zhan." 

"Mn, I will." Lan Wangji answered, and Wei Wuxian could tell that he, too, felt the same fragile hope. 

"Good. I— I care for you too, you know? More than anything, Lan Zhan, thank you." 

Lan Wangji huffed. "No need for 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry' between us." 

"I'm still grateful," Wei Wuxian said, pressed against the other man's chest. After another long, comfortable moment, he reluctantly extracted himself from the embrace and brushed off his robes.

That's enough emotional vulnerability for the day, he thought, and wiped at his face. He glanced at Lan Zhan, at his soul, and managed a smile, a genuine one, when he found the fondness he felt reflected on Lan Zhan's perfect, handsome face.

"We should get going, Lan Zhan," he said, feeling... feeling so many things that he wasn't sure how to act. It was mostly relief, with raw hope that Wei Wuxian was scared to feel. "The kids will have gotten so far ahead."  

"Mn." Lan Wangji agreed. "Can ride on Bichen." 

Wei Wuxian's wan smile became more genuine, and he adjusted his hat, which had fallen off. His red eyes danced with mirth. "You'll have to hold me." 

"Gladly." 

"Ah Lan Zhan is too good," Wei Wuxian teased, and then blushed when, instead of looking away, Lan Wanji simply met his gaze, and then smiled. "Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian protested, "You've learned new tricks! My heart can't take it!" 

"Wei Ying," Hanguang-Jun said, exasperated and soft, and held Bichen steady for them to hop onto. "Come here." 

"Coming~" Wei Wuxian laughed, hopping on behind Lan Wangji, and he wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji's waist. "This okay?" 

"Mn." 

"Let's go then." Wei Wuxian said, feeling, for the first time in his second life, like everything wouldn't fall apart due to his presence.

Lan Zhan really is the best, he thought, as they flew deftly over the forest. The sky had gotten gloomier, with sickly grey clouds hiding any light from the sun. Still, not even the dreariest of weather could tamper Wi Wuxian's mood right now, his heart singing with the concept of being soulmates with Lan Zhan. With a content sigh, he pressed himself closer, and snickered at the flustered fluttering of Lan Wangji's soul. 

They spotted their disciples quickly, to Wei Wuxian's (and perhaps Lan Wangji's) regret, neither quite wanting to let go of the other. But, being responsible adults, they swiftly honed onto the junior's location and dropped onto the ground to greetings of "Senior Wei!" and "Hanguang-Jun!" 

"Hello kiddos," Wei Wuxian teased, but he and Lan Zhan returned the bows properly. "How goes the hike?" 

"Acceptable." Lan Sizhui said, looking like he wanted to say something else. Mo Xuanyu nodded, and then made a face, and then gave Wei Wuxian a sour look. Wei Wuxian raised a brow. That bad? 

"Awful!" Lan Jingyi complained, voicing the inner thoughts of them both. "The air is so depressing here! No sun, no plants, everything seems dead, I can't even think of a topic to talk about! Every conversation I start ends up souring the moment there's a pause." 

"We think it's because of the resentful energy." Mo Xuanyu added. "Laoshi, it's been getting more intense, right?" 

Wei Wuxian grinned. "Ah Lan Zhan, look how smart they are!" he said.

Lan Wangji agreeing with a soft "Mn."

Wei Wuxian gestured for the kids to follow him. "We can walk and talk. And yes, A-Yu, you're absolutely right. Resentful energy and spiritual energy can both affect the land it permeates. Much like how spiritual energy can augment a cultivator's body, it can also augment the land. Cloud Recesses is always so peaceful because it's so imbued in Yang energy, the light energy associated with spiritual energy. There's been such intense coalescence at some places that we end up with natural wells of healing energy like the cold springs." He explained.

The juniors were all listening aptly when Wei Wuxian turned around to check, so he continued, "The Yilling Burial Mounds, however, is the opposite of Cloud Recesses in this regard. The land is so entrenched in resentful energy that we end up with places like the Blood Pool and Demon Slaughtering Cave." 

"Is that why it's so dangerous for cultivators to enter the Burial Mounds?" Lan Sizhui asked. 

"Hm, in part," Wei Wuxian answered. "The truth is more tied to the key power sources that the energy draws from within oneself. Yin energy, resentful energy, is driven on emotion and intent. Emotion matters so, so much. Yang energy, spiritual energy, relies on the absence of emotion and the formation of order. That's why with your musical cultivation, every piece is so complex. The intent is directed through logic and laws, while with resentful energy, the intent is directed through emotions and senses. This may be a little heretical so don't tell any of your teachers back at cloud recesses, but ultimately, both are simply energy, and people can be more attuned to one or the other."

"But that's beside the point," he continued, after noting that the juniors had all had their moment of realization. "To answer Sizhui, the Burial Mounds are dangerous because cultivators enter feeling the emotions of disgust, or horror, or anger, or fear. They enter with the intent to suppress or eliminate, or harm. The resentful energy can sense this and reacts accordingly, mirroring the feelings of these cultivators in its effects. If someone entered with curiosity or an open mind, then they wouldn't be harmed, and the resentful energy would prod at them, sure, but leave once they were determined as not a threat. Does that make sense?" He asked, glancing back. 

He got three wide-eyed, awed stares in return. 

"Senior Wei really is the expert!" Lan Jingyi exclaimed, with the other two nodding in agreement. 

"Lan Zhan, these kids are so polite!" He exclaimed, wishing he could gather them all in a hug. Since he couldn't he simply twirled with his hands pressed together in delight. "I'll be spoiled from having such nice students." 

"Mn. Wei Ying is the expert." 

"Lan Zhaaannn!" Wei Wuxian protested, feeling his face heat up at the assured praise. "Look at this, your Hanguang-Jun is so mean. He's bullying me, A-Yu, come save your poor laoshi!" He cried and ducked behind Mo Xuanyu's form. Jingyi snorted. 

"How is it you're so clever and also such an embarrassment at the same time?" Lan Jingyi. Wei Wuxian bounced over and patted said disciple's head cheerfully.

"It's a gift from the gods," he explained, then stepped back to Hanguang-Jun's side, eyeing the three ducklings. "I know you three did listen, though. Do any of you have any questions?" 

"Is it really that simple, controlling resentful energy?" Mo Xuanyu asked, brows furrowed. "My books made it seem so complicated and dangerous." 

"It really is," Wei Wuxian said, gentling his tone. "The difficulty is mastering your emotions. You cannot lie to yourself. The Righteous Path is difficult due to mastering the complex spiritual energy laws, but the resentful path is as equally difficult due to requiring such honesty with oneself. People tend to explain Demonic Cultivation through the conventional lens, and it overcomplicates things greatly. Furthermore, using Demonic Cultivation when you have a strong golden core is painful due to the fact that your body grew around using Yang energy. It can very much hurt people. That's why it's dangerous, but only to those who meet that criteria. Which is, unfortunately, most of the cultivation world." 

"But not you, Senior Wei?" Lan Sizhui asked. 

"Yes me, once. I used to be a great cultivator of the Righteous Path too, and so I had to suffer from being unmade and remade. But after being brought back I haven't had any issues. This body is... kind-of like those of powerful ghosts? It has only had resentful energy flowing through it. That's what is normal to me. Likewise, A-Yu, you've not studied spiritual cultivation either, have you?"

"I didn't have the affinity to cultivate a powerful core." Mo Xuanyu admitted, feeling ashamed. Oh A-Yu, Wei Wuxian thought. 

"Well luckily, Demonic Cultivation doesn't need a powerful core. My current body is coreless, you know?" He revealed, winking at the gasps of the Lan disciples. "So don't feel down, A-Yu. You simply have a unique affinity for things that a lot of people don't." He ruffled the young man's hair, and grinned at the protest of having such an embarrassing Laoshi. Wei Wuxian then turned to his zhiji. "Lan Zhan? Anything to add?" 

"Mn. The Righteous Path and Demonic Cultivation are more powerful working together." Lan Wangji said. "Shizhui, Jingyi, when did this occur recently?" 

The two Lan disciples were quiet, before Lan Jingyi shot up with an "Aha!" 

"It was in the Obscure Room, right?" Lan Jingyi said, looking between Hanguang-Jun and the Yilling Laozu excitedly. "When the suppression series songs failed and the demonic hand was only suppressed when Senior Wei and Hanguang-Jun worked together!" 

"Mn, correct. Sizhui, what is the reason?" 

"Because with both kinds of cultivation, you were able to not just subdue the resentment, but also control the resentment so it didn't rebound and lash back at the array, and destroy the progress made?" Lan Shizui answered, hesitant. 

"Correct." Lan Wangji said, and both disciples beamed, and Wei Wuxian felt his heart swell up with fondness.

"Lan Zhan is a good teacher." He said, "And we all have such smart students!" He grinned at how the three ducked their heads, embarrassed. He reached out with his senses, testing the area, and noted that they were close to the town. "We're almost there! Can anyone tell me the history of this place? I'm afraid your Yiling Laozu has the memory of a goldfish." 

"Laoshi!" A-Yu protested, but then laughed along with the other two. 

"I think it was a town that was lost during the war." Lan Sizhui eventually answered.  

Lan Wangji nodded. "Mn. Attacked. Left to decay after. There is a mass grave on the hill nearby." 

"That makes sense." Wei Wuxian nodded. "With so many dead, there's no wonder that the resentment is so thick. I bet it's festered over the years. We should be hesitant going in, I can feel that there's a large, intense mass of it on the hill. I suspect our demonic hand is making it worse, especially if someone slapped a talisman on to gather the resentment. We should ask the locals just in case, too. They may have insight to what the intent of that resentment on the hill is, whether it's out to kill people or capture them or poison the earth. Or other things. Resentful energy is unpredictable that way." 

"Like you, Senior Wei?" Lan Jingyi quipped. 

Wei Wuxian beamed. "Exactly like me!" he agreed, laughing. 

"How hard will it be to capture the hand?" Mo Xuanyu asked, sounding worried. A brief brush of his soul sense over the juniors revealed that they were all hesitant. I don't blame them,  Wei Wuxian thought. Not after the pillars of the Lan Clan's teachings failed in the Obscure Room. Still! They've got nothing to worry about, between Hanguang-Jun and I, things will be perfectly safe.  

He ruffled his sharp, clever disciple's hair. "We'll just have to wait and see!" He chirped, and then cackled at the protests that followed the non-answer. Oh, he loved these kids, they really were great. 

-- -- --  

The town that they entered was small and forgotten, misty and filled with eerie silhouettes, devoid of any signs of joy. The atmosphere reminded Wei Wuxian far too much of the aftermath of the war, almost like nothing had changed, despite over a decade having passed. Luckily, the smell of corpses didn't grace their noses. The poorly made houses were functional, with many appearing empty, useless talismans and protective flags still hanging from beams and doorways exactly the same as when their owners had died. Wei Wuxian let himself drift, allowing the shadows under his command free reign to explore. They eagerly spread through the town, letting Wei Wuxian sense that there really were a few inhabitants in this ghost town. It seems stable, the Yilling Laozu thought, prodding the balance of energies permeating the town as he followed after Lan Wangji, his white robes easy to trail behind. And yet, there's something wrong about the deaths. Something so, so wrong. 

He directed the juniors to come to him, and handed them qiankun pouches full of supplies, blankets, medicine and simple food items.

"Take these to the people who live here," he said, feeling the sadness of the remnant ghosts as though it was his own. "They don't get many imports around here, and the soil isn't right to grow things. They're probably living in poverty." 

"Help those in need." Lan Wangji recited, agreeing. He gave Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi more detailed instructions as Wei Wuxian tugged Mo Xuanyu aside.

"I'll be needing your help, A-Yu," he explained, and then waved at the Lan disciples as they headed off. Jingyi waved back! Grinning, Wei Wuxian turned back to his one disciple. "There's something wrong with the resentment here. What does it feel like to you?" 

Mo Xuanyu was quiet for a moment, then, moving his hands with the words, "It feels like a punch? Like there was none, and then one day, there was too much. Does that make sense?" 

"Perfect sense," Wei Wuxian assured, and then glanced over at Lan Wangji, who had now joined them. "I have a more acute death sense than anyone, so don't worry about not picking up specifics, A-Yu. You're correct about the punch - a lot of people died within a short, short time."

"Furthermore," he continued, hands animating the scene with smoky shadows, "The resentment seems confused. When it comes to battles, usually the lingering resentment has the air of simmering revenge, intended at the one who killed them. A lot of small, independent little revenge wishes. This is why it's not difficult to cleanse the area; tedious, yes, but not difficult, due to the fact that we can divide and conquer." 

The mini-scene he'd brought to life depicted corpses rising again, and although many, how easily a shadowy cultivator could cut through them. Mo Xuanyu watched with wide eyes, then nodded, and Wei Wuxian dismissed the energy with a pat of gratitude. 

"But it's different here?" Mo Xuanyu asked, making the same curious expression that Wei Wuxian often wore in his youth. 

He's literally like a little clone! Wei Wuxian thought, exasperated. A little shy, feisty clone of me. Poor kid. It must have been fate that you'd turn to demonic cultivation anyways. Luckily, this laoshi will keep you on the right path!

"Exactly!" He grinned, snapping his fingers, "A-Yu is so smart~ It's different here because resentment has the same intent - all these spirits, all these ghosts that I can sense linger in this town, they all want the Jin dead. All of them, directed at the clan. It's so strong here because something happened that killed all these people in a short amount of time, and all they knew was that it was the Jin. Nothing else. Is that not odd?" 

"It makes no sense." Mo Xuanyu admitted. "It's like they were attacked from afar, but Jin cultivation is melee-based." 

"Right and right again." Wei Wuxian praised. "Your task is going to be a little different. Because such a large part of demonic cultivation is tied to being attuned to the resentful energy around you, I want you to feel out this town and talk to the locals. Help Sizhui and Jingyi with their task, but also keep an eye out for odd findings about this town and what could have caused the deaths of the Wen in such an odd way." 

"Got it!" A-Yu nodded, determined. 

Wei Wuxian ruffled his hair again. "Good. Lan Zhan and I are going to investigate the mountain, so you and the other two are in charge of finding an inn for the night and setting up our rooms. Be kind to the people here, they don't have much, but they are trying their best." 

"Of course, Laoshi." His disciple nodded, then gave him a judgemental look. "But who will pay? Aren't you broke?" 

Wei Wuxian felt his coolness meter crack. "A-Yuuuuuu!" he cried, "My own disciple, slandering me! Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you'll pay for the Inn, right?" 

"Mn, will pay." Lan Wangji agreed, handing Mo Xuanyu enough money for several days. Wei Wuxian snickered at A-Yu's dumbfounded expression. 

With a bow to Hanguang-Jun and rolled eyes at Wei Wuxian's direction, Mo Xuanyu headed out, swapping the money pouch for his journal in his sleeve and muttering something that sounded oddly like "sugar daddy," whatever that meant... Ah either way, I'm sure the kids will do great! Wei Wuxian thought, watching them interact with the villagers before turning back to Lan Wangji. 

The pair of them walked side by side through the eerie town, footsteps assured and cautious. Lan Wangji's golden gaze swept the area sharply, and Wei Wuxian followed with a more carefree air, black smoke curling off his form in idle, lazy swirls.

The atmosphere darkened as they walked deeper inside, with the light of the sun barely making it through the thick cloud cover. Hazy shadows pooled in deep corners, peering balefully at the main street. Broken glass littered the interiors of homes, and doors closed on their own accord. Save the stragglers in the outer rims of the town, only ghosts lived here now. 

As they approached the large hill looming behind the town, a sharp sense that they were being watched sharpened Wei Wuxian's senses. He tensed, feeling the sense rush over to them, and turned in time with Lan Wangji to feel the spirit of a wailing mother run through them. It chilled Wei Wuxian, who felt the mothers' anguish at her lost sons acutely, while Lan Wangji's eyes darted around, trying to find whoever spooked the ghost. 

After the emotion had passed, Wei Wuxian joined him. He noticed how his nails sharpened to claws, and the eerie red of his eyes was reflected in the puddles leftover from the rain the previous night. Seeing only acceptance from Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian let himself stop caring about wanting to appear human, using his full abilities to sense around them. The shadows that clung to his hair and the hem of his robes thickened as he gathered more to him, sensing through them, then, a soul, right— there! 

Wei Wuxian darted forward, rushing past the location of the person who was tailing them. He felt the soul start. and spun back to stand before the man. Bichen, bright and sharp like unrelenting moonlight, sang through the air and struck the wood beside the man, making him flinch, looking up at Wei Wuxian in fear. Wei Wuxian grinned, and the resentment curling around him made that smile look more like a gash in his impossibly pale face, filled with white needles.

Then Lan Wangji arrived in the next heartbeat, standing beside Wei Wuxian, righteous and just, Bichen in his grasp and pointed at the man's chest. 

"Why are you tailing us?" Lan Wangji asked, icy. 

The man trembled, frozen, before bowing and crying out, "F-Forgive me, Hanguang-Jun! I heard that resentful energy here had spiked in intensity, so a night-hunt request was sent out. I'm here for the treasure!" 

Wei Wuxian stalked over and picked up a talisman on the ground in a single smooth motion, examining it, and prodding it with his own resentful energy.

"Treasure, hm? What treasure?" he asked, affecting the air of someone dangerous. 

"As a demonic cultivator, I naturally want to find the Yilling Laozu's treasure!" The man explained. 

At this, Wei Wuxian felt regret and shame jab at his heart, and he dropped the fearful aura he'd been holding. He pursed his lips and looked down, glancing to Lan Wangji for support. Lan Wangji sheathed bichen, and nodded at him. He stepped closer to Wei Wuxian, something that Wei Wuxian would never admit helped as much as it did. 

"Legend has it that the Yilling Laozu's flute, the Stygian Tiger Amulet, and the Ghost General were all destroyed thirteen years ago." Wei Wuxian said, light and airy, though his eyes were unreadable.

"And yet," the cultivator said, standing up and brushing his clothes. "The Ghost General was rumoured to have appeared again on Dafan Mountain. Perhaps other treasures still exist." 

The image of Wen Ning arriving that night, on Dafan Mountain, came to the forefront of the Yilling Laozu's mind. He laughed, cocking a hip and bending over.

"You think the Yilling Laozu's treasures are on this mountain?" Wei Wuxian asked. I know they're not, that's for sure! But a demonic hand is, so, perhaps this poor man can get part marks for sensing some large resentment.

"Since they're treasures, they won't be easy to get. However, I've asked around—something weird did happen here. There was the sudden massacre of the Wen during the war, but everywhere was dealing with that leftover resentment. Then, around eleven years ago, people began disappearing one after the other, and the nearby forest is home to unusual noises and supernatural sights." The man continued. "People who scouted the area never returned, and so, people began moving out of the town until there's barely anyone left." 

"So this town was inhabited after the war?" Wei Wuxian asked, curiosity piqued. 

"Yes, but no one who lived here enjoyed it. The disappearances and giant mass of resentment on that mountain made this place a poor home. The disappearances continued for a year after everyone moved out, up until they stopped. No one returned, even then. Who would? Even though a decade has passed, it is still a cursed town." The cultivator gave them both a meaningful look. "But then, two days ago, the disappearances started up again." 

Two days ago, thought Wei Wuxian, sharing a glance with Lan Wangji. That's the night I returned. Damn. Someone really really was puppeteering poor A-Yu into raising me from the dead once more, weren't they? 

Then a presence that wandered into the field of his soul sense caught his interest.

"Who's there?" he called, turning. Lan Wangji, the cultivator, and nearby villagers followed suit. 

From the shadows, a pale, thin woman with wild eyes emerged, holding a lantern. Her hair was ragged and unkempt, and her clothes barely stayed on her thin frame. She meandered over to them, seemingly holding a tin for money, before noticing Wei Wuxian and screaming, the sound echoing hauntingly into the night.

"Demon!" she cried, "You brought a demon into this town!" Truly terrified, she fell backwards in her efforts to get away, scrabbling the earth with her thin limbs.

Wei Wuxian could only watch with wide eyes, shocked and hurt and not at all surprised at her accusation. It's only accurate, he thought bitterly, glancing down and listening to the uneven footsteps and rustling of curtains as the woman ran back into her home. He could feel Lan Wangji's eyes on him, but didn't have the heart to meet them. 

Not a demon, the ghosts that clung to him chided, displeased at the actions of that woman. A god, our lord, they whispered. 

To these people, that's essentially the same thing. I am their worst nightmare, Wei Wuxian thought sadly, turning back to the cultivator who they had been talking to. 

"Forgive her, Young Master," an elderly man carrying a lantern spoke up. "She's a pitiable one." 

Turning, all three cultivators bowed to this elder as he spoke. 

"Respect, elder," Lan Wangji said, "What do you mean?" 

The elder gave the three of them a rueful smile. "Eleven years ago, she was the only one who made it out alive." He explained. "Unfortunately, she went mad. Nobody knows what she has seen." The man set some food gently on the ground, which the poor woman darted out and snatched up, eating it in quick and feral motions, glaring at all of them. "Evil be gone, evil be gone," the man muttered, continuing on into the mist. 

Wei Wuxian watched them go, expression haunted, as he gently felt her spirit with the faintest of touches. It was ragged and torn, indicative of a truly deep wound to her soul.

Turning back to the others, he simply said, "It looks like she really did witness something on that hill." 

"Are Hanguang-Jun and this Young Master here to investigate?" The cultivator asked. 

"Investigate and put to rest." Lan Wangji confirmed. 

The cultivator looked troubled. "Then I wish you luck, this mountain truly is a slumbering beast. My name is Tang Xu, and you have my thanks, Hanguang-Jun, for not killing me on the spot." 

"You have not hurt others." Lan Wangji said simply. 

"Perhaps, but public opinion of demonic cultivators has never been good. Any kindness goes a long way." He explained, then bowed to them both, formally, before leaving. "Hanguang-Jun, Young Master, I bid you goodbye." 

Wei Wuxian watched the figure disappear into the mist, thoughts churning in tumultuous circles, before turning his gaze to the mountain before them. "Lan Zhan," he said quietly, thinking about that poor man now cursed to a harsh, cruel life so long as this was the only way he could cultivate. And truly, it was, for Wei Wuxian could sense his spirit hadn't the infusion of rich yang energy that came with the presence of a golden core. "What have I done? How many people suffer because of what I began?" 

Lan Wangji stepped beside him, his sleeves close enough for Wei Wuxian to hold, an urge he didn't bother suppressing. "Wei Ying is good. Wei Ying did what others refused to do, their suffering is the fault of stagnant society and cruel authorities." Lan Wangji stated. 

"Cruel authorities, Lan Zhan? You're almost talking heresy." Wei Wuxian joked weakly. 

"Sect Leader Jiang is a cruel man. He is the one who pressed for the elimination of demonic cultivators without trial." 

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian looked up, shocked. "Did he really? Jiang Cheng?" 

Hanguang-Jun looked displeased. "Evidence of cruel authorities." 

"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian sighed, and leaned into Lan Wangji's shoulder. "I was the one who began it all." 

"Wei Ying is good." Lan Wangji repeated, like it was the most finite statement in the entire world. Wei Wuxian wondered how Lan Zhan could even believe it. 

He gave Lan Wangji a wan smile. "Perhaps if you say it enough times it'll become true." 

"Mn." 

"Lan Zhan, I was joking! Don't look at me like you believe that!" 

"Hm." 

"Lan Zhaaaannn." Wei Wuxian pouted, but tugged on a white sleeve in thanks. His mood had lifted a smidge, and he was grateful. With Lan Wangji at his back, he turned to face the mountain. "Well," he said, "Shall we?" 

"Mn." Lan Wangji's answering expression was equal parts determined and indulgent. Wei Wuxian didn't understand how one man could express so much by saying so little. Lan Zhan truly is one of a kind, he thought, taking the first step ahead. Hopefully, this mountain will hold some answers, and the other hand of Mr. Corpse over here.

Chapter Text

As they walked, side by side, two cultivators of formidable strength, it was only natural that all creatures fled from the area. Not a bird was to be heard, not in this oppressive gloom. The mountain itself was drenched in the oppressive energy Mo Xuanyu had identified earlier. 

Layers of resentment, Wei Wuxian noted, enough that the disturbance of the energies that form from Lan Zhan and I merely moving through the area has all the animals scattering. Damn. 

Cultivators, with their golden cores, were deep wells of spiritual energy. For them to step into a place saturated with resentment, it would be like wading through a still pool; easy to do, but one’s presence would send eddies and ripples into the unknown as the energy made space for the intrusion. 

Wei Wuxian was familiar with how he, in contrast, acted as a void. A ready source for resentment to curl up within. He was welcomed, as the Patriarch; creatures of shadow would most likely think twice before attacking him. It had him wondering, again, just what Lan Wangji saw in someone like him, enough to insist, almost petulantly, of his goodness. 

And yet, as they waded deeper into this changed forest, Wei Wuxian couldn’t help how his senses flickered back onto high, high alert. It felt like the war, but not quite; the resentment was old, yes, in the sense that the dead have been dead for many years, and yet… For the resentment to be this thick, so long after the war, Wei Wuxian grimaced.  Something terrible has happened to this place. 

The necromancer turned towards his partner in pristine white.

“Lan Zhan,” he murmured, bending to touch a blackened, broken stalk of bamboo. “Forgive me for being dead, and unknowing of this town, but how did this place become…” So entrenched in resentment?  

Lan Wangji paused, following Wei Wuxian’s red-tinted gaze to the bamboo.

“Before the war, it was a Wen settlement.” 

“And I bet Lanling Jin didn’t take too kindly to that,” Wei Wuxian hissed, bitter. “What did they do, Lan Zhan? Burn it down?” 

Lan Wangji shook his head. “Unknown,” he said, “No records kept.” 

“Hmm. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, this is becoming such a mess,” Wei Wuxian said, standing up. At Lan Wangji’s curious gaze, he explained the connection. “The demonic hand was found in Mo Village, and escaped to Dafan mountain. We suppressed it, but where it pointed--here, Lan Zhan--is still in the foothills of the Dafan mountain area.” 

“The branch of the Wen that Wen Ning belonged to,” Wei Wuxian continued, pacing slightly, “Were called the Dafan Wen. Similar to how Meishan Yu, the sect of craftsmen, were allied with Yunmeng Jiang in such a way, the Qishan Wen and Dafan Wen were separate. This much Wen Qing drilled into my head.” He shook his head, fond, yet sad at the memory. “And so, this village, it would inevitably be a settlement of the Dafan Wen.” 

“Jin Zixun sent captured Wen to prison camps.” Lan Wangji said in clipped, angry words. “Did not die a peaceful death.” 

“Who?” Wei Wuxian asked, finding that name to be rather familiar, “But yeah, Lan Zhan, I bet a lot of them died angrily. It would be best, however,” he grinned, now mischievous, “If we could ask the spirits themselves. Let me try something, Hanguang-Jun? Don’t get out your Zither yet.” 

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asked, pausing his actions. He remained standing, holding Wangji, but did not remove the cloth covering the zither. 

“I have a hunch~” he sing-songed, robes flowing as he spun around, “A thought. An Idea. See, if I’m to be back with this… status of immortality that I did not want nor ask,” he said pointedly, flicking a wisp of shadow that curled on the brim of his hat, “I might as well put these new powers to use, hmm? Especially since resentful energy cannot hurt me anymore.” 

Lan Wangji did not look pleased. “If Wei Ying is sure.” 

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, how can I be sure of anything?” Wei Wuxian teased. “Life is nothing but uncertainty. But I can, at least, be certain in summoning a ghost, and no--Lan Zhan, don’t give me that look. I won’t use a horrible bamboo flute for it.” Not when a simple command would work, like at Mo Manor. 

Scanning the slight clearing they’d walked into, Wei Wuxian allowed his own energy to uncurl and spread. It felt… oh, it felt like stretching, like changing into home robes after a tiring, formal day.

“That’s new,” he mumbled.

“....Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asked, more concerned. 

“Nothing bad, Lan Zhan. It really doesn’t feel like sickness anymore. If anything, I feel more relaxed. How… how odd.” 

“Wei Ying is not odd.” Lan Wangji insisted, tucking aside the worrying tidbit of how it used to feel to use resentful energy away. He would ruminate on that later. 

“I am, just a little,” Wei Wuxian corrected, eyes closed. He was searching for a spirit, one who was benign, wandering. One who was old. There were many ghosts on this mountain, it wouldn’t take long.

...and as predicted, a wayward presence seemed to coalesce in his peripheral.

“Ah, lovely," he murmured, sending a little resentment their way, just enough to help them solidify. 

“Madam seamstress,” the Yiling Laozu said, red eyes turning towards a person masked with shadow. “Would you do me the honour of giving your testimony?” 

And into the quiet that followed, into the moonlit clearing, stepped the frail ghost of a middle-aged woman. Her features were plain, but well-suited. Her clothes were simple robes, rough-hewn and sturdy. Her gaze, somehow both piercing and unseeing, turned sharply to Lan Wangji, questioning.

“My friend means no harm, Madam. We merely wish to help you move on,” Wei Wuxian soothed, manners exquisite.

It was odd, Lan Wangi reflected, to see Wei Ying so mature... but here, as he was, it was not out of place. Amost as if he were a deity of the dead. 

Lan Wangji made a note to tell Wei Ying as much, later, and place emphasis on how well it suited him. 

“where were you, cultivators?” the ghostly woman hissed, voice resonating with layers of hate, “When we were killed? Where were you when children screamed? Are you not protectors of the innocent?” 

“We cannot be everywhere at once.” Lan Wangji said, offering her no false platitudes. She was a spirit who would rather be given the truth. “We are here now.” 

The ghost assessed Hanguang-Jun, unafraid.

“That you are,” she said, eventually. “Light-Bringing Lord. Us spirits know of you, one of the few who remain true to world. Very well. Laozu. I will not speak to hypocrites in gold, but to you, what is it you wish to know?” 

