Chapter Text
"Great news! Wei Wuxian is dead!"
He pauses as the sounds of drunken revelry reach him, pursing his lips with distaste, before he continues down the stairs. The old wooden steps creak beneath him as he makes his way down to the ground floor, quickly spotting the innkeeper clearing a table of empty jars amidst passed-out cultivators.
“Madam,” he calls. The innkeeper starts, before abandoning the jars to hurry over to him. She dips into a bow as she reaches him, looking faintly nervous. “Deputy Shi.”
“More tea for my master, please,” he says.
“Of course,” she murmurs.
As she vanishes back into the kitchen, a tired-looking soldier steps across the threshold, and immediately approaches with clasped hands.
“Deputy Shi,” he greets. “We’ve enlisted the village doctors to treat those wounded in the final battle.”
Deputy Shi nods once in acknowledgement.
“Thank you for your work,” he says. “Please rest for the night. It’s been a long fight, and everyone is tired.”
The soldier bows again respectfully, shooting a look towards the chaos inside the inn, before turning to leave. As he vanishes out into the night, the innkeeper comes back out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of tea. He holds out an arm before she can ascend the stairs to the second floor.
“Sect Leader does not wish to be disturbed,” he says shortly, and holds out his hands for the tea tray. “I will serve him myself.”
She dips her head again.
“Then I shall not trouble you,” she demurs.
Taking the tray from her, he returns to the private room on the second floor. The doors are slightly ajar, the room dark beyond the rice paper screen.
Sect Leader sits alone by the table, cast in shadow.
“The Yiling Patriarch is dead?” he hears a joyful query from below, as he steps across the threshold and sets the tray down on the table. “But how? Who could have killed him?”
“Who else but his old shidi, Jiang Wanyin,” another voice answers, as he pours the tea, “putting an end to him for the greater good! He and the Twin Jades led our forces to storm his den in a grand battle, and we have now returned— victorious!”
“What?!” someone else cries.
“It’s expected that Zewu-jun and Hanguang-jun would have led the charge,” the first voice returns, sounding doubtful, “considering how the Yiling Patriarch dealt the blow that crippled their uncle at the Nightless City—”
There’s a flicker of movement on the balcony opposite them.
Deputy Shi looks up to where two men in white are sitting, partially hidden by a pillar, as they watch the celebration below. A moment later, his attention is drawn back to the commotion on the ground floor.
“But what about Jiang Wanyin?” the man from before continues. “Didn’t he grow up with the Yiling Patriarch? How could he suddenly bear to turn on his own shixiong?”
“Have you never met the man?” someone roars, laughing. “That man has no love in his heart, only vengeance! Does he even know how to love anyone?”
Drawing in a sharp breath, Deputy Shi’s hand fists against the tables. He stands, furious, but before he can act, someone else speaks up.
“I say he was justified!” the man cries. “The previous sect leader of Yunmeng Jiang took Wei Wuxian off the streets and raised him like a son, and yet he turned around, defected from Yunmeng Jiang, and murdered the young Jiang Yanli! Way to bite the hand that fed him!”
Deputy Shi turns to look at the back of Sect Leader’s head, but Sect Leader remains still as stone by the table, neither moving nor speaking.
“I say Jiang Cheng allowed this dog to live too long!” another man declares drunkenly. “If I were him, why, I would have — I would have drawn my sword and killed him on the spot!”
“Killed him on the spot?” someone else cries, laughing. “Look at you! Could you have killed the Yiling Patriarch at your level of cultivation?”
“How dare you!” the other man cries, outraged.
As the sounds of a fight break out below them, Sect Leader finally stands, and begins to make his way back to the rooms they have booked for the night. Picking up his sword hastily, Deputy Shi follows him as he slips past the drunken celebration, silent as a shadow, and disappears into the courtyard outside.
“Knock it off!” a woman shouts, as Deputy Shi hurries after him. “Tonight is a night for celebration, not strife! Wei Wuxian is dead! Good riddance!”
“Good riddance!” a chorus of voices ring out in agreement.
Deputy Shi ducks out of the doorway and into the cool night air.
Outside, Sect Leader stands in the middle of the stone path, back turned, resplendent in indigo brocade. After a moment, however, he turns to look back over his shoulder. His face is frighteningly pale in the moonlight, brows dark and dense, eyes sharp but strangely devoid of light.
