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Chapter Text

Those in the Sunshot Campaign stared in confusion as Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian - who they thought had gotten kidnapped or were dead - stood in front of the Wen army facing them, as if they themselves were the generals in charge of leading the men. It was hard for the Clan Leaders to make out the Wens standing behind the pair, but Lan Xichen estimated that their force was substantially smaller than the army standing behind him. 

“His Excellency would like to know if you concede your loss and admit defeat.” Wei Wuxian’s voice practically boomed over the field, twirling a black dizi in his hand as he looked towards the Sunshot Campaign’s forces as if they were nothing more than ants blocking his path. 

Nie Mingjue snarled. 

“If Wen Ruohan thinks we will bow down that easily, he can come face us himself!” he shouted, brandishing Baxia as a shout from the Nie troops echoed his sentiment. 

Lan Xichen watched a smirk cross Wei Wuxian’s face as he laughed, a deep laugh that sent a chill down his spine as his eyes drifted towards his brother, towards Wangji, who hadn’t spoken a single word from the moment the pair and the Wen army appeared. 

Wangji didn’t appear to be in any pain nor discomfort, actually, Lan Xichen was unable to read his brother’s expression -  gasping as Wangji’s cold stare landed on him.

There wasn’t an ounce of his brother in that look, not a single glance of love or respect in his gaze. Lan Wangji’s eyes bore into Lan Xichen as if he were seeing his very soul. If he didn’t know any better, Lan Xichen would suspect that Wen Ruohan had done something to his brother, forced him to act a certain way or broken his spirit to such an extent that he no longer held any regard for anyone around him - but the hand on Wei Wuxian’s waist clearly said otherwise. 

Wei Wuxian’s laughter came to an end as he leaned against Lan Wangji, their bodies molding together like puzzle pieces, two halves of a whole.

“Chifeng-zun, you certainly are mistaken. Wen Ruohan is dead, has been dead, for almost two years.” 

Lan Xichen froze, he felt the collective gasp from the soldiers behind him. Mingjue looked at him, eyes wide as if to ask “Did I hear that correctly?” 

Did…did Wei Wuxian just state that the man they had been fighting against for just over two years had been dead the entire time? Who was the one they were fighting then? Who was ordering troops around? Who had taken over leadership of the Wen Clan now that Wen Ruohan was dead? 

“And who is this new Xiandu? Who is His Excellency to demand of us to back down when we never even knew of his rise?” Jiang Wanyin spat out. 

Despite the Clan Leader’s lost core and sword hand - and his unbelievable story of Wei Wuxian ripping out his core, Lan Wangji shearing off his hand and pulverizing Zidian, and the pair disappearing - he had risen to a powerful strategist position among the Sunshot Campaign’s forces. While he could not and would never wield a spiritual weapon again, that did not make him weak, it did not diminish his thirst for vengeance and revenge on the Wen Clan for the deaths of his parents and those among the Jiang Clan. 

Wei Wuxian clapped, a wide smile on his face. 

“I’m so glad you asked! It’s none other than Hanguang-jun of course. I cannot think of another person more fitting for the role.” He leaned into Lan Wangji’s side, into the arm wrapped around his waist. “And I think killing the former Xiandu means the position is his, right? It’s only right for him to take the position of the man he killed.” 

Lan Xichen looked at the men around him, meeting Nie Mingjue, Jiang Wanyin, and Jin Zixuan’s gaze as they all shared a similar look of shock and disbelief on their faces. 

Just as Lan Xichen was about to speak, to demand what on earth was going on, Wei Wuxian spoke, his voice projecting across the entire field. 

“Soldiers of the Sunshot Campaign, if you no longer wish to fight, to die in the upcoming battle, your lives will be spared so long as you follow explicit commands.” His voice boomed across the field. “Discard your weapons, sit where you now stand, or you may move to the side of the field. You will not be harmed by friend or foe for your decision, if you abandon all intention of fighting, I assure you your life will be spared.” 

It was quiet for a few moments, before dozens of soldiers threw down their weapons, abandoning their positions and moving to the other side of the field. Shouts rang out, commands for people to get back to their posts, that how dare they abandon their commanders. Voices shouted back. 

“I have a wife and kids! If I can go back home to them alive, I don’t care what I have to do!” 

“I’m too young to die!” 

“I never wanted to fight in this war!” 

“I promised my fiance that I would return to him!” 

The Sunshot Campaign lost at least half of their forces, but Lan Xichen still thought they outweighed the soldiers that stood behind Wangji and Wei Wuxian. He didn’t understand what was going on, and looking at Jiang Wanyin and Nie Mingjue, neither of them knew what to make of this situation either. 

After it appeared that most had made their decisions, Lan Xichen watched a wide, dark smile cross Wei Wuxian’s face as he brought his dizi to his lips. 

And blew out a single note. 

Later, it would only be described as a bloodbath, what happened on that field in Nightless City. 

Later, it would only be those who had abandoned their post, who had chosen their own lives over fighting for the Sunshot Campaign who would be able to speak of what happened. 

Later, the clan leaders present would find themselves at the mercy of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, they would find themselves stripped of their titles, kneeling, chained in cells, waiting for whatever punishment the pair thought they were due. 

But in that moment, after Wei Wuxian’s single note rang out over the field, the soldiers behind him came to life. 

They swung no weapons as they advanced, attacking any person they came into contact with. If they were felled, they stood back up without effort. Losing an arm, a leg, a head - nothing would stop them so long as they had limbs to move, a means to navigate the world around them. 

It was when Lan Xichen had cut down the third soldier that he realized it was were corpses they were fighting. They were corpses of Wen soldiers, likely killed by the pair who remained in their spot, watching the carnage as it happened. 

Lan Xichen didn’t recognize his brother anymore, if he could even call him that. 

Finding out Lan Wangji had killed Wen Ruohan, taking his position as Xiandu, but keeping his death a secret for two years? Letting unnecessary deaths occur over the course of the war take place, no, that wasn’t like Wangji. He would never allow such a thing to take place. 

Lan Xichen didn’t realize when the battlefield around him fell silent, when he finally came to and realized that he was among a handful of men still standing. He turned to see Nie Mingjue kneeling on the ground, Baxia shattered before him. Jiang Wanyin was surrounded by corpses, not a single one harming him, but neither allowing him to fight back or move. Jin Zixuan appeared to be the only one who had accepted defeat as he sat on the ground, Suihua sheathed on the ground in front of him, hands resting on his knees. 

Xichen turned his head towards movement coming closer, turning Shuoyue towards the approaching figures of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. They merely stared at him, then at his sword - a clear instruction for him to stand down, to sheath his weapon, to admit defeat. 

But Lan Xichen would not stand for this, he would not bow down to whatever has possessed his younger brother, whatever had changed him and made him harsh, dark, who had warped his morals and made him into the unrecognizable person he is where he stands. 

“I will not bow to whatever…darkness has possessed my brother.” He spoke, glaring at Wei Wuxian - already deciding that he was to blame, that his manipulation of corpses clearly showed that manipulation was not below him, Wangji’s fall from his morals clearly came from him. 

He watched Wei Wuxian sigh, before sharing a look with Wangji. 