“Ah, Madame. Your name, please. And this one is merely Wei Wuxian, there is no need for titles.” Wei Wuxian said, embarrassed at the deference spirits seem to naturally give him these days. He almost missed when it was a battle to get one to speak to him... and then it struck him: Hypocrites in gold. It had been the Jin Sect. 

“Laozu is mistaken,” the woman continued. “Titles hold weight. Titles denote power. Holding a name in our in-between existence both returns us to who we were... and gives you, Laozu, power over us.” She fell quiet again, giving them both a pointed look, before continuing. “Yiling Laozu, who is far too humble, and Hanguang-Jun, who is righteous, this one is Shi Wanxue. Well met.” 

“Well met,” Wei Wuxian echoed, and Lan Wangji inclined his head. Wei Wuxian tucked her words away for later, for when he could bear to examine the details of this new existence. Instead, he asked, “Madame Shi, what happened to your village? What happened to you?” 

The ghost grinned then, a ghastly thing. Wei Wuxian noted, uncomfortably, that she appeared pristine; if the rule of ghosts appearing as they died was to apply, why did she seem unharmed? 

“It was cultivators,” she murmured, wickedly pleased at their discomfort. “No, Lord of Light and Lord of Darkness, not your sort. But cultivators nononetheless. Dressed in elegant gold, dressed in a mockery of heaven, descending from the sky with only dearh. When many come together to power talismans, nature can be diverted--a river, the clouds, even the side of the mountain. There can be no trial,” she hisses, her wraithlike form becoming less and less stable. “No trial for the innocent, for the children, for the eldery. No trial for those desposed of, when there are NO BODIES TO FIND!” 

With that pained shriek, she vanished. Her pained wail the only echo left. Wei Wuxian looked to Lan Wangji, shaken. He knew then, with frigid clarity, what had happened.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, “The Jin cultivators caused a landslide. That is why, this forest--” he cut off, exhaling sharply, and took several steps closer to the comfort of Lan Wangji’s illuminated presence. 

“The landslide hid all evidence,” he continued, feeling sick now. “And given the slope of this mountain, would have been easy to trigger. A simple talisman, powered by many, to shake the soil beneath. This mountain, Lan Zhan--that village-- it’s all a graveyard.” 

Lan Wangji was quick to step close, the first notes of Rest resounding in the cloying air. Wei Wuxian closed his eyes as his partner played, feeling the music soothe the ragged edges of the ghosts who remained. 

“We should continue,” Lan Wangji said, “When Wei Ying is ready. There is… a graveyard. Formal Graveyard.” 

“At the top of the mountain?” Wei Wuxian asked, crimson eyes turning northward. “What a mess. I’m alright now, Lan Zhan, I was just thinking. Perhaps some talismans should not have been made.” 

Lan Wangji made a noise. “All are tools. It is the hand of the user who is at fault.” 

“Ah, very true. I suppose I did make that talisman, first, to move the ground to help farmers plant things. It had no nefarious origin, and yet…” Wei Wuxian sighed, stepping away. “And yet, if I had not made this, it would not happen."

"The Jin would use another method. Perhaps worse."

"Lan Zhan, when did you get so wise? I see that my Hanguang-Jun grew up without me. I suppose you're right," Wei Wuxian mused, "Let’s go, Lan Zhan. I’m fine.” 

Wordlessly, the two continued up the mountain. The forest looked much the same as they walked, the shadowed forms of trees and bamboo rising into the night sky, the moonlight illuminating patches of earth and shining off Hanguang-Jun’s robes. And yet, it was strange. And the strangeness only grew, the deeper they walked. 

Wei Wuxian expected the resentment to increase, growing thicker as they neared the supposed graveyard. And yet, contrastingly, it seemed to lessen. The thickest he had felt it was when they were at the village. That village must have been raised above the buried village, he mused, but that still doesn’t explain this… 

“Hey, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian said, stopping. “I heard that the resentful energy detected by the watchtowers could affect everything within two miles from them. From Madame Shi’s tale, the resentment should be increasing, and yet…” 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed, frowning. “It has lessened.” 

“Hah,” Wei Wuxian huffed. “Something must be leeching off the resentment, then. Some Yao or some ghost… or even…” 

“The demonic hand.” 

“The demonic hand,” Wei Wuxian echoed. “I hope A-Yu was wrong about someone charging it with resentment. To think someone would be so bold as to leave something like that in a place like this! Lan Zhan, the world was less trouble when I was the only demonic cultivator running around.”

“Wei Ying was responsible.” Lan Wangji agreed, to which Wei Wuxian protested that he was supposed to disagree, and they continued on, senses alert. 

The incline had evened out now, and the faint chirping of nighttime birds could be heard. Or perhaps it was the echoes of the less-resentful ghosts. Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure. It was then, pondering this, that they both stepped into the range of an array. 

It lit up dull teal, flickering as the sound of a bell rang in the distance. A gust of air followed, swirling their robes, and the array flickered to life once more before dulling, the patterns hidden beneath foliage and ferns. Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes. Wei Wuxian grimaced, and looked up at the winding stone staircase before them. 

“Someone,” the necromancer said, “Has set this place as a trap.” And a competent one it was, for Wei Wuxian himself could not glean the intent or details of the array. All around them, stones seemed to be charged with resentment--as if leeching the energy inwards. “Shall we spring it, Lan Zhan?” 

-- -- -- 

Jin Ling, simmering after the lashing his uncle had given him, had naturally wanted to set off on a successful night hunt as soon as it could be organized. One without annoying Lan juniors who stole the credit. 

To his chagrin, the timeframe in which he demanded it (and really, was the very next night so bad? He was the sect heir. He was allowed this, right?) had been vetoed, and thus, he was out here again. He leapt to the next tree, glaring into the shadows ahead. 

At least no one’s here to boss me around, he thought, clutching his bow. Some sect heir I am, getting pushed around by nobodies. 

Notching an arrow, he lept down, bringing his bow up at the shadow that seemed to move… only for nothing to emerge, not for many bated breaths. 

“Hmph.” he huffed, relaxing his bow, and returning the arrow to the quiver strapped to his back. “Where are all the monsters?” he called, irritated. “Come meet your end!” 

He turned from that shadowed nook, kicking a rock as he walked away. It dissapeared into the shadows, spooking not a single animal.

“Is there really nothing on this damn mountain!?” He yelled into the silence. It did not make him feel any better, not when Uncle expected a respectable kill from Jin Ling this time. 

Then, something crackled behind him. 

Jin Ling froze, listening. He reached back to fetch the arrow he’d just returned, knocking and drawing silently. 

“...aauughhhhh.” 

A moaning noise, from the shadows. From behind him. Curse my luck, it's either an injured cultivator or… Jin Ling primed himself, muscles tensing. He turned sharply, then froze.

“Sect Leader Yao?” he asked, baffled. 

The man stepped forward, swaying. He seemed unwell, definitely injured enough to be limping. 

“Sect Leader Yao,” Jin Ling repeated, stepping back. “Didn’t you take your disciples up the hill a while ago? So why are you still here?” He gazed at the other, taking in the disheveled appearance as the sect leader stepped out of the shadows… and the--

Jin Ling stepped back again with a gasp, alarmed. 

Blood? He thought, gazing at the wounds in the other man’s robes. A chill befell him as he took in the blood on Sect Leader Yao’s sword, still dripping. Slightly steaming in the chilled air. Jin Ling’s eyes widened at the stumbling shuffle his body made. Is he dead? 

The man paused then, seeming to take in Jin Ling. There was a grunt as his sword arm flexed. Waves of thick, black resentful energy curled around the injured body, seeming to prop him upright. 

Still alive? Jin Ling wondered, about to ask again, when the man rushed at him, sword swinging. 

“Whoah!” Jin Ling ducked, anger taking the place of that chilling fear. How dare he! “Respectfully, Sect Leader Yao, what the fuck?! What are you doing!?” 

-- -- -- 

“Respectfully, Sect Leader Yao, what the fuck?! What are you doing!?” 

The cry echoed through the forest, in the voice of a young man. A familiar young man. Wei Wuxian whipped around to stare in that direction, with Lan Wangji following his gaze. The sounds of a groaning, angry corpse and the shing of a blade through the air followed. 

Wei Wuxian paused for only a heartbeat before he opened his mouth, about to say that he thought he heard Jin Ling, when a sword came whipping through the air in their direction. 

Stepping in front of him, Lan Wangji caught it neatly, tempering the angry spiritual energy. 

“Suihua?” Wei Wuxian whispered, then turned back in the direction of the sounds with a gasp. “Lan Zhan, it has to be Jin Ling.” 

Immediately he took off, sprinting in that direction. He trusted Lan Wangji would follow. The scene he came to was that of unnatural chaos, with someone -- a Sect Leader, Wei Wuxian presumed from the robes -- slashing at Jin Ling. 

This someone was also, notably, a fierce corpse at this point. Resentment drove his actions, curling around the form and guiding the blade. 

“Are you insane!?” Jin Ling was yelling, ducking from another slash. “Stop chasing me!” 

But the corpse did not stop; if anything, its anger doubled, the speed of its blows increasing until Jin Ling was cut. With a hiss, the gold-clad youth turned away, running from the scene, only to trip over an overturned root. 

Just as the sword was about to come down, Wei Wuxian blocked it with his own resentful energy. The sword spun away, its blade cutting into the wood of a tree above, embedded deep. Wei Wuxian reached the scene then, leaping in front of Jin Ling, his hand up in a simple mudra, resentment swirling around his index and middle fingers. Leave! 

“...aauughhhh!” The corpse groaned, stumbling forward, unwilling to listen to Wei Wuxian’s command.

Luckily for them both, Lan Wangji arrived in the next heartbeat, palm slamming into the side of the corpse and sending it skidding meters away in a shot of pale blue energy. 

Lan Wangji pressed the spell, a swirl of condensed spiritual energy drilling into the forehead of Sect Leader Yao, expelling the resentment that had taken root in his body. It fled in a painful shockwave. Sect Leader Yao let out a weak groan, then crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.

Wei Wuxian helped Jin Ling up, though his gaze never left the form of their attacker. To Jin Ling’s credit, it didn’t take him long to realize just who his saviors were. 

“You!” He exclaimed, stepping away sharply. “What are you doing here!” 

Worried, Wei Wuxian turned to him. “What are you doing here?” he countered. “And alone, in such a place.” 

Jin Ling, irritated, crossed his arms and stepped back.

“I received the missive and came to kill the Yao and other evil spirits in the area, obviously.” He said, eyes narrowed.

Wei Wuxian didn’t press it, but he suspected that Jin Ling’s insistence to prove himself to Jiang Cheng… and his brothers’ anger-based parenting style had something to do with it. Still, he mused, Coming alone was worrying. Better make sure he sticks with us. 

Instead, the necromancer turned to where Lan Wangji was approaching their attacker… their attacker, who seemed to be not a corpse. How strange. 

Sect Leader Yao was fighting for consciousness when Lan Wangji touched his shoulder, offering the man some spiritual energy for strength. Then he stepped away, bowing politely, but not so low.

“Sect Leader Yao.” 

“Hanguang-Jun?” the Sect leader echoed, confused. “This… where am I?” 

“Don’t look confused!” Jin Ling interjected, angry. “You went insane, killed everyone else, and even tried to stab me!” 

The bewildered man blinked, most definitely confused. “How… how could that be?” 

“He didn’t go mad,” Wei Wuxian amended, fiddling with another stalk of bamboo. He pointedly ignored Lan Wangji’s beseeching look. Forgive my horrible flute-making, Lan Zhan, there’s some really dangerous things on this mountain. “The resentful energy in the area got to him.” 

Sect Leader Yao’s already pale face whitened further at the sight of Wei Wuxian.

“D-Demon!” he hissed. “How dare you come back to life!” 

Wei Wuxian twirled his shoddy bamboo stick.

“Ah, don’t mind me," he teased, "I’ve simply been summoned in the service of your illustrious Hanguang-Jun. I’m not here to murder anyone, least of all your sect. Why would I have anything to do with you?” 

“Hanguang-Jun,” Sect Leader Yao said, turning to Lan Wangji. “Is it really so dire as to call someone like him? He is a demon. A vile being. Surely there are better ways. Even now, he speaks nonsense!” 

“Wei Ying is helping.” Lan Wangji rebuked, stoic as ever. “He is a distinguished guest of the Gusu Lan Clan. I invited him to help purify the spirits of this mountain.” He then gave Sect Leader Yao a piercing glare. “Given your near-death, do you object?” 

Naturally, Sect Leader Yao, who looked like a man who had been force-fed a lemon, did not object to Hanguang-Jun. 

As they recovered the other members of Sect Leader Yao’s hunting party, Lan Wangji was able to check the status of the men. Wei Wuxian helped by propping them up against trees, so they wouldn’t get stepped on… or mistaken as corpses. 

“None of them are dead, hm?” He asked, checking the pulse of someone in a dull green robe. 

“No,” Lan Wangji agreed. “Simply fainted due to hallucinatory miasma.” Turning to Sect Leader Yao, he stood. “They will all wake within the hour. No serious injuries.” 

Sect Leader Yao had the grace to bow. “Thank you, Hanguang-Jun.” 

Jin Ling, meanwhile, had been standing a ways away. He had his hand over his nose, grimacing.

“Just what kind of monster lives here?” He hissed. “The resentful energy is so strong, it stinks.” He then turned to Hanguang-Jun, eyes wide. “Wait. You said the miasma can cause hallucinations--why am I not affected?” 

“Because of your strong cultivation base, of course,” Wei Wuxian chimed in, cheerful despite the grim scene. Jin Ling was, of course, exceptional for his age. 

“Really?” The youth said, perking up. “Well. I didn’t need you to tell me that. Of course, I’m strong.” 

Wei Wuxian laughed, stepping away from the tree he’d been leaning on. “It’s not just that, however," he amended, "Sect Leader Yao’s men are adult cultivators, and yet they were affected. Jin Ling, you’re wearing the Jiang Sect’s Clarity Bell, are you not?” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Jin Ling said, touching the bell. “The Clarity Bell can calm the mind and dispel hallucinations.” 

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian said. "But heh, heh, heh~ You're still injured, aren't you?" He wiggled his hands forward, grinning in a way he knew would creep Jin Ling out. 

Jin Ling immediately backed away. “Hey, you lunatic. What are you going to do?” 

“To dress your wounds~” Wei Wuxian teased, though he did hold up a bag of medicinal herbs. He allowed the shadows to spread, feeding the eerie aura he held. What kind of uncle would he be if he didn’t mess with his nephew, even a little. 

“Wait-- No, no stay away!” Jin Ling said, glaring. “I don’t want your stupid demonic medicine! You’ll probably kill me.” And with that, Jin Ling darted away, golden robes spinning.

Wei Wuxian began to turn back to Lan Wangji, still keeping his eyes in the direction Jin Ling dissapeared. The necromancer froze when he saw red on the ground.

“Jin Ling, wait!” He called, urgency taking over his teasing tone. The earth around the kid was scattered in blood, and when Wei Wuxian jogged over and bent to touch it, it came away wet. Dark, but still wet. His red eyes crackled with resentful energy as he pressed the resentment for any clues, and all it returned was the sense of falling bodies.

“It was shed a while ago," he muttered, "From how light it still is, it was shed today. Yesterday's blood would be black and thick... And it's coming from up ahead. Damn.” 

The three of them, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and Jin Ling, stared into the forest ahead. Mist seeped into the spaces between trees, thicker than at the base. More obscuring. 

Grim, Wei Wuxian stepped forth and moved some of the thick shrubs with his bamboo stick. Jin Ling inhaled sharply when he saw the sight.

“As I thought,” Wei Wuxian said, stepping away. The blood had led to more cultivators, this time most certainly dead. The ghosts in the area were… unhelpful. In fact, there was an eerie lack of ghosts. None as conscious as Madame Shi from earlier. The colour of the disciples' robes -- could white, with pale blue -- sent a chill down Wei Wuxian’s spine.

“Lan Zhan," he paused, "Were these the disciples stationed at the watchtower?” 

“Most likely,” Lan Wangji said, kneeling. He closed the unseeing, bloated eyes of the dead, and bowed his head to them. They were Lan disciples. Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling followed suit. “I will tell brother to send someone to fetch their bodies,” Lan Wangji said, subdued. “Any clues?” 

Wei Wuxian grimaced. He walked in a slow circle, observing the injuries using both his shadows and his natural senses.

“By the look of these wounds, they were most likely assaulted by a ferocious ghost,” he reported. “But if you ask me, that should not be possible on this hill. The resentment is strong, yes, but has dissipated--if anything, it would be stronger in the direction we came from.” 

He replaced the sleeve of the dead disciple, covering the wounds on their arm. “Ne, Lan Zhan, was there supposed to be a graveyard here?” 

“Not in this direction.” Lan Wangji clarified. “Other way.” 

Nodding, Wei Wuxian stood up. “How strange, indeed…” A village of the dead, a haunted mountain, but with patches of clarity. Yet it is not clear enough that people are unaffected, if Sect Leader Yao’s group is to be believed. None of this adds up. 

His musings came to a halt when his senses picked up the presence of an angry soul. An angry, slow, notably non-human soul. As he turned, the branches around them rustled ominously. 

Eyes glinting a dangerous red, Wei Wuxian turned, throwing a condensed spear of crackling resentment at the noise. It hit something in the darkness, dispersing in crimson lightning, and from that shadow emerged a monstrous snake; hissing angrily. It's fangs, large as an arm, were bared in a threatening challenge. 

“What the hell!?” Jin Ling yelped, stepping back in panicked, quick steps. “How the fuck was that in there?” 

Wei Wuxian held the serpent’s gaze, stepping in front of Jin Ling, his hand moving to form a familiar mudra. Right now, he willed the Yao to understand, glaring, with resentment dripping from his robes and hair in a threatening display of his own, Would be a horrible time for you to attack. 

Somewhere behind them, Sect Leader Yao screamed and ran. The serpent's sharp gazed turned to that prey, as did Lan Wangji's. Wei Wuxian watched that cold, golden gaze follow the cowardly man, Lan Zhan's lips thinned with displeasure, and grinned. What a wimp, that sect leader. 

“A measuring snake,” Lan Wangji explained, eyes flicking back to the rearing serpent, and stepped up to their makeshift front line. The moonlight peeking through the foliage dappled his pristine robes with shining light. Like an immortal, Wei Wuxian thought, fond. Not a single spec of grime on him. Ridiculous, really! 

“That’s the one that likes to measure itself against a human, right? If it’s bigger than the human, it eats them?” Jin Ling asked, and Wei Wuxian heard the twang of an arrow, which struck true before bouncing off dark, obsidian scales. “Shit. Has anyone had an interaction with these that hasn’t resulted in death? They should rename it the all-killing snake!” 

Unable to hide his amused grin (though surely it looked more feral than pleased, right now) Wei Wuxian sharpened the tip of a second spear of resentment. It struck the snake lightning-quick, like a shadowed zephyr, piercing true before it dispersed, unable to hold form once the serpent’s own resentment assimilated it. 

“Oh that’s unpleasant,” Wei Wuxian muttered, both him and Jin Ling leaping back as the snake lunged. Lan Wangji stood his ground, a low chord from Wangji sending the snake reeling into the trees in a wave of strong, blue spiritual fire.

To Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian said, “I saw some tiny ones in Yilling, once. The size of my forearm. They were more helpful than insane but this…” A thought struck him, and he turned to Lan Wangji, “The stones we saw earlier, collecting resentment. The setup of this whole mountain. Has the snake been feeding on the gathered resentment, perhaps?” 

“Possible,” Lan Wangji said, then, “Wei Ying, while it is stunned.” 

Obligingly, Wei Wuxian called upon more of those shards of resentment, shaping them into jagged spears before piercing the snake. He spun, adding a blood-seal to the barrage, the array pressing the snake’s writhing form into the earth.

With a few chords from Wangji, Hanguang-Jun added an accompaniment: a seal to prevent the snake’s resentment from seeping past the array that Wei Wuxian placed. The wraiths and shadows that followed him were all too eager to cannibalize the snake, so he gave them free rein to bleed the snake dry of all energy. 

The Yiling Laozu walked over to the serpent’s fallen form almost lazily. As his red spears wavered and disappeared, Jin Ling’s array of arrows replaced them, pinning the snake’s shrivelled, lifeless corpse firmly to the earth. Like all Yao, being made of energy (and oh, wasn’t that an uncomfortable thought? Wei Wuxian was now much the same) the snake began to steam and wither away. Months of decay took place in moments, as no resentful energy remained to sustain the flesh. 

Crouching beside the… admittedly giant corpse of the snake, Wei Wuxian waited for milky bone to emerge before leaning forward and sticking his hand in, ignoring Lan Wangji’s cry of “Wei Ying!” and Jin Ling’s disgusted, “Oh, gross.” 

It took him a moment to find what he was looking for: the shining obsidian of the snake’s beast core, the equivalent of a golden core, but for creatures with resentment. It felt… it felt oddly pliant, in his hands. Chilled, and pleasant to the touch. He could feel the resentment swirling inside, like a miniature maelstrom. When he stood and presented it to his companions, his hand emerged from the snake pale and pristine, all grime having dissipated already. 

“Tada!” He grinned, “I can use this. Jin Ling, I’m sure Hanguang-Jun can vouch for your kill.” 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agreed, seemingly having gotten over Wei Wuxian’s impulsive corpse-robbing. Lan Zhan really was the best. “Sect Leader Jin is skilled with the bow.” 

“...that’s disgusting,” Jin Ling hissed. “Keep that away from me, you fucking creep. And fine, sure.” A pause, then, grudgingly “Thank you, Hanguang-Jun.” 

Satisfied that Jin Ling’s pride wasn’t injured, Wei Wuxian continued to poke the snake’s skull. The other two watched, a little at loss on what to do... or on what he was doing.

“Hmm… Ah. Well,” he glanced up, glancing between the snake and where they’d treated the injured cultivators, “The bite marks don’t match. What killed those men couldn’t have been the snake.” 

“You mean there’s something else on this damn mountain?” Jin Ling asked, mulish. 

Wei Wuxian thought for a moment, then grimaced. Jin Ling wasn't wrong.

“Yeah. Corpses. Maybe a highly powerful fierce corpse, actually. Didn’t you see? The bites on those cultivators were infected bites--infected human bites.” Slipping into teacher mode, he glanced around, stepping close to a sickly-looking tree and asking, “Lan Zhan, slice it for me?” 

Lan Wangji did. Bichen’s sword glare was visible for only a moment before a clean cut appeared on the blackened bark. 

Wei Wuxian poked at the miasma dripping from the slice with his bamboo not-a-flute. “As I thought,” he murmured. “The resentment here is really strange. Like it’s been forced to gather artificially, overly saturating the creatures and plants that lived in the area. After all, have you ever seen a measuring snake that large? It was almost the size of the Xuanwu of Slaughter.” 

As he had been talking, Jin Ling had slowly gotten paler and paler. With a nervous swallow, he said, “Measuring Snakes are usually only 6 feet long.” 

“Exactly~” Wei Wuxian nodded. “It must have mutated. In the past, on Mt. Baifeng, there were sightings of a giant, mutated measuring snake. But surely,” he glanced at the Beast Core he still held, “It can’t be the same one? This feels very new.” 

“You can feel it?” Jin Ling asked, skeptical. Even Lan Wangji was leaning forward to look. 

“Somewhat,” Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows, most people destroy these things. All I’m getting from it is sleepiness.” 

“...That's creepy. You’re such a creep,” Jin Ling muttered, stepping away, even though his eyes shone with fascination.  

Just then, because of course this was Wei Wuxian’s luck, the cowardly Sect Leader Yao chose to return from where he’d run away. 

“Oh, I remember the hunt on Mt. Baifeng,” the elder man remarked, “But back then, due to the glory of killing that giant snake, Jin Zixun of the Lanling Jin clan had a great quarrel with the Yilling Patriarch. If it were not for the kind Jiang Yanli defending Wei Wuxian, the two would have traded blows!” 

Wei Wuxian looked away, thinking about the memory. Back then… back then it had been a fight, won by the skin of his teeth, to keep himself sane amidst the resentment holding his shattered bones and broken body together. His easy temperament had turned brittle, and his conduct… suffice to say, he owed his sister a thousand apologies, for everything. 

He was so deep in his guilt that he almost missed how Jin Ling stepped away.

“Fuck, that's right," he youth hissed, "What am I doing, helping my parent’s murderer? Fuck you, Wei Wuxian! Don’t talk to me again!”

It was spat at him with more venom than Wei Wuxian expected, the words crawling uncomfortably under his skin. Jin Ling ran off after the dismissal, leaving a stunned Wei Wuxian. He tried to let it wash over him. Jin Ling's hate was his penance. It was safer, for them all, that his nephew hated him. 

But oh, it hurt. It stung. Why had he even been forced back to life, if all he was to do was reopen these barely-healed wounds? 

He watched Jin Ling disappear with a lost expression. He watched, red eyes unseeing, as Sect Leader Yao bowed to Hanguang-Jun and left to tend to his men. 

It was only Lan Zhan’s quiet, “Wei Ying?” That drew him from the fog he was drowning in. 

“... Lan Zhan,” he said, when he could, “Ah, Lan Zhan. All I do is bring my loved ones pain, don’t I?” 

The soft white fabric of Gusu Lan robes enveloped him, the scent of sandalwood following.

“Wei Ying is good,” were the words that reached his ears, ever-patient. “Wei Ying is loved. I am glad Wei Ying is alive again,” Calloused hands holding his chilled ones, gentle touches to the claws he’d forgotten to file down. A pause, then, “Wei Ying, come back to me.” 

He tried. He wanted to see Lan Zhan again. Grounded in his arms, it was easier than he remembered, but it took him many long heartbeats to fight the fog. Slowly, the ringing in his head cleared. Slowly, the world came back into focus, colour bleeding into the wispy grays, sounds trickling back as he blinked and shook his head. 

“Lan Zhan,” he murmured. “I’m here.” 

The following Wei Ying! was filled with relief. Wei Wuxian looked up, puzzled.

“You were still for several minutes,” Lan Wangji explained, words hesitant. Halting. “Lost.” 

“...huh,” Wei Wuxian said, stunned. A sinking feeling clawed at his chest. “...I thought I was past losing time like that.” 

“This happens often?” 

“No,” Wei Wuxian denied, ashamed in the face of such unconditional worry. Then, it occurred to him, that he owed Lan Zhan the truth, and he’d be a worse person for making him worry more. Lan Zhan had… gained the ability to, quite unfortunately, tell when Wei Wuxian lied. He was giving him that face now, knowing and disappointed. 

“Sometimes,” Wei Wuxian amended. “Sometimes the memories are… are a lot. Sometimes I get lost. I always come back though, Lan Zhan,” he reassured, patting a white sleeve. “No need to worry.” 

Lan Wangji looked concerned, still. “Will take care of Wei Ying when it happens. Does talking help?” 

“I think so, yeah,” Wei Wuxian agreed, extracting himself from the embrace. “Just tell me to get my head back in gear, you know? You’re good at that.” 

“Mn.” Was the fond agreement. Looking around, Wei Wuxian felt the panic slowly seep away before Jin Ling occurred to him, and he whipped his head back the other way. 

“Lan Zhan,” he said, slowly, “Where’s Jin Ling?” 

Lan Wangji paused. “Ran off.” 

“Lan Zhan! And you didn’t go after him?” 

Another pause. Then, “Will not leave Wei Ying.” 

“Lan Zhannnnn,” Wei Wuxian huffed, stepping away. “Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng is gonna kill me. He’s going to skin me, then kill me. We need to find that brat.” 

Lan Wangji followed, still looking rather petulant. Hah, petulant, Wei Wuxian thought, senses tracking the trail of missing resentment that indicated a spiritually strong cultivator had passed through. Now that’s something I never expected to see on Hanguang-Jun’s face. Lan Zhan truly has softened! What a sap. 

Together, they stepped into the oppressive night. 

-- -- -- 

Chapter Text

The sound of circling crows echoed through the eerie mist. The forest, with its branching, resentment-drenched trees and withered bamboo, faded in the face of this green fog, lit by some supernatural light.

Through this still, stagnant woods, furious footsteps pounded, cracking the dead and dried branches littering a corpse-ridden forest floor. Not human corpses, no, but the corpses of the unfortunate creatures who failed to survive in such thick miasma.  

As Jin Ling ran, hacking at bits of bamboo, Wei Wuxian’s actions and words echoed in his mind. The laughter, the easy praise. The way he taught instead of pointing out Jin Ling's flaws. 

How dare he!? Jin Ling thought, slashing Suihua. How dare he kill my mom, and then act nice! I want to fucking kill him!

Angry, hot tears pricked at his eyes, so much so that he’d been squinting to stall their fall. Squinting so successfully that… oh, fuck, he paused, glancing around. I’m fucking lost. 

He turned, gold robes whirling, and ran in another direction. This time, away from the dark forest and winking spirits—ghosts he could see from the corners of his eyes, staring, watching. Silent sentries here to steal his life.

He ran into the thick mist instead, into waves of bamboo growth. Suihua struck true, continuing to clear his path, until he came face to face with a ghost that looked more alive than dead. 

“W-Wei Wuxian!” Jin Ling screamed, only half in fright, and stepped away from his parents' murderer. Suihua cleaved through the resentment. “Go away, you monster. I’ll fucking kill you.” 

The sceptre was undisturbed. “Jin Ling,” said the Yilling Laozu, his red eyes looking only sad, his tone gentle. “I am sorry. Truly, I am sorry. What has your uncle told you?” 

“He’s told me enough!” Jin Ling hissed, slashing at robes that seemed to fade into mist once he’d slashed through them, Suihua’s golden blade having no effect. “What the fuck even are you? Some ghoul? Something that eats people?” 