“Sect Leader,” Deputy Shi finally whispers. “Wei Wuxian—”
“Is dead,” Sect Leader interrupts, and turns away.
As he begins to cross the courtyard with slow, deliberate steps, he turns his face up to the moon, and begins to laugh.
“Good riddance,” he cries, still laughing. “Good riddance!”
“Sect Leader,” Deputy Shi whispers, stricken.
The laughter dies, going as quickly as it had come.
Sect Leader stops in the middle of the courtyard, fingers tightening around the body of a bloodied bamboo flute.
“Good riddance,” he whispers.
Wei Wuxian wakes with a deep, shuddering gasp.
As he clutches at his chest, the ghost of a nightmare slips from his mind’s bleary grip, violent, chaotic, and filled with the sharp scent of blood. It escapes before he can truly grasp it, leaving him only with a vague sense of unease.
Impatient braying soon calls his attention away from dark memories. Little Apple is throwing another tantrum, bucking and kicking as she whines and snorts. Only a few days into his new life and Wei Wuxian has already made a terrible choice. This donkey is useless both as a mount and a companion!
“Oh, alright!” he cries. “I’m up! I’m up!”
She quiets grudgingly once she’s been fed, settling to crunch down her apple as Wei Wuxian leans against her flank. No matter how he tries, however, the nightmare refuses to be recalled, sitting somewhere just out of his reach.
After a moment, he just sighs.
Then, he picks up the reins, climbs onto Little Apple’s back, and continues for Dafan.
It’s been a strange few days. He’d woken in a stranger’s body amidst blood and a fresh mystery, only to run into an old enemy not even a day into waking! Lan Wangji had been as stone-faced as ever, clad all in white, with an expression like his wife had just died. Wei Wuxian can’t help but snicker a little at the thought. Luckily, the man had not recognized him, and he had managed to escape with his life.
Ah! He’s missed the fresh smell of mountain dew! He’s missed the fresh scent of grass!
Time had passed strangely in death. Like waking from a forgotten nightmare, it feels like barely any time has passed since he died, yet also like he’d been dead for a century. It’s good being alive again, but unfortunately, he’s going to have to work if he hopes to stay alive. That means staying far, far away from his old enemies.
He chuckles, patting Little Apple’s rump. That’s what this stubborn old mule is for!
After riding for a few more hours, he finds himself surrounded by thick forest, and dismounts to continue by foot, biting into an apple. It’s quiet, and more than a little eerie. As such, he can’t be blamed for startling a little at the sudden sounds of screams, followed by cries for help from the clearing ahead.
Little Apple bucks, braying.
Wei Wuxian stuffs his apple into her mouth.
As Little Apple quiets to munch happily on her treat, he takes a few careful steps forward, and peers into the clearing.
It appears a group of unfortunate cultivators have been caught in a deity-binding net, no doubt set up by a wealthier sect. Before he can step forward into the clearing, however, a young boy emerges from the thicket, an arrow already nocked on his longbow. He lowers it at the sight of the trapped cultivators, and rolls his eyes with a put-upon groan.
“Not more of you idiots!” he cries. “There are more than four hundred deity binding nets on this mountain, but all it catches are you people, and no prey!”
Four hundred nets! Wei Wuxian marvels. How despicably wealthy!
The embroidery on the boy’s golden robes is exquisite, forming a white peony on the front. He's clearly a young master of the Lanling Jin Sect, and if memory serves, those bastards are rolling in wealth.
“Please, young master,” a middle-aged man pleads from the net. “Do us a favor and let us down.”
“Maybe you should just stay up there!” the boy snaps, and turns away agitatedly. “That will keep you out of my way. I’ll come back after I’ve caught the spirit-consuming beast— if I remember you at all!”
As he begins to storm back off into the woods, a young girl sobs from inside the net, and begins to cry. Wei Wuxian recognizes her with a start. They’d met at the base of the mountain. She’d given him an apple, which Little Apple had promptly eaten.
With a twitch of her long ears, Little Apple rears up, letting out an ear-splitting bray, and begins to charge out into the clearing.
“Woah!” the Jin boy cries, turning around as he draws his bow.
Yanked along by the reins in his hands, Wei Wuxian finally manages to find his footing, and digs his heels sharply in.
“Little Apple, no!” he cries.