“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” Wei Wuxian spoke, waving his hand. 

Within moments, Lan Xichen was forced to his knees, a sickening pop rang out as he felt one of his shoulders dislocate. Shuoyue was removed from his grasp, handed over to Wei Wuxian by one of the corpses. He was restrained by a singular corpse, his hands held together behind his back, unable to move.

Xichen heard Mingjue shouting for him, telling Wangji and Wei Wuxian that they had gone too far, that how dare they do such things to clan leaders who were supposed to be their allies, their families. 

Then, Wangji spoke the words that shattered Xichen’s heart. 

“I have no family. I will not associate with such men who only seek to do what will keep them comfortable, not what is right and just.” He stared into Xichen’s eyes with the weight of a thousand lives, a thousand sins he was reflecting back into Xichen’s eyes. “I will claim no family among traitors.” 

Chapter Text

The wards surrounding the Burial Mounds snapped like a loud crack of lightning. A thick black sheet of resentment separated the pair from those coming for them - and at the perfect time as well. 

Sounds of dozens of arrows snapping as they attempted to break the wards between them and their targets faded as the pair quickly ran up the mountain, blood following their every step. 

The Burial Mounds was just as Wei Ying remembered, from the second siege anyway, as he and Lan Zhan took shelter in the Demon Subdue Cave. 

Panting, the pair fell to their knees, the energy used to run up the mountain combined with their injuries - both mental and psychological - was finally catching up to them. 

“Lan Zhan…what are we supposed to do?” Wei Ying spoke before coughing into his hand, pulling it back bloodied. 

They were both panting, hands tightly clasped together, unwilling to let the other go for even a second. Cuts, bruises, puncture marks, and slashes crossed the lengths of both of their bodies. Their robes were a fade of white to dark red, pink in places where their wounds came into contact with water and sweat.

Neither had broken the dam, had shed the first tear, because if either of them had, it would’ve made them both inconsolable, unable to focus on running and saving their own lives rather than mourning those they had lost - who had been killed. 

Wei Ying knew that there were still people out there who still wished for his death, who would still make attempts on his life no matter where he was or who he was with. Both he and Lan Zhan had fought off random attackers as they were travelling, and had refused food during almost every event they attended - the only exception being their invitation to the Unclean Realm to give a proper funeral for Nie Mingjue after his body had been gathered and placed back together. 

But truly, honestly, if anyone had been able to predict what had happened, who would be conspiring against them, well, Wei Ying wanted to scream at them, to know what it felt like to wrap his hands around their throat and find out just exactly why they had not mentioned anything, to find out what else they had predicted, what else they had neglected to speak of, to prevent any events that had passed. 

In the two years Wei Ying had been back, in the blissful moments he had with Lan Zhan and the people he loved, with his sons and nephew, the gaggle of juniors he had accumulated who adored him, he never expected to be the one who they would die protecting. 

To see Sizhui cut down in front of him, jumping to block a sword coming for Wei Ying. 

For his son to smile at him, blood coating his teeth as he told his fathers to run, to run off with their other son, to save themselves. Jingyi practically dragged Lan Zhan and himself away from the fighting as he was too, covered in the blood of his friends, of his brother in everything but blood. 

Jingyi had separated from them shortly after, a deep, respectful bow towards both his fathers, one that he had only just started to get to know, before he ran - distracting the men that had followed after them, leading them in the opposite direction they were heading, allowing his fathers to run, to escape - even if it cost Jingyi his life. 

Wei Ying leaned against the wall, against the shivering form of his husband as they sat as close together as they could without further aggravating their wounds. His head hit the wall with a thunk that he felt down to his toes as he remembered the sight of Jin Ling being-

How could one come to grasping the concept of killing their own nephew? How could Jiang Wanyin rationalize wrapping Zidian around Jin Ling’s neck and pulling? What irredeemable act had Jin Ling committed that made him worthy of death in his own uncle’s eyes?

For those against them, it was simple. 

They chose to associate with Wei Wuxian. 

They chose to laugh, joke, be happy with, and stick around Wei Wuxian. 

They chose to make Wei Wuxian part of their family.

And that was their death sentence. 

Jiang Wanyin, Lan Qiren, and just about every Clan Leader they could think of had been planning, plotting, for months. Even Lan Xichen was not immune from getting a hit on his own brother and Wei Wuxian in their haste to escape Cloud Recesses when the first attack came. 

It was easy to think that it was just supporters of Jin Guangyao who wanted Wei Ying dead, to have revenge for their fallen leader, but the truth was much more widespread and painful. 

Nie Huaisang had found out about their schemes and plans far too late to warn them, likely too late to even save himself. 

Association with Wei Wuxian, and subsequently Lan Wangji, had become a means of death, a reason for anyone to kill, and this death sentence was not even immutable towards Clan Leaders. 

Both men startled as a figure stood at the mouth of the cave, slowly making its way through the entryway and stopping just at their feet before kneeling, bowing its head. 

“Masters.” A deep voice spoke, almost layered in tone, as if multiple people were speaking at the same time. 

Wei Ying’s eyes widened as he recognized the figure - though, not in their current form. 

“You…you’ve formed a body?” he whispered before bending over, coughing into his hand. 

“We have had time to develop this form, and now wish to do something we could not do when you first arrived, when you first met us.” The black form turned towards Lan Wangji. “You are both injured beyond your healing capacity, and we can only hold the wards as strong as they are for a limited amount of time, therefore, our solution will have to be the only route we take.” 

The voice of the one who spoke changed every sentence, switching between old men, women, and children, never settling on a singular voice, but all containing a singular motive in their actions. 

“What is your solution?” Lan Zhan’s ragged voice spoke, quickened breaths making it harder to take in a singular deep breath like he longed to do - but the multiple broken ribs he bore constricted him. 

“We have accumulated enough power, searched ourselves and our knowledge alongside Master Wei’s notes to be able to send you back. To get you away from the threats of now, and have a chance to prevent them from even happening. To change the fates that have been chosen for you by those who are undeserving of their positions, their power, who believe themselves to be worthy of their power, to desire control over others.” 

Wei Ying wiped his bloodied hand on their robes. 

“Time travel?” 

“Yes, Master Wei, Master Lan. We have come up with a singular method to change history, one that can keep you both together. However, even we are restricted by boundaries.” Wei Ying winced, he knew there would be a catch, there always is. 

“And?”

“We can only send you back as far as our first meeting.” 

In the peaceful year and a half Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had spent married, travelling the cultivation world, and just enjoying time together, discussions of things they had never shared always managed to sneak up on them. 

Wei Ying’s first encounter with the Burial Mounds was no exception. 

It was then that Wei Ying had fully admitted and spoke of what had happened, the full course of events from Wang Lingjiao’s arrival to Lotus Pier, to the core transfer, to Wen Chao throwing him into the Burial Mounds, to his narrowly managed escape that had taken over a month to time correctly. 

If they were to go back to Wei Ying’s first encounter with the Burial Mounds, the moment Wen Chao threw him in…

“Then we shall go back to when we met after you escaped.” Lan Zhan reached over and turned his face, making their eyes meet. “We will go back to Wen Chao’s death.” His voice was soft as Wei Ying agreed. 