“Jin Ling,” repeated that voice, the demon's pale face wincing a little. “I’m only here because Lan Zhan suggested talking to you, once we’d found you, and you ran off so fast I had to cheat a little to catch up. But, I…” Those red eyes unfocused for just a breath, looking past Jin Ling. Jin Ling had half a mind to turn, but he held his gaze.

Eventually, his parent’s killer murmured, “This is my applogy. I know Jiang Cheng doesn't talk about things. I know he has only told you the most scarse details. Jin Ling, would you like to know what truly happened?” 

“What,” Jin Ling snarled, glaring into those demon eyes. “So you can fucking kill me too?” 

Wei Wuxian stepped back as if struck, and any air of intimidation shattered. Jin Ling found himself stepping back as well, shocked by the raw hurt on that monster’s face. 

"So you can see your mother," Wei Wuxian said, turning away. 

Jin Ling felt a pang of regret, because he did want to see his mother. So badly. He wanted to know the truth, so badly. 

“Jin Rulan,” Came the stern voice of Hanguang-Jun, “I will conduct empathy. There will be no harm.” 

It was as much an admonishment as an explanation, and Jin Ling ducked his head, cowed even as his anger simmered. He willed himself to stop, to think. His heart raced, feeling like he was doing something wrong, something not allowed, but… Uncle wasn’t here. Uncle wasn’t here. 

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were, however. But both of them had only patience in their eyes, no anger. No disappointment. They were letting Jin Ling think. 

And… Jin Ling loves his uncle, but his uncle tells him only what he thinks, and Uncle’s views on… on a lot of people weren’t actually true to life. Uncle called Hanguang-Jun a rule-following prick, Jin Ling realized, But actually, haven’t a lot of rules been broken tonight? I can’t trust Wei Wuxian, only a fool would trust that monster, but maybe I can trust Hanguang-Jun. 

…I do want to know what happened, he realized, If uncle never has to know, then what can he do to me? Maybe then I'll find the real liar.  

“Fine.” He bit out, eventually, feeling both like this was what he wanted, and like he was betraying his Sect and family. “Fuck you, Wei Wuxian. Fine. As long as Uncle never has to know.” 

Wei Wuxian, whose form had solidified back into something human… human-ish—still too pale, eyes too red—turned to Lan Wangji. 

“Lan Zhan,” he murmured, and Jin Ling watched as Hanguang-Jun cast a very advanced spell, sending out a pulse of spiritual energy that Jin Ling didn’t even feel. 

“Jiang Wanyin is approaching,” was the sombre report, and Jin Ling felt his dread grow until Hanguang-Jun added, “But will not arrive for half an hour. We have time. I will keep watch.” —and was that fucking amusement in his voice? Jin Ling refused to believe it, narrowing his eyes. No way. 

Annoyingly, Wei Wuxian also seemed to sag with the same relief Jin Ling felt, and he grimaced at the thought of sharing any sentiment with that man.

“Alright, alright,” the killer of Jin Ling’s parents said, “Lan Zhan, thank you. Jin Ling, can you… take my hand? I’ll pull us into the memory.” 

Jin Ling stepped forward, a fierce scowl on his face.

“I can't believe I'm doing this. If you fucking kill me,” he hisses, “Uncle will eviscerate you. At least that will be amusing.” 

For once, those red eyes met Jin Ling’s and looked almost as nervous as he felt. “Of that, I have no doubt,” was the sad laugh. “He’s done it once before, I think. You will be unharmed—ghosts can’t lie, remember?” 

Well, Jin Ling thought, reaching for that bone-pale hand, tipped with fucking claws. There is that.  

The world faded away into black. 

-- -- -- 

The world faded back in with the sounds of battle, cries of pain and the slashing of swords filling the air. A wet thunk fell on his left, and Jin Ling nearly screamed again before a strong arm gripped him and pulled him into the confines of dark, soft robes. 

“This is when the cultivators attacked me… oh, fuck. I don’t remember which time,” came Wei Wuxian’s voice, sounding detached. An echo followed his words, not unlike the stage-effects for Yao and Immortals at Yunmeng’s Theatre. “Jin Ling, if it is too much, I’ll pull you out.” 

“I’ll be fucking fine,” Jin Ling grumbled, wrestling himself out of that embrace. And… it was horrible, sure, but they’re Cultivators. He’d seen people die a lot. It was… It was fine, he’d make it fine. Maybe he’d let Wei Wuxian keep holding him, though—the other man sure looked like he needed it. 

Then the sound of a flute trill resounded on the battlefield, beautiful and haunting amidst this martial carnage.

Jin Ling looked up to see a figure, dressed in his iconic black and red, long hair flaring with the spectral wind that swirled around his form, crackling with red lightning. A crimson ribbon was the only thing holding it from his face, and his pale, bandaged hands held out a wicked-looking amulet that floated with resentment so deep Jin Ling felt like running away from here. 

“Ah, that would be me,” Wei Wuxian murmured. He sounded sheepish. Jin ling turned from that vicious figure to this… well, now he couldn’t call him vicious, he just looked kinda… dull. Unnatural, but stable. 

“What the fuck happened?” Jin Ling found himself asking, glancing from the wide-brimmed hat to the braid, to the red eyes and bone-shard skin. “You look human up there.” 

The smile he received was wry, hiding sadness. “The consequences of my own actions finally caught up to me.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Jin Ling said, giving him a once-over, then turned back to the figure they were watching. “Somehow you look even worse there.” 

“I don’t think I was quite sane, there,” Wei Wuxian murmured, and Jin Ling found his presence behind him comforting. This younger version of that man… truly did look unhinged. 

But maybe not out of control, Jin Ling noted, taking in the battlefield. The Corpses weren’t killing any cultivators, they were only knocking them down. Jin Ling pursed his lips, looking to see if his mother was there, but not yet. 

“Uncle says mother died at the Pledge Conference,” Jin Ling said, looking back. “That you killed her because you refused to give up the Stygian Tiger Seal.” 

At this, Wei Wuxian made a face. “No, It was… It was accidental. You’ll see. The thing about the Stygian Tiger Amulet,” he began, voice taking on a grave tone, “Is that to practice Demonic Cultivation, you can’t use spiritual energy. One or the other, not both. It is a sacrifice. Think, Jin Ling—what would have happened if I gave up the amulet to those who could not control it? To those whom amulet would have no issue taking over?” 

“It can do that?” Jin Ling asked, voice shaking. He felt unable to look away, seeing that dreaded thing shake and scream, and how the Wei Wuxian of the past had his face clenched with pain. “That’s fucking terrifying.” 

“Mm,” Wei Wuxian said, his grip on Jin Ling tightening. Jin Ling looked up then, confused, only to find the Yilling Laozu staring, fixated, at the stairs. Jin Ling followed that sad, red gaze and saw a figure in a periwinkle hanfu, her eyes wide with fright— No, Jin Ling realized, not fright, worry. 

“Is that my mom?” He asked, but looking at Wei Wuxian’s face, he knew. No reply came, the Yilling Laozu looked utterly haunted by this visual. Jin Ling scowled and continued to watch, unwilling to look away again. He drank the memory in, greedy and desperate.

His mom, Jiang Yanli, ran onto the field yelling for “A-Xian,” who was… undoubtedly Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian, hearing, had wrestled the amulet into quieting, hand bleeding from the effort, and floated down to her. And —oh, was that uncle? Jin Ling thought, seeing a purple-clad figure standing at Wei Wuxian’s side, He looks so young. They all look so young, what the hell. Are they my age?

The three figures had a heated discussion as the Yiling Laozu and Sandu Shengshou kept the other cultivators at bay, both with ghouls and Zidian. They’re telling my mom to leave, Jin Ling realized, Both of them. That it’s dangerous. 

Uncle said something then, “You’re scaring A-Jie!” to Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian seemed shocked enough to turn to look at him. The aura of red, crackling resentment that had formed around them in a protective dome fizzled into nothing. All Jin Ling could see then was no monster, but a tired man, littered with injuries. 

And then, with mounting horror, he saw a cultivator lunge at Wei Wuxian, sword blazing with white spiritual fire, and he was about to scream a warning himself when— when his mother stepped into the blow. “Mom!” 

“Shijie!” 

“A-Jie!” 

Twin cries of horror echoed Jin Ling’s call. Wei Wuxian’s grip on his shoulder was so hard it nearly hurt, but Jin Ling didn’t care. His own hand was clenched in those dark robes, tears welling up in his eyes. 

His mother fell, graceful even in death, as her brothers caught her body. I was still for all of one breath before the resentful energy spiked, pressure building so much that it hurt, and Wei Wuxian exploded with anger—

And Jin Ling was being pulled back, pulled away. Pulled into a hug, one that he didn’t fight. He just clutched at these dark robes and cried, cried his heart out in a way Uncle wouldn’t allow. Ugly, wretched wails that tore from his chest so fiercely he couldn’t stop them, and as wet drops hit the top of his head, he knew Wei Wuxian was crying too. 

It was a long moment before Jin Ling’s wails trickled into mere hiccups, and he heard Wei Wuxian murmuring to him gently, murmuring that it would be okay. Ashamed, bitter, and angry, he stepped away and wiped his eyes. 

“She sacrificed herself,” He said to Wei Wuxian, voice trembling. “Out of love. Why didn’t uncle tell me the truth?”  

“Your uncle was hurt, same as me. As all of us. Don’t blame him, Jin Ling.” Wei Wuxian looked as wrecked as he felt, but still managed to talk without sobbing. Jin Ling hated him a little, for that, and hated himself for his weakness. 

“Uncle never tells me fucking anything,” he managed to get out, bowing his head to hide his face. He felt ugly. He felt raw. He wanted another goddmn hug. 

And almost, like he could read Jin Ling’s dumb, traitorous thoughts, Wei Wuxian stepped in and gathered him up in a hug. Jin Ling just… stayed. He wasn't sure if he was even allowed to hug back, wasn't sure if Uncle would disown him if he learned of this. 

“The two hardest things to say in this life,” Wei Wuxian began, and a chilled hand stroked Jin Ling’s hair. "Are thank you, and I’m sorry. And to you, dear A-Ling, I need to say I’m sorry.” 

Jin Ling just hid his face, letting the words wash over him. Wei Wuxian’s gentle tone helped the hurt, even if he was a shitty person for everything else.

“And I’m sorry,” The Yilling Laozu murmured, “For all the hyrt I've caused you. I’m sorry that it’s because of me that your mother isn’t here. I'm sorry your father is dead, as well. I'm sorry, brave child, that you had to grow up alone without them. But I promise you, Jin Ling, I never meant to kill either of them.”

Jin Ling considered these words. He considered everything, what Uncle told him, what he’d experienced tonight. It was too much, he needed to think first.

“Emotions fucking suck,” he decided, sniffing and wiping at the last of his tears. “And you’re a really fucking shitty uncle. You’ve got so many years to make up for.” 

Wei Wuxian laughed then, and it only sounded a little bit broken. He looked like it was his turn to start sobbing uncontrollably. Serves him right, Jin Ling thought. 

“Let’s just get out of here.” He grumbled. “I’m over it. Thanks for…” he paused, then nodded, steeling his resolve. His mom was kind, everyone said. His mom hadn’t hated Wei Wuxian. His mom had been loved. Jin Ling wanted to be loved and so, “Thank for showing me.” He’d be more like his mom, maybe. 

“Of course, A-Ling,” Wei Wuxian said again, and Jin Ling figured he’d snap at him for the nickname tomorrow. Not right now. “Anything for my best nephew.” 

As the world faded to black again, and Jin Ling felt himself being tugged back into his body, he turned to glare at that amused figure in red and black and thought, Fuck, I should have punched him for that. 

-- -- -- 

When they returned from Empathy, Wei Wuxian’s first course of action was to check up on Jin Ling. Lan Zhan’s gentle guqin playing filled their little clearing, dissipating the stagnant mist and pulling fresh, clean air into the space.

Jin Ling was alright, just out of it a little longer, unaccustomed to empathy. Wei Wuxian would be unashamed to say that he hovered, worry written in every movement. Jin Ling eventually blinked up at Wei Wuxian, and allowed him to pull him up, his eyes (so much like Shijie’s eyes, enough that it made Wei Wuxian's missing heart heavy with the need to apologize--) held less hate in them. 

“Jin Ling!” He said, deciding on easy cheer. “Are you okay? Back to being yourself?” 

“I’m fine, Shittiest Uncle.” the kid pushed him off, and Wei Wuxian fought the urge to spin in joy. Shittiest Uncle isn’t the best of titles, the thought fondly, but uncle! He sees me as— as family. Or perhaps it's just formality. It's not much, but it's a start. 

He turned to Lan Zhan, so Jin Ling wouldn’t see the open joy on his face, and was given an indulgent smile in return. The nosy ghosts that poked at the edges of his awareness had wandered back in, filling their purified clearing. They seemed content, almost smug. Oh shush you, Wei Wuxian thought, Incorrigible, prideful things. Horrible. I’ve spoiled you all. 

Still, Jin Ling’s soul held less turmoil in it. He felt more settled, more content. It made Wei Wuxian wonder just how much hurt the young man held, and how much more he was at fault for… but for now, for now it was progress. 

“Jiang Wanyin will arrive on the mountain shortly,” Lan Wangji reported, ending the song of Clarity that he was playing. Wei Wuxian nodded, turning to Jin Ling. 

“Where to, A-Ling?” He asked, spinning his bamboo twig. Jin Ling brushed the dirt off his robes and glanced around, then pulled out an Evil-Seeking Compass, checking the needle. 

“There’s… there’s stuff that way.” He said, pointing with Suihua before beginning to walk in that direction. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian followed, silent and alert. 

“We are nearing that graveyard.” Lan Wangi noted. Wei Wuxian was busy linking their arms. 

“The one that the Wen were buried at?” Wei Wuxian asked, more for Jin Ling’s sake than his. “Then we better be careful, who knows what we’ll encounter.” 

As if beckoned, throughout the woods echoed a guttural roar, scaring a flock of crows into the sky. 

All three of them froze, Jin Ling looking spooked. The fog began to cluster again, now that they’d left their miniature rest-stop. It clung to their robes and hair, and ghostly whispers rattled around in Wei Wuxian’s skull. 

“The fuck?” Jin Ling muttered, staring off at the overgrown shapes that dotted the area, standing at an angle, all vaguely humanoid in form. 

“That,” Wei Wuxian said with a grimace, “Would be what happens when a village is killed by a landslide. They’re not even entire corpses, I think... The spirits must have padded what was lost with plants and vines.” 

Stepping forward, Lan Wanji strummed a strong chord on Wangji. The fog was blasted aside from the shockwave, revealing to them a graveyard filled with these overridden, plantlike forms that were inevitably encased corpses. 

Wei Wuxian was fascinated, because the restless dead rarely chose to augment themselves, but Jin Ling was looking a little pale already, so he resolved to gush to Lan Zhan later, when baby ducklings weren’t around. 

Then a thought hit him, and on a hunch, he turned around and found a sizeable stone. Turning the stone over with a sharp wave of resentment, he felt his excitement sink as he realized that this was not, in fact, at any fault of any ingenious zombie. 

“Fuck,” he said. “Nevermind. I’m wrong; This is worse.” 

“What do you mean?” Jin Ling asked, leaning over to see the rock. 

Wei Wuxian tapped the array, careful to only use the bamboo stick. Who knows what his innate resentment would do to something like this? The last thing they needed was this array supercharged. 

“This is part of a larger array,” He explained, “It’s a cornerstone, connecting the other points. Someone set up a Zombie Trap Array on this mountain.” 

“A Zombie Trap Array?” 

“Right so, come here, lemme draw this out.” Wei Wuxian said, kicking away some leaf litter. A soft chord from Wangji cleared him a large space, and Wei Wuxian nodded to Lan Zhan in thanks. He began to doodle as he spoke, clean lines mapping out what had occurred on this mountain. 

“Earlier,” he began, speaking to Jin Ling, for Lan Zhan undoubtedly had come to the same conclusion, “Hanguang-Jun and I noticed that the village was really dilapidated. We spoke to a ghost, a seamstress--she confirmed our suspicions: the Wen settlement had been wiped out by a landslide, orchestrated with talismans that Lanling Jin modified.” 

“However clever that was,” he allowed, because it had been rather ingenious, and he, for a moment, wished to meet the mastermind behind that plan. “It still caused a lot of dead--a lot of angry dead, who would have risen up as zombies had someone not put this into place.” 

He tapped the ground, which depicted a five-point with three concentric circles. “This is a basic Zombie Trap array, which is what I suspect we’re dealing with. Five-pointed as odd numbers lend themselves to resentment better. It’s got three layers: the first of which we encountered at the village, keeping the resentment contained in the large perimeter of this mountain.”

“The second we encountered at the steps leading up to this place, which was responsible for gathering resentment… which would then be sent to this inner circle, and pooled into the center, containing a pit that would keep any unintelligent monsters within this perimeter. Ultimately, the Zombie Trap Array is a tool used to ensnare feral zombies and ghouls, trapping them to a specific region.” 

“And we just walked into this?” Jin Ling asked, tone grim. 

“We’ll be fine, A-Ling,” Wei Wuxian reassured. “It’s lesser cultivators who may have trouble--the pooled resentment in this area can induce hallucination and drive people mad… and it doesn’t matter, human or otherwise: anything can get trapped here.” 

“Oh fuck, that’s why there’s that creepy rumour,” Jin Ling realized, looking around. At their curious gazes, he elaborated, “There’s a rumour that anything who enters this mountain will never leave.” 

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji both gave Jin Ling a look at this.

“So you decided to attempt it alone?” Wei Wuxian asked, “What would have happened if we hadn’t found you?”  

“Shut up, Shittiest Uncle. I’m fine,” he protested, embarrassed, and glanced around instead. “So then, these corpses around the graves are…?” 

“Other cultivators, yes.” Wei Wuxian nodded. “And villagers who’d gone missing from the town.” 

“Right. Yeah. They’re… just corpses,” Jin Ling echoed, paling and stepped closer to the senior cultivators. “Nothing to fear. Nothing to fear…” 

Lan Wangji looked around and said, “I will tell brother to send for all sects to come and retrieve bodies. Must be purified properly.” 

“Probably for the best, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian nodded, then huffed. “Damn, I almost hace the whole picture. The only thing that doesn’t make sense,” he explained, “Is that Zombie Trap Arrays are pretty stable. The levels of resentment would be contained, so why were the watch towers able to detect fluctuations?” 

Hanguang-Jun’s eyes narrowed. “Would only be possible if a spirit stronger than the array broke it.” 

Jin Ling immediately looked at Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian put his hands up in protest.

“Not me!” He said, “Listen, I didn’t even touch it, not with my own finger. Something else must have done this.” 

Just then, that same bellowing roar echoed again, emanating from a shrouded area in front of them. It killed the lightened mood entirely. All of them had come to the same conclusion—it was headed their way. 

“Jin Ling,” Wei Wuxian ordered, red gaze crackling with resentful energy as he charged an attack. “Get behind me. This might be a little above your skill.” 

Jin Ling, for once, did not protest. He was white as a sheet, but still held Suihua steady, and stepped behind Wei Wuxian. 

Something rustled ahead, moving unnaturally fast, and Wei Wuxian sent a barrage of resentful spears at it, all of them missing the creature by a hair. Gritting his teeth, Wei Wuxian began to form resentment into a whip when Lan Zhan stepped in front, strumming the first three chords of the Song of Slowing. 

A large shockwave emanated from about thirty feet in front of them, cracking the earth, and all the debris and corpses that were stirred from the blow moved in half-time, floating eerily. For the breath that the chord lasted, all three of them saw the grinning, grotesque face of a particularly powerful fierce corpse. 

Wei Wuxian darted forth in a flash of red lightning, before the head fell back to the earth. His steps were augmented with crackling crimson as he drew in resentment to charge his actions, grabbing the head with his clawed hand and slamming it into the earth. In the next breath, he slammed his usual array of sealing onto it. 

As the dust that had been unsettled from his strength dispersed, It revealed the Yiling Laozu standing over a dark-haired head, with a strong jaw and horrifying eyes. The head gurgled and groaned, fighting the seal, but the skill of the Patriarch was absolut; the head eventually, obediently, settled in place. 

“I thought corpses were paralyzed here,” Jin Ling said, walking over. He was still nervous, halfway standing behind Hanguang-Jun. “Why’s this one flying around?” 

“Because it’s got too much resentful energy,” Wei Wuxian hummed, poking it with the bamboo stick. “No array is infallible. Here’s what killed those Lan disciples from earlier.” 

Lan Wangji observed the head, then nodded. “The teeth marks fit.” 

Wei Wuxian huffed. “To think we were tracking the ghost hand, too! It led us all the way here, but we found so much more than that. Lan Zhan, quick, do you have a quiankun pouch on hand?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji nodded, kneeling and gathering the zombie head. It rattled at Hanguang-Jun angrily, to which Wei Wuxian leaned over and hissed for it to behave, or he'd eat it. It behaved after that. 

“There’s no soul expel seal on it,” Wei Wuxian explained to Jin Ling. “So it’s not the same person as the zombie hand. Nevertheless, Lan Zhan can show us what happened to this head using Empathy again.” 

The three of them sat in the clearing, once Hanguang-Jun had cleared some of the corpse debris. Wei Wuxian drew a nicer array in the earth and they placed the zombie head within it. The head appeared mollified by this much nicer confinement, which was resentment-based array and not an abrasive, uncomfortable spiritual pouch. It ended up behaving long enough for Lan Wangji to strum Empathy with his guqin without having to slam a second seal upon the churlish spirit. 

Wei Wuxian watched the glowing, fluid bubbles of spiritual energy rise from the earth and head as Lan Zhan played. They swirled in an easy circle, following some unseen, peaceful wind. More and more wisps of this luminous essence seeped from the environment, merging with the swirling globs, condensing and thickening into a proper whirlpool with enough substance to take shape.

Slowly, and charged with the memories and intent of this resentful spirit, Lan Zhan’s spiritual energy formed a more solid form, coalescing into the people the spirit was (or had spoken to) in life.

“Lanling Jin robes…?” Jin Ling murmured, then glanced at Wei Wuxian in confusion. Wei Wuxian merely watched, silent, lips pressed together with unease, as the spiritual energy solidified into a cultivator in golden robes. 

“Wei Wuxian!” The spirit’s arm moved, though his face remained obscured, and pointed at the Yilling Laozu. Wei Wuxian startled, believing the spirit to be speaking to him, then looked behind him. 

Behind him stood his half-insane past self, silver eyes narrowed in a piercing glare. Black curls of shadow and resentment dripped from his form, twisting around in a taunting manner, not at all docile like the resentment was today. 

“Shittiest Uncle,” Jin Ling whispered, watching the scene play out. Oddly, he stepped closer to Wei Wuxian, in the present. “You were really scary back then.” 

“You are but the son of a lowly servant!” The spirit of the Jin cultivator said, and Wei Wuxian watched his past self’s lips curl in an ugly, wicked expression. “You’re much too arrogant! How dare you bite the hand that feeds you!” 

At this, his memory self clenched his hand, and ropes of resentment, thick and black and so unlike his current red, shot from the ground to strangle the Jin cultivator. The cultivator gasped, clutching at his throat and kicking his legs as the memory of the Yiling Laozu walked lazily towards him. Those silver eyes held no feeling but vengeance. 

“I will make you pay for Wen Ning’s death." murmured his memory self, in a tone too saccharine to be anything but dangerous. Almost like he was taking part in some delightful feast, and not murdering a human being. Wei Wuxian, in the present, felt sick. 

Yet he understood where this was. He understood why this had happened. When his memory self’s eyes flickered that insane, crackling red, he stepped aside. 

The spectre of the Jin cultivator shrieked, screaming and scrabbling at his swollen face and skin as the resentment violated his spiritual energy, before the Wei Wuxian of the past stepped back with a shocked look. 

“The Hundred-Holes curse?” He echoed, bewildered, as the Jin cultivator’s robes had fallen aside in his struggle. The resentment faded. “Who did this to you?” 

"You!" The gold-clad cultivator snarled, “If you don’t lift your vile curse, I’ll kill you--” before Wen Ning appeared, slashing at the man, and all three figures dissipated into nothing, leaving Wei Wuxian staring, red eyes wide with uncertainty. 

He merely stood there, slightly swaying, as Lan Wangji’s music came to a close, the final chords of Empathy ringing out. The oppressive resentment faded, returning to the easy atmosphere. The angry spirits, and the whispers, all settled to be at ease as Lan Wangji played. 

“Shittiest Uncle?” It was Jin Ling who spoke, and when Wei Wuxian didn’t stir, he said again, “Hey, Useless Uncle, are... Are you okay?” 

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji echoed, and Wei Wuxian felt his calloused hand touch his own. It helped him, grounded him in the here and now. 

“The Hundred-Holes Curse,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Fuck. Lan Zhan, who was that? I still don’t… I don’t remember much.” 

“Jin Zixun,” Lan Wangji said, displeased. If Lan Zhan didn’t like him, Wei Wuxian thought, Then this Jin Zixun must not be a good man at all. I feel less bad for strangling him now. 

“My uncle?” Jin Ling asked, then turned to Wei Wuxian. “Did you kill him?” 

“Not with the Hundred-Holes Curse,” Wei Wuxian said, thinking. “It involves self-mutilation, to cast. If I was going to kill someone, I would do it with my own hands--the responsibility is something I would not shy from.” 

Jin Ling appeared to believe him. “Uncle doesn’t like this man either,” he explained, when Wei Wuxian raised a brow at his lack of complaint. "I think Uncle still wants to kill him." 

“I did not expect to find him here.” Hanguang-Jun said, sealing the head and the resentful energy back into its quiankun pouch. 

“What do you mean, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked, hands on his hips. 

“13 years ago, following Wei Ying’s death, I attempted to find the corpse.” He turned, golden gaze pinning Wei Wuxian in place with the raw devotion he sensed, both from Lan Zhan’s expression, and his soul. “To prove Wei Ying’s innocence. Yet, the coffin was empty.” 

“Why did you do that?” Wei Wuxian found himself asking, staring dumbly. 

Lan Wangji looked pained, like Wei Wuxian had missed a point. Right, Zhiji, Wei Wuxian realized, and offered Lan Wangji an apologetic smile. Although to anyone watching, he probably just looks like he normally does. When did I get so good at reading him? 

“Wait,” Jin Ling interjected, breaking the silence with his sharp words, and the time-out motion with his hands. “Someone explain to me what the Hundred-Holes Curse is in depth. Uncle says that everyone thinks you,” he pointed to Wei Wuxian, “Cursed Jin Zixun because he really offended you, and you had no reason not to curse him.” 

“The Hundred-Holes Curse,” Wei Wuxian began, “Is an extremely powerful curse that lies dormant at first. You can’t feel its effects until your body becomes covered in painful, round ulcers, all save for your head. In the end, they die from perforated organs.” 

“What the hell,” Jin Ling hissed, stepping back. “What a cruel curse.” 

“To undo the curse,” Wei Wuxian continues, “One must give up their entire cultivation base, or die the same way as the one they cursed. See--it can only be cast by someone who possesses a golden core, to someone who possesses a golden core. It’s very much a curse between cultivators.” 

“And of course,” Wei Wuxian finished, “I couldn’t have been the caster, since I’m not covered in ulcers. I wasn’t when I died, either.” 

Jin Ling pursed his lips, thinking. “This entire thing is so damn suspicious,” he muttered. 

“I was looking for his corpse,” Lan Wangji added, gazing at Wei Wuxian, “To see whether the ulcers on Jin Zixun’s corpse had disappeared or not.” 

“And the coffin is empty,” Jin Ling realized, putting things together. “So you couldn’t prove Wei Wuxian’s innocence?” 

“Mn. Could be interference.” 

“By who, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asked, “People trying to frame me?” 

“Mn.” 

A blink. “Huh.” 

“But who’d want to frame Wei Wuxian?” Jin Ling asked. “Doesn’t the world hate you already? Who'd need to frame you?” 

Wei Wuxian shrugged. “Dunno,” He said, “I’ve honestly forgotten most of the people who hated me.” 

A contemplative silence fell over the group then, each thinking about what this information meant to them. The graveyard was at peace, resentment easing after Lan Wangji had played Empathy. 

All this time, Wei Wuxian thought, staring at Lan Zhan, potentially his only friend in this time, You believed in me. And what did I tell you? To get away. To get lost. You held me, before I died, before I goaded Jiang Cheng into killing me… and now I return, now even human anymore, a monster just like the corpses I control, and you still don’t leave my side. 

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, voice so quiet he knows only Lan Wangji’s enhanced hearing will pick up on the words. “You really are too good to me.” Silk robes rustled as Hanguang-Jun stepped closer to the Yiling Laozu, no words were spoken between them, but the sentiment was understood. 

And then, their easy silence was broken by jagged steps. A shuffling gait, like boots being dragged on the ground. The clink of chains in the mist-filled graveyard. 

All three heads turned in the direction of the noise in unison. Their eyes were sharp and alert. 

“Jin Ling,” Wei Wuxian murmured, and Jin Ling, still shaken from all that has transpired tonight, stepped behind his seniors with no complaint. Tense heartbeats passed as they waited, wondering what kind of monster is to emerge from the fog. 

Slowly, the chain-laden steps neared. The rattle became louder, as did the rustle of grime-covered fabric. Slowly, into their sights, stepped none other than the Ghost General: Wen Ning. 

-- -- --

Chapter Text

The ominous Caw! Caw! of a single, withered crow echoed in the graveyard. The mist seemed to obscure any sense of space, leaving Yiling Laozu, Jin Ling and Lan Wangji in this eerie, liminal corpse-field. Wen Ning’s gaze, vacant and pale, remained trained on them. Chapped lips moved, as if saying something, before Wei Wuxian stepped in front with a frown. 