By some miracle, he manages to contain his mount before he can lose it to an arrow.
“Are you crazy!” the boy yells. “You almost killed me!”
He double takes at the sight of Wei Wuxian.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, disgusted. “Why do you look like a hanged ghost? Are you really crazy? What an absolute lunatic.”
“What an attitude!” Wei Wuxian says. “Did you not have a mother to teach you manners?”
The boy’s eyes widen, and then narrow in fury.
“How— How dare you!” he cries, and unsheathes the sword on his back.
“Woah!” Wei Wuxian cries, dodging as the boy flies at him. “You’re going to skewer someone with that!”
“Go to hell!” the boy screams shrilly.
He sidesteps as the boy slices at him again, quickly drawing a piece of paper from the spirit-locking pouch in his sleeve— and slapping it on the boy’s back. With an alarmed grunt, the boy immediately falls flat onto his chest, sword clattering to the ground just out of his reach.
“Hey—” he gasps, as Wei Wuxian picks up his sword. “Hey— Don’t touch that!”
Turning around, Wei Wuxian swings the sword up towards the bound cultivators, cutting through the rope holding them up. They tumble to the ground in an awkward heap, but without even a word of thanks, begin to sprint off, clearly afraid of earning Lanling Jin’s wrath by getting involved in this altercation. Wei Wuxian can understand. Lanling Jin seems to only have gotten prouder over the years.
“Resorting to demonic cultivation!” the boy screams, still pressed flat on the ground. “Just you wait! I’ll tell my jiujiu, and then you can wait to die!”
Wei Wuxian turns the sword around in his hands, somehow finding the design of the sheath and the guard strangely familiar.
“Your jiujiu?” he scoffs absently. “Why your jiujiu and not your dad? Who is your jiujiu again?”
“I'm his jiujiu,” a voice cuts in clearly from behind. “Do you have any last words?"
At the sound of that voice, Wei Wuxian goes completely numb. A series of memories flash through his mind, too quickly to be registered. It's like remembering part of a forgotten nightmare, only to forget it again immediately, leaving only a feeling of nameless fear. He turns instinctively in the direction of that voice as a dark figure steps into the moonlight.
Shadows line his face starkly, bringing out the hollows of his eyes and cheeks. Those boyish features have sharpened, matured, but those eyes— those vengeful eyes are exactly the same, carved forever into Wei Wuxian's memory.
Jiang Cheng.
Wei Wuxian takes a step back, reeling, as Jiang Cheng bends down and picks the paper man off of the young boy's back.
That boy, he realizes now. That boy must be Rulan, his shijie's son.
Jin Rulan scrambles to his uncle's side, distinctively like a child hiding behind a parent's robe.
“I’m going to break your legs!” he cries, flustered, from Jiang Cheng's elbow. Wei Wuxian just turns to stare at him, eyes wide. After a moment, the boy's eyes widen as well.
"Uncle Xuanyu?" he whispers.
Crushing the talisman in his hand, Jiang Cheng looks up, eyes alight in a sudden, almost crazed fury.
"Break his legs?!" he spits. "A-Ling, don't you remember what I told you? If you meet a demonic cultivator, you should feed them to your dog!"
Sensing his killing intent, Wei Wuxian stumbles back, and immediately begins to run. His heart quickens as he hears the distinctive spark of Zidian coming to life.
"Wait!" Jin Rulan screams. "That's my Uncle Xuanyu!"
The thing about whips is that once sent out, they cannot be recalled. Zidian licks across his back, at a bit of a strange angle, and at less than he knows Jiang Cheng is capable of, as if its wielder had attempted to pull back his strike at the last moment. It still sends him flying forward, landing in the dirt with a cry. He lies there for a moment, stunned.
"Why did you hit him?!" Jin Rulan shouts. "That's my Uncle Xuanyu!"
There's the sound of running footsteps, before a gentle hand is laid on his shoulder.
"Uncle Xuanyu, are you okay?" Jin Rulan murmurs, concerned. "Are you hurt?"
"A-Ling, come here," Jiang Cheng says tersely. "What have I told you about associating with demonic cultivators?"
"Yes, but this is my Uncle Xuanyu!" Jin Rulan reiterates crossly. "Why did you hit him so hard!"
"Don't you take that tone with me," Jiang Cheng snarls.