“And what we’ll change, frankly speaking, fuck everyone else.” Wei Ying huffed out, anger coursing through his veins. “They all knew that I wasn’t growing an army, that I never wanted to kill them all and take over, make myself the next Wen Ruohan. Nothing we tell them will make them be able to see past how they perceive my cultivation. At best, we save a few lives and still find ourselves facing the same fate. At worst, they lock us up, kill us, or torture us to find out what else we know and then get mad at us when we won’t give them the pretty, perfect answers they want to hear.” 

The first tear fell. 

“They all knew! Jiang Wanyin knew of the true state of the Dafan Wen, who was with me in the Burial Mounds, and he loved to be able to kill them. Lan Xichen knew that the Wen should’ve been given a chance, but would not risk upsetting Nie Mingjue over it because it wasn’t worth his time to argue with his friends - he chose to keep the peace rather than save innocent lives!” A broken sob tore its way out of Wei Ying as he tightly grasped his husband’s hands. 

“No, we can’t rely on any of them. All they wish is for their perfect world to stay the way it is, for little orphan boys to keep to the ways of the gentry clans, to fall in line with what is expected of them. They want to keep their power, their ignorance, and drown in the joy of being with such like-minded people as the other Clan Leaders. It doesn’t matter when one Clan rises to power, the others can just cut them down and divide the spoils, make themselves stronger by eating one of their own. Even if their ways are so blatant, so obvious that even a child could pick out their hypocrisies, being called out about them is what makes them mad.” Wei Ying’s forehead fell onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder. 

“That is why they wanted me dead. Not for what I did, but what I represented. Challenging their authority, their means, their methods, stating in words what they all knew to be true but was not to be spoken of. I was never meant to survive, I was doomed to the fate of my first life because I would still make the same choices. I would still save the people I did, stick my neck out for someone else because if I can help someone, why wouldn’t I?” 

Silence filled the cave after Wei Ying fell silent, his breathing quickening as the pain in his lower back started increasing - no longer being muted by the adrenaline pumping in his system. 

“Master Wei, we already have the array ready, we just need you both to lie down within it, we will take care of the rest.” 

Lan Zhan carefully maneuvered himself and Wei Ying deeper in the cave towards a large red array, likely drawn in blood but Lan Zhan didn’t have the time nor focus to get a good look at what the Burial Mounds had created.

“Wait!” Wei Ying swallowed, eyes wide as the array started glowing. “Will Wen Ning come back with us?” 

The figure nodded. “We already have prepared for his travel with you, as he is just as connected to us as he is to you, Master Wei.” 

“Could…could you tell him to contact us? To let us know where he and his family are when we arrive back?” 

Lan Zhan watched as the black, wispy form knelt in front of them, somehow, he knew there was a wide smile on their face. 

“We have already prepared such a message, anticipating that you would ask. We have also been able to include a present for you both, of our gratitude. However, it will take time to fully settle in, but you will know of our gift when it arrives.” 

With its hands resting along the pathways of the array, the being slowly faded away, infusing its energy into the array. Lan Zhan held on tightly to Wei Ying as the glow intensified, swallowing them both before feeling a strong pull downwards, and then nothing at all. 

Chapter Text

Wei Ying blinked, the remaining shouts of “Lan Wangji!” echoing in the small room. He could see the moment Lan Zhan came to, his eyes slightly widening as his shoulders untensed - his eyes so full of love, and fury towards the other occupant of the room. 

The room fell quiet - before, of course, someone just had to open their dumb mouth. 

“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Wanyin spoke, stepping in front of Wei Ying, “Now is not the time to be spewing your Lan Clan rules. Wei Wuxian is a member of the Jiang Clan, what he does is not your conce-” 

Jiang Wanyin’s words were cut off with a guttural sound coming out of his mouth, pain erupting in his lower dantian. It felt as if something was gutting him, running him through directly attacking him. His eyes briefly darted towards Wen Zhuliu’s dead body, his severed hands, before looking down - seeing a hand thrust out of his stomach, pulling behind with it, a bright golden orb. 

He looked up, mouth agape, eyes wide, and was met with-

Deep red eyes, not an ounce of kindness. Full of hatred, of malice, of wanting to rip him to shreds. 

Wei Wuxian looked at him like he had looked at Wen Chao. Like he meant nothing to him, that he would be nothing more than pleased to see him wither and writhe in pain. He had been standing behind Jiang Wanyin, had he not? How had he moved in front of him so fast?

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fell shut as the golden core he was holding in his hands dissolved, seeming to absorb into his own hand, a content sigh escaping him as Lan Wangji stepped closer - resting a hand on Wei Wuxian’s back. 

Lan Wangji couldn’t stand being in the same room as Jiang Wanyin, but he knew his husband had things he needed to do before they could leave - and he couldn’t have been more glad that his theory had been correct, that he could take his own core back, and it would sing as it settled back in its rightful place. 

He felt Wei Ying’s hand on his arm, dragging his eyes back towards his, a grim look shared on both of their faces as they looked down at the kneeling form of Jiang Wanyin. 

He wasn’t even screaming, there wasn’t a sound escaping him, he was just in shock, hands resting over the cavern in his stomach, the gaping hole where Wei Ying’s golden core had briefly resided. 

There was one thing Lan Wangji had always wanted to do when it came to Jiang Wanyin, and luckily for him, his lovely husband knew of his penchant for cutting off the limbs of those who dare to harm his beloved. 

From the moment he saw Zidian being wielded towards Wei Ying, from the moment Wei Ying had shared how Yu Ziyuan had repeatedly whipped him during his years in Lotus Pier - what she had done when Wang Lingjiao demanded it. 

The scars that now littered Wei Ying’s back, instead of his own. 

Bichen came down on Jiang Wanyin’s sword hand, the hand Zidian resided on, cutting it off in one clean swipe. 

Lan Wangji stepped closer, using the tip of his sword to maneuver Zidian off of the dismembered hand, before flooding spiritual energy into his foot, and stomping. 

The blood loss would finally get to Jiang Wanyin, falling to the floor unconscious, as he watched Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian walk down the stairs of the inn hand in hand. 

There were Jiang and Lan disciples nearby, they would find him eventually - as much as Lan Wangji wished he would be dead by the time he would be taken to the closest healer. 

They would never believe his words anyway, so Lan Zhan and Wei Ying weren’t too worried about being caught or followed. For all the Jiang Disciples knew, Jiang Wanyin had a run in with Wen Zhuliu before the same “demonic cultivator” came through the inn Wen Chao had been hiding out in.

What they did now, what steps the Sunshot Campaign took next, were not of their concern. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had higher priorities than dealing with petty Clan wars over power. 

Well, they had their own plans for their participation in the war, but there were a few people to kill before they could fully enact that plan. People to save, those whom they wished to not die or die again. 

Wei Ying didn’t trust his ability to immediately fly on Suibian after taking back his core - at least not until Wen Qing had checked him out. He spent their flight to Yiling - where Wen Ning was, per his message - meditating, focusing on the bright spiritual energy in his meridians, occasionally drawing in Lan Zhan’s as an extra measure to calm his nerves. 