No time to question just why Wen Ning is still here, he thought grimly, resentful red energy swirling like condensed lightning around his index and pointer fingers. I need to get him out of here, away from Jin Ling! 

“Wen Ning,” he commanded, putting as much energy into the words as he dared, “Get out of here!” 

Purple lightning crackled through the fog, striking the earth right in front of Wei Wuxian. The air hissed, charged with Zidian’s power. 

“I think not.” Jiang Wanyin snarled, descending on his sword, his very image that of a vicious thunder deity. A ruthless glare passed over robes of black, white and gold before Jiang Wanyin spun and whipped that whip, dancing with sharp lightning, at Wen Ning. 

Wen Ning dodged, chains rattling. He skidded a few paces back, turning to face his new foe. He roared, a soundless noise of protest. 

If he’d had a heart, Wei Wuxian knew it’d be hammering against his ribs. He still felt that phantom sensation. He felt the earth and spirits trembling with the charged energy in the air. He needed to stop this. He needed to stop this now, before they supercharged this damn array! 

“Wen Ning!” He called, and whistled sharply, taking control of his friend’s form to send him back, behind himself, Lan Wangji and Jin Ling. His eyes narrow, noting Wen Ning’s clumsy motions, the way he seemed to sway as if he was drunk and unseeing. “This stops now.” 

“How dare you, Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Wanyin snarled, turning to face him. Zidian crackled, causing Wei Wuxian’s own resentment to cluster in defence of the vicious, sparking purple lightning. “I should kill you right now.” 

Wei Wuxian took a breath. It felt far too shallow in his new lungs. “There is a Zombie Trap Array on this mountain,” he said, meeting that angry silver gaze with glowing red. “That will be far too potent if either myself or Wen Ning had to fight, calling any and all monsters to this area. Calm yourself—for Jin Ling’s safety, at least!” 

Jiang Wanyin’s face contorted in an ugly snarl. “How dare you, ” he echoed. “Caring for Jin Ling after you killed his parents.” 

“Uncle!” Jin Ling protested, running to the front. “Uncle, it’s not a lie— the head of a fierce corpse killed Senior Lan Disciples earlier!” 

Jiang Wanyin paused. He turned to Lan Wangji, raising a brow. “Surely the Gusu Lan Sect hasn’t lowered their standards to such a degree.” 

Lan Wangji’s expression was cold. Colder than anything Wei Wuxian had seen since being reborn.

“There is unnatural resentment in the area." He said, tone frigid. "Surely Sect Leader Jiang’s spiritual sense is skilled enough to notice.” 

“The only thing unnatural here,” Jiang Wanyin hissed, crackling Zidian. Wei Wuxian tensed. “Is this demon!” 

He saw the strike coming, fully prepared to weather the full brunt of Zidian’s power. What he didn’t expect, however, as purple and red electricity meshed, was the sensation of being torn apart—

A pained, eldritch scream resonated. Echoes and layers of cries, so much like when the Burial Mounds, still unknowing then, had invaded his mind. 

It took Wei Wuxian a moment to realize that this sound, tearing and clawing and ripping at the resentment around him, was coming from him. 

his sense of self had been forcefully fragmented and twisted. Resentment exploded outwards from his kneeling form, spinning in a circle with the ferocity of a storm. Red lightning dug into the earth and reached upwards, creating an impenetrable barrier, a vengeful cocoon of protection that surround Wei Wuxian as he tried to remember how to be a person again.

“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji sounded so, so scared. Sorry, Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian thought, panting. He grit his teeth, fangs slotting together neatly in a grisly, dangerous grimace. 

“Jiang Cheng,” He glared, looking up. In the next heartbeat, he’d stood up, robes and arms solidifying properly as he did. When he spoke, it was with the knowledge he knew in his soul, but had refused to acknowledge properly until now. “Use your damn brain--I came back made out of resentment! What would happen if someone was to force me out of this human shell now?” 

“You’d die.” Jiang Wanyin replied coldly, stance unbothered. “And Jiang Yanli would finally be able to rest in peace.” 

That… that stung. 

Wei Wuxian flinched, his wraithlike figure turning away. A gaunt, pale face looked aside. I can’t change his mind, he thought, claws digging into his palms so hard that rivulets of black dripped onto the ground. can’t. He’s not wrong. But this needs to be done later, not now. Right now, we’ll blow up this whole array if this continues. 

He stepped forward, head still bowed. But I know how to hit him where it hurts. Enough that maybe, for once, he’ll fucking listen. 

“No, Sect Leader Jiang, I’d gain control over everything on this mountain,” Wei Wuxian murmured codly, gliding over to where Lan Wangji stood on steps that failed to touch the earth properly. “Since I wouldn’t need to use energy to pretend to be human. And then I might really kill you all,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “Because I wouldn’t be sane. Is that what you want, Sandu Shengshou?” 

Wei Wuxian hoped that this didn’t reverse what progress he’d made with Jin Ling. He hoped, but the gold-clad teen was paler right now than he’d been this entire night, brown eyes wide with fear. 

Slowly, recognition came to Jiang Wanyin’s gaze. Horror replaced unrelenting rage. “You’re not alive.” 

“Surprise~” Wei Wuxian spread his hands out. His grin felt brittle; a mask. Inside, he felt like crying. “You should be happy. You always did say that the consequences would catch up to me.” 

Jiang Wanyin’s expression turned pinched. “You didn’t steal someone’s body?” 

“No,” Wei Wuxian said, looking directly at the Jiang Sect Leader.“But someone did try to set that up. Wouldn’t you want to know why, Sect Leader Jiang? You can continue your streak,” he laughed, and it sounded like the crackle of leaves in the fall, like breaking ice, “Of killing me at another time. I’ll let you, even. I need to know if I can be dispersed, and Zidian is probably the best for the job.” 

Lan Wangji’s warning of, “Wei Ying!” Indicated just how much that wouldn’t be happening. Damn. 

Zidian crackled ominously one last time, but Jiang Wanyin took a deep breath and called the whip back. It curled in his hand, like an obedient serpent, before returning to the ring that held it. 

Wei Wuxian took the chance to study his— his former brother, noting that despite the years, Jiang Cheng had still taken after Madame Yu the most. He looked stressed, but he also looked wiser. He had a stronger grasp on the Bai Hu that was his anger, enough to tame it during a crisis. 

And yet… he still held that pain, for over ten years. Just like Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian thought. He glanced back at his partner in white, who was glaring so fiercely that Wei Wuxian was worried it would be Hanguang-Jun who committed a murder tonight. All over little old him. 

He felt like asking: Did no one move on after I died? Really? 

He felt like crying. He felt like some bone hand was squeezing his still, burned heart, and the flakes of ash that covered it were slowly flaking away, allowing it to beat again. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he simply watched Jiang Wanyin, crimson eyes unblinking.

“Fine!” The Jiang Sect Leader bit out, “Jin Ling, come here! I’ll scold you properly when I get home.” He turned to Wei Wuxian, eyes narrowed. “Thirteen years and you only decide to show up now?” 

Wei Wuxain grimaced. “I was here,” he huffed. “Not at the beginning, I don't remeber that, but definitely the last year. Enjoying my ghostly retirement at the burial mounds, helping people move on. I couldn’t leave my corpse, you know. I couldn't hear anyone call—it was a wierd not-death, I couldn't do much of anything.” 

"And now?" 

Wei Wuxian shrugged. He began to pace, spinning the bamboo stick as he recalled Mo Xuanyu’s hesitant recollection. 

“A talented young man,” He began, “Brought me back using a faulty array. After the war, I had to summon Wen Ning’s soul back into his body, remember? And it took many days. So naturally, I tried to make the process easier for the next time it needed to be done. However, I died before completing anything.” He glanced back, slightly amused at how raptly everyone was listening. 

“Who raided the Demon Slaughtering Place once I died, I wonder? I think it must have been the Lanling Jin Sect.” He glanced at Jiang Wanyin, “Because somehow: someone took my papers to Carp Tower. This unfinished array, and my notes about the theory of souls and the transition between this life and the next.” 

“Someone was clever enough to crack my cipher,” He murmured, frowning. “Someone very intelligent. Not Mo Xuanyu, the kid couldn’t read anything I scribbled for him in that key later. Someone far more versed with my personal life, because they translated the notes after decoding them.” 

“It was compiled into a few books, Mo Xuanyu told me,” Wei Wuxian continued, crossing his arms. “That were then distributed to people wanting to be my followers. Luckily for all of them, none of what was in there would have worked—it was all incomplete, and the theory of it all died with me. That’s why any demonic cultivator caught these days is usually a fraud. But… but there was enough, that if anyone had more than a basic understanding, they could… figure some things around.” 

He glanced at Lan Wangji, then, seeking— seeking something, and Lan Wangji gave him the tiniest of nods. It felt like all the encouragement in the world to Wei Wuxian. 

“But, essentially, Mo Xuanyu found one of these books before he was kicked out of Carp Tower and bullied relentlessly. Enough that it pushed him to suicide. Funny that,” Wei Wuxian’s red gaze glinted dangerously, resentment swirling angrily around the bamboo he spun, “The array to return me had been bastardized with suicide being the kind of sacrifice it needed. Mo Xuanyu pieced it together, and cast it to bring my soul into his body.” 

“Luckily for me,” He smiled, tone deceptively light even as thoughts of vengeance coloured his expression, “I had been close enough to... ascension? Becoming corporeal? Something? Listen, I'm still figuring it out, but what A-Yu did merely… sped up the process. So here I am, in the flesh. Or in some mimicry of flesh, I suppose, and Mo Xuanyu was spared.” 

Jiang Wanyin looked like he wanted to murder someone, lips turned down in a displeased frown. Jin Ling was pale, glancing between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Wanyin. Eventually, he spoke up. 

“Uncle,” He added, turning to Jiang Wanyin’s scowling figure. “Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji… protected me tonight. Mostly Wei Wuxian.” 

“Tch,” Jiang Wanyin hissed, turning away from Jin Ling to glare at Wei Wuxian directly. “Someone at Carp Tower, intelligent enough to understand your pitiful handwriting, orchestrated the death of some kid specifically so you would be brought back?” 

Wei Wuxian inclined his head, hiding his smile. I can always count on Jiang Cheng to sniff out corruption.  

“What’s worse,” Jiang Cheng sighed, “Is you likely used the cipher we came up with.”

Wei Wuxian blinked, not expecting that connection. His gaze softened, and he shrugged.

“I left my work for you, A-Cheng,” the Yilling Laozu said sadly, “If anyone would use it responsibly, it would be you.” 

“Fuck.” Jiang Wanyin hissed, turning away sharply, looking at none of them. “Fuck. They’d need to know A-Jie’s favourite flower for that. What the hell, Wei Wuxian!” 

The words were said with anger, as if charged for yet another fight, but the hand sign Jiang Cheng made by his bell was the Yumeng Jiang one for spy. 

Seconds becoming moments, Wei Wuxian cast his resentful energy in a sharp pulse, dark red daggers shooting from their point to the perimeters. It was less than a heartbeat before his shadows found their prey, skewering a nameless spy in pale robes. 

Wei Wuxian stepped to the limp figure, crossing the space in a whirl of shadows. Unfortunately, he was still not quick enough: in their hands, the spy held a self-destruct talisman, primed with blood, and now active. The body disintegrated to ash, still skewered on red, crackling energy. 

“Damn,” Wei Wuxian said, stepping back. He pulled his shadows back in, but kept his senses on high alert for anyone else in the area. 

“Uncle?” Jin Ling asked again, looking genuinely lost. 

“Someone knew we’d be here." Jiang Wanyin explained, eyes narrowed. 

Lan Wangji strummed a few chords on Wangji, but when the others looked at him, he shook his head. “Clear.” 

“Thanks, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian murmured, stepping closer to his Zhiji’s presence. He turned to the Jiang Sect leader. “So, Jiang Cheng, can we postpone my murder until after this mess is solved?” 

Jiang Cheng returned his red gaze with a long, considering one. Then, “What choice do I have? You’re already fucking dead. Jin Ling,” he said, turning to his nephew. “Don’t go back to Carp Tower, not right now. Stay in Yumeng, that’s an order.” 

Jin Ling merely nodded. He glanced around, some colour returning to his complexion now that disaster seemed to be averted. “What do we do with The Ghost General?” 

“Wen Ning was summoned accidentally,” Wei Wuxian admitted. “I thought he was destroyed. That night, with the Dancing Guanyin, I’d just wanted a corpse of some kind.” 

“We were told Wen Ning and his sister had been killed by the Jin Sect.” Jiang Wanyin noted. Zidian crackled, though did not form. “Wei Wuxian, if you keep your dog on a leash, you can keep him.” 

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian protested, “That’s just rude! Wen Ning is no dog. Although,” he turned to his friend, who’d stayed there, silent and swaying, this entire time. “I think… the Jin may have damaged him. Wen Ning, can you say something?” 

Wen Ning just stared vacantly, awaiting orders. Not a single noise came from those undead lips. Wei Wuxian frowned, worried. I sincerely hope we can fix him. No, I will fix him; Wen Ning must be restored.  

To the others, he said, “I need to look at him properly, later. Jiang Cheng, did you hear about the demonic hand?”

“Mhm. You’re tracking it?” 

“Hanguang-Jun and I,” Wei Wuxian clarified. “Finding Jin Ling was entirely by accident.” 

"Hmm. I thought so." Jiang Wanyin glanced at his nephew, almost amused under that dissapointed raised brow. "Jin Ling should be at Lotus Pier, resting.”

Jin Ling merely scowled in response, exposed.  

“Well,” the Yilling Laozu grinned, turning to where he could sense a deeper coalescence of resentful energy. “Shall we?” 

-- -- --

They had been investigating the corpse-forms and littered bones individually for about ten minutes when Lan Wangji’s spiritual energy signature spiked suddenly, intentionally, calling everyone to his location. 

When Wei Wuxian arrived, Lan Wangji was bent over the fallen form of what appeared to be a cultivator. His robes, despite having been crouching amidst bones and plant-infested corpses, were as pristine as ever. Wei Wuxian huffed. 

Lan Wangji merely met all of their curious looks with his calm golden eyes, before he moved the sleeve of the cultivator aside, to reveal--

“A seam?” Wei Wuxian asked, also crouching. He studied the stitches, then muttered, “This is amateur work.” 

“Like you’re the expert?” Jiang Wanyin snorted. “Hmm. Actually, a senior disciple brought back something similar the other day. There was no ghost attached.” 

“Seams can be found on many recent corpses.” Lan Wangji agreed, rising gracefully. “Many on this mountain.” 

Jin Ling, observing his seniors, made a face. “But why cut up all the corpses, only to sew them back?” 

Lan Wangji pressed his fingers into a mudra, pale blue spiritual fire swirling from his hand to the body. The tendrils were gentle, enveloping the corpse in a respectful, loose cocoon. With the barest furrow of his brow, Lan Wangi released the mudra, his spiritual energy dissipating. 

“Other than the head, the corpses bear no traces of resentment.” He reported. Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian shared a glance out of habit, then looked away far too quickly.

“You checked them all?” Jiang Wanyin asked for them both, looking at Lan Wangji incredulously. 

Lan Wangji inclined his head, and Wei Wuxian swore he saw amusement in those pretty golden eyes. 

Then, Wei Wuxian snapped his fingers, “I get it!” When everyone turned to him, he elaborated.

“Someone split a body with a vicious spirit to release the resentful energy, then stitched the pieces onto normal, ghost-less bodies to diffuse the resentment.” The Yilling Laozu explained as one of his resentful energy tendrils, investigating the corpse for anything else, caused its head to shift, hair falling away to reveal a seal on the back of its head. 

The ensemble observed the rune. Eventually, Lan Wangji admitted, “I have never seen this rune before.” 

“I’ll check Yumeng’s library,” Jiang Wanyin offered. “Jin Ling, do you have paper?” 

“Of course, Uncle.” Jin Ling huffed, pulling out a small notebook and charcoal stick. He jotted down the rune quickly, his motions quick and sure. “Done.” 

“I’ve never seen this either,” Wei Wuxian hummed, tapping the rune with his bamboo twig. “But it does look really similar to an array meant to block out resentful energy. Except, the order of cuts, which affects both the intention and power, has entirely been reversed.” 

“Which means,” he concluded. “That this rune is most likely designed to absorb a large amount of resentful energy in a short period of time.”

Jiang Wanyin’s gaze narrowed. “And the body acts as a conduit, the flesh as fuel to power the seal. Even if this lasted for only a short time, it would be very powerful.” 

Wei Wuxian pressed his fingers to the rune, finding the source cold. “It’s not active. I think you’re right.” 

“Given a few days’ time,” Lan Wangji added, “It would create a vicious zombie from a normal corpse.” 

There was a pause, then. Each attempted to digest this new information, thinking about hypothetical scenarios. Then, looking up sharply, Jin Ling spoke up. 

“Hey, Shittiest-- Wei Wuxian,” he said, wanting to contribute, “Use your creepy powers to find out how long ago this happened. That’s important, right?” 

“That it is,” Wei Wuxian agreed, and prodded the seal with his resentful energy. “Hmm. How odd, it appears that this corpse was tampered with eleven years ago. Someone must have been experimenting with how to gather and suppress resentful energy in this area.” 

“Huaicang Hill,” Lan Wangji stated, using the newly ordained name for this location, “Is not only remote, but resentment is concealed by the Zombie Trap Array.” 

Something in his tone seemed bitter about such names erasing the region's bloody history. Truly, it was a sprawling mass of foothills with several smaller mountains, but the Dafan Wen name had dissipated with time—or so it seemed. Wei Wuxian was content to call it as it always had been. 

“So it’s invisible,” Wei Wuxian concluded, lips pursed. “If following where the demonic hand pointed hadn’t led us here, this place would still be a secret.” 

“Jin Zixun’s head?” Jiang Wanyin asked, raising a brow. Lan Wangji held up the quiankun pouch in explanation, and the purple-clad Sect Leader made a face. “Ugh.” 

“It’s odd though,” Wei Wuxian continued, “Because that feral zombie head could move as it pleased around the Zombie Trap Array. Someone else would’ve come and investigated if it had been here all those years, which makes me think…” 

“This head arrived only two days ago.” Lan Wangji realized, glancing over to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian grinned. 

“Exactly, Lan Zhan! It’s also, coincidentally, the same day you brought the Demonic Hand to the Cloud Recesses… and only a day after I was resurrected.” He laughed, lifting the brim of his hat. “How interesting~ Someone must have planned this out with a lot of effort.” 

Jiang Wanyin huffed. “Probably the same person who meddled with your work.” 

“Mhmm. They’re making me do all the hard work, aren’t they?” Wei Wuxian murmured, then grinned, dangerous and delighted. “What could they possibly want me to find out for them, I wonder?” 

-- -- --

After returning to the decrepit village for the night, Wei Wuxian had given the juniors the seal and sent them off to figure out the rune on their own, as homework. Mo Xuanyu, with such a clever mind, had come to the same conclusions as his seniors had, hesitantly reporting his findings to Wei Wuxian. 

Wei Wuxian had praised him accordingly, maybe even excessively--as he deserved, of course, before ushering him over to Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui. To Mo Xuanyu, the Yilling Laozu gave the task of simple conversation with ghosts using resentful energy, and only with backup. They were to, first, identify the seal, and second, use the help of lingering helpful ghosts to identify and gather any bodies with that seal on them. 

In the evening, Lan Wangji would supervise a group purification, sending those spirits off. For now, though, the Juniors disciples had their task. Jiang Wanyin, never one to give up a good opportunity, had sent Jin Ling off with them, with instructions to use the Yumeng Jiang library’s resources as well, and assist as needed. 

Then, with their wards sufficiently occupied, the adults could get on with the more dangerous task of the day: breaching the Zombie Trap Array. 

-- -- --

“Before we send any cultivators to the area to collect the bodies,” Wei Wuxian explained as they walked to the centerpoint of the array. “We need to bring this down. They’ll go insane, and then more bodies will be added to this mass grave of a hill.” 

“Hanguang-Jun and I can manage,” Jiang Wanyin said, raising a brow. “Won’t you just make it stronger?” 

“Ah, but while you’re dismantling this mess,” Wei Wuxian had grinned, letting the Jiang Sect Leader’s glare slide past easily, “Someone ought to keep the resentment from exploding with backlash. Besides, I have this to put it into.” He held up the Beast Core. 

“And what,” Jiang Wanyin’s eyes narrowed. “Are you planning to do with that?” 

Wei Wuxian batted his lashes, mirth glimmering in his crimson gaze. “Well,” he said, far too cheerful. “There might come a situation wherein I require… an explosion of very condensed, very potent resentment. All it would take is breaking this, once it’s charged enough.” 

Both Jiang Wanyin and Lan Wangji turned to him then, incredulous. Jiang Wanyin even seemed impressed. 

“Your mind still fucking scares me.” Jiang Wanyin said flatly, and Lan Wangji stepped closer to him, protective. Wei Wuxian merely grinned, all too pleased. 

Which brought them to now: three immensely powerful cultivators, standing in front of the core of an array that was over thirteen years strong. Lan Wangji’s cultivation base alone would not be enough to tackle an array of this strength, but with him were the other two most powerful cultivators of their generation. 

Wei Wuxian let loose with a grin, resentment crackling and invading the stones that acted as cornerstones. As the rune-etched stones rose into the air, resentment swirling in noxious waves,  Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin mirrored each other in a paired sword form, blue and purple spiritual energy racing around the perimeter, then the middle, then around the centre. 

A Yang seal shimmered into the air above them, six-pointed with a blooming white rose in the centre. Behind it, formed another one with twelve points, and then behind that formed another seal with twenty-four points; it was, overall, a tiered seal, meant to purify and contain any resentment on this hill permanently. 

As the seal came down, Wei Wuxian raised his hand and closed his fist, the stones shattering under the pressure. He clapped his hands together, robes swirling from the gust that lashed at them as all the gathered resentment truly broke free, and willed it all to condense into the Beast Core he’d placed at the centre of the broken Zombie Trap Array. 

It was difficult, both aspects: A tiered sixth-element seal meant to contain over a decade of resentment was something only Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji would have been able to manage without exhaustion, and Wei Wuxian was responsible, in this crucial moment, for every ounce of resentment on this hill. The entirety of these sprawling foothills, on the other hand, would require years of work. 

The earth cracked and shattered at places from the pressure of warring spiritual and resentful energy, but all three cultivators remained unbothered, expressions firm despite the turmoil, rising into the air to continue their work. 

Whistling sharply, Wei Wuxian wrangled the resentment into a tight whirlwind, swirling it into the Beast Core. It was slow going, and he had to drop any guise of appearing human for flickering moments in between, but it worked. 

The seal above them came down, slowly and surely. As it did, fresh growth adorned the tree leaves, miasma leeched from the trunks, then the shrubbery regained life. Finally, Wei Wuxian dashed forth in a crackle of red lightning to pick up his Beast Core, just seconds before the seal finally sank into the earth and settled. 

Feeling faint, and slightly high from the rush of power, Wei Wuxian merely stared for several long breaths. Everyone was tense, waiting to see if the seal would hold. 

Then the spiritual energy imbued in the seal pulsed, pale lilac, in a wave that chased out any lingering resentment, and all was well. 

-- -- --

Later, after the Gusu Lan Sect’s sent disciples had collected the bodies of both lost cultivators and lost villagers on the hill, a Senior Disciple turned to Hanguang-Jun and bowed. 

“Hanguang-Jun,” he said, “All the corpses have been gathered and purified. There was no corpse found bearing the Hundred Holes Curse, or any with the Spirit Expulsion Seal found on the demonic hand.” 

“Return the bodies to their respectful Sects.” Lan Wangji replied. 

“Of course.” The disciple bowed again, then darted off, calling out their new directive. 

Wei Wuxian, leaning nonchalantly against a tree and enjoying the shade, shared a glance with Jiang Wanyin, who was standing beside him. Then he turned to Lan Wangji, who was approaching them. 

“No luck, Lan Zhan?” he asked, rising to stand properly. Lan Wangji shook his head. 

“No one said it would be easy, Idiot.” Jiang Wanyin pointed out, but Wei Wuxian could see that he looked troubled as well. 

“Too bad all their souls were severely damaged from the passage of time,” Wei Wuxian mused, “No one had enough substance for Inquiry. There wasn’t enough anything for me to talk to them, either.” 

“But if there’s nothing to be found,” Jiang Wanyin pointed out, glancing at the company he’d rather not keep. “Then why would someone go to such lengths to drag you out here, Wei Wuxian?” 

Just then, Wei Wuxian felt the tug of something on his robes. Turning, he met the eyes of a little girl, clutching a paper windmill toy in her hands. He knelt, surprised, but only because she had the strength to manifest. 

See, seeing a child at such a place would have been worrying, if the child wasn’t already dead. Wei Wuxian adopted an easy smile, hoping to reassure her, and help ease that frown that marred her adorable, pale face. 

Ignoring Jiang Wanyin’s muttered what the hell? Behind him, Wei Wuxian addressed the ghostly girl.

“Hey there!" He said lightly, "What can I do for you, little duckling?” 

She looked surprised, but then shyly said, “Miss Shi sent me. Said to show you.” 

Wei Wuxian was surprised to hear that Shi Wanxue was still around, having thought her spirit would have moved on by then. Nevertheless, this would be important. He ignored the questioning looks of his companions as he gave this little spirit his full attention. 

After all, it was his… duty, of sorts. It had been what he’d done at the Burial Mounds; it would be what he’d return to once people didn’t want him around anymore. His penance. 

Not that I mind, he realized, It’s… it’s not like I was ever bored, and I did enjoy helping people move on. It felt right.  

“Show me what?” The Yilling Laozu said to the ghost girl, voice kind. “Or, hmm, do you want to just take me there? And I’ll help you—” he touched her brow, casting a quick Empathy, and sadly realized that she and her parents had all died t the hands of the Jin, thirteen years ago. “I’ll help you see your parents again. How about that?” 

She nodded, pleased, and took his offered hand. Her touch was so gentle, almost like he could imagine A-Yuan holding his hand, if only she wasn’t the chilled cold of a ghost. She seemed to solidify as they walked, drawing strength from him. 

“Someone needs help,” She said, clutching her paper fan as she led him through the trees. Her speech was slow, like it was difficult for her. “Keeps stealing my fans.” 

“Your fans, hmm?” Wei Wuxian murmured, looking around. He saw what the ghost girl meant -- there was a woman, stumbling around like she was mad, eyes unseeing. In her hand were paper fans. “Ah, I see. I’ll help her. Thank you, little one.” 

The ghost girl stared at him, almost like she could see through him. “Okay. Thanks, ghost-gege. Can I see baba and mama now? I miss them.” 

“Of course,” he said, and he knelt beside her and opened his arms, pulling her into a hug. “Can you let go? It’s a little like flying. Imagine everything floating away.” 

She frowned as he touched her brow, beginning to drain her of any resentment. There was only the fear and anger of a lost child. Eventually, she made an excited noise. Wei Wuxian could see that her feet were beginning to disappear. 

“They're waiting for me,” She whispered, awed. “They’re at the end of a bridge.” 

“Go to them,” he encouraged, stroking her fading hair. “That’s the bridge of rebirth, little duckling. You’ll be happy once you cross it.” 

Before she vanished, she hugged him again. “Thanks, ghost-gege.” 

The luminous essence of her spirit swirled upwards then, eager to reach the next life. Wei Wuxian watched it disappear from even his ghost-sense, truly gone from this word, and moved the resentment within that little ghost into the store he held in the Beast Core. 

“Sorry,” He said, turning to Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin with a shrug. “Sometimes they need a little… a little push to let go.” 

Jiang Wanyin had a complicated, sour expression. Lan Zhan looked serene, almost proud. Wei Wuxian felt fondness well up in his heart, and he stepped closer to his zhiji with a grin. 

“Did you see that woman?” He asked, looking behind the other men. "The human woman. ghost girl mentioned her, that she needed help. I could sense the resentment was driving her insane." 

“Seen and dealt with.” Jiang Wanyin huffed. “She’s passed out. Lan Wangji called a disciple to drag her back to the main camp.” 

“Huh.” Wei Wuxian blinked, feeling like he’d missed something. “How long was I talking to the ghost for, again?” 

“...Wei Ying was occupied for half an hour.” Lan Wangji said, and Wei Wuxian could sense the faintest hint of exasperation. It certainly helped his own worry. 

“That long?” He gasped, ignoring the fact that he really couldn't tell when he lost time like this, “Aiyah, Lan Zhan. I didn’t realize.” 

“Wei Ying was occupied.” Lan Wangji agreed, but his eyes were soft. Reassuring. He then turned to Jiang Wanyin, expression changing to one that was very carefully blank. Wei Wuxian suspected the two… might be feuding. In the most polite of ways, of course. Impeccably courteous, but also… icy cold. Oh well. 

“Wei Wuxian, stop acting stupid. She was drawn to this… grave?” Jiang Wanyin explained, after giving Lan Wangji an equally sour look. “Come here and take a look at this bullshit.” 

He led them back in the direction they’d come, to a part of the earth that was raised and cracked. Kneeling beside it, Wei Wuxian could see a corpse. A corpse with an oddly unique frost mark on its neck. 

“This scar is…” he murmured, touching the stitched-up gash beside the suspicious mark. 

“A frost-flower sword cut.” Lan Wangji explained. “Has Wei Ying heard the name Xiao Xingchen?” 

Wei Wuxian looked up, thinking. “No. Not that I can remember.” 

Jiang Wanyin huffed. “Idiot. You’ve really got a memory like a fish. He was a master cultivator. Twelve years ago, he left Baoshan Sanren’s mountain and rose to fame with his sword, Shuanghua.” 