Jin Rulan stands up. As they break into a furious row, Wei Wuxian hears the snapping of twigs ahead, and looks up to see three pairs of distinctive white boots. The Lans are here. He mentally kicks himself. How unlucky is he to meet both Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng so soon after reviving?! Of all his old enemies, these two must be at the very top of his list!
Jiang Cheng stops shouting for a moment to nod at Lan Wangji in greeting. Lan Wangji nods in return, before the young Lan Sizhui steps forward.
"Young Master Mo," he says, sounding vaguely surprised as he crouches, offering Wei Wuxian a hand. "It's nice to see you again. How have you been?"
Wei Wuxian allows Lan Sizhui to help him up, wincing. Noticing his pain, Jin Rulan turns back to him, brows drawing together as he begins to check Wei Wuxian over.
“Uncle Xuanyu, it's me!" he cries. "It's me! A-Ling!"
A-Ling? That must be his birth name. And if Mo Xuanyu is his uncle then… could it be that he’s one of Jin Guangshan's many bastards?
At his silence, Jin Rulan‘s — Jin Ling's face falls.
"You don't recognize me," he murmurs, "do you?"
Wei Wuxian feels his heart clench in regret. It seems that Jin Ling had been quite attached to this Mo Xuanyu fellow.
"No," he says. "I'm sorry."
Jin Ling turns on the two Lan juniors, tilting his chin up haughtily.
"You two!" he begins imperiously. "You’ve met him before! What happened to him?! Why is he like this?!"
Lan Jingyi bristles.
"How would we know?" he snaps. 'When we found him he was already like this." He harrumphs. "Probably got hit too hard by that horrible cousin and aunt of his…"
"Jingyi," Lan Sizhui says sharply.
Jin Ling's eyes widen.
"Hit too hard?!" he splutters. Before Wei Wuxian can stop him, Jin Ling grabs his hand, and pushes his sleeve back to reveal his forearm. The boy's eyes widen in horror at the sight of the healing cuts and bruises.
"You're coming with us," he declares.
Wei Wuxian takes his arm back.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he cries, and then points accusingly at Jiang Cheng. "He just asked you to feed me to your dog!"
"He didn't mean it!" Jin Ling insists, which… Wei Wuxian highly doubts! "Don't worry, I'll protect you from now on! You just have to come with us!"
"I'm doing fine on my own," Wei Wuxian protests, internally kicking himself again. How terrible exactly is his luck? Not only has he run into his two biggest enemies so soon into his second life, his young nephew is now inclined to trap him with one of them! No way. No way in hell is he going to stick around near Jiang Cheng!
"You're coming with us!" Jin Ling declares, stomping his foot. "I've been looking for you for so long, Uncle Xuanyu, and look at the state you're in! Come with us, Uncle Xuanyu! I'll make sure no one will ever dare to bully you again! Come with us!"
"Young Master Jin," Lan Sizhui begins placatingly. "If Young Master Mo does not wish to go with you, then you musn't force him."
Seemingly made aware of their sudden audience, Jin Ling reluctantly backs down.
"Fine," he mutters. “If you don’t want to come with us, that’s okay.”
"A-Ling," Jiang Cheng snarls. "Come here."
This time, Jin Ling obeys.
Wei Wuxian parts from them soon after that, immediately turning around and scrambling off down the mountain. He needs to get out of here! The sooner the better! He really can’t believe this. What terrible luck! He’d known that Mo Xuanyu had been expelled from a major sect. Who knew that it was Lanling Jin! Who knew that Mo Xuanyu was one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards! Still, he can’t help but soften as he is reminded again of Jin Ling.
Despite being a little spoiled, the boy has clearly retained his mother’s kindness. He winces, however, as he remembers what he said to the boy.
Did you not have a mother to teach you manners?
He slaps himself, hard. If anyone else had said that to Jin Ling, he would have taught them to mind their tongue, and yet, the one who had said it so carelessly had been himself. He wonders if Jiang Cheng had been the one to raise the boy. The way they had interacted had definitely made it seem like he had.
As he thinks of Jiang Cheng, his mood sombers.
It seems that Jiang Cheng’s hatred for demonic cultivators has only deepened in the last thirteen years. Wei Wuxian can't help but scoff at that. He’d had no real issue with it back when it served him, during the Sunshot campaign. But afterwards, in times of peace, how that had slowly changed. And now?