The resentment in his system was overbearing, squeezing itself in any place it could fit. During one winter in the Burial Mounds, Wen Qing had briefly theorized with Wei Ying about the potential of cultivating a new core - and they had seen how resentment reacted in Mo Xuanyu’s body, especially after Lan Zhan’s diligence in his core formation (they never did tell the Lan healers exactly how Wei Ying had been able to cultivate a new core so fast in Mo Xuanyu’s body - Wen Ning had simply looked away, not even wanting to know more than he could infer). 

Wei Ying was simply capable of directing resentment in the same way he could spiritual energy. Neither energy completely took over, overpowering the other, overpowering Wei Ying’s own capabilities. 

He was the one in control. 

Now, that was with gradual exposure, not as full force as it was right now. Growing a core alongside controlling resentment was one thing, absorbing a powerful core of spiritual energy while also channeling a large amount of resentment was another. 

Wen Qing was going to have a field day with him. 

At some point, Lan Zhan gently shook him awake, Yiling just in sight - Wen Ning standing at the edge of the town with two sets of Wen robes in his hands. 

There was no need for words to be exchanged between the three as they landed, Wen Ning handed them the outer Wen robes and allowed them the space to change and alter their appearances. 

Lan Zhan’s forehead ribbon found its way back to its rightful place - wrapped around Wei Ying’s wrist. 

Wei Ying carefully took the guan out of his husband’s hair, styling it in a similar way to himself - using a spare red ribbon to tie his hair back. Their own outer robes were stored in a qiankun pouch, the Wen outer robes Wen Ning had prepared fitting over their bodies. 

“I’ve told A-jie what I could without your help, Wei-ge.” Wen Ning finally spoke as he directed them inside the Yiling Supervisatory Office. 

“And what does Qing-jie think about all of this?” Wei Ying softly asked, having an idea of what Wen Qing would think, but still bracing himself for the worst. 

“Wei-ge, A-jie would do anything for family.” Wen Ning started, stopping to turn to him, “Of course she immediately believed me, she’s been anticipating seeing you again. Especially after I told her about what condition you were in after your months missing last time around.” He shot Wei Ying a stern look. 

“Oh I’m well aware of what Qing-jie’s planning on doing to me,” Wei Ying leaned against Lan Zhan, wrapping his arm around his husband’s, “I do think she would be pleased to know that I have my core back.” 

Wen Ning entirely stopped walking, turning towards the couple with wide eyes. 

“Oh yeah, ripped it out of Jiang Wanyin. Lan Zhan even cut his sword hand off and shattered Zidian. As much as I wish he would just bleed out and no longer be an issue, there were Lan and Jiang disciples following them, so they’ve likely found him by now - I guess we’ll know soon.” 

Wen Ning reached out towards Wei Ying, grabbing his wrist and checking his meridians. 

“A-jie is going to have so much fun with this.” he whispered - causing Wei Ying to burst out laughing.

Wen Ning guided them into the Supervisatory Office and into Wen Qing’s office - where she was anticipating their arrival. The amount of guards stationed around the compound were few and far in between - a much smaller amount than Wei Ying remembered there being the last time he had been here. 

“A-jie cleaned house, claiming that the likelihood that anyone would come this far away from the clans was unlikely - the soldiers here would be more useful fighting in the war than maintaining a compound near the Burial Mounds.” Wen Ning glanced around at the few men he could see. “All who remain are loyal to A-jie and would never betray her.” He explained, pushing open the door that they had finally stopped in front of. 

Wen Qing was just as Wei Ying remembered her - before they took up residency in the Burial Mounds. She looked healthy, if not stressed. The robes she wore were a vibrant red, no longer the threadbare shades of greys and browns, robes that she filled out as she was supposed to - no longer threatened by meager meals that had to be rationed out to the most important people first, if they managed a successful harvest or day in the market when they were able to buy food that made sure everyone went to sleep with a full stomach. 

Memories of her and Wen Ning leaving him in the cave, immobilized, unable to prevent them from walking to their deaths - or ”death” in Wen Ning’s case. Flashes of how he had imagined her death flickered across his eyes as he stared at her, nights filled with thinking about how he could save the remaining Wen, how he could save A-Yuan - had she accepted her death? Had she cried? Screamed? How many people smiled at her death? Had Jiang Wanyin smiled as she burned? Had Lan Xichen watched as someone who was innocent in Wen Ruohan’s schemes, whose only crime was the name Wen, burned to death with that small, passive smile on his face? Thinking that justice was one step closer to being fulfilled?

Wei Ying was brought out of his thoughts by a hand resting on his cheek, eyes focusing to meet the golden eyed gaze of his husband, worry in his eyes. 

Wei Ying turned towards Wen Qing’s call of his name. 

“I’ve been told you have your core back.” she spoke, holding her hand out. Wei Ying complied, resting his own in her grasp as she put two fingers on his pulse point, closing her eyes. 

“You’ll need to meditate for a few hours,” Wei Ying groaned, leaning his head back onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder, “But there doesn’t appear to be any reason for your core to reject you. Not even the resentment appears to be impacting your core - if anything, they appear to be peacefully cohabiting the same space.” 

She dropped his hand, sternly looking at him as Wen Ning worked behind them, brewing tea and setting out nuts and dried fruits onto the table that Wen Qing had been working at. 

“What’s your plan?” 

“Huh?” Wei Ying blinked. Wen Qing sighed. 

“You ripped your core out of Jiang Wanyin and left him incapacitated and on the brink of death, you both came here, I would assume you had quite the plan in mind for how to explain your actions when Jiang Wanyin tells the sect leaders what happened.” Her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the pair. “There better be one hell of a plan, or at least, the bare bones of a good plan.” 

Wei Ying let out a laugh, turning his head to meet Lan Zhan’s gaze - the same glint in his eyes. A glint that said they need to suffer, they need to be punished, their actions will no longer be tolerated. 

He leaned back, making himself comfortable in Lan Zhan’s arms as they wrapped around his waist.

“We’re going to kill Wen Ruohan.” Wen Qing’s gaze didn’t change. 

“And then?” 

A smirk crossed Wei Ying’s face.

“You don’t get it, Qing-jie. We’re going to kill Wen Ruohan, and not tell a single soul that he is dead. Wen Ruohan will go into absolute seclusion, only speaking his commands through you, his trusted medic, someone who would never dare to harm him or lie to him, not with your family on the line with every step.” 

Wen Ning let out a gasp from behind them, his eyes wide as Wei Ying continued speaking. 

“We know what paths the Sunshot Campaign will take, their strategies, their spies, where they will attack, who will lead in each battle. We know that Meng Yao is already in Nightless City acting as a spy for Lan Xichen - all we have to do is start feeding him incorrect information, nothing too wrong, just that some information is absolutely correct, other information, well, leads to numerous deaths of their forces.” He heard his lovely husband hum. 