“Baoshan Sanren?” Wei Wuxian parroted, eyes wide. That was a real place? 

“Yeah.” Jiang Wanyin gave him an odd look. “You took me there, remember? Anyways, Xiao Xingchen was rumoured to be one of her students.” 

“Right, of course. It’s just surprising.” Wei Wuxian shrugged. He hid the ball of panic down under his icy ribs. The last thing he needed was an actual angry immortal revealing his lies to Jiang Cheng. 

Lan Wangi gestured to the body, calling back their attention. “Frost Falling Sword, an attack, leaves frost-flower marks.” 

Taking this all in, Wei Wuxian studied the corpse. This felt important, he realized. There was a sharp… increase in the presence of the Burial Mounds, moreso than the usual, placid energy that loved to observe what Wei Wuxian did on a daily basis. 

It was said in the cawing of a crow, the feeling of resentment tugging at his heart, but Wei Wuxian still understood: Xiao Xingchen is important. 

But how, he thought, Did the student of an immortal not purify the Zombie Trap Array? If this was twelve years ago, then it would have been far weaker. I guess this just confirms what Lan Zhan said, about the bodies and Jin Zixun’s head being a recent thing. 

He set the ghost girl’s pinwheel on the grave, along with all the others. Just what happened to Xiao Xingchen, I wonder? 

-- -- --

Chapter Text

Purifying Dafan Mountain was a tiresome ordeal, but with the reinforced sixth-element seal in place, the rest of the work could be left to cultivators of more mediocre ability. Which is how, ironically, Wei Wuxian found himself seeking out Jiang Cheng. 

Not one of my best ideas, The Yilling Patriarch thought, carefully stepping through the rows of corpses yet to be buried. But not my worst, either. Jiang Cheng will be able to do more on his end than I can. 

Pausing momentarily, he bent down to adjust one of the talismans. A simple one, but a useful one---an aid in keeping the rotten corpse-smell subdued to within the skeleton. Not that any of these were fresh, but it was procedure all the same. A lot of the cultivation that went on beyond dazzlingly terrifying night hunts was procedure; purify and suppress spirits, clean corpses, identify them, locate families, help in the burial and grieving process. Who else was there to do it, but them? Especially when living resentment was such a dangerous and volatile thing to the everyday man. 

After fixing the hastily written talisman with a smidge of his own blood, Wei Wuxian stood to continue his search. He spotted Jiang Wanyin’s sharp silhouette atop a slight hill, observing the proceedings. 

“Jiang Cheng!” He called, jogging up. He got merely a glance in return. 

“Where’s your other half, you menace?” His former brother asked, icy. 

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian said, looking back, “Packing our things. A task I’m not allowed to touch.” 

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “Of course he is. You never change.” 

Wei Wuxian turned back, smile dimming. “I would argue, Jiang Cheng, that I’ve changed both far too much and far too little. But hopefully, it is enough to prevent the calamity I fear may befall us.” 

The Jiang Sect Leader’s gaze sharpened. “What do you know?” 

“It’s just a theory for now.” Wei Wuxian explained, “Because someone planted that hand, most definitely. Which means someone wants me to put this together, which means there is at least one chess master on the board who is not myself. And while I would love to adhere to your wish of never seeing me again---” 

“Shut up, you utter imbecile!” Jiang Cheng snapped. “Did I say that?”

“---and while It would be a great relief to us all if I remained--” 

“WEI WUXIAN! Did I say that?” 

“I… is it not implied? With the whole wanting me dead?” 

“I wanted you to die so you would suffer!” the other admitted. “You left, and then Shijie died beause of you, and then you had to fucking die yourself! But what now, huh? You’re undead, and you yourself confirmed that nothing would happen if I stabbed you through. What am I supposed to do now, you demon? Since your mistakes killed our entire family, it’s fitting that you exist in a mockery of both life and death!”

A pause, a deep breath. Silver eyes softened, marginally. “So fuck that! You got your penance. I don’t fucking care about that anymore. You’re here anyways, right? I’m not making it easier for you to annoy me, you asshole. The only issue is that all my anger has nowhere to go.” 

“But I can’t fucking send it at you,” he concluded, with a pointed look. “Because it’d ruin this second chance for both of us. And you’ll just smile through the beating, you fucking self sacrificing bastard. So what should I do, huh?” 

Wei Wuxian stared, flabbergasted. “That-- That is-- Jiang Cheng, your anger is your strength, I have never seen you--” 

His words lost, the great Yiling Laozu merely stared. 

Jiang Cheng scoffed again, lip curling. “God, you moron! It has been thirteen years! Why are you like this--? We already had our argument! I don't care anymore! Do you think I have the emotional capacity of a rock?” 

Not wanting to admit that he had expected exactly that, Wei Wuxian kept his lips tightly shut. 

With a snarl, Sandu Shengshou began to pace.“Thirteen years, Wei Wuxian! I have been angry for most of that. But now it is exhausting, frankly. Didn’t you have some kid at the Burial Mounds? Don’t you know that it’s fucking hard to raise a child with that mentality?” he asked the air, lips twitching upwards. “They’ll make you angry every minute. Every. Fucking. Minute!” 

“First Shidi beat it into me that yelling at a baby would only make them turn out like me, and that is the last thing I want. Dealing with you seems like a blessing after that--at least you’re intelligent, even if you only listen half the time. Or less.” 

Wei Wuxian felt tears prick his eyes, though he blinked them away. Even know, he could read within those insult-guarded words and discern the true message meant for him--although, surely, the insults were also meant for him. 

“Ah, A-Cheng,” he said, “You always gave up anything for family. It is not,” he ventured, tentative, “A bad thing that Jin Ling may turn out like you.” Jin Ling was safe; a topic they could both agree on. The unexpected sincerity had left Wei Wuxian reeling. 

After a moment of staring, taking pity on him, Jiang Wanyin sighed. “I can read you far too easily these days. You’re so damn young, and that’s the face you make when you’re about to cry. It’s fine. You’re an idiot, a potential fucking death god, but you still belong to the Jiang Clan. Now stop making it a scene. I’ve said what I needed to.” 

A blank, red stare. “W… what…?” 

Jiang Cheng shook him, looking genuinely concerned. “Fuck, what is wrong with you? Did you think I’d actually take your name off the roster, after everything? I started to regret saying that shit literally the night of, and then First Shidi and Yinzhu called me stupid in every way but name. And then I had to go back and fix it, in front of everyone’s disappointed fucking gazes.” A pause, eyes narrowing, “Wait, you did? What the fuck, Wei Wuxian! Do you even know me?”  

It takes Wei Wuxian precious moments before he can speak again. “I… those last few months--no, that entire last year, I remember so little. I think, whatever I think of you, it may be out of date.” 

“Oh, “Out of date,” he says,” Jiang Cheng huffed, “Thirteen years later. No shit, shidi. Fine, you’re forgiven for being stupid. It’s chronic, clearly. And I’m not that fucking stupid, to be the same person who--” Choked up, he forces out, “Who tossed you off the cliff.” 

“A-Cheng, no,” Wei Wuxian was quick to protest, “No, I wanted to go. It was the only way, Jiang Cheng. I had to die.” 

Sniffling, and taking a moment to wipe his face, Jiang Cheng’s furious expression turned to him. “What do you mean, the only way?” 

“The Stygian Tiger Amulet,” Wei Wuxian explained. “I could only control it because at that point, I was half resentment myself. Those wounds never healed properly, Jiang Cheng; resentment just… padded the cracks,” Ignoring the growing horror in silver eyes, Wei Wuxian continued, “So honestly, how I didn’t predict my current state when alive is ridiculous to me. I should have know. The issue, however, is that the seal is far too powerful to be controlled using yang energy; it must be resentful energy. It’ll burn through your veins right to your golden core, and extinguish that too. And then, well, the resentment would have yet another corpse to embody.” 

“You were the only tether.” Eyes wide, Jiang Wanyin let go of his shoulder. Wei Wuxian didn’t even remember when he’d been touched. 

“I was the only tether,” he confirmed. “I had to die for the amulet to go dormant. If the other clans had gotten it--” 

“Fuck!” The word is  hissed, horrified. Wei Wuxian knows Jiang Cheng understood the implications. Had Jin Guanghsan attempted to use it-- “Fuck, it would be worse than what the Wen did.” 

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian sighed. “I had such a horrible ending, really. But it destroyed the amulet, and it was nicer than being eaten alive. Jiang Cheng, I’ve never held you responsible.” 

“And then even in death, you saved us all.” Jiang Cheng said, barely whispered. 

“Ah, I have to live up to your standards, somehow,” Wei Wuxian joked. 

“Don’t be obtuse, I’ll never be able to match that,” Jiang Cheng said, looking aside.

Wei Wuxian reached for him. “A-Cheng, you already have! You survived what none of us could, you rebuilt the entire Jiang Clan. I did what I could in a day; you did this over an entire lifetime. And now, you’ve spared my life.” 

“Fuck,” it’s hissed again, and Jiang Cheng is looking down, hair obscuring his face. “God, you asshole. If I say I want my brother back, can we never, fucking never, talk of this again?” 

“I--” momentarily stunned, Wei Wuxian blinked. “I-- Yes, of course. Jiang Cheng, do you--” 

“Yes, I mean it. You’re so fucking stupid, you derailed this entire conversation into feelings. How fucking dare you,” he said as Wei Wuxian pulled him into a hug. The Jiang Sect Leader gave the Yilling Patriarch a rough few pats before stepping back. His voice was still raw with unshed tears. “Alright stop it, moron. What were you actually going to talk about?” 

Wei Wuxian didn’t call him out on it. “The demonic hand,” he began. “Well, that and to warn you about the true danger of the Stygian Tiger Amulet, but you know that now.” 

“Well, go on! I don’t have all day.” 

“Right, right,” Wei Wuxian nodded, “Lan Zhan and I were thinking of investigating other places like Dafan Mountain that hold a lot of resentment. Perhaps we can find the rest of the body and solve the mystery that way, especially since the hand itself seems eager to seek out the richest resentment it can find.” 

“It’s creepy how that stuff is borderline sentient,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, grimacing. “Right. What if the location is sealed up? Or there’s something like a Zombie Trap Array masking the resentment? Your compasses cannot see past those.” 

“Not yet,” Wei Wuxian amended. “I’ll send you the new design the moment I make a prototype, but I noticed that if you look at the health of the foliage and fauna around, even when masked, you can still find traces of resentment.” 

Hand on his chin, Jiang Wanyin wondered aloud: “Rotten leaves, dead leaves that have turned ink black. Soil with the texture of charcoal and whatnot. That could work, but how will you even make a talisman to see that?” 

Wei Wuxian scratched his cheek. “I am… still working on that.” 

An eyeroll. “Of course you are.” 

“In the meantime though, I should be able to sense it if I’m close enough. Lan Zhan and I were going to do a circle around each clan’s territory now that there’s no reason to keep my identity hidden--like you said, I unfortunately look the same.” 

“You look like an old man with that hat. And your hair isn’t even in a respectable ponytail.” 

Wei Wuxian grinned, wry. “But I’m not a respectable man, am I? And the hat might be… needed. I went out this morning and already my hands hurt from the sunburn.” 

“What the hell. That never occurred when you were alive.” 

“I had a Golden Core to heal it up,” he pointed out. “Or, well, perhaps my skin really is paper these days. Heh, paperman Yiling Patriarch~” 

“Ugh,” Jiang Wanyin pushed him away. “Alright, so you’re doing that. Other than investigating that odd seal we found---which you better not fucking forget to do on your side, too. There may be another Rogue demonic cultivator---Why do you need me?” 

Straightening, Wei Wuxian let his smile drop. “A-Cheng,” he said quietly, “What’s the biggest location of death in all of Yunmeng?” 

A moment, and then Jiang Cheng grimaced as well. “Fucking Lotus Pier. Right, I’ll go see if there’s anything lingering. We purified things thoroughly the first time though--you led that. I hardly doubt someone could plant some demonic corpse-piece in there under my watch."

“Yeah, though now I’m beginning to suspect the efficiency of that. By then, after you’d found me, I was already a demonic cultivator. I honestly do not know if I’m purifying things by drawing the resentment into me, or merely dispersing them into natures’ yin energy. It’s not like I can do a true purification these days.” 

“Hence the rock.” Jiang Cheng said flatly. 

“The beast core!” Wei Wuxian corrected. “Yes, that. Exactly why I need that.” 

“Fucking fine,” Jiang Cheng agreed, running a hand over his face. “I’ll go revise your shoddy work from a decade ago. And I need to remind Sixth Shidi to ordre a shift change--this sun isn’t good to work in.” A pause, silver eyes narrowing at Wei Wuxian’s proud, dopey look. “You moron. Stop reminiscing. Don’t you have a meat shield to travel with?” 

“I-- Jiang Cheng! Lan Zhan isn’t a meat shield--” Wei Wuxian sputtered as Jiang Wanyin laughed, sharp and triumphant. Rolling red eyes, Wei Wuxian turned away, though his tone was teasing. “Fine, I’ll go find him. I see where I’m not wanted!” 

In hindsight, he really should have foreseen the rock that hit him in the head. 

"That could have killed me!" He protested. It could not, and Wei Wuxian knew that Jiang Cheng knew that.

"Go complain to your meat shield!" 

"Lan Zhan is not—!" 

In response, an even larger rock struck the back of his head.

-- -- -- 

Lan Zhan’s suggestion was they start with the Gusu libraries, since they accepted contributions from all other clans as well. The juniors under their watch (and how Jin Ling managed to weasel out permission to come from his prickly, prickly sect leader, Wei Wuxian had no idea) also needed to return, to do their own reporting and meet with their other teachers.

They had done wonderfully, Wei Wuxian thought, to piece together the story of the town, write a report, and organize a food distribution tent. Other than some prickly attitudes themselves from the menial work--which was no less important than the other work, honestly!--it had gone remarkably smoothly. 

Returning to Gusu was as gorgeous and wondrous as ever. The serene landscape stretched on for miles, and Wei Wuxian felt as safe as if he was on land upon Bichen. Lan Zhan’s steady sword flight allowed him to gaze around, and to close his own eyes to stretch his senses for resentment. 

He let the shadowy spirit fragments that followed him like lost bunnies free, and they darted the north, to the west, to the south, to the east-- and nothing. Nothing on the surface. How peculiar. 

“Lan Zhan,” he murmured, leaning forward to whisper in Lan Wangji’s ear. “I can’t sense anythingggggg.” It was almost a whine. 

Lan Wangji did not mind at all. “Surface is purified monthly.” 

“Wow really? The whole thing?” 

“It is good practice for young cultivators.” At this, he turned to the demonic cultivator. Those usually icy eyes were soft again, and Wei Wuxian drunk up the sight. “Wei Ying should check underground.” 

“Ah, but Lan Zhan, I’d need to be on the ground to do that.” Wei Wuxian pointed out. “I’m in the air right now.” 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed. “So Wei Ying should relax. We can investigate later.” 

“But what will we do, Lan Zhan?” The Yilling Laozu really did whine then, hugging Hanguang-Jun tightly as they descended. “I have a whole afternoon of boredom awaiting me~” 

After landing and disembarking, Lan Wangji asked, almost shy: “If Wei Ying is willing, I wish to ask about Wei Ying’s abilities.” 

Weu Wuxian looked over, expression exasperated. “Aiyah, Lan Zhan. Most people are disgusted. But not you, hmm?” 

“Never.” 

“Well,” Wei Wuxian murmured, reaching for his hand. “I suppose we can, then!” 

-- -- --

Which is what leads to the present, and them sitting in a clearing in the back forests, near the waterfall they had trained at as children. Lan Wangji had, somehow, procured a beautiful flute of rich red oak, lacquered and smooth to the touch. When he had the time to go flute-shopping, Wei Wuxian had no idea, but he marveled at how his Zhiji had found a flute both so much like Chenqing, and also so different. Twirling it felt good, it felt right-- smooth and supple, balanced, and no biting, volatile resentment. It seemed to be soaked in Lan Zhan’s own cultivation. 

And best of all, it was a gift. It was his now, to cherish. Wei Wuxian had precious few of those. 

“Lan Zhan!” he cried, this time with joy. Spinning a flute had never felt so filled with love. “Lan Zhan, it is perfect!” 

“Wei Ying, play with me?” 

And so he did, sitting down eagerly and allowing muscle memory to guide him to the soul of his cultivation--his music. 

Now, it was grounded; it was tethered in love and Lan Zhan’s presence. The resentment was pleased and content, curling like a smug cat in the sun as Wei Wuxian coaxed slumbering shadows awake for a test. 

He let them roam, free and unbound. He let his senses explore, sinking his presence into the earth of Gusu’s mountains, seeking and drawing any lost resentful energy towards him like a deep well. 

And then, with Lan Zhan leading, they played together. It was easy to follow Lan Wangji’s songs, all basic songs like Cleansing or Rest. It was much more joyous of a challenge for Wei Wuxian to add his own spin on things--an accompaniment for cleansing that drew the resentment into a single area, amplifying the effectiveness of a spell. Or a harmony to the Song of Slowing that helped refine the perimeter and range of the spell, picking out individual targets or skipping an entire type of creature entirely. Alone, it was too difficult to make a single melody do too many things, but together, it was almost playful how the two great cultivators explored. 

Of his own abilities, Wei Wuxian knew of his soul-sense, and it had become as mundane as hearing by now. Feeling the content pulse of Lan Zhan’s soul certainly helped with reading the other man, and soothed a lot of the insecurities he was sure would plague his mind otherwise. 

However, he noted that when he was too emotional, he forgot to use it at all. His earlier conversation with Jiang Cheng and then previously with Jin Ling both had him forget this was an ability of his at all. 

His sense of resentment in the area was very heightened, and if he concentrated enough, he could send a… it wasn’t quite a paperman, but a shadow-self to spy on things in a manner similar to that. The only issue, again, was that his true body remained vulnerable. There was something else about this that the spirits following him teased at, but he was left to wonder. 

The Burial Mounds themselves had returned to slumbering, seemingly having expended most of its energy returning Wei Wuxian. He made a mental note to send any souls its way--each “moving on” imbued the area with whatever resentment the soul still held, helping strengthen the grounds. It would need to be replenished; after all, most of that resentment was in Wei Wuxian now. 

So, by the time their afternoon had melted into evening. Wei Wuxian could confirm that he retained all skills from his previous life, plus a few extra. And most importantly, it did not hurt to use resentful energy. Truly, it was a fantastic rebirth… if he ignored his rusty sword skills and the one other issue. 

The one other issue, as Wei Wuxian dubbed it, was that regular sustenance was… lacking. He knew what he needed. Lan Zhan had also deduced what he needed. But Wei Wuxian himself could not find it in him to ask for it. 

He was lucky, then, that Lan Wangji had taken initiative to save his poor stomach. 

“Wei Ying,” his Zhiji said, exasperated. “There is no shame in needing meat. There is no shame in needing blood. Half of all living creatures require the same.” 

“It’s still demonic.” Wei Wuxian, still hiding behind Lan Wangji’s back, retorted. They were nearing the end of this argument. Wei Wuxian was only moments from giving in, and Lan Wangji knew it. 

“It’s still gross,” he continues, petulant. “Ugh, and I bet it tastes foul.” 

“It does not disgust me,” his wonderful, probably delusional Zhiji replied. “It did not disgust the butcher I asked. I received no looks, I received no judgment.” 

“But no one would judge the great Hanguang-Jun! Lan Zhan, you’re just too good!” 

“And this one does not judge you, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji concluded. And then, the final straw, “I have taken the liberty to add spices, for your taste.” 

“... fuck,” Wei Wuxian sighed, defeated. His face hit the silk robe over Lan Wangji’s back. “You’re right, Lan Zhan. I’m starved and it’s starting to hurt. You’re ridiculous. Did you really put chili in this?” 

“Wei Ying prefers spicy food.” Lan Wangji said, unbothered, as if this was some normal, everyday occurrence. 

Wei Wuxian watched, an unidentifiable emotion welling in his chest, as Lan Zhan procured a cup and poured the red liquid as if it was merely tea. Moments later, he did pour tea for himself. 

“Together,” he said, handing Wei Wuxiain his cup. 

“Together,” he agreed, trying not to show the relief he felt seeing that Lan Zhan’s eyes held only love. Whatever he had done to deserve this, he never wanted to know. He’d never take such kindness for granted. 

And as loathe as he was to admit it, it felt right; the tremors that had plagued his exhausted limbs finally stopped, and he finally felt like he wouldn’t be blown over by a stray leaf. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji murmured, gently taking the now empty cup from his hands after Wei Wuxian’s silence. “It is alright. Wei Ying is good.” 

With a sigh that sounded far too close to a sob, Wei Wuxian let himself go limp and lean against Lan Wangji’s strong body. 

“Lan Zhan is too good to me,” he said, wiping his lips. 

“It is what Wei Ying deserves,” Lan Wangji replied, serene. They stayed like this, for a moment. Lan Wangji merely sipped his tea, as Wei Wuxian tried to make sense of how to react to such goodness. What was he supposed to do, marry the man? Surely not, Lan Zhan was too good for even that. 

He looked up when Lan Zhan froze, and then hastened his motions to put Wei Wuxian’s accommodation away, leaving only the tea set. “Wei Ying, brother is coming.” 

“Lan Zhan, now?!” This shook Wei Wuxian from his drowsy state. Now upright, he rushed to fix his hair and robes. “I know you said he’d want to talk to us, but now?” 

Lan Wangji’s lips were pursed, as if he also felt like Lan Xichen’s timing could be… more appropriate. 

His robes now fixed, Wei Wuxian’s senses pinged the other bright soul approaching them. He turned in the direction of the Gusu Lan Clan’s main buildings, and a heartbeat later, Lan Xichen stepped into the clearing. He walked towards them, seeming to glide across the meadow grass. 

“Wangji,” he greeted. “Wuxian. It is good to see you both.” 

Wei Wuxian tilted his head. “I genuinely cannot tell if this is satire or sincerity.” 

There was a spark of mischief in unknown gold. “Can it be both?” 

“Brother.” Lan Wangji protested, as Wei Wuxian threw his head back and laughed. 

“It is sincerity,” Lan Xichen amended. “With you, now, Wangji has been more alive than in the past thirteen years. For that, I thank you. For the rest, I will wait to judge until the full story is revealed.” 

Wei Wuxian relaxed, understanding the forgiveness offered. “The moment I know the full story myself, I will endeavor to let you know. For now, however, that damn hand remains a mystery. It keeps pointing in many directions now.” 

“Wangji told me you seek places where great deaths had occurred, yes?” 

“Anything like Dafan Mountain, yes,” Wei Wuxian confirmed. “I suspect someone scattered this body, given the hand’s bipolar moods. It is in its nature to return itself to the rest of its corpse, but it cannot seem to decide on a direction. How troublesome, hm?” 

“We suspect many body pieces.” Lan Wangji added, concluding Wei Wuxian’s point. 

“Right. I had been looking into this prior to your… arrival,” Lan Xichen said, elegantly side-stepping the topic of Wei Wuxian’s resurrection, “However, it was for identifying locations for future watchtowers. The current largest sources, however, are the location of the Yueyang Chang Clan Cemetery, where there lay about 50 bodies killed at the same time, the Nie Clan Mausoleums, Nightless City, Yi City, The Burial Mounds, and any Cultivation Clan’s graveyard, in which there would be fallen cultivators buried from the time of the Sunshot Campaign.” 

“Aiyah, what a list!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, fetching a sheet of parchment from Lan Zhan’s sleeves. “Thank you, Sect Leader Lan. We can split this into three categories--what came before the war, what happened during the war, and what happened after the war. Overall, the Burial Mounds fall into the first category--and that place is mine, now. Nothing stronger than a ghost can enter or leave without my knowing of it.” 

“Yours?” Lan Xichen asked, puzzled. 

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian looked up from his scribbles, waving a hand. “Listen, when I was brought back the array was faulty. I managed to return Mo Xuanyu’s soul to him, but something had to return my own soul to me, didn’t it? And when your soul is removed from the reincarnation cycle…” 

“It is grounds for ascension!” Lan Xichen realized, looking to Lan Wangji for confirmation. 

“Mn.” 

“In that case,” the elder brother turned to Wei Wuxian, “You have my congratulations, however unorthodox.” 

Wei Wuxian nodded, surprised. In lieu of acknowledging such odd sincerity, he continued: “So the Burial Mounds is my domain. I am tied to it, and it to me. Now that the Stygian Tiger Amulet is gone, we can cross that place off the list, as no one else should be able to get under my radar--” He paused at Lan Wangji’s sudden frown. “Wait, what is it? Lan Zhan?” 

Lan Wangji, however, was looking at this brother, who appeared to have made a horrible realization. 

“The Stygian Tiger Amulet was broken,” Lan Xichen corrected, and Wei Wuxian felt a chill race through his core. “It was not destroyed, it was broken. It was unable to be used, yes, but the Jin Sect held onto it for safekeeping.” 

“And you let them?” Wei Wuxian nearly yelled, eyes wide. “Why--” 

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan XIchen interrupted, his voice holding a surprising amount of steel. “Jin Guangyao is not Jin Guangshan. I trust him with the safekeeping of such dangerous things.” 

Lan Wangji inhaled sharply, realizing the issue just as Wei Wuxian did. “Brother--” 

“Lan Xichen, you don’t understand--!” Wei Wuxian cried, “That amulet will drive any normal cultivator to insanity! It nearly got me, and I don’t even have a golden core for it to eat!” 

“What do you mean?” The Lan Sect leader asked, glancing between them. 

“You can only control it with resentment. I thought it was clever,” Wei Wuxian explained. “An easy way to bypass others using it, right? Well, turns out that it loves to turn any energy into resentful energy. It’s a horribly clever little conduit. And it only listens to resentment. It had me half-insane and I had the best control over it out of anyone!” 

“Wei Ying has confirmed that it is parasitic.” Lan Wangji added. “Any cultivator with a golden core and poor willpower will be drained. It will drive them insane.” 

“A-Yao does not have poor willpower,” Lan Xichen defended. “But I will tell him--” 

“Don’t!” Wei Wuxian interrupted again, waving his arms wildly. “Don’t say anything. Don’t even act differently. Forgive me, Sect Leader Lan, but I trust only Jiang Cheng and us in this clearing. Until we have investigated further, please keep this to yourself!” 

More calmly, the Yilling Laozu added, “Jinlintai’s walls have ears. Anyone could hear you speak of it. The moment that anyone who has been affected is tipped off, we lose our biggest advantage--and that is keeping the world unknown to how the amulet actually works. So long as no one can control it, I should be able to subdue it with ease.” 

And honestly, Wei Wuxian thought to himself. Jin Guangyao is fluid in his cultivation, and very adaptable, but strong willed, he is not. He has probably been entraped... ah, but I cannot tell Sect Leader Lan that, no proof would make it heresay. 

“...very well,” Lan Xichen said, after a long and contemplative pause. “You suspect there are others with that strength?” 

“I know there must be,” Wei Wuxian said. “I have been dead for thirteen years; I have not been able to take inventory of who knows what; I don’t even know the current politics! Our plan to travel and investigate these locations should let me know if there is any other demonic cultivator.” 

“Brother,” Lan Wangji added in the resulting lull, “You said there were pieces?” 

“...five pieces, yes.” Lan Xichen confirmed. 

With a snarl, Wei Wuxian stood up. “Oh fuck that, the longer it’s free the more people will suffer. Let’s make this as few unaccounted pieces as possible.” 

“Wei Ying?” 

“Don’t mind me, Lan Zhan, this should take just a moment.” The Yiling Patriarch said, shoving his anger back under control. “Sect Leader, Lan Zhan, brace yourselves. I am going to reclaim my foolish spiritual tool.” 

Stepping away from the Twin Jades of Lan, but knowing they had the skill to protect themselves, Wei Wuxian held his arm out. Resentment crackled around him in red lightning. His braid lashed the air, robes fluttering and almost melting into the black smoke that curled lazily around him. Glowing red eyes narrowed, and with a hiss he clenched his hand around the ball of red lightning he had gathered. 

From his hand, black and red resentful energy shot out in five different directions, weaving through the sky, the trees, and the earth; seeking their unique prey. The wind chased after them, a minor shockwave rippling from the epicenter of Wei Wuxian’s hand. He heard Lan Zhan strum a chord to cast a minor shield in the background, but presently, the Yilling Laozu was fixated on this single task. Once the resentment had found that trail, charcoal-smoke and dried blood, he let loose. 

One, Wei Wuxian realized, feeling that sudden, shocking magnetic tug to the south. His body, now floating, jerked in that direction. Two, Three, Four…. He waited, waited for the last piece to be found, but soon the seeking orb of resentment dispersed. 

Wei Wuxian grimaced, and turned back to call, “I’ve found four. Let me see if they still listen.” 

With a low whistle, he extended his senses past what he had ever done; a borderline painful prickle began in the back of his mind as a result. Knowing he had a time limit, Wei Wuxian heightened the note sharpy, calling to the pieces of his Stygian Tiger Seal with a haunting, lilting song. 

“One!” He called, moments before the first piece exploded into the clearing, unbothered by both trees and foliage, and then stopped immediately in front of his waiting hand. 

“Two!” he called as the next twisted up from the earth, the force jerking him and the piece he held higher into the air. “Three!” as red lightning crashed like a falling tree, the Amulet now spinning as it felt the fourth approach. A breath later, it completed itself with a deafening clang, which then melted into a more soothing hum, guided by Wei Wuxian’s whistle. 

Breathing heavily, he reeled the resentment back in and soothed frazzled shadows. They returned to his core, tired but satisfied that they had completed their task. He sang to the amulet, subduing it with kindness and calm, things the spirits within the too desperately craved. It listened to him not because he suppressed it, but because he cared. He doubted anyone else would be as lucky. 