The sound of running water alerts him to a nearby stream. He bends down by the water, and makes a face at the ghastly makeup now running in streams down his face. Wetting his hands, he wipes his face clean. The face that is revealed to him is surprisingly good-looking. Mo Xuanyu had been a handsome young man, not as handsome as Wei Wuxian had been in his old life certainly, but good-looking enough.
The snapping of twigs draws his attention. As he turns around, he spots a familiar donkey emerging from the thicket. Unlike before, it actually approaches him, looking a little sheepish.
“You wanted to save the damsel in distress,” he scolds, “but made me play the hero instead!”
Little Apple lets out a little snuffle, and Wei Wuxian sighs, reaching out to pet her snout. After a moment, he hears the sound of a human voice.
“It hurts,” someone moans. “It hurts.”
He gets up and approaches the voice. Ahead of him, he sees an old man sitting crouched on the ground, a distinctive ghostly air surrounding him.
“Where does it hurt?” he asks.
“My head,” the old man moans. “My head hurts.”
He takes a few steps forward, and catches sight of a large, bloodied hole on the side of the man’s forehead. This man had probably been killed with a blow to the head. He is dressed in a fine burial robe, meaning that he'd already been en-coffined and buried properly. The beast up in the mountain was said to consume the spirits of the living, but this is certainly not the soul that a living person had lost. Ghosts like this should not be appearing on Dafan mountain.
Feeling suddenly worried for the safety of his young nephew, he climbs onto Little Apple’s back, and spurs her back up the mountain. It is not long before he hears more voices. There are more cultivators around the area, probably also hoping to catch the spirit-consuming beast.
“Excuse me, but have you seen some young masters from the Lanling Jin and Gusu Lan sect?” he asks urgently. “Could you tell me where they’ve gone?”
The cultivators look at each other, then at him.
“They left here for Goddess Temple,” they finally answer.
“Goddess Temple?” Wei Wuxian asks. “Which deity is this temple built for?”
One of the cultivators points down one of the paths.
“Down that way is a divine temple in a cave,” she answers. “A few centuries ago, a natural stone statue of a goddess was found in the cave. Since then, the villagers have built a temple surrounding it, and began to worship it.”
Suddenly, Wei Wuxian recalls the stories told to him by the villagers as he’d ascended the mountain — a fiancé eaten by wolves, and the father who had lost his soul upon praying at a local temple, and the young woman who had lost her soul afterwards; the lightning that had split open the graves of the ancient tombs at the foot of the mountain. Like a string being pulled through wooden beads, the case begins to come together in his head.
He turns down the path, and spurs Little Apple on into a gallop.
They have all underestimated the creature on Dafan mountain. The spirit-consuming beast is not what they had all thought!
Up in the temple of the stone goddess, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi raise their compasses, but the needles do not move at all.
"Strange," Lan Sizhui murmurs. "Our compasses have not worked since we ascended the mountain."
"Stupid things," Lan Jingyi curses, knocking his compass against the side of his thigh. "How could they not be working, and now of all times!"
After a moment, he sighs, and casts an eye over the altar. A thick layer of ash from the incense is scattered over the table amidst disordered candles and slightly rotten fruits. With another sigh, Lan Jingyi begins to tidy up the altar.
"Seriously," he mutters. "The locals said it was effective to pray here, yet everything is in such a mess? Don't they know to come and tidy up once in a while?"
"There have already been seven people who've lost their souls," Lan Sizhui says quietly. "Everyone says that the lightning let out a fierce spirit from the ancient tombs. Who would dare to come up here to pray? Who would be here to tidy up the altar?"
"It’s just a stupid piece of rock!" comes a haughty cry from behind them.
They turn around to see the young Jin Rulan stepping over the threshold, making a face at the mess.
"Is a piece of rock even worthy of being given the title of a goddess?" he spits. "Sitting here and accepting incense." He turns to them. "You two! Tell me more about how you met my Uncle Xuanyu! Where did those bruises and cuts come from?! Who knows! Maybe you two did that to him!”
"His family back in Mo Village were not kind to him, Young Master Jin," Lan Sizhui bites out. "We did our best to alleviate the situation, but it was clear that he had been mistreated for a while."
"Mistreated?" Jin Ling repeats, and then narrows his eyes. "How could you have left him behind in such a state! He’s clearly gone mad! He doesn’t even recognize me anymore…"
As Jin Ling trails off, Lan Jingyi bristles.