“It is what they deserve. Whether or not they know of Wei Ying’s cultivation, not a single person condemned his actions during the war - but after, when he was no longer of use to the clans, they turned against him. Even after Wei Ying’s actions were proven to have been correct, when the things they blamed him for were proven to not have been his fault, they still rallied together, condemned anyone who associated themselves with Wei Ying, deeming that they were sentenced to death for having a kind word to say about him. Jiang Wanyin killed his own nephew, Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren both attacked us and our sons, it would not be too far to assume that Nie Huaisang was already dead or would have been shortly after our journey back.” Lan Wangji spoke, his eyes cold as he spoke of what he and Wei Ying had been through. 

“They did try to kill me again.” Wen Ning softly spoke, turning the room’s attention onto him. “Jiang-Zongzhu and Lan-Zongzhu had somehow managed to lock me within the Mingshi. I don’t know…what they were going to do with me, but based on their shared words, they were speaking of how to get rid of me, how to kill me in a way that would shatter my soul.” 

The teacup that Wei Ying had picked up flew across the room, shattering against the wall. 

“All of them will pay for what they have done, what they will do.” 

Wei Ying met Lan Zhan’s gaze, seeing the same determination in them, the same disdain towards the people they had once loved, the people who had turned against them, who had killed and slaughtered their friends, their juniors, their sons.

“They will not be allowed to continue down the path they are on. I won’t allow it.”

Chapter Text

Sneaking into Nightless City was easier than Wei Ying could have anticipated. All he and Lan Zhan needed to do was keep their Wen outer robe on, and walk behind Wen Qing and Wen Ning as they walked straight into the heart of Nightless City - straight into Wen Ruohan’s throne room. 

No one questioned them, no one stopped them. 

Everyone who saw Wen Qing stepped aside and let her through without a single comment. 

The doors slammed shut behind them, echoing in the room. 

Wen Ruohan sat on the throne, looking down at them as they approached, bowing to him like normal disciples would. 

“A-Qing, A-Ning, I was intrigued that you would request a visit.” Wen Ruohan tapped his fingers. “I was under the impression that you hated being in Nightless City, that the high temperature and rough climate didn’t agree well with A-Ning’s delicate constitution.” 

Wei Ying felt the moment that Wen Ruohan spotted them. 

“Who have you brought with you? You would be wrong if you thought that I could forget such familiar and memorable faces.” He spoke, his voice growing more harsh as he spoke. 

Wei Ying shrugged off the Wen flamed robe as he walked past Wen Qing and Wen Ning, Lan Zhan right by his side following his actions. 

“It’s a pretty simple explanation.” Wei Ying plucked Chenqing out from his waistband. “We’re here to kill you.” 

Wen Ruohan laughed. 

“If you think this will make your clans-” 

“We aren’t doing this for those traitors.” Lan Zhan snapped out, unsheathing Bichen. “We don’t care what they’re out there doing, what we want is your death.” 

“Lan-er-gongzi, I thought the Lans were pacifists, that to kill another was forbidden. My, my, what would your mother say if she found out you were killing in cold blood.” 

Wen Ruohan didn’t speak another word. 

His head fell from his shoulders, his body immobilized by Wei Ying’s control over the resentment that poured, pooled within every surface of Nightless City, the resentment that practically seeped out of Wen Ruohan’s very pores. 

There wasn’t a moment where he knew his death was coming, where he felt the way the resentment coiled around him, coating every inch of his body, allowing him careful movement, but if he had tried to attack, it would have tightened, constricted, not allowing him a single movement. 

There wasn’t any celebration, no one in the room took pleasure in watching Wen Ruohan’s head as it fell to the floor, bouncing down the few stairs that led up to the throne, his head finally stopping a few feet away from them, pooling blood onto the white marble floors. 

“Someone should clean that up, it’ll stain the floor.” Wei Ying met Wen Qing’s gaze. “Blood never comes out of stone like that.” 

“Yeah? And who do you think should clean it up? A servant? A maid? I was under the assumption that you didn’t want anyone outside of us knowing that he’s dead.” Wen Qing stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Wei Wuxian. 

“I’ll do it.” Lan Zhan mumbled, holding his hand out and grabbing Wen Ruohan’s head by the hair, dropping his head into the qiankun pouch he had brought specifically for this purpose. 

The other three watched as Lan Wangji walked over to Wen Ruohan’s corpse, depositing the body into the sack where the head was, leaving behind puddles of blood that just needed to be cleaned up. 

Lan Wangji’s hand glowed a bright blue as he held it out, waving it over the ground where the blood pooling was heaviest, practically erasing the blood with every swipe of his hand until the ground was just as clean as it was when they arrived. 

“What-” 

“The Lan Clan has many methods for getting stains out of clothing, one in particular deals with blood.” Lan Wangji casually spoke, handing the qiankun pouch to Wen Qing. 

“Wow.” She spoke, dumbfounded. “You need to share that with me, it would be extremely beneficial in a medical setting.” 

“Of course, whenever there is time.” 

Wen Qing looked down at the pouch in her hands, at the pouch containing the dead body of the cultivation world’s nightmare - the person they were all rallying together to kill. Not knowing that he was already dead and their efforts would only be good for getting themselves and their disciples killed. 

But she turned, looking at the way Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were standing next to each other, the looks they were giving one another - neither of them took satisfaction in Wen Ruohan’s death, despite how much pain the man had caused them through his actions, his influence onto others that impacted them. 

A-Ning had told her about the Sunshot Campaign, about what happened to their family after the war, the things that would have happened to him if not for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian time travelling, if not for those who were supposed to be family turning their backs on them. 

Wen Qing couldn’t begin to understand the mental gymnastics that those Clan Leaders went through to justify going against someone who had been nothing but peaceful since his resurrection. 

They simply just wanted Wei Wuxian dead just because. From what Wen Qing could tell, there was no justifiable reason they attacked them, attacked their family, their friends. There was no other reason other than simple association, simply enjoying Wei Wuxian’s presence in their life had deemed them worthy of death. 

Wen Qing would never fully understand their motives, but she could understand protecting family, and doing anything to keep those they love safe. She would do anything to keep A-Ning and her family safe, and based on what A-Ning told her, she sacrificed her life for Wei Wuxian in their past. 

She sighed, her eyes drifting back to the empty throne. 

“Okay then, we’re going to have to make this convincing."

The three men turned to her, confused. 

“Make what convincing?” Wei Wuxian spoke, taking a step back at the look on Wen Qing’s face - the one that screamed that she had a plan, and he wasn’t going to like it. 

The Wen guards that stood outside the throne room jumped as the doors flew open, three men being pushed out of the room, the three of them falling to the floor as Wen Qing stood in the door. 

“And stay out! You heard Wen-Zongzhu! No one is allowed in this room except for me.” She looked around, glaring at all of the guards. “You all better follow His Excellency’s demands. No one is to enter into the throne room or Wen-Zongzhu’s private quarters except for myself. If anyone dares to disturb Xiandu’s seclusion, dares to interrupt his cultivation, they will be punished.” She started closing the door. “And we all know what happens to those who defy Wen Ruohan.” 

Slamming the door shut behind her, a large ward flared across the span of the double doors, sealing the room from anyone who was not allowed to enter. 