When his feet touched the ground, he would have collapsed had it not been for Lan Zhan’s strong arms snaking around, helping him stay upright. Too exhausted to care for propriety, Wei Wuxian leaned into the embrace. 

“Sect Leader,” he called, raising the spinning Amulet. It was nearly complete, only missing the bloody jade heart in the center. “There. Four out of five pieces accounted for, and unable to harm others.” 

Lan Xichen looked stunned, but to his credit, he recovered quickly. “That was… impressive. However, are you sure it is wise?” 

With great weight, Wei Wuxian said, “Lan Xichen, Gusu Lan is one of the few clans I trust to hold this damn thing. Though I have also neglected it, and I’ll need to pamper these needy spirits before they consent to rest.” 

Lan Xichen nodded, though Wei Wuxian could tell he was still shaken. 

“Wangji,” he said quietly, “Are you sure?” 

Lan Zhan, who Wei Wuxian did not deserve, merely held him tighter. “More than anything.” 

“In that case,” the Lan Sect leader nodded. “Let me escort you to the Hall of Healing. Wei Wuxian, forgive me for saying this, but you do not look like you can walk.” 

“You’re right, I can’t!” Wei Wuxian laughed, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. As much as he wanted to be suspicious of Lan Xichen, the genuine sincerity was endearing. “Lan Zhan will have to carry me.” 

“Mn. Will carry Wei Ying.” 

With a sigh that held exasperation (that was only mostly feigned), Lan Xichen added, “And I suppose that makes me the chaperone.” And quickly stepped over Bichen, which, while still sheathed, had attempted to whack his shins. 

“Brother.” Lan Zhan said, in warning, and Wei Wuxian found himself unable to muffle giggles the entire way back. 

-- -- -- 

It was later, sharing a bed in Lan Wangji’s little house--Wei Wuxian had been too tired to pay attention to the name, though he’d fix this tomorrow, he told himself--that Wei Wuxian finalized their plan. 

“Let’s hit the Gusu Lan Libraries first, ne Lan Zhan?” He said, slowly rolling up his notes into a scroll. “The secret libraries. Don’t give me that look; you know we won’t find anything in the main ones--your clan purifies them daily; only insane spirits would stick around!” 

“...Mn,” Lan Wangji said, and from the tone of his soul, Wei Wuxian could tell he agreed. “Elders insist.” 

“Your elders are crazy,” Wei Wuxian said, without an ounce of regret. “And after the libraries, we should head to the market; I need a proper journal, Lan Zhan! And a tassel for this, though this flute that you’ve gotten me is essentially perfect as it is.” 

“Name?” Lan Wangji asked, moving to help return the books to the shelves. “Will return books tomorrow.” He decided. 

“Ah, for the flute?” Wei Wuxian asked, and then thought about it. “Nothing has come to mind, yet. I think I want to figure out what this new life means to me, first.” 

Lan Wangji nodded, and set the inkwell, charcoal and brushes aside as well. “Wei Ying should sleep.” 

“Ah, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Wei Wuxian said, sitting on the edge. “We haven’t even done anything, Lan Zhan, and already I’m so comfortable sleeping with you!” 

“Wei Ying!” Those pale ears had darkened to a rosy pink. “Please, focus. We can do… more… after. When you are more comfortable. Today, rest. Not ready.” 

With a sigh, Wei Wuxian laid down to stare at the ceiling. “Ugh, that’s for sure. I still feel like a ghost wearing some puppet skin. Anyways, Lan Zhan, the libraries here tomorrow, okay? I need to investigate below-grounds for resentment and you need to investigate the seal we found. And then… perhaps Qinghe? I have a suspicion that Huaisang knows all the gossip and hearsay. That’s always the best place to start, is it not? The best ears are in the brothels!” 

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed, settling in beside him.Wei Wuxian had a suspicion he was being mildly ignored, but fondly. “Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, in the same tone, for the third time, “Please rest your mind, and your eyes. Plan tomorrow. ” 

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan! You mother hen. Fine, I will!” 

And turning, he blew the candle out, facing Lan Zhan as darkness descended upon them. Tenderly, Lan Wangji lifted the cover to tuck it up by Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, and then pretended to be asleep when Wei Wuxian teased him for being too soft on him. 

Heart full of that indescribable feeling again, and mind racing with a plan, Wei Wuxian finally surrendered to sleep. 

-- -- -- 

Chapter Text

The new day dawned on them with the constant chattering of songbirds and sunlight. With a groan, Wei Wuxian rolled over, pressing his face into the cool, glorious darkness of the mattress. His skin tingled where the sun hit, warmth permeating beneath his flesh and soothing the cold chill he’d grown so used to—except as nice as warmth was, he did not want it near his eyes. His poor, sensitive eyes. He bemoaned the brightness he’d have to adjust to when he opened them. 

“Wei Ying.” 

Ugh. Fine. He rolled back around with a pathetic noise, still hiding his face with a pillow. Stiff as it was, it could have done a better job. I can be a morning person for Lan Zhan. Maybe. 

“Wei Ying, it is past breakfast.” 

And that means Lan Zhan likely brought me mine to eat here, the great and terrible Yiling Laozu realized, and cracked one garnet eye open to check. Is it raw? It doesn't smell disgusting. It smells really good, actually. Hmm.  

Indeed, set on the bedside table, was a platter of… admittedly, good-looking food—not the usual bland fare customary of The Cloud Recesses. It appeared to be adjusted to Wei Wuxian's more demonic dietary requirements. He narrowed his gaze. Was that chili oil? 

“Where the hell did you get this?” Wei Wuxian asked, voice slurred with sleep. After repeatedly missing the little bottle due to a lack of depth perception, he forced his other eye open and finally picked up the elixir. 

“Wei Ying often complained about Gusu Lan’s lack of spice,” Lan Wangji answered, eyes soft. “I prepared this personally to accommodate Wei Ying’s tastes.” 

At this, Wei Wuxian sat up. “You cooked for me? Really? I didn’t know that was even in your skillset. Hanguang-Jun is many things, but I’ve never seen you express a desire to cook. Last time you got me something, ah, that was a bit of a mess. I don't even know how you made this look normal.” 

“Normal is relative. I have had thirteen years to practice.” 

With a wince, Wei Wuxian set the chilli oil down and brought the entire platter into his lap.

“Then this Wei Ying will honour Hanguang-Jun’s efforts by eating all of it,” he promised, drenching the rice and vegetables until they were evenly tinged red. 

Lan Wangji watched this, amusement morphing into morbid fascination as Wei Wuxian emptied the entire bottle.

“Entire bottle?” He echoed, questioning. 

“As a treat!” Wei Wuxian said, “I can tell you mixed blood into this. It smells really good, Lan Zhan. It's probably the nicest meal of my un-death yet. ” Lan Wangji made a face like he had something to comment on but mercifully kept silent. He's probably having a crisis about whether to reassure me or be honest about the oddity of using the entire bottle. Ayiah, Lan Zhan. So silly. Wei Wuxian stuck his tongue out at him. “I promise I can still taste however you flavoured it.” 

“I am amazed Wei Ying can taste at all.” Lan Wangji said, teasing. “Then again, Wei Ying has achieved the impossible before.” 

With a laugh, Wei Wuxian hastily swallowed a mouthful of delicious food. He was in heaven—Lan Wangji cooks for him, and now Lan Wangji makes jokes. He told Lan Wangji as much, and was rewarded with more of that quiet, intelligent humour. Lunch—breakfast lunch? Brunch?—proceeded fluently, with Wei Wuxian finding that the way Lan Wangji changed over the years was as intriguing a puzzle as when they first met. 

“It’s like in some ways I know you so well,” he mused aloud, shoving the last bits of rice into his mouth. “And in some ways, you’re entirely different. A complete surprise!” 

“I try to keep Wei Ying on his toes.” Lan Wangji said, gaze considering. “Wei Ying is easily bored.” 

“I’d take offense to that but you’re absolutely, unquestionably correct. Still, I could never be bored with you.” 

“Mn. Agreed.” 

“Is that a confession that Lan Zhan gets bored easily?” Wei Wuxian rested his head on the palm of his hand, watching the sunlight dance in Lan Wangji’s topaz eyes. 

“Patience is a virtue,” Lan Wangji said, stacking the empty bowls neatly. “However, sometimes patience can be just as much a hindrance.” 

“Wow, what blasphemy. What was it, Lan Zhan? Oh let me guess—” Wei Wuxian cycled possible scenarios in his head, sorting them by probability, before settling on the most likely. “You’re Chief Cultivator right now. That means meetings with everyone you hate, huh?” 

“Everyone who isn’t Wei Ying or Xiongzhang.” Lan Wangji agreed. 

“So bold, Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian laughed, enjoying the mirrored smile on his Zhiji’s face. “I disappear for a bit and you’ve completely grown up. Confidence is a good look on you, sweetheart.” 

At this, he was rewarded with the reddening of Lan Wangji’s ears, although the smile did not wane. 

“I will take you to the inner sect libraries.” Lan Wangji said, nudging Wei Wuxian to stand. “The most Senior Disciples have access following dinner to do independent thesis work.” 

“So we need to be out of there by then, you mean?” 

“Mn.” 

“Alright, well. Let’s see…” Wei Wuxian followed behind Lan Wangji as he glided out of the Jingshi, detouring to return their food items before heading to the library. “We have a fierce corpse so resentful that it needed to be split up and stitched to different people in order for it to be buried. However, this is not normal cultivation protocol.” 

Lan Wangji inclined his head. “All sects follow the rule of suppression, appeasement, then elimination.” 

“Which is only one path of many,” Wei Wuxian huffs, “I find that elimination can often be avoided with a little empathy. Regardless, this means that whoever was tasked with dealing with this fierce corpse intentionally disregarded cultivation practices, but had the strength to suppress it for a period of time.

This rules out civilians and most smaller sects. Given that suppressing just the arm took both you and me working together, it had to be someone of either significant spiritual power or someone with significantly powerful spiritual tools.”

Wei Wuxian tilted his head, considering his new life. “They also…. I don’t know if little Mo Xuanyu summoning me was a coincidence or not, really, but I’m leaning towards not given that the corpse arm was tossed into the Mo Family Mansion right as I was summoned. However, I don’t think A-Yu knew of this at all, since the kid mostly follows the flight part of fight or flight.”

“But this means that whoever set this up might have some connection to the Jin Sect,” Wei Wuxian concluded, narrowing his eyes. “Ne, Lan Zhan, has the Jin Sect been fucking with my old stuff? A-Yu mentioned finding some old journals of mine, however…” Wei Wuxian bit a nail, letting his canine click against the keratin. “I think they were tampered with.” 

Lan Wangji turned to him. “Tampered how?” 

“The kind of soul-summoning I was looking into involves both the original body and natural qi as an energy source. Spiritual tools, after a lifetime, become a wellspring of energy highly attuned to the user. Theoretically, such energy could power a spell strong enough to invite a spirit back into our pane, and back into their body.” Wei Wuxian explained. 

“What I was stuck on,” he adds, “Is keeping the body alive after. Wen Qing and I were looking into it to see if we could return Wen Ning to a… a more human experience of living, if that makes sense. Breathe some life into his body.” 

“Mo Xuanyu’s array, however,” Wei Wuxian hissed, “Was designed to kill the caster to power the spell and circumvent the life quandary by offering the spirit the caster’s body. It’s a solution both stupid and clever—clever because it did solve the problem, in theory, but stupid because now we know whoever gave A-Yu those notes wanted him dead. Also, it was written wrong.” 

Lan Wangji said nothing, but his pale gaze never left Wei Wuxian’s face. 

Taking it as an invitation to continue, Wei Wuxian added, “The gradients between the yin and yang elements were twisted between hemispheres. It would have brought the summoned soul back in an unstable state, and that’s where the Burial Mounds interfered for me. 

“You know how it is, right? With each immortal tied to their domain, and their body as just a vessel to interact with the mortal,  physical world. It did some of the stabilizing for me, however changed…” He moved his hand, glancing at the shadowed impression of claws, “this body may be now.” 

“Wei Ying looks like Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji reassured him. 

“And thank fuck for that, really. What a disaster it would be if you could not recognize me wearing a different face!” 

Lan Wangji had a stubborn set to his gaze. “Will always recognize Wei Ying. Always.” 

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, you’re the sweetest. I’ll always recognize you too,” Wei Wuxian said, taking his Zhiji’s hand. Lan Wangji was without complaint. They were nearing the library now, so Wei Wuxian hurried to wrap up his discussion. 

“Point being, Lan Zhan, that we have three objectives with these clues. First, we need to find someone of high cultivation, understands resentment, has access to my old notes, has a grudge against whoever the corpse is, wants Mo Xuanyu dead, and has some links to the Lanling Jin Sect. .” He listed off, “Likely someone manipulating Jin Guangyao, I bet. Second, we need to find the identity of the corpse, recover its body, and put it to rest. Third, we’ll probably need to follow up about the Land-Eater that’s been brewing in the Dafan area—Landslide, famine, war, all consolidated with a decades-old Zombie Trap array. I bet Jiang Cheng will lead the purification, but I worry…” 

He sighed, running a hand through his bangs. “I worry that there are wells of resentment lingering within the earth that regular cultivation has missed. You appease the ghosts who can talk, Lan Zhan, but you don’t listen to all of them. Even weak spirits, if there are a hundred of them, can become dangerous.” 

“Wei Ying brings up important criticisms,” Lan Wangji agreed, brow furrowed with thought. “Wei Ying, can you sense where such wells may be?” 

“I can. I was thinking that what we need is a map, Lan Zhan—something where we can note down places of possible historical burials and resentment. We can check those for our fierce corpse, too. Once we find the identity of the corpse, we’ll have enough information to make a case against the offender.” 

“It is a good plan.” 

“I’m glad you think so, Lan Zhan! The only thing is…” He paused, feeling the Stygian Tiger Amulet humming in the pouch near his heart. It wept, unfinished and sorrowful, the channels of resentful energy unable to connect in a full circuit. Unwarded, it would bleed thick, toxic resentment everywhere. 

“Lan Zhan,” the Yilling Laozu grimaced. “Add a fourth note to our list. We need to find where the heart of the amulet is—the longer it is missing, the more it will be able to manipulate whoever is keeping it at bay. Depending on how strong a will the person has, in our worst case scenario…” 

Lan Wangji inhaled sharply. “Wen Ruohan. Repeat of the past.” 

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian nodded grimly. “A peaceful world insanity does not make. I would hate to see some Sect Leader snap and go on a killing spree.” 

-- -- -- 

The Gusu Lan Sect library’s restricted section was serene and full of light despite being neatly nestled underground. Sunlight streamed in from the upper-floor windows, bouncing off engraved mirrors and dancing down to the lower floors. The wind teased metallic chimes hanging from the dome ceiling, and soft musical tones echoed in the heavy, comforting atmosphere. The dark wood structures were adorned with the blues and whites of Gusu Lan, with the cloud motif stitched in glimmering silver silk on each of the hanging flags and draperies. 

The scent of ink and parchment hung in the air, with not a single hint of charred wood. If Wei Wuxian didn’t know better, he would be hard-pressed to believe that this place had ever burnt down. 

“The Gusu Lan Sect is remarkable, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said idly, running a hand along the polished wood of a shelf. “This place is like new.” 

“It was a priority following the war,” Lan Wangji explained. “Many non-cultivators from Caiyi volunteered their services.” 

“Is it true that Gusu used to be a fortress city?” Wei Wuxian asked, something pinging in his memory about the symbiotic relationship between the sect and the town. “I remember reading about how it was a stronghold in an old, old war, but the land was purified and it became a place of peace.” 

“Somewhat.” Lan Wangji said, giving Wei Wuxian an odd look. “Gusu Lan Sect was a collection of independent clans in the region that Lan Yi brought together to lead an era of peace, yes. That is what was taught at guest lectures. Has Wei Ying  looked into Gusu Lan history independently?” 

“What? No,” Wei Wuxian shook his head. “Something just clicked together up here.” 

“The former use of Gusu as a fortress city is ancient. I recall few scrolls speaking of it, all are within the restricted sections.” 

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian exhaled, realizing. “So how do I know it, huh? I couldn’t say. It felt right, like figuring out that history is important. Mostly, I was thinking, that there has to be some way to reinforce the Lan Sect’s protective barrier to tie it to the city of Gusu itself, instead of being tied to a caster. That’s when I wondered…” He looked around, red lightning flickering around his form. “Hm. Maybe a ghost told me.” 

There weren’t many ghosts around, only faceless shades retracing the steps they took in life endlessly. A peaceful kind of spirit, utterly benign, but not enough of a soul to need moving on. More of a soul impression. 

Lan Wangji, on the other hand, was looking at Wei Wuxian with some form of wonder. “Wei Ying. I will bring the idea to brother.” 

“Don’t do it yet, I still need to let things stew a bit,” Wei Wuxian waved his hand, though he felt his ears redden at the naked awe in Lan Wangji’s voice. The unvoiced implication hung between them: if the defensive array was tied to the stone of the city of Gusu itself, then no one person or disciples would exhaust themselves powering the array independently during a situation like the fire. Powering an array using the natural qi heartbeat of the world was difficult, but Wei Wuxian had some idea of how it worked with resentment already. It would only be trial and error before he figured this out, too. 

“Mn. I will find a map. Wei Ying remembers how the library is set up?” 

“Oh! Yeah,” Wi Wuxian tore himself from his musings. “Six radial segments, for each element. Complexity increases with each higher shelf. Noncultivation techniques are on the south wall, while clan history is north wall?” 

Lan Wangji nodded, and touched Wei Wuxian’s cheek briefly, pleased, before attending his work. Wei Wuxian snuck another smile from his stoic partner by pressing a kiss to the palm. Then, they parted, having delegated the work beforehand. 

The Yilling Laozu was in charge of the identification and classification of the corpse, as well as the methods of appeasing or eliminating the spirit. Hanguang-Jun would look into the mapwork, charting places of resentment based on the events following the Sunshot Campaign. This played to their respective strengths, and Wei Wuxian found himself enjoying the research now that the topic was actually interesting. 

The classification system had been updated somewhat. Not only was it sorted by the danger of the encounter, but it was also further sorted by resentment type and most effective tool or type of suppression. There were three classes in terms of danger: 

Class I: spirits that are present but benign. Not enough of the soul is there to necessitate moving on, and often these shades do not take a solid form. They are weak enough to be largely diffused into the energy of the land and will dissipate with time. 

Class II: spirits that are present and can communicate. Enough of the soul lingers for the spirit to take the form it had during life, and they are coherent enough to communicate. It is a toss-up as to whether these spirits are benign or resentful, and at least 80% of cases fall into this category. 

Class III: spirits that are present in form, can communicate, and can move and independently interact with the world around them. These are ghosts powerful enough to mimic life, able to pick up items and possess the living. These ghosts are often entirely resentful, as a lot of energy is required to tether the spirit so strongly. 

Class IV: spirits that are classified as a calamity—an upheaval of the natural state. These spirits, of many shapes and forms, are of similar power to divine beasts. No natural human examples of a Class IV ghost exist, as they are usually made of Yao or Guai, nonhuman creatures. A notable exception is the Ghost General, Wen Ning. 

The land eater, Wei Wuxian knew, had the power to become a Class IV disaster that might turn the entire area into a dangerous sinkhole as it hungrily devoured the energy. It was lucky that Jiang Cheng had already known of it, Wei Wuxian trusted him to handle the situation thoroughly. 

Following this, the spirits were categorized by what they were, rather than how dangerous or how present they were. These had four categories as well: 

Yao: Formed from living non-humans (plants and animals) 

Mo: Formed from living humans

Gui: Formed from dead humans

Guai: Formed from dead non-humans (plants and animals) 

Interestingly, the plant-augmented zombies from the Zombie Trap Array would likely classify as some mix of Gui and Guai, and likely Class III for them all given the evidence of interaction with the environment. It was a much more succinct classification system than the one prior, which had both many categories and many failings. 

After all, “Fierce Corpse” alone had been a problematic classification given that everything unexplained was lumped into that, and then Wen Ning happened, and then the parameters extended beyond logical means. Here, it posits that a Fierce Corpse is a type of creature, usually Class III, but it could come from either of the four sources. In Wen Ning’s case, as written, he would be a Class IV Fierce Corpse Mo. 

And that makes me, hmm… Ah, they’d need a whole new classification for creatures that can cultivate. Maybe Class V Demonic Yao, given that accidental ascension. Or maybe Class V Gui, since I died. Who knows! 

Amused, Wei Wuxian continued to note the oddities about their current fierce corpse of contention, Mr. Nameless. Wen Ning had had trouble defeating it, but at the same time, the ghost was unable to communicate. That landed it at Class III, and likely some sort of Gui or Mo depending on if they were turned into a fierce corpse before or after death. 

Satisfied, he began to write down ideas on how to find the rest of its body, or even suppress it. All of these would be following Empathy aided by the Stygian Tiger Amulet, which he’d put down as a Class IV Guai—the spirits had been human once, perhaps, but centuries had passed while they festered in that sword. Wei Wuxian had merely turned a trap into a conduit, allowing them access to the world that had long since been denied. For that, the amulet was grateful. 

The fact that Wei Wuxian was still its master, however, was something the amulet greatly resented. The burial mounds held the spirits of restless dead, yes, but not resentful dead, and were more lonely than anything. The Stygian Tiger Amulet, on the other hand, was a ticking time bomb. 

Purifying thousand-year spirits, however, was something Wei Wuxian needed a lot of careful preparation and planning before attempting. And Likely backup. 

-- -- --

It was his rotten luck that a visitor stepped in during that slim sliver of time when Lan Wangji had gone to fetch dinner while Wei Wuxian cleaned up their work. What was worse was that Wei Wuxian did not even notice the visitor in question until a familiar, scathing voice hissed his name. 

“Wei Wuxian!” 

Startled Wei Wuxian dropped his ink pot. It would have been a disaster if not for the attentive shades that swirled into thick black mist, cushioning the fall and raising to return the pot to his hands. Grimacing Wei Wuxian turned around and dropped into a deep bow. 

“Lan Qiren,” he said, not wanting to start yet another war, “Lan Zhan is fetching dinner. I will clean up and be gone in less than five minutes.” 

The elder Lan had not shed his severe expression, although the expected reprimand did not come immediately. Confused, Wei Wuxian glanced up. 

“Meet your elders’ eyes when you talk to them, boy.” Lan Qiren said, then added, “For assisting in the cleansing of the demonic hand, you have my thanks.” 

Eyes wide, Wei Wuxian bit his cheek to stifle a comment about how it sounded like Lan Qiren had sucked on a lemon before saying that. 

“Teacher Lan is oddly benevolent today,” he eventually admitted, after the silence had reached the point of suspicion. He knew what Lan Qiren thought of him—the demon who had corrupted his precious nephew. He did not want to hear it all again. 

“Is that how you accept an apology? I see your manners are still abysmal.” Lan Qiren muttered though the comment was not entirely a criticism. Having gotten used to reading Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian could tell that, for some reason, Lan Qiren wanted him to stop grovelling. 

Even more confused, Wei Wuxian stood up. “Apologies, Teacher.” 

With an exasperated sigh, Lan Qiren held up a hand. “Lan Wangji has had a decade to be stubbornly reticent about your supposed good nature, heretical path aside. I am a man who has lived over half a century. You assume, that in that time, I still believe what I believed when you came here as a delinquent youth? Do not assume.” 

Put upon, Wei Wuxian bit out, “Teacher Lan should listen to his own words.” 

Wei Wuxian reserved a measured, weighted glance. “I am endeavouring to do so, yes. Now, in the spirit of eradicating assumptions, please explain why you have the Stygian Tiger Amulet out within our sacred inner library?” 

Wei Wuxian stared, like a fish caught out of the water, and then glanced at the offending amulet in question with an accusing look. “When did you start hovering?” 

Sensing how wired the Yilling Laozu was at the moment, the amulet meekly settled down on the table. As an act of polite acquittance, it didn’t even charr the wood. 

“How curious.” Lan Qiren said with a raised brow. “Is it sentient?” 

“...to an extent.” Wei Wuxian answered carefully. “It likes to eat people’s golden cores. A destabilized core leads to insanity, and insanity leads to easier manipulation. The conglomerate of spirits within are aware enough to know what goes on around it.” 

“Which would render some rumours about the Yilling Laozu’s insanity true, unless some other factor was at play?” The words were pointed, but the tone was not entirely accusatory. Wei Wuxian knew that these were questions Lan Qiren had held for years and likely planned to catch him alone so Lan Wangji would not run interference. 

From one scholar to another, Wei Wuxian could respect the pursuit of truth. 

Somewhat mollified by this reasoning, Wei Wuxian sat back down, gesturing for Lan Qiren to do the same. 

“Again, somewhat,” he admitted. “In my first life, I lost my core during the war. There was only force of will tethering me to the amulet, a merely functional bond that would slowly erode my mind with time since not even a core existed as a buffer.” 

Lan Qiren inhaled sharply, pieces falling into place about why Wei Wuxian had turned to cultivating resentment. “When Zhuliu.” 

Wei Wuxian let the silence hang, not willing to correct him, but not willing to lie either. Let assumptions be in his favour, for once! 

“Now, however,” Wei Wuxian continued, “My return was botched, and whatever sentience the Burial Mounds had interfered. Did you know, Teacher Lan, that the light path is not the only way to ascend?” 

“I see. Logically, as the two hemispheres of yin and yang energy require balance, each must be capable of doing what the other can.” Lan Qiren said, closing his eyes as if in pain. “In practice, this goes against every core teaching of cultivation.” 

Wei Wuxian grimaced. “Yeah. I currently have something similar to a beast core, but it isn’t damaging since this body was woven together out of pure energy, much like those of immortals. Only, this is resentment. In the end, it’s just another kind of elemental energy, but…” 

“As a symptom of cultivation being so entrenched in the yang aspect because of its effectiveness against night creatures, we have nurtured a blind spot that developed from our reluctance to study resentful energy due to how it damaged cultivators. The fundamental law of reprisal—what you do to one side, it may also do to you.” Lan Qiren concluded, stroking his beard. “Historically, this has been used to discourage explorations of resentful energy due to damage to one’s golden core, however, in the absence of such, an alternate path emerges.” 

“Huh. You’re actually getting it.” Wei Wuxian said, surprised. 

The resulting eye-roll was as dry as sandpaper. “I am a scholar, Wei Wuxian. The concept of learning is not alien to me. While I dislike your character, what you have accomplished outside of that is nothing short of remarkable.” 

“The Jiang Sect motto was attempt the impossible. ” Wei Wuxian joked weakly. “I merely did so in an unconventional way.” 

Lan Qiren inclined his head. “So you did.” 

It was then that the door opened, and a hurried Lan Wangji stepped down the stairs. He looked between Lan Qiren and Wei Wuxian, a mix of puzzled and on-edge, before setting their food down and bowing to his uncle. 

“Shufu.” 

“Wangji.” 

“Wei Ying and I will leave—” 

“There is no need for that, Wangji. We are merely engaging in scholarly discussion.” 

Looking as out of place as Wei Wuxian felt, Lan Wangji turned to his Zhiji to check if this was the truth. At Wei Wuxian’s shrug—because how did Wei Wuxian expect to know what Lan Qiren thought after such confusion behaviour?—he frowned, then sat with them. 

“Now, Wei Wuxian, Wangji,” Lan Qiren began, “I have little time left before other duties require my attention. Xichen has explained to me what you intend to do regarding the current investigation. I have sent missives to the other sects that I will be attending your Chief Cultivator duties given the urgency of this matter.” 

Lan Wangji inclined his head in thanks. Wei Wuxian, however, was staring at Lan Qiren like he was truly seeing the old cultivator for the first time. 

“You see it too.” The Yilling Laozu said out loud, red eyes bright with intrigue. “Beyond the scope of the fierce corpse, you see it too. You’re talking about how the chessboard has been set.” 

“Someone has indeed stacked the deck in their favour,” Lan Qiren said gravely. “One cannot consolidate power during peacetime, and so war and strife can be used to induce chaos. Once the old leadership has been destabilized, a new leader may arise—and nothing unites people with greater success than uniting against a common enemy.” 

“My resurrection.” 

“Yes. Wen Ruohan is dead and was an oppressor of all. The Yilling Laozu is a safer scapegoat, given the moral code you possess.” 

“A full sweep!” Mind whirling, Wei Wuxian pulled the map over and indicated the areas he had circled and annotated. “And even if I don’t cooperate, One piece of the Stygian Tiger Amulet is missing—the heart piece—without this, the amulet is somewhat unstable. The benefit of that destabilization is that someone could, theoretically if more yin iron was found, create a secondary amulet. The red jade heart is the key.” 

The puzzle vaguely clicking together, Wei Wuxian continued, “The way I would do it, I’d blame this fierce corpse and the various attacks on a newly resurrected Yiling Laozu, and then use, perhaps, a mimicry of the Stygian Tiger Amulet and the intentionally set wells of resentment in the land to artificially control corpses and further the farce. Kill a few enemy sect leaders, throw the land into chaos, and once that is done I’d swoop in and save them all. Unite them under one great sect, perhaps, and then one man would have all the power. One man, a saviour, not a ruthless conqueror.” 

Sitting back, Wei Wuxian exhaled. He felt cold, beyond the chill he had grown accustomed to. Cold with fear. Dread settled around his heart and squeezed. 

“But if we were to solve the case and conduct empathy with the corpse,” Wei Wuxian continued, “and find the missing piece of the amulet, we would have everything we needed to pin the mastermind down, legally.” 

Lan Qiren made a derisive noise, as if he had been expecting Wei Wuxian’s deduction. “So you see the importance of this inquiry.” 

“Yeah.” Wei Wuxian echoed, throat dry. “A perfect plan, decades in the making. Completely unstoppable. They wouldn’t even need the real Yilling Laozu—but I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“And somehow,” Lan Qiren said, tone dry, “You are once again the key to our continued survival.” 

“This disciple apologizes for the continued trouble” With a hysterical little giggle, Wei Wuxian sat back, leaning against Lan Wangji.  “Jeez, Teacher Lan, I had no idea you were so attuned with politics.”

Lan Wangji, who had merely been silent and listening, tightened his hold on Wei Wuxian. His hands were steady, and his spiritual energy was calming against the warring anxiety of Wei Wuxian’s own. 

“As elders, we have a duty to see what the youth miss,” Lan Qiren replied, a serious expression on his face. “A duty I was blind to in my own youth. Wuxian, Wangji, do not fail.” 

With that grave admission, the elder Lan stood and took his leave. 

-- -- -- 

Chapter Text

After discussing the topic with Xichen, it was apparent that Qinghe was the next destination. Not only had the demonic hand pointed in that vague direction, but Wei Wuxian could sense some oddities in the balance of energy within the area. 

Most Sect domains are very pure, in that the land has been purified and attuned towards yang energy. The benefit of this is that it prevents resentment from finding a foothold within said lands, and dissuades malevolent spirits from venturing inwards. 

The Qinghe-Nie Sect’s domain was dripping with light, yes, but also drenched in resentment. The equilibrium of power swirled in a delicate balance. 

Wei Wuxian gazed out over the foothills, letting himself feel the swell of it. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but a sense of unease permeated him.

Or perhaps that was just residual anxiety lingering from the discussion last night. That, too, had been on his mind. 

The deep heartbeat of the Burial Mounds remained ever-present. It echoed behind his whirling thoughts like a soothing mantra. Shadows licked at his robes, resentful energy curling in rhythmic motions as he walked. Here, standing on the parapets of Gusu’s ancient stone walls, Wei Wuxian looked every part like a lonely, shadowed god. 

While it had put Lan Xichen on edge, Lan Wangji was entirely unbothered by Wei Wuxian’s beyond-human nature. He hadn’t been subject to any Clarity sessions either, with Rest becoming a much more effective meditative song now that there was no reason to cleanse Wei Wuxian of resentment—the most benefit would come from guiding it to peace. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, looking over his shoulder. The hat he’d decided to keep cast his face in shadow, though the faint glow of his eyes was unhindered. His image seemed to ripple, transient like the shadows that draped themselves on him. 

Transient, perhaps, but no less powerful. 

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji replied, and then nodded. “Juniors are ready.” 

“That’s good,” Wei Wuxian stepped off the ledge. He offered Lan Wangji a gentle smile and took the hand offered to him. “I heard Sizhui couldn’t come.” 

“Sizhui is Head Disciple and Sect Heir. Sect Leader Yao rescinded his offer of aid. Gusu Lan Sect will assist  Yunmeng Jiang instead. Sizhui is leading the purification.” 

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian grinned, understanding. “You’ve raised a qin prodigy, haven’t you? Other than yourself and Zewu-Jun, he’s one of the best.” 

Lan Wangji nodded. He seemed content, eyes soft as he led Wei Wuxian down from the wall. 

“But who is joining us, then? You should tell me so I don’t end up embarrassing myself in front of them.” 

“Mo Xuanyu, as your disciple.” Lan Wangji said, then after a pause, “And Lan Jingyi.” 

Wei Wuxian blinked. “Huh. You’d think Jingyi and Sizhui would be joined at the hip. I’m surprised Jingyi didn’t petition to be a part of the purification efforts.” 

At this, Lan Wangji made a face. It was subtle, barely a pursing of the lips, but a face nonetheless. 

“Lan Jingyi is best at active battle.” Hanguang-Jun said. 

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian realized. “I see. Zewu-Jun set up their assignments based on their strengths. Jingyi would do better with us since purification is time-consuming, tedious and… well, it’s boring, isn’t it?” 

“It is important.” Lan Wangji said, but did not expressly disagree. 

“That makes sense. So Jingyi and A-Yu. Any others?” 

“Lan Xinyan petitioned to join, but she was called away due to a family matter.” Lan Wangji noted. “She is eager to meet you. She is….” A pause. “She specializes in talisman work. It has been difficult to find a master of high skill.” 

Hearing this, Wei Wuxian smiled widely. “I bet you’re the one who suggested me, Lan Zhan! I’ll look forward to meeting her. It’s nice to see that Lan Qiren is letting disciples diversify into different specializations. Not everyone is good at music.” 

Lan Wangji inclined his head in agreement, then indicated to Wei Wuxian that their travel party was up ahead. Wei Wuxian grinned and waved, receiving two waves in response. 

“Senior Wei!” Lan Jingyi said, beckoning him over. “I have our list of priorities.” 

Wei Wuxian took it and skimmed the scribbled missive. “Why does the first line say weapons?” 

“Because Mo Xuanyu doesn’t have one still.” Lan Jingyi huffed. 

Mo Xuanyu, for his part, rolled his eyes. “I can use practice swords. I was taught as much in Jinlintai before they kicked me out. Jingyi is bothering you about this entirely without my consent.” 

“But they’re not your best subject, A-Yu!” Jingyi protested. “Listen, Senior Wei, this dude needs something that’s not so narrow in focus. He doesn’t have super dense spiritual energy so a weapon with a wider range would amplify the effects. A sword just kinda… it doesn’t feel right. Not on you.” 

Wei Wuxian shared a glance with Lan Wangji, intrigued. So Jingyi is someone who really intuits things, huh? 

Lan Wanji merely inclined his head. 

“I’m not an invalid,” Mo Xuanyu hissed, poking Lan Jingyi’s side. “Senior Wei, I can still fight. We don’t have to detour to get new weapons.” 

“Well,” Wei Wuxian said, stretching, and beckoned them all to walk with him. “It’s morning. It’ll be lunchtime when we get to Qinghe by sword, and we’ll need to stop by the market for food regardless.” 

“And the Nie Sect lands have lots of artisans who are good at unique spiritual tools!” Jingyi added, “Other than like, Meishan-Yu, but I’m not asking Sect Leader Jiang anything after getting glared at. I’m not suicidal.” 

“Do not gossip.” Lan Wangji reminded, with a sigh. 

“It’s not a falsehood if it’s true, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian snickered. “Anyways, Gusu Lan has money, Xuanyu, and you’re currently a guest disciple under their care.” Lan Zhan has money, I mean. Not that the kids need to know that. “So picking up a weapon for you isn’t much trouble. Besides, I need to fetch a charm for this flute.” 

“Why does your flute need a charm, Senior Wei?” Mo Xuanyu asked, and thus successfully derailed the conversation into an impromptu lecture about the use of charms and talismans in conjunction with pure musical cultivation. 

-- -- -- 

As they flew, Wei Wuxian noted that while Mo Xuanyu seemed slightly out of practice, he was not bad at all when you considered how he was adapting to an unknown practice sword. These were un-attuned, generic blades that allowed junior disciples to familiarize themselves with spiritual weapons before receiving one of their own on their 15th birthday. 

The reason for this, of course, is that giving eager juniors powerful weapons they were not familiar with was a surefire recipe for disaster. 

It amused Wei Wuxian greatly that he was about to do that exact thing with Mo Xuanyu. 

Mo Xuanyu, much like his Shijie, had a low density of qi and a relatively weak core, but his control of that qi was remarkably effective. Wei Wuxian could see this in how Mo Xuanyu still managed to keep up in the game of tag Lan Jingyi had impulsively started. Slower, yes, but never faltering. The practice sword sailed true and certain. 

“I’m thinking of finding him an amplifier, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian explained. “If I can bother Huaisang about it, even better. I know that’s something he’s looked into himself. Maybe even the fans…” 

The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. A fan would be a good weapon fo Mo Xuanyu. Besides, Mo Xuanyu was the type of person who was unbothered by accusations of femininity. The youth dressed androgynously, and even today, he had found time to apply some makeup. 

I wonder which of them gave him lessons, Wei Wuxian mused, realizing that the makeup was far less subtle than the clownery of their first meeting. Between Sizhui, Jingyi and Jin Ling… probably Jingyi. Lan Zhan tells me he’s got older sisters. 

So Wei Wuxian wasn’t worried about insulting Mo Xuanyu when he suggested it after they finally arrived. And thankfully, instead of scorning the idea outright after a morning of Jingyi’s teasing, Mo Xuanyu looked contemplative. 

“I’ve heard that with war fans, adapting the flow of spiritual energy into slashing arcs is a lot different than channelling it through a sword, Senior Wei.” Mo Xuanyu admitted after Wei Wuxian asked about his hesitance. “I’m not sure I’m skilled enough to tackle it.” 

“Stop putting yourself down, Mo Xuanyu,” Jingyi said, patting his shoulder. “You survived chasing me on a practice sword.” 

“Jingyi isn’t wrong.” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Practice swords are…” 

“Horrible.” Lan Jingyi shuddered. “So bad. So nasty. I don’t know how you do it.” 

Mo Xuanyu gave his friend a flat expression. “What was the alternative, fly with you?” 

“YES!” 

“I refuse.” 

“I’m not that bad.” Jingyi pouted. 

“No,” Mo Xuanyu corrected, serene, “I just have dignity. It may be an alien concept to you.” 

“What dignity!” Jinyi shrieked. 

“My point exactly—” and thus the conversation devolved. 

Lan Wangji had disappeared early on, or else he would have definitely stopped this conversation. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, found it amusing. It reminded him a little of how he and Jiang Cheng used to be—so bright and full of potential, their sharp words dulled with years of friendship. 

The only thing dulling those sharp words these days was a desire to reclaim what they had. Wei Wuxian had held no faith in it, initially, but Jiang Cheng had grown up without him and learned things Wei Wuxian still was figuring out. Maybe with Jiang Cheng as the older sibling, we’ll have a chance. 

And so, despite the bickering, Mo Xuanyu was eventually convinced to try out a few fans designed for channelling and amplifying spiritual energy. He took to it like a fish returned to water, using some forms of dance he’d idly studied as transitions between more basic, martial forms. Wei Wuxian clapped at the end of the demonstration, even though Mo Xuanyu was embarrassed at only hitting one of the desired targets. 

“It takes practice, Xiao-lang,” The shopkeep said as she packaged the fans for travel. “Though not bad for a first time.” 

Mo Xuanyu gazed at her with open curiosity. “Why do you call me little wolf?” 

She smiled at him, at them all, indulgently. Her deep-set eyes were wise beyond her years. She seemed to see right through their physical selves, right to their souls. 

“Because that is what you are,” she said, patting the carefully wrapped package with thick, calloused hands. “I have made weapons my entire life. I have met cultivators my entire life.” 

She glanced up at Wei Wuxian. “I know how to recognize a wolf hiding amongst sheep, and the wolf pup walking in such footsteps.” 

Jingyi, unable to help himself, muttered, “I’m not a sheep.” 

The shopkeep cackled, her eyes softening. “Not literally, Xiao-Yang, but you are of the light. Yang cultivation, Yin cultivation, both are merely types. Aish, how blessed I am to have survived to see both at the same time.” 

Curious, Wei Wuxian placed down a few extra coins from the money pouch Lan Wangji had loaned them for this venture. 

“Elder,” he said, “You sound unsurprised.” Most would not be. Most would probably scream and shoo him out of their shop and drench the place in protective talismans. 

“I have lived two centuries, Laozu.” She said, sorting the coins. Her hands worked in a rhythm so fast it was difficult to see. “We are not cultivators, but we work with qi regardless. Stay here in Qinghe a few days, and I think you will find the answers you seek all on your own.” 

“Will you not say?” He asked, even as Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu stared with open shock behind him.

“No,” she chided, without anger. “You of all people know that some things must be lived before they are believed. There is a curse on this land—I know you feel it—but perhaps you can lift it. Others have tried, others have failed, but they have only done so in one way.” 

“They say insanity is to do the same thing and expect a different result.” Wei Wuxian said, quoting a proverb. 

“Yes. Who are the insane ones here, Laozu? You or them?” Satisfied with his shocked expression, she beckoned them out. “Now go. This has been most enlightening, but an artisan’s work never ends.” 

Slightly off-kilter, Wei Wuxian ushered the two juniors out with polite haste, each of them bowing deeply to the elder craftswoman before stepping past the entryway and into the outside world. Silence hung amongst them until they had crossed the street, and immersed themselves with the bustling crowds and bright fabrics of the main market. 

“Senior Wei, was she really two hundred years old?” Jingyi asked, his voice small. 

“I think…” Wei Wuxian began, thoughts racing. “I think that we all forgot that truly powerful beings see no reason to advertise their power. I don’t think a single lie was said. She recognized me, and I’ve never encountered her in my life.” 

“I don’t think she’s dangerous.” Mo Xuanyu said, holding the packaged fans close to his chest. 

“Not to us,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Definitely to her enemies. She didn’t seem like an immortal, but she clearly wasn’t an ordinary artisan.” 

“I’m starting to think,” Mo Xuanyu grumbled, “That walking into that store on a whim was not a coincidence in the slightest. I wonder if she wanted to meet you, Senior Wei, given that you’re… well.” 

“The Yilling Laozu? She called me as much. I think she did too.” Wei Wuxian said, looking over the colourful crowds at the otherwise unobtrusive, plain shop. “Well met, nameless artisan. I like your puns.” 

“Puns?” Jingyi echoed. “Oh! Yang and Yang—sheep and light. Oh, that’s clever.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian smiled. “Now, let’s go find Hanguang-Jun. I’m hungry, which means I know both of you are hungry as well.” 

-- -- -- 

Lan Wangji was, indeed, somewhat harried by their sudden disappearance. He admitted that, for just a moment, all three of them had disappeared from his spiritual sense. Wei Wuxian shared their encounter with the artisan then, and how he’s beginning to realize that there may be benign, yet devastatingly powerful beings walking amongst them from all walks of life. 

“I think in some ways, she’s more powerful than me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian admitted, around a mouthful of dumpling. “I couldn’t sense her at all. She recognized me immediately, but I could not recognize her.” 

“There are stories…” Lan Wangji began, then paused to gather his words. “Stories of accomplished, skilled cultivators who merely disappear. Not dead, not ascension, but disappearance. They seem to shed their mortal duties and find another calling. Oftentimes, this occurs when they have outlived their family.” 

“Cultivation saturates the body with qi, leading to prolonged life even if one doesn’t reach immortality.” Wei Wuxian added, more so for the benefit of Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu. “Actively joining a Sect is not the only way to refine your golden core. Like the woman we met, craftsmen and artisans working on making spiritual weapons need to understand how qi interacts with the world. Sometimes on a deeper level than cultivators do, because I wouldn't be able to tell you how qi changes the properties of steel. Also, cultivating yang energy, as we are discovering, is only one path of potentially many—we have yin and yang, yes, but what about the other elements?" 

“That’s a scary thought,” Jingyi admitted, “It’s like cultivation as a discipline is on the cusp of a revolution.” 

“Succinctly put.” Lan Wangji agreed, and Jingyi appeared to glow with the praise. 

All of them paused and digested that thought. Wei Wuxian found himself recalling Lan Qiren’s mention of myopia—of shortsightedness—and how, perhaps, if yang and yin energy were confirmed as paths of cultivation, then other elemental energies could be used in the same way. This is sometimes seen in powerful yao, but never has it been done by a human. 

But that was a topic of inquiry to tackle once this whole mess had been sorted

“Now,” Wei Wuxian said, “She mentioned a curse on the land, but she also said that we’d find the answer just by being here. Once we’re done eating, we should get right to investigating. 

“I need to deliver messages from Xiongzhang to Sect Leader Nie and request permission to investigate.” Lan Wangji noted. “Wei Ying will survey resentment in civilian areas. Jingyi, Xuanyu, please assist. We will reconvene at Nie Mausoleums in two hours.”   

“Of course!” 

“Hanguang-jun!” 

-- -- -- 

Wei Wuxian took his role as appointed (temporary) leader to heart, falling back into old rhythms of teaching and demonstration that he had learned during his time as Yunmeng Jiang’s head disciple. Since the Evil-Detecting Compass was new to Mo Xuanyu, Wei Wuxian walked him through how to navigate using it, and showed them both how to take readings using specially treated paper talismans. 

The town at the foot of the Nie Sect fortress was busy but peaceful. There was no abnormal lingering resentment in the area, though there were some restless ghosts at the local graveyard. 

Since there had been no cause for alarm with the overall surveillance, Wei Wuxian suggested that they attend to the wishes of some local ghosts and help them pass along. Both Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu were eager to help, and Wei Wuxian found himself taking a backseat as the two juniors worked together. 

They did need his assistance with playing Rest, but that was expected since most Lan Sect songs were initially taught as duets to make it easier for the disciples to learn. Mo Xuanyu had on spiritual instrument, but Jingyi wasn’t horrible on his xiao. He sustained a duet with Wei Wuxian’s new dizi well enough, and at a higher skill than any lesser cultivation clan. 

“It just seems kinda sad,” Lan Jingyi admitted. “To play music to force them to go. What if I died and wanted to stay and watch my friends and family throughout their lives?” 

“I suppose you’d ask whatever cultivator who found you to ensure that you didn’t rest in peace, then.” Wei Wuxian said. “And become a very powerful ghost.” 

Mo Xuanyu glanced at Jingyi. “Technically, I think that’s against Lan Sect doctrine.” 

“Yeah but if I’m dead and that’s my greatest wish, then some cultivator is going to have to grant it. I’ll only move on after seeing my friends’ lives play out, so they have to let me!” 

As they chatted, something caught Wei Wuxian’s attention. His spiritual sense was amplified by his connection to the Burial Mounds, and so it came as a surprise to him when he noticed a familiar, prickly flame of spiritual energy approaching rapidly towards his destination. 

“Both of you, with me.” He commanded, standing. “Jiang Cheng is making a beeline right towards us. Let’s be out of the graveyard and at some more respectable place to talk by the time he arrives.” 

The three of them found a field a little ways on the outskirts of the town. Jiang Wanyin approached alone, his sword glare brilliant purple in the warm summer sun. He descended with practiced ease, and dismounted with elegance. Wei Wuxian was grudgingly impressed. 

“Wei Wuxian.” He stated, not bothering to bow. Wei Wuxian didn’t bow either, though Lan Jingyi pulled Mo Xuanyu into a hasty one behind him. 

Wei Wuxian would never have to bow to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng would never bow to him. Their brotherhood may be shattered and in the beginnings of repair right now, but the sense that they were equals never waned. 

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian greeted, tone noticeably warmer. “What brings you here? I thought Yunmeng-Jiang was leading the purification around that Zombie Trap Array.” 

“That asshole Yao dipped out, so yeah. That’s not it. Before you ask,” he gave Wei Wuxian a look, “Yu Zhenhong and the others can handle it fine alone. Something else came up. Where’s Hanguang-Jun?” 

Wei Wuxian blinked. Jiang Cheng seemed on edge, but it was not directed at Wei Wuxian himself. 

“Lan Zhan’s getting us permission to investigate the Nie Mausoleums from Nie Huaisang.” He explained. “We’re tracking down the rest of the demon hand’s body.” 

“Oh good.” Jiang Wanyin snarled. “I’m going to wring Huaisang’s little bird neck.” 

“Wait, Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian was startled. Murder was a little excessive, right? “What! Why?? What did Huasiang do?” 

“It’s—” Jiang Cheng began, but then cut himself off. “I’ll tell you on the way. You and you,” he pointed to Mo Xuanyu and Lan Jingyi. “Get on your swords. Wei Wuxian, you’re with me because you’re useless.” 

Despite the twin looks of fright Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu shared, Wei Wuxian felt his undead heart warm at the realization that Jiang Cheng was inviting him to fly on Sandu. 

“Jiang Cheng! You’ve really gotten soft about this demonic cultivator, inviting him to ride with you!” Wei Wuxian teased, then dodged backwards as a fist occupied the space his face had just been. 

Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu glanced at each other. This was soft?

“Fucking hurry up.” Jiang Wanyin said, grabbing Wei Wuxian before he could dance away. “I don’t have time for this, Wei Wuxian. Jin Ling might be in danger.” 

Sobering, Wei Wuxian stepped on Sandu without a single complaint. A sense of danger spiked around them all as Wei Wuxian shed his mentor role and re-embraced the mantle of Yilling Laozu. 

“What happened?” He asked as they took off. 

“After we found Xiao Xingcheng’s sword mark near the Zombie Trap Array, Jin Ling decided he wanted to investigate further since we’ve seen nothing from Xiao Xingcheng or Song Lan. The mark was recent,” Jiang Wanyin added, at Wei Wuxian’s look of confusion. “Normally, we’d hear a word about those two wanderers being in the region given how powerful they are, but it was crickets.” 

“Song Lan is a bit of an asshole, but he’s polite enough not to poach on Sect lands.” Wei Wuxian noted. 

“Yeah. But since that pair has such a righteous reputation, I figured it would be fairly safe to let Jin Ling track them down. Maybe even meet them. The kid needs an ego check, meeting a student of an immortal who was the embodiment of humility might give him a better role model than me. The trail led him to Qinghe.” 

“Ah.” Wei Wuxian realized. Despite his worry for Jing Ling, he found himself heartened at the evidence of how much Jiang Cheng had grown. Wei Wuxian knew his brother would be a good parent, albeit fiercely protective like a bristling tiger. “I have not sensed Jin Ling nearby in the slightest.” 

“Oh I know,” Jiang Wanyin hissed. “Because if you had, he’d be with you right now. I was hoping he was.” 

Wei Wuxian nodded grimly. Jiang Wanyin had read him right—if he had sensed Jin Ling, he would have gone and roped him into whatever they were doing. Not just to catch up, but to also scout the scope of Jin Ling's knowledge. Wei Wuxian liked to meddle and Jiang Cheng had spent a lifetime being the subject of it. Of course he would know. 

Finding courage, Lan Jingyi added, “Sizhui and I haven’t heard from Jin Ling since two days ago. We had no idea he was in Qinghe.” 

Lightning crackled ominously around the Jiang Sect Leader. “I bet. I’m going to murder Huaisang. Jin Ling is missing, and that’s on The Headshaker’s stupid, careless watch.” 

For once, Wei Wuxian found himself agreeing. “There's a thick well of resentment sitting right over where the Nie Mausoleums are. More than usual, Jiang Cheng. We were planning to investigate the area.” But if Jin Ling found it first and investigated, it would be one disciple alone in such an area… 

Jiang Cheng seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Fuck.” 

-- -- -- 

Chapter Text

“NIE HUASIANG!” 

The dark oak doors of the meeting chamber were thrown open in a crackling gale. The sound echoed, deep and tremorous. Flickers of purple lightning rendered the air charged and dangerous, and the stormy aura followed Jiang Wanyin as he stalked toward his current prey. 

The coiled manticore adorning the bronze mantlepiece backing the Sect Leader’s seat fiercely contrasted the giant, fearful eyes of the meek Nie Sect Leader. The dark wood room was cast with golden afternoon light, catching on golden filigree and warm green drapery. A myriad of carved, snarling creatures seemed to prowl around the pillars and the ceiling, yet all Wei Wuxian saw when he looked at Nie Huasiang was a particularly terrified bird. 

“Ah, Sect Leader Jiang—” Nie Huaisang twittered, ducking behind a paper fan dotted with spring flowers. “I wasn’t expecting your visit!” 

The Nie Sect Leader glanced towards his guards, who stared back with impressively stone faces. Some things were worth protecting one’s Sect Leader from, but a snarling Jiang Wanyin looking for his missing nephew was a fight no intelligent cultivator would start. 

“I expect not.” Jiang Wanyin said, voice low and dangerous. “Because if Jin Ling, current Sect Leader of Lanling Jin and my ward, were to visit Qinghe and go missing on your lands, I would be the first person you would tell.” 

Sensing the nature of this confrontation, Lan Wangji surreptitiously stepped aside and placed himself on Wei Wuxian’s right. Wei Wuxian pressed a hastily scribbled talisman into Lan Wangji’s hand, the characters glowing red for a heartbeat before the paper dissolved into crimson fragments of light. 

Lan Zhan, Wei Wuxian thought, Don’t be alarmed. This is a modified communication talisman paired with some theory from Gusu Lan’s Book of Mind. It will last for a few minutes but I can update you on what happened. 

To his credit, the only indication that Hanguang-Jun heard the Yilling Laozu’s voice in his head was a very subtle squeeze of their joined hands. 

“Of course I would!” Nie Huaisang protested. Then, he tilted his head guilelessly. “Wait, Jin Ling was in Qinghe?” 

Apoplectic, Jiang Cheng yelled, “What kind of sect leader doesn’t know when other sects enter their lands!?”

“Sect Leader Jiang, could it be that you’re perhaps a little paranoid?” 

“How is basic surveillance PARANOID?” At his hip, Zidian hissed, displeased. “Listen here Nie Huasiang, Jin Ling is missing and I’m—” 

So, actually, Jiang Cheng has a point, Wei Wuxian explained, He sent Jin Ling to find Xiao Xingchen and Son Lang as an exercise in patience, but the kid tracked them here then went missing. I suspect he might be in that dangerous area we identified — I’m the best sensor we have here, and even my shadows haven’t found him yet. 

The only place I can’t see into, Wei Wuxian noted, Is the resentment clouding the Nie Mausoleums. That place is warded with something ancient, likely from when the Nie Sect was first created. 

At this, Lan Wangji’s eyes darkened. He, too, was looking at Nie Huasiang with some suspicion. 

“Even if you weren’t tracking people of interest within your territory,” Jiang Cheng glared, his fury tightly controlled. “And even if you ignored every missive other sect leaders sent you, you would still know if an individual from another sect entered Qinghe Nie Sect’s warded private grounds, right?” 

Caught, Nie Huaisang winced. “Ah.” 

Wei Wuxian could tell that the guards were now listening with rapt attention. No doubt this would turn into high gossip within the next few hours. 

Jiang Cheng made a gesture. “Wei Wuxian, explain it to this moron.” 

“Nie Huaisang,” Wei Wuxian said with a pleasant smile. It was not a kind one. “Drop the act. We all know you’re not some irrelevant fool, even though it serves you well to keep the guise. There’s a patch of thick resentment hanging over your Mausoleums, within the inner sect grounds—did you know about this?” 

“Brother Wei, to tell you about that would be to divulge Sect Secrets.” Nie Huaisang said, tone shifting. 

“Jin Ling might be dead. Do you want to start a war?” Wei Wuxian wagered. “What happens when word gets out that Lanling Jin’s Sect Leader was attacked while inside Qinghe Nie Sect’s private lands? How do you think that would look.” 

“Brother Wei does not play nice, does he?” The Headhsaker whined. “Have some mercy on this poor Sect Leader!” 

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng shared looks of immense exasperation. 

“What mercy?” Wei Wuxian asked flatly. 

“Mercy for me! Fine, fine. He’s not dead,” Nie Huasiang said, placating. “Because if he was, Wei Wuxian would have said so, and you—” He pointed his fan at the Jiang Sect Leader. “Would have killed me already.” 

Jiang Wanyin huffed, glaring at the rest of them like so what? He did not dispute the accusation. 

“Anf if Little Sect Leader Jin is harmed, I promise it was unintentional. Night Hunting is a dangerous business, after all. I’ll take you to the Nie Mausoleums myself, but…” He trailed off, though not because of his act of false ignorance. A change seemed to come over him, suddenly serious. “I’ll need you to keep the disciples who came with you here. They cannot visit the Nie Mausoleums. You can, but each of you would need to swear an oath of secrecy.” 

Eyes narrowed, Wei Wuxian spun his flute in thought. “That important, huh?” 

“I’m only even considering it because of our past friendships.” Nie Huaisang said. “Brother Wei, if this gets out, it could ruin the Nie Sect entirely. I hope you understand the importance of reputation these days, because even with powerful allies, I am not willing to risk it.” 

Nie Huaisang made a gesture with his fan, and the two eavesdropping guards escorted Lan Jingyi and Mo Xuanyu from the room. Nie Huaisang sunnily told them to enjoy the gardens, and that he would send for them after. When he turned back to the rest of them, his expression lacked that youthful bliss. 

“Now, Brother Wei, if you could activate this?” The Nie Sect Leader held out a very intricate array, fished from the endless sleeves of his extravagant robe. Wei Wuxian studied it, interest piqued. 

“Huh. This is a really, really complicated binding seal. I had no idea you could make these things, Nie Huasiang.” Wei Wuxian remarked, reading the ominous configuration. “Why me?” 

Nie Huaisang’s expression was hidden by his fan. “Because your energy is currently untraceable, and I need no one to know of what we will do this afternoon.” 

“Untraceable?” 

“To normal cultivators, anyways,” Nie Huasiang smiled. “Now, please.” 

“How nice of you to let me know.” Wei Wuxian said wryly, and then knelt to activate the array. The seal bloomed beneath their feet, twisting red branches with thorny connections much like a nasty bramble. 

No wonder Huaisang didn’t want the use of this traced, He thought in Lan Wangji’s direction, I’m fairly certain, unless laws have changed horribly, that blood seals are illegal. And nasty to break with yang energy alone. What kind of secrets is he hiding behind this? 

Feeling the array reaching for his core, Wei Wuxian said, “I, Wei Ying, promise not to reveal what I learn today about the Qinghe Nie Sect unless given permission by Sect Leader Nie Huaisang.” 

He glanced up at Nie Huasiang, who nodded. So he approves of that wording, hm? 

“With I, Nie Huaisang, as witness, this oath will hold so long as I live.” Nie Huaisang said, and the array pulsed bloody red in confirmation. 

With the precedent set, Lan Wangji and Jiang Wanyin echoed the same oath. Once each promise had been made, the array dimmed, its weight sinking into each of them before lightening now that the burden had been accepted voluntarily. Had it been involuntarily, Wei Wuxian knew that he would be reminded of it constantly as it pressed against him with suffocating urgency. 