The guards all shared the same hesitant look, the same knowing look that meant they absolutely had to follow orders. They knew what happened to those who went against Wen Ruohan’s words, no one working within the walls of Nightless City hasn’t seen one of their friends, colleagues, fall at the hands of Wen Ruohan - everyone has seen a body fall to the ground, dead before hitting the floor, blood spilled across hallways, tables, bedrooms. 

They also knew that Wen Qing was not someone to be trifled with. No one messes with Wen Qing and gets away unscathed. She was the woman grown men feared more than their mothers. Her anger made anyone fear godly retribution for what they must have done in order to obtain her ire, some would rather face the gods themselves than Wen Qing’s rage. 

They watched as the men rose to their feet. 

“She couldn’t have been more gentle? I have a delicate constitution!” One of them spoke, leaning into the arms of another. 

They all recognized Wen Ning as he stood behind them, a small smile on his face at their interaction. Realizing that Wen Qing had thrown her own brother out of the throne room only solidified Wen Ruohan’s orders. If Wen Ning wasn’t allowed in the room with his sister, then no one was allowed in the room.

Chapter Text

Lan Wangji ducked as a broom swiped towards him, his arm quickly reaching out and grabbing it as it made a second sweep towards him. 

The woman holding the broom gaped at him. 

“Wangji? What on earth are you doing here?!” Lan Shihan spoke, her voice hushed as she stepped closer towards him, her features coming into focus the closer she got. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you Wangji.” She paused, noticing the stern, serious look in her younger cousin’s gaze. Her hand unconsciously went to her stomach. “What’s this about? What’s going on?” 

“I will explain once we have left-” 

“Left?!” 

“Gather what cannot be replaced, wake Chaoxiang. We must be gone before the morning patrol wakes.” Lan Shihan stares at her cousin’s face, finally nodding - a small laugh escaping her after a moment. 

“We’ve always wanted to leave, I guess this is a good enough sign and time to do it.” Her eyes drifted down to her stomach. “Especially with this little one coming.” 

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened, not realizing that she would’ve fallen pregnant at this point during the war proceedings. He sucked in a breath. 

If she was pregnant, then so would-

“What’s going on?” A groggy voice came from behind them, revealing Yao Chaoxiang with a robe thrown over himself, his hair in disarray. His groggy, unfocused eyes became sharp the moment he realized Lan Wangji was in his home. 

“We’re leaving.” Shihan spoke as she started to walk around the room, gathering books, portraits that hung on the walls, and trinkets into her hands - depositing them in a pile on the kitchen table. She was using the moonlight that flooded the room to help her navigate her home, rather than light any candle that may alert someone outside. 

Chaoxiang simply nodded, turning around and disappearing back into the room he came from - Lan Zhan could hear him shuffling around, likely packing up things within their bedroom to take with them. 

“Wangji, could you give some more information while I pack?” Shihan looked at him, “Where are we going?” 

“Qishan, Nightless City.” 

She stared at him, eyes wide, almost dropping the vase in her hands. 

“Wen Ruohan is dead, do not tell anyone.” He placed his hand on Bichen’s hilt. “I killed him.” 

Before she could say another word, get past the way she couldn’t speak a single word, Chaoxiang rushed into the room, three qiankun pouches in his hands. 

“I’ve packed everything in the bedrooms and the nursery and the hall closet and-” He paused, noticing how his wife was staring at Lan Wangji. “...Did I interrupt?” 

“A-Xiang?” 

“Yes?” 

She turned towards her husband.

“We’re getting out of here, and never coming back.” 

It took another hour for the rest of the house to be packed up, for hidden compartments to be opened, searched, for Shihan and Chaoxiang to triple check their whole home to make sure they had taken everything they needed. 

“We’re ready.” She spoke, turning towards Wangji, who had been sitting at their table, letting them move around the room and gather their things without interrupting. He nodded, rising to his feet. 

“So, how are we leaving? I don’t think just walking out of the front gates would go so well.” Chaoxiang held a box in his arms, full of qiankun pouches of their things. “It would look pretty suspicious if we walked out, when I don’t think anyone saw you walk in, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji reached into his sleeve, pulling out a single talisman. 

“This will be able to take us there. No one will know that we have left, perhaps not until they notice Shihan hasn’t been seen.” She scoffed. 

“But knowing them, knowing the people here, no one will notice either of us are missing until at least a week has passed.” Shihan gestured to the empty, plain room around them. “No one will dare enter into the private residence of another without proper cause, so that might give us a few weeks before anyone knows we’re gone.” 

Lan Wangji hummed, taking a few steps closer to his cousin and her husband, reaching out and placing his hands on both of their shoulders. 

“Hold on.” 

He pushed his spiritual energy into the talisman, causing a red glow to flash the room, before they vanished. 

Shihan opened her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them, and was greeted with a red-filled bedroom. Red tapestries, red bed sheets, red carpeting, red furniture. Just as she was going to speak, to ask Wangji where exactly they were, the door flew open. 

“Lan Zhan! You’re back!” A man spoke, flinging himself into Wangji’s arms. 

Shihan felt the gasp escape her, the way Chaoxiang let out a small laugh. She had never been able to get a hug out of her younger cousin, and knew that he didn’t like touching - or interacting - with others, even his own brother and uncle were not exceptions to that. She respected that though, often wondering if she was the only one who respected Wangji in the way that he deserved - particularly when she saw the ways Wangji tensed when Lan Xichen placed a hand on his shoulder, his arm, when Lan Qiren would pat him on the arm and his whole body would tense. 

But that man had just flung himself into Wangji’s arms, like he knew Wangji would catch him - and Wangji was hugging him back, arms around the mysterious man. 

“Wei Ying.” He pulled back, a smile on his face, before he gestured towards Shihan and Chaoxiang. “This is my older cousin Lan Shihan and her husband Yao Chaoxiang.” 

“Yao?” Wei Ying’s face contorted. “Any relation to Clan Leader Yao?” 

Chaoxiang sighed, placing the crate onto the ground. 

“My uncle.” 

“My apologies for being related to him.” He turned his attention back to Wangji. “Lan Zhan, when you said you needed to get something, I wasn’t expecting the thing to be two people.” he spoke, pointing a finger at Wangji. 

“Wei Ying, Shihan is pregnant.” 

“And?” 

“They are Jingyi’s parents.” 

Lan Shihan and Wei Ying both let out a gasp, turning towards each other, gasping for two different reasons. 

“How did you know what we were going to name him?” 

“Why have I never met them?” 

They spoke at the same time, turning back toward Lan Wangji for their answers. 

“Chaoxiang died in Langya, shortly after you punched Jin Zixuan.” He met Shihan’s gaze, eyes wet. “Shihan didn’t survive childbirth. She wasn’t in Cloud Recesses, and no one would assist her because she was a Lan in enemy territory. It was only by luck that I stumbled across her before she died.” 

There was too much going on in Shihan’s mind, too many questions she wanted to ask but not enough concentration to pick out one to start with. Chaoxiang died? She died? Their son was orphaned before they could know either of them? How did Wangji know these things? Why did he speak as if he was certain that would happen?

“You delivered A-Yi? Took him back to Cloud Recesses?” Wei Ying cupped Wangji’s cheek, wiping away the tear that had fallen down his face. “That must have been very stressful.” 

What broke through Shihan’s stupor, the questions upon questions that were bouncing around her mind, was the way Wei Ying was looking at Wangji - like he hung the world, that nothing else mattered except for the two of them, as if nothing in the world would prevent him from comforting his beloved. 

And the way Wangji looked at him in the same way. 

Before she could speak, ask more questions, Wangji spoke. 

“Wei Ying, Shihan is pregnant.” 

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.” Wangji looked at him. 

“She is pregnant.”

Wei Ying merely blinked, as if waiting for Wangji to finish his thoughts - or spell it out for him. Wangji merely sighed, running a hand down Wei Ying’s side, stopping and cupping the curve of his waist. 

“Wei Ying, Jingyi is a month younger than Sizhui.” Wangji spoke, his voice soft, gentle, careful. As if the mere words he was speaking could shatter the man in front of him. 

Wei Ying’s eyes widened, quickly covering his mouth with a hand as a tear slid down his face. 

Before anything else could happen, the door opened, and two people walked in. 

“A-Ning,” Wei Ying started, swallowing, wiping away the tears before he continued, “Do…do you know who A-Yuan’s parents are?” 

The boy - A-Ning - gasped, quickly turning to the woman next to him. 

“Jiejie, we have to leave, we have to get Caihong.” 

“Caihong? Why?” Wen Qing spoke, looking at the men as if she was missing something. 

“She’ll die if we don’t bring her here.” Wen Ning spoke, reaching and grabbing his sister’s hand. “You weren’t there for the birth, she bled out before anyone knew anything was wrong. A-Yuan barely survived that winter.” Wen Qing’s eyes widened. 

“A-Yuan, Sizhui? He’s Caihong’s son?” She walked over and whacked Wei Ying’s shoulder. “You should have told me!”

“I didn’t know!” Wei Ying whined, taking a step behind Lan Wangji. “I only met A-Yuan when he was almost two, and I didn’t want to ask about his parents because it was clear that they weren’t alive and I didn’t want to bring anyone any more pain.”

The room fell silent and Shihan felt like there was way more she wasn’t being let in on, but trusted that Wangji would keep his word, that he would explain everything to him. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but…can we be let in on this secret?” Wangji sighed, gesturing for them to sit on the bed - and not on the open seats around the table. 

“I actually,” Wei Ying spoke, pulling out two talismans from his sleeves, “have a way for you to know what happened without us explaining it all.” He handed them the talismans. “Lan Zhan, Wen Ning, and myself have all infused memories into these and you will be able to see our memories from our perspectives. We can answer any questions once you’re both done.” 

Caihong looked down at the talisman in her hands, recognizing sigils and purposes of certain characters. 

“Give me the short explanation first.” Chaoxiang spoke, watching as Wangji nodded. 

“Time travel.” Wei Ying spoke, a wide smile on his face. “Things went to shit, time travel. We’re changing things into the way that we want them, rather than what we know will happen if we step aside.” 

“Lovely.” Shihan mumbled, meeting her husband’s gaze before flooding the talisman with her energy and falling back onto the bed, her vision going black. 

She regained consciousness four hours later, Chaoxiang waking shortly after she did. Her head hurt - a combination of the pain of the memories, the stress, knowing that Wangji and Wei Wuxian had gone through so much and now they were here. 

They were here and they were mad and furious and were willing to burn down the world to protect the people they loved - the people who were killed by those who they thought cared for them. 

She covered her mouth, trying to quiet her sobs, remembering the way Jingyi, her son, had looked at them, at his fathers, as he ran away from them, sacrificing himself so they could get away. Shihan saw the way Wangji had cared for her son, how he had raised him with his own, with A-Yuan, how the two boys became brothers, best friends. 

Her hand fell to her stomach, to her growing boy, to A-Yi, Jingyi. Shihan turned, meeting her husband’s wet gaze, both of them now holding the same glint in their eyes that Wangji and Wuxian held. 

The Great Clans needed to fall, they needed to be punished. Retribution needed to happen for the lives they had taken, would take, if they were allowed to continue unchecked, if the future continued on without their influence. 

Wangji met her gaze as she turned towards him, watching as she nodded, determined. 

“We’ll help, just tell us what we need to do.”

Chapter Text

The first real test of their influence came with Langya, with Meng Yao. 

Wen Qing was extremely strict with all the Wen advisors when they claimed they needed to speak with Wen Ruohan, that they had matters they could only discuss with him.

She put them in their places - speaking to them as if they were children. They were told over and over again that Wen Ruohan was not to be disrupted, that he had demanded no one disturb him - or he would deal with them himself, and make an example of them. 

Finding Meng Yao wasn’t hard. It also wasn’t hard to determine what position he had weaseled his way into within Wen Ruohan’s court. He was all too willing to speak with Wen Qing when she sought him out, wanting to know what duties had been allocated to him so she could keep up with his regular routine. 

Of course, he lied and said he was given a more strategic role within the war defenses - putting himself in a position that Wen Chao or Wen Xu would have held if they were still alive. They saw through his words immediately, but actually allowed Meng Yao to hold such a position, knowing that it would be easier to pass false information onto the Sunshot Campaign. 

Their first test came in Langya, the battle where Wei Wuxian had punched Jin Zixuan, the battle that had killed Yao Chaoxiang, the battle that had created a large advantage for the Sunshot Campaign when they had defeated a thousand Wen troops with minimal losses on their side - primarily due to Wei Ying’s cultivation. 

They knew that the Sunshot Campaign had been settled in Langya for over a month. Meng Yao’s intel should have them believing that a battle will take place within a week. His intel should have included battle plans, troop formations, where the Wen soldiers would appear, and how to best defend against what types of fighting the Wen were bringing. 

Of course, that was almost all a lie. 

They retained the troop formations, their locations, where they would appear, but where Meng Yao’s intel differed from what was about to happen, was in the form of just who they would be fighting, when they would show up. 

Wei Ying sighed, leaning his head against Lan Zhan’s shoulder as they looked out on the setting sun from the balcony of their room. 

They were stationed closer to the battle, wanting to see the outcome themselves, as well as to know how their army did - what changes they may need to make in their plan of action. It had been Lan Zhan’s idea to move closer, to find an inn that had the perfect view over the battlefield, if not from miles away. 

“Any time now.” He mumbled, waiting for a signal to flare in the sky that told them the battle had started, that their undead army had finally met the Sunshot Campaign’s forces. 

Their soldiers - dead Wen soldiers - were under strict command. Wei Ying had told them who they were to attack, how they were to kill, and who they were to leave alive, mostly unharmed. 

There were still people among the Sunshot’s forces that they didn’t want killed just yet. 

There were some they didn’t want killed at all. 

Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan, Nie Huaisang, any women, children, elderly that their undead soldiers came across were to be left unharmed. They also didn’t want to bring harm to the Clan Leaders themselves. No, their punishments would come after the war, after they made their final stand, when everything was in place for their reign over the cultivation world. 