“What the fuck kind of oath mediator was that, Nie Huasiang?” Jiang Cheng asked, frowning. “Did you use a modified—” 

“Shh!” Nie Huaisang shushed before Jiang Cheng would inevitably link it to some of the blood arrays used during the Sunshot Campaign that were later outlawed. “It works. If the worst comes to it, I don’t have the strongest cultivation. You would be able to break it through brute force.” 

“So that’s why you found something untethered to Qinghe-Nie practices.” Wei Wuxian realized. “And found a demonic cultivator to cast the first vow, meaning that if I broke it the others would not get as much backlash. How clever. This implies that you want us to reveal it at some point, you know.” 

Nie Huaisang nodded, oddly serious. “Brother Wei, there’s a reason I refused to cultivate the sabre despite being next in line. This same reason is why you, of all people, would be uniquely suited to helping me. One day, this will need to be told to all, but that is not for a time yet.” 

“Resentment.” Lan Wangji said, interrupting. 

Nie Huaisang nodded. “The Nie Sabres are a type of Yao, with spirits forged into them at the time of their making. Spirits are not yang-oriented creatures by nature, and so using them over one’s lifetime can lead to…” He shrugged. The cheer in his eyes was chillingly false. “Qi deviation.” 

“Nie Mingjue’s death.” Jiang Wanyin said, grimly. “With his cultivation strength, it’s no wonder that death reached him so quickly.” 

“Using resentment while having a golden core leads to slow poisoning of your golden core, eventually leading to qi deviation due to the imbalance of energies within your body.” Wei Wuxian thought aloud, “So the Qinghe Nie Sect’s creator circumvented this by using swords as a conduit, instead of the body alone. Qi moves and coalesces within the sword before being released, taking the strain off your body.” 

With a smile that was all teeth, Nie Huaisang snapped his fan shut. “I should have expected Brother Wei to figure things out immediately.” 

“But from just the theory, your core should be fine.” Jiang Wanyin noted. “Every other Nie Sect leader before you has dropped dead before forty. What are we missing?” 

“It’s a two-way connection.” Wei Wuxian said. “A constantly open two-way connection. Just as much as qi can go from you to the sword, qi can also go from the sword to you, especially if you’re using it subconsciously.” 

“Which leads to long-term destabilization and qi deviation, yes.” Nie Huaisang concluded. “When each cultivator dies, the sword spirit does not die with them. So we need to encase them both in a mausoleum so the sword spirit does not go on a murdering spree. Some of them are docile… but others…” 

“Fuck.” Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng said in tandem. Wei Wuxian looked sheepish, and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. 

Wei Wuxian tapped Nie Huaisang’s head with his flute. “That’s the patch of resentment I’ve been feeling. It’s warded so nothing can see in, and nothing can get out, isn’t it?” 

Nie Huaisang nodded. “I’m not keyed into the wards as well as Da-Ge was. My core isn’t stable enough to carry that kind of weight, so if Jin Ling is in there I would not know. I can take you there, however. There has been some disturbance, I just don’t know who.” 

“Well stop wasting our time and take us there!” Jiang Wanyin snarled. “What else is left to say?” 

“Ah, nothing much!” Nie Huaisang deflected, his hands raised in surrender. “Just a request for the great Yilling Laozu that might be beneficial for us both. Consider it a trade.” 

“You’re really surprising me, Nie Huaisang. First the strength of that oath array, and now this.” Wei Wuxian remarked, but he was more intrigued than offended. “I’m starting to think that you do know how to keep your sect safe when it comes down to this. What do you need?” 

“Oh no, I need all the help I can get.” Nie Huaisang met Wei Wuxian’s red eyes with playful, hazel ones and played his hand. “If Brother Wei can work with Nie artisans and forge-masters to create a safer version of the Nie Sabre, then I will do what I can to clear the reputation of the Yilling Laozu.” 

The cleverness of it shocked Wei Wuxian. Another chisel chipping against the construct of the mastermind behind the fierce corpse debacle, and so elegantly wagered. 

He made a mental note to bother Nie Huaisang about strategy games sometime. The offer of an idiot this was not, and Wei Wuxian found himself once again surprised at how much the people around him had grown in his absence. 

“Nie Huaisang, you’ve been holding out on me.” Wei Wuxian laughed, waving a placating hand at Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng’s open bafflement. “I accept.” 

Jiang Cheng gave him a sour look. “All those years tarnishing your reputation, and now you care about it?” 

“If I’m going to be seen with Hanguang-Jun, it’s best that I don’t drag down his reputation with me.” 

“To be with Wei Ying is not a dishonour.” Lan Wangji added, giving Jiang Wanyin a look of immense distaste. Jiang Wanyin returned it with vigour. 

“You two disgust me.” He hissed, then turned to Nie Huaisang. “Congrats on taking advantage of the most selfless idiot alive, just like you did when you were a kid.” 

“I aim to impress.” Nie Huaisang said, fluttering his fan, and Jiang Wanyin’s face contorted in disgust once more. 

“I hate you all.” He said, with feeling. “ All of you should go fucking die. Now let’s go find Jin Ling so I can never see your faces again.” 

“Aww, ChengCheng you don’t mean that~” 

“Who’s ChengCheng!? I will murder you too, Wei Wuxian!” 

-- -- --

The place that Nie Huaisang led them to was shrouded in mist. Wei Wuxian saw that while the trees appeared healthy, their foliage was darkened. It’s a lot like at Yilling, he noted, Where everything turns as black as charcoal after being exposed to resentment. They don’t seem to be growing in an unnatural manner though, so I suppose it’s fine. To think that some poor ancestors have decided it was best to rest at such an unrestful place — the Qinghe Nie Sect truly is one of a kind. 

There was a worn stone path to indicate the way, though the cut stones were littered with leaves and debris and had overgrown vines curling between the cracks. Nie Huaisang complained about bugs and roots the entire way, prompting Wei Wuxian to sigh and release his hold on his mortal skin. 

“There. Now they won’t come near.” He said, having given his shadows full permission to steal the life force of any beetle that wandered by. 

“And you look like someone’s night terror.” Jiang Wanyin observed, “It’s a little like back when we first found you, after you disappeared.” 

Lan Wangji looked like he was about to say something abrasive in Wei Wuxian’s defense, so Wei Wuxian nudged him and said, “Lan Zhan, it’s fine! That’s not Jiang Cheng’s offensive tone.” 

At Hanguang-Jun’s judgemental stare, Jiang Wanyin looked away. “Tch. I mean it, this idiot looks scary but it’s not inhumanly so. He should know that.” 

Now, Lan Wangji was looking at Jiang Cheng with some measure of consideration. I better derail this before it gets too far, Wei Wuxian thought, and turned back to Huaisang. 

“This place is pretty big. What’s the plan for investigating?” He asked. His flute, twirling elegantly between his fingers, now had a small jade charm attached to it. 

Lan Wangji had handed it to him privately as they walked, and once Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huasang had turned a corner, Wei Wuxian kissed him deeply in thanks. It was a white charm with a red tassel, matching his new flute. The charm depicted two bunnies nestled together, and Lan Wangji had etched customized sigils of energy storage around the circular frame. It was beautiful, and likely very expensive. Wei Wuxian felt extremely blessed that Lan Wangji liked to spoil him. 

Jiang Cheng, having noticed their disappearance, walked in on them mid-kissed. In a fit, he had called him disgusting, and then turned to Lan Wangji and asked if he really had no self control. Surely, Hanguang-Jun could do better. 

After some consideration, Lan Wangji answered with a judgemental “No.” 

Then, to rub it in, he added that people should be proud to show affection to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian felt his face heat up and burst into flames. 

Jiang Cheng, champion of drinking vinegar, had deftly changed the topic after that, stating that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were perfect for each other and it’s a miracle that the world doesn’t condemn how obstinate Lan Wangji was. 

Lan Zhan, for his part, seemed proud of the accusation. Wei Wuxian loved that man so, so much. This petty feud with Jiang Cheng, with the earnest embarrassment of Wei Wuxian aside, was incredibly funny. 

Returning to the present, Nie Huaisang seemed to have finally decided on how to approach this. He eyed them all, seemingly nervous, and then slowly stepped towards Jiang Wanyin. 

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” He sighed. “We’ll have to split up. Work horizontally along the rows. Brother Wei, you and Hanguang-Jun should take the newest ones. The resentment tends to be fresher, there, but the wards are also stronger. Sect Leader Jiang and I will take the older tombs. Their protections have eroded somewhat, and if someone is in danger, that is where they’re most likely to end up. But I don’t know for sure, I really don’t.” 

Jiang Cheng made a face at being stuck with Nie Huaisang, but then he sighed and pulled the Nie Sect Leader with him. 

“The faster we find Jin Ling, the safer your life is,” He barked, unimpressed at Nie Huaisang’s flailing. “Come on, march. Why didn’t you change into something less obstinate before coming here?” 

“Because I didn’t realize I would be abducted!” Nie Huaisang wailed. 

As the two of them disappeared, Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji and said, “I’m really glad I’m stuck with you, Lan Zhan.” 

Lan Wangji held his hand tighter. “Mn.” 

“Now, shall we? I bet we can find Jin Ling before either of them~” 

-- -- --

The Nie Mausoleums were, if you ignored the danger-sense that spiked with such resentment, rather peaceful. 

“These look like tiny stone castles,” Wei Wuxian said, brushing his hand alongside the granite bricks. “It’s like a kiln, Lan Zhan. It keeps the resentment in. For it to be leaking out… there’d have to be a lot. Nie Huaisang is in a bit of a bind.” 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agreed. 

They hadn’t been walking long before Wei Wuxian heard the barking of a dog, and promptly shrieked and hid behind Lan Wangji. 

Lan Wangji obligingly held him, but then betrayed Wei Wuxian by saying, “Jin Ling has a spiritual dog named Fairy.” 

“Ugh, I don’t want to go there. Lan Zhan, take me as a paperman and leave my body here. That way I can disappear when I want to.” 

With some sympathy, Lan Wanji kissed Wei Wuxian’s forehead. “Wei Ying can go incorproreal if the dog comes too close.” 

Wei Wuxian grimaced. “I’ve only done that because of strong emotion— Oh!” Nothing scared him more than dogs did. “Oh you’re right. I’ll just turn into a ghost out of fright, and then I won’t get bitten. You know, you may have a point.” 

“Wei Ying would investigate anyway. Wei Ying loves Jin Ling more than he fears dogs. I want Wei Ying to be… reassured.” 

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, you’re so sweet to little old me.” Wei Wuxian patted his cheek, and kissed him properly. “Be my knight in shining armor, hm~? Let’s go find this kid.” 

The sound of Fairy’s barking led them to a particularly nasty tomb, decorated with stone adornments that indicated the rank of Sect Leader. The husky was pacing across the front in agitated motions, pausing occasionally to bark worriedly at the entrance. 

“Spritual dogs are fiercely loyal. Will not stray far. Jin Ling must be nearby.” Lan Wangji observed, stepping forward to clip a leash to Fairy’s collar. He tethered Fairy to a nearby tree, far enough away that she couldn’t lunge at Wei Wuxian. 

“Where the fuck did you get a leash from?” The great Yilling Laozu asked, still shaking with fear. “Wait, Lan Zhan, do you just randomly carry one around?” 

Lan Wangji returned the qiankun pouch to his sleeve. “When travelling with Wei Ying, I wish to ensure Wei Ying’s comfort.” 

“That’s really sweet of you, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian said, “But let’s head inside. I’m sure Fairy is well-trained, but all I can see is some monstrous Yao.” 

Pleased with this turn of events, Fairy looked between them and the shattered hole in the side of the dome mausoleum, and barked eagerly. She lay down, watching their every move with her piercing eyes. Her tail never stopped wagging in anticipation. 

Lan Wangji gave the dog a single pet for good behaviour, then joined Wei Wuxian at the entrance. He placed his hand along the wall of rubble, feeling for traces of spiritual energy. 

“A spiritual tool did this,” he noted. “The energy signature is similar to Jin Ling’s.” 

“Must be Suihua.” Wei Wuxian noted. “Let’s go.” 

Together, they stepped inside. Their shadows lengthened as they walked into the tomb, the light waning behind them. The entryway opened into a shallow chamber, with three worn ancestral tablets placed against the back wall, with thick black-stained vines growing over and between the worn stone. 

Then, the screaming hit. 

Dissonant, unorganized screaming that crashed into him with the force of a tidal wave. Wei Wuxian felt his own shadows react protectively, swirling around him as he tried to block out the noise. The wailing cries eventually solidified as a guttural, echoing chant: 

Kill, kill, kill, kill —

Wei Wuxian covered his ears. 

Kill, KILL, KILL, KILL —

“What’s wrong?” Lan Wangji asked. 

“It’s so noisy.” Wei Wuxian admitted. “Whatever Jin Ling did to bust into this place, it broke the barrier keeping the spirits quiet. They’re still trapped, sure, but it sounds like everything this Cultivators’ sword killed has decided to gather here in rage.” 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji said, golden eyes narrowed. “Dangerous?” 

Red lighning crackled around Wei Wuxian, and he quelled the ghosts quiet using a variant of the Lan Silencing Spell. 

“Not to us.” He said, his red gaze scrutinizing the array on the floor. “To Jin Ling, possibly. It’s definitely something that can occur due to use of resentful energy, so Nie Huaisang wasn’t lying about that.” 

He pulled the Evil-Seeking Compass out, grimacing when the arrow began spinning in every direction. As I thought. I’m sure Jiang Cheng gave Jin Ling one of these, but it would have been useless here. They’re not strong enough to manifest, still likely just Class I Gui, but depending on how much death this sabre has brought, it could become trouble. It’s easier to fight one big monster than a hundred smaller, intangible ones. 

“There’s a secret door.” Lan Wangji said, breaking Wei Wuxian’s focus. He had walked forward, and was now examining a different part of the outer wall. He pressed two fingers against the activation array, brute-forcing his way past the initial protections. The door opened without complaint. 

Interestingly, Wei Wuxian didn’t feel anything break. “How curious. Jin Ling must have forced his way through already. That kid has some skills.” 

The space behind the door descended into darkness. Wei Wuxian approached it, then frowned. 

“Lan Zhan, is it just me or is it this place far larger on the inside?” 

“Mn.” Lan Wangji agreed, glancing back. 

Something’s up with how they built this place, Wei Wuxian thought. Are the above-ground crypts just a front? Is the real mausoleum deep underground? What a marvel of engineering, if it is. Nie Huaisang never mentioned that the Nie had such curious burial practices. 

Then again, he thought with a wince as he felt the erratic energy of displeased spirits press up against him, such measures would be needed to keep this all under lock and key. 

The Yilling Laozu studied the passage stretching out in front of them. The stone walls were supported with dark, polished wood. The decorative carvings continued across the ceiling, in customary Nie interior fashion. A series of torches stood dormant in sequence, presumably to light the way. 

Lan Wangji  lifted a talisman to light them, but Wei Wuxian gently brought his hand down. He kissed Lan Wangji’s fingers in apology as he pried the talisman from his fingers. 

“Let me, Lan Zhan.” He explained, “If you use spiritual energy, you might throw these ghosts into a frenzy, and then we’ll really be in trouble.” 

Conceding the point, Lan Wangji nodded. 

Wei Wuxian channeled a small stream of resentment into the talisman, and when it was glowin a steady, pulsing red, he made a motion with his hand and pushed it down the entire path. Green ghostly fires flared and lit the torches. 

With one hand forming the mudra for control, Wei Wuxian tempered the flames, bringing them down to a obedient flicker that didn’t eat too viciously at the natural resentment created by the trapped ghosts. The light turned the already eerie mausoleum into something out of a spirit-tale. 

They followed the stairs down into a circular chamber. This one was far larger than the initial entryway, and at the centre of an eerie circle of green flame, lay a thick gold and black marble coffin. Protective sigirly was carved into the heavy stone coffin placed in the centre, with the suppression array extending in a 8-point floral seal that bloomed on the stones below the coffin. 

Wei Wuxian knelt at the foot of the shallow staircase leading into the depression, idly tracing the carved lines. This is some complicated work. Whoever first invented this must have been some Nie genius, because as far as I know, neither Nie Huaisang nor Nie Mingjue showed any particular talent towards runes, warding and sigirly. 

Standing up, he huffed. In fact, this person is giving me a run for my title as master! 

“Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asked, and Wei Wuxian turned to his zhiji to explain the complexity of the seal. The real brilliance came in how it tricked the ghosts into thinking they were free to move—but really, they just circled the ghosts in the area of the crypt itself. 

Also interestingly, there was an intricate inner layer that, if Wei Wuxian was reading correctly, kept spirits of a certain level from noticing each other. This was likely to prevent any ghost-on-ghost violence that could destabilize the careful balance of power. 

With a quick tune on his new flute, Wei Wuxian summoned one of the bridal ghosts who had helped him during the Sunshot Campaign. Wu Xiran had died unable to marry her true love, instead forced to marry a man, and so they had killed each other to find themselves together in the afterlife. 

She was kind. She stayed because she cared, not because she hated, and she didn’t seem to mind her patriarch’s occasional favors when most of her time was spent with her wife. Wei Wuxian had called on her help often, and it was with practiced ease that she pulled out parchment and charcoal, and drew the seal. 

“What trouble have you found yourself in now, I wonder?” She said, her beautiful, eyeless face turning to him with an amused smile. Wei Wuxian felt Lan Wangji stiffen behind him. 

“Wu-Guniang, your veil,” Wei Wuxian reminded, and she spun around in embarrassment before fishing it out and putting it on. 

“My apologies, Hanguang-Jun, Laozu.” She amended, “I hope my appearance was not too horrible.” 

“Age has not waned your beauty in the slightest~” Wei Wuxian reassured her, kneeling to watch her work. “Do you think you could sneak this to our rooms in the Qinghe Nie Sect’s fortress? I can pick them up later. Technically, this may count as a Nie Sect secret, and Huaisang could demand I destroy the paper if he knew.” 

“But only if he knew,” she echoed with a knowing smile, and packed up her work. “Thank you, Laozu, for calling me first. We had placed bets on your return, and you have won me several cowrie shells.” 

“Is that the currency where ghosts live?” Wei Wuxian wondered aloud, and returned her bow. “Of course, Wu-Guniang. I’m happy to have been of service.” 

Her work done, she stepped into the flickering shadows surrounding them and simply disappeared. Lan Wangji turned to Wei Wuxian the moment she was gone, a thousand questions in those pale gold eyes. 

“Ah, Lan Zhan, she’s a friend. It got lonely in the Burial Mounds, I didn’t always have living cultivators to help me, so I asked a few dead ones. She’s got better handwriting than me in a pinch.” 

“Is it not frivolous?” Lan Wangji asked. 

“Well, that’s where consent comes in.” Wei Wuxian noted. “Think about it. I’m not forcing them to do anything—but, well, most times for ghosts, their afterlife is boring. Inviting them here and giving them the power to interact with the mortal world is like gifting them a fancy trinket. Wu-Guniang is Class III without my help, if she didn’t want to be here, we’d know.” 

Lan Wangji inclined his head,  mollified by the explanation. 

Standing, Wei Wuxian walked over to the coffin in the centre of the room. He ran his hands along the edge of the gold filigree, noting the interesting design showing a wolf chasing a boar. 

“Nice coffin.” He muttered, then with careful augmentation of resentment, shoved the lid open. The lid clattered behind them with an echoing bang. 

One heartbeat, two, then—

AaaaaAAAIIIEEEEEEĒ̵̤Ȩ̸̻̟͇̞̳͌̄̊̅͘͜Ĕ̵̝̠͙͕̀͂̚͘͝Ḙ̵̅͋͝E̵̘̞̺̓́͋̚͝E̸͖̯͇̙͙͆̅͘Ȩ̷̺̣̼̏̚E̵̫̟̤̙̦͐̓͠ͅE̵̢̺͙͓̮̻̊̕E̴̘͉̺̗̤̟̔̀̔̅͛̆͠È̷̜̠̩̲̞̥̌̒̈͠È̴̠͛̊ͅ!!!!!

Gritting his teeth, Wei Wuxian stared impassively at the influx of spirits and power that fled the coffin. So powerful was the river of ghostly energy that it kicked up the stale air of the mausoleum, making their robes and hair dance. 

It didn’t stop. 

AAAIIIEEEEEEEĒ̵̤Ȩ̸̻̟͇̞̳͌̄̊̅͘͜Ĕ̵̝̠͙͕̀͂̚͘͝Ḙ̵̅͋͝E̵̘̞̺̓́͋̚͝E̸͖̯͇̙͙͆̅͘Ȩ̷̺̣̼̏̚E̵̫̟̤̙̦͐̓͠ͅE̵̢̺͙͓̮̻̊̕E̴̘͉̺̗̤̟̔̀̔̅͛̆͠È̷̜̠̩̲̞̥̌̒̈͠È̴̠͛̊ͅḘ̵̅͋͝E̵̘̞̺̓́͋̚͝E̸͖̯͇̙͙͆̅͘Ȩ̷̺̣̼̏̚!!!!!

The relentless wailing continued, and Wei Wuxian covered his ears with a grimace. Lan Wangji glared at the coffin in extreme distaste. The green fire around them flickered dangerously, but with a little boost from Wei Wuxian, kept burning steadily through the onslaught. 

Then silence. 

Blessed, beautiful silence. 

Curious, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian looked into the coffin. 

“This is—” Wei Wuxian whispered in shock. “Where is the body? Is this coffin just for the sword? That’s a first for me.” 

Inside was not a body, but a sabre. The blade gleamed wickedly sharp despite years of disuse and abandonment. Wei Wuxian felt uneasy. All that resentment, just from a sword? Nie Huaisang really undersold this issue. 

“A lone sabre interned in such a fortified crypt…” Lan Wangji wandered aloud, frowning. 

“Yeah, there has to be some secret to this.” Wei Wuxian agreed. No way that occasionally touching resentful energy led to such a buildup. I wonder whose sabre this is? I bet that’s the secret. “But more importantly, what about Jin Ling? Where is he?” 

Lan Wangji’s eyes darkened. “Let me ask.” 

And so they attempted Inquiry, now that the spirits had already been roused. Inquiry gave voice to shades that did not have one, and while Wei Wuxian was extremely sensitive to the voices of spirits just on his own, in here, it was overwhelming. 

I’m so glad Lan Zhan is here, Wei Wuxian thought, watching his partner fondly. I’d go insane from voices all over again if he wasn’t. What a mess. What a mess, indeed. 

Lan Wangji concluded his song with utmost serenity, and once the glowing spirit-bubbles had a moment to confer amongst themselves, a single brave soul ventured forward and plucked a few strings on the guqin. Lan Wangji frowned. 

“What is it?” Wei Wuxian asked. 

“The souls here are odd.” Huanguang-Jun reported. “They know nothing about this place from when they were alive. 

Hmm, so my hunch was right. Wei Wuxian thought, the spirits tied to this place are probably the spirits the sabre killed — I just don’t know if these are trapped ghosts or new ghosts of people murdered. On that latter thought, what kind of Nie Sect Leader goes butchering people? 

“How odd!” Wei Wuxian remarked aloud, “Have any of them seen Jin Ling?” 

“Face the south-west.” Lan Wangji translated, and Wei Wuxian did. “After each note is played, take a step forward. When the music stops, he will be right in front of you.” 

And so Wei Wuxian did. 

Ding.

Ding. 

Ding. 

Ding. 

Ding. 

Ding. 

Ding. 

Ding. 

“Lan Zhan,” The YIlling Laozu paused, puzzled. “This is a dead end. Don’t tell me—” The pieces clicked together. “He’s in the wall?” 

Furious, Wei Wuxian drew a shattering talisman in the air and slapped it on the wall, causing the entire structure to shudder. A person-size hole crumbled away into fine rubble, and once the dust had cleared, Wei Wuxian saw a hint of golden cloth. 

“Lan Zhan, he’s here. Get the rocks off!” Wei Wuxian commanded, leaning in further to catch Jin Ling as his upper body slumped forward. He was unconscious, but thankfully Wei Wuxian could find a pulse. Once Lan Wangji got the rocks off Jin Ling’s robes, Wei Wuxian pulled the kid free. 

Around him, the spirits of the mausoleum tensed in anticipation. Wei Wuxian snarled at them, casting a wordless spell that threw them back in a wave of thick, black shadows. 

“Lan Zhan, take Jin Ling.” Wei Wuxian pushed Jin Ling into Lan Wangji’s arms. “I’ll make sure nothing follows after us, but you have Bichen. Fly him out now!” 

As Lan Wangji took off with a nod, Wei Wuxian loosened his careful control and let crimson lightning crackle around his form. The wailing reached a mind-shattering pitch as the spirits coalesced, dissonant and angry, but Wei Wuxian’s skill in talismanry was scond to none. 

He drew them in the air, using blood as his medium. Supress, confuse, daze. Might as well toss in the one I saw on that array, too. Now you can’t see each other either. 

He gathered resentment around him and used it to augment his steps, running after Lan Wangji. The sheer number of spirits made it hard to trap them, and after overwhelming his stalling, they focused on Lan Wangji with vengeance. They were drawn to vulnerability, and Jin Ling was the most vulnerable one here. 

I need to be faster, Wei Wuxian thought, forcing his resentful energy into some mimicry of a jian. I don’t actually have a sword, but maybe I can ride this out. The perimeter defenses still hold, I just need to stay ahead of them or this will get ugly, fast. 

As the crackling, bloody lightning stabilized amidst his shadows, Wei Wuxian found himself keeping pace with Lan Wangji. The balance of it was so, so delicate. Like the prick of a kitten’s claws. Such fine control that it was hard to keep focus, but it was working. 

The hands of some pissed ghost nearly caught Lan Wangji’s robes, and Wei Wuxian tore them away with claws of his own. The fury within him bled into his own resentment, causing the current he was riding to lash about dangerously. 

Wei Wuxian blindly threw another sequence of powerful suppression talismans into the void behind them. Whatever ghost it hit went careening to the side and shattered a stone pillar from the force of it, and now falling debris joined the mess of things for them to dodge. 

The exit appeared, only heartbeats away. 

They were so close. 

Wei Wuxian held his breath. 

One. 

Two. 

And they were out. 

The wave of furious spirits crashed into the invisible barrier seal surrounding the perimeter of the crypt, angry that their prey had escaped. They screamed and wailed and sobbed, grotesque, flickering faces occasionally manifesting from the force of the accumulated fury. Their vicious voices became a cacophony that turned the air around them into a living hell, but thankfully Wei Wuxian couldn’t hear them anymore. 

Breathing heavily, Wei Wuxian turned to Lan Wangji. “How is he?” 

“Unconscious but alive.” Lan Wangji reported. Wei Wuxian reached into his partner’s robes and pulled out an emergency flare. He fired it off. 

“That’ll bring Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to us.” He said, sitting on a large rock. Between them, they settled Jin Ling as comfortably as they could in the grass. Wei Wuxian removed his over-robe and rolled it up as a pillow for his nephew. 

They didn’t have to wait long. Jiang Cheng appeared moments later, having raced here on Sandu at the sight of the flare. Curiously, Nie Huaisang wasn’t with him. 

“I ditched him,” The Jiang Sect Leader growled, seeing their curious looks. “If Nie Huaisang can’t navigate his own ancestral graveyard, that’s his problem. I’m not waiting for that slowpoke. Where’s Jin Ling?” 

Wei Wuxian beckoned him over. “Alive, but unconscious. The spirits inside these mausoleums are nasty things—they were leeching his life force dry, and had trapped him inside a wall.” He paused, red eyes narrowing. “He wasn’t in there long enough for permanent damage, but I think there’s a curse on his right leg.” 

Jiang Cheng took off Jin Ling’s boot and rolled his pants up without preamble. There was indeed a curse—a nasty, green-black swirl of resentful miasma that had started to blister. 

“Fuck.” Jiang Cheng hissed. He pulled out a qiankun pouch of his own and began to rummage through the medical supplies. 

“I can transfer the curse to me. It’ll be burnt off within the day.” Wei Wuxian offered. 

Jiang Wanyin shook his head. “No. It’s not life-threatening. It’ll be a good lesson in recklessness for it to heal slowly. Let’s just negate its effects and let the resentment dissipate with time.” 

Surprised, Wei Wuxian took the bandages from the pouch and began drawing quick sigils in charcoal. It would make sure that the effect of any resentment didn’t extend beyond the injury and affect his mind. 

Once Jiang Wanyin had applied an antibacterial salve, he took the bandages and carefully wrapped up Jin Ling’s leg. On top of Wei Wuxian’s work, he added a traditional Jiang Lotus Seal, to promote quick healing and prevent infection. 

As the wound was dressed, Wei Wuxian played a few notes on his white jade flute to test the intensity of the curse, and found that it had been successfully trapped and neutralized. The blistering had already healed from the strength of his golden core, which meant Jin Ling would just have an extremely bruised, sore leg for a few days. 

Lan Wangji offered to play Clarity to soothe Jin Ling’s mind, to which Jiang Cheng accepted, bowing in thanks. The afternoon had turned into evening, the sun slowly vanishing, and it was only the glow from Lan Wangji’s calm spiritual energy that kept their gathering from falling prey to the ominous atmosphere. 

As the gentle music surrounded them, Jiang Cheng turned to Wei Wuxian.

“When Hanguan-Jun is done.” He said, “Let’s get out of here and discuss things over dinner. This place is full of nasty, neglected things and Nie Huaisang is a horrible Sect Leader. Jin Ling needs a bed and a proper doctor to make sure I didn’t fuck up my field medicine, and then we can tear Huaisang a new one.” 

Wei Wuxian nodded, grim. On that, they were of the same mind. 

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