Their future had only shown that those who held themselves in power could not be trusted to do the right thing, to place righteousness and justice above all, to not fall to the influence of others. There would come change, massive change, and it would all come at the hands of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji in the form of their reign, their righteous fury, rage, retribution over the cultivation world. 

Most people, in their eyes, were irredeemable, too lost in their own world, thoughts to be changed - change needed to be enacted for them, around them, because of them. 

A bright red Wen signal spread out across the night sky - and both men smirked, leaning against each other. 

The carnage that came with the fight would be almost pleasing to see the following morning, the survivors of battle having fled into the forests overnight, choosing to save themselves rather than continue fighting against soldiers that just couldn’t seem to die. 

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying surveyed the field from the comfort of their swords, high enough in the sky that if anyone spotted them they wouldn’t know who was above them - their robes not giving away any clan affiliation. 

They spotted Lan and Jiang and Nie and Jin among the fallen soldiers. Common disciples, those who didn’t hold rank, who were expendable among war resources, seen as nothing more than cannon fodder, a cushioning distraction so the Clan Leaders could be the actual heroes of war - taking the achievements of their men as their own. 

These people all had families, people who loved them, people who were expecting them to come back home - and here they all lied, as unremarkable contributions to war. 

Another casualty on a page, another statistic, another man who died because of Wen Ruohan’s games. 

These men, women, cultivators, fighters would not be remembered by their Clan Leaders, they wouldn’t be remembered by history - they would be mourned by their families. Mourned for the unnecessary loss, mourned for the memories cherished, the person lost. 

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue and Jiang Wanyin and Jin Guangshan didn’t care about the men below them, the casualties on their side, the people whose lives were cut short - because their lives weren’t. They still lived, pushing forward in the name of “retribution for the men they lost.” 

When all of this was their fault in the first place. 

Everyone knew Wen Ruohan had been collecting power, taking over smaller clans in Qishan, sending a Waterborne Abyss into Gusu Lan territory. The commoners knew a war was coming, knew that Wen Ruohan would either attack the clans first, or they would come for him. 

This war, this unneeded shedding of blood, loss of life, could have entirely been prevented if the so-called Great Clans actually paid attention to the actions of their fellow Clan Leaders, if they actually looked at the actions of one man who was only gaining power as something that needed to be stopped - before they were attacked first. 

“They have not been laid to rest.” Lan Zhan spoke, eyes scanning over the red stained white robes of his former clansmen, their unsettled souls, the remaining resentment within the air that confined them to their places of death. 

Wei Ying scoffed, pulling out Chenqing. 

“I didn’t expect them to. I think you and I did most of the soul calming after the battles the first time around.” There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he felt the resentment of hundreds of cultivators, all laying dead and abandoned by their clans. “Were they just going to leave everyone here? Leave their bodies to rot? Let the resentment fester?” 

Someone scoffed from behind them. 

“Of course they did, that’s a job for the servants.” 

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying spun around, being met with the pompous face of a Jin. 

Wei Ying blinked, and his head was falling to the ground, bouncing off of a rock before landing face first in a shallow puddle, his golden clad torso falling to the ground with a loud thump. 

Bichen flew back to Lan Zhan’s hand, flicking off the blood that dared to taint his blade.

“Um, was I supposed to know who that was? You’re looking at him like I should know who he was.” Wei Ying hesitantly spoke, reaching over and running a hand down Lan Zhan’s arm. 

“Jin Zixun.” 

“Oh.” Wei Ying looked down at the head, the mouth still open, eyes wide in shock. “I supposed we should leave then, before anyone else comes. If he was here, there’s gotta be others behind him, right?” 

Lan Zhan looked out at the field of dead bodies, the pull of wanting to lay them to rest, to do the right thing, to send them all off into the reincarnation cycle, to free them from this battlefield where they would be reminded of how little their lives meant to the cultivation clans. 

“We can come back tonight. Maybe someone will come and settle them, but we can come and make sure they did their job correctly, okay?” Wei Ying met Lan Zhan’s gaze, seeing the moment his husband caved, reaching forward and cupping his cheek. 

“No one will be allowed to hurt you ever again.” He softly spoke before turning his gaze to the floor, kicking Jin Zixun’s head off towards the carnage, to become part of the amalgamation of dead bodies. 

Perhaps they will think he ran off, got killed somewhere else, that he was a coward and ran away. Seeing a headless Jin disciple would mean nothing to them, maybe only to Jin Zixuan, but certainly not to anyone else. 

Their heads turned towards the sound of shouting, of approaching foot steps, and Wei Ying grabbed Lan Zhan’s hand, intertwining their fingers as Lan Zhan pulled out a talisman from his sleeve, the pair vanishing from the field, from those who were advancing. 

As they expected, hours later when the sun had set, when they had thoroughly taken out their rage on each other for what they had seen, did they return back to the field. 

Nothing had changed, the bodies were exactly as they had been, except-

“They were looted.” Wei Ying knelt on the ground next to a Jiang disciple, noticing that there were no identifying objects on them. 

Disciples, Jiang especially, all wore their clarity bells on their right sides during the war, uniform identification, someone had called it. 

This disciple bore no clarity bell, no guan, no sword at their side, nothing within their sleeves. 

Someone had come back to the field, the remains of battle, and looted the soldiers rather than lay them to rest - and Wei Ying knew it wasn’t a starving commoner looking for money for food, these were the actions of a cultivator. 

“The Lans are all missing their ribbons, their gate passes.” Lan Zhan harshly spoke, gripping the hilt of Bichen until his knuckles turned white.

“The Jins all have their vermillion marks smudged.” 

“The Nie are missing their sabers.” 

“This disciple has her robes ripped.” 

“These three have been stabbed post mortem.” 

“This group has a circle drawn around them, charred ground, like someone tried lighting them on fire.” 

“This one is charred, unidentifiable."

“Three female disciples, all naked.” 

“Two men, both emasculated.” 

“A dozen junior disciples, the same sword wound through the chest killed them.” 

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying spent the rest of the night going body to body, person to person, soul to soul, and putting them to rest, playing for them until all their resentment had dissipated, until they had moved on. 

It was tiring work, but necessary. Even if their plans meant that this death and destruction would happen, they still felt a moral obligation towards these innocent victims of war - most of them, anyway. These were innocent disciples, forced to fight in a war that was not theirs to fight. Told that it was their duty as a disciple of their clan to lay their life down in battle, to die for the very people who didn’t know their names, didn’t know their families, their stories, who wouldn’t be impacted by their deaths. 

These were children, junior disciples, those who had formed cores, trained, but never expected to have to fight against their fellow cultivators in battle. 

“The youngest was 12.” A tear slid down Wei Ying’s face as they looked at the battlefield, the resentment in the air now stable, calm, hundreds of souls calmed and sent back into the reincarnation cycle where they would hopefully land in a better life than this one. 

“I never thought they would stoop as low as to pillage and rob their dead of their belongings.” Lan Zhan started, his voice steady, calm, containing the rage he felt. “Leaving all the bodies to fester, to cause further problems in the future,” He shook his head, reaching over to wipe the tear off of Wei Ying’s face. 

“We’ll make it better.” 

Wei Ying met his gaze. 

“Of course we will.”