"Hey," he snaps. "Don't blame us! We weren't the ones who kicked him out of our sect!"
Jin Ling flinches.
"Well, it wasn’t my idea!" he snarls, and then sighs moodily. "Uncle Xuanyu used to play with me every day when I was a child, but while I was away at Lotus Pier one day, he was sent away. After that, no one would tell me why he was sent away, or where he went! They kept saying he'd left because he missed home, but that was clearly a lie! Uncle Xuanyu wouldn't have left without saying goodbye!"
He turns to the goddess statue.
“If you’re really that magical, then make my Uncle Xuanyu come back here right now!” he cries, and kicks the leg of the altar table. "Give me back my Uncle Xuanyu!"
A donkey leaps over the threshold, a familiar young man sitting on her back.
“Jin Ling!" he shouts. "Get away from that statue!”
"Uncle Xuanyu!" Jin Ling cries, delightedly. "You came back!"
Behind them, there is the loud, ominous sound of grinding stone. The eyes of the dancing goddess, once closed, are now open.
"Woah!" Lan Jingyi yells.
"Get away from the altar!" Wei Wuxian yells.
There's another ominous crack, as one of the goddess' bent arms straightens, and then reaches for them. Drawing their weapons, they retreat quickly out of the cave. Outside, a group of cultivators have gathered. They begin to shout as stone arms reach out of the cave entrance, grasping spider-like against the rockside, before a smiling rock face emerges, neck tilted at a frightening angle.
"Don’t worry, Uncle Xuanyu!" Jin Ling cries determinedly. "I’ll protect you!"
He jumps up onto a tree branch, whipping out his bow, and starts shooting at the statue.
"Jin Ling!" Wei Wuxian cries, fisting his hands in his hair. "No! Come down from there!"
"I've got this!" Jin Ling yells. "I'm not a little boy anymore! I can — whoa!"
He jumps backward off the branch as the stone goddess brings one hand down, crushing the tree in one blow. Then, she picks up two cultivators in two of her long spidery arms, and brings them up to her face. Her jaw unhinges, mouth opening in a ghastly gape, before the cultivators sag, their souls seemingly eaten in an instance.
"Stop slashing already!" Wei Wuxian yells crossly. "It won't work!"
Alarmed by that eerie show, the assembled cultivators finally heed his words, beginning to scatter. In the chaos, Wei Wuxian looks around frantically, getting only more anxious as he fails to spot Jin Ling.
"Young Master Mo!" Lan Sizhui cries, hurrying over with Jingyi by his side.
"Fire your signal flares and get your clan's Hanguang-jun here!" Wei Wuxian shouts.
"We — We ran out of them at Mo Manor," Lan Sizhui admits, paling.
"And you didn't restock?!" Wei Wuxian shrieks.
"It's over. We're done for," Lan Jingyi mutters, in a state of utter despair, and Wei Wuxian feels a little guilty.
"Don't worry, I won't let the goddess harm you," he says quickly.
Lan Jingyi seems to snap out of it.
"Goddess?" he repeats. "I'm not afraid of the goddess, but Hanguang-jun on the other hand… if he finds out we forgot the flares, we'll be copying rules for three months!"
Wei Wuxian groans.
"This is not the time to be distracted!" he scolds.
There's another crack. Ahead of them, the goddess has swiped for a number of cultivators in front of her, and missing, has uprooted a tree instead. With a clench of her fist, the tree splinters into pieces.
"Move!" Wei Wuxian bellows.
The two Lan Juniors pick up their robes, and begin to run. As he runs alongside them, Wei Wuxian continues to scan the crowd in search of Jin Ling.
"How did you know it was not a spirit-consuming beast, but the goddess statue?" Lan Sizhui asks over the sounds of raised voices.
"What do you mean how did I know?” Wei Wuxian returns distractedly. “There were only dead souls around the mountain. What else could it be!"
"What does that even mean?!" Lan Jingyi howls.
"With so many dead souls, why would the spirit-consuming beast not have eaten them first?!” Wei Wuxian questions. “Dead souls are so much easier to steal than those of the living! And for all those who had lost their souls, think about it, they must have come to this temple to pray, and after their wishes were fulfilled, the goddess took their souls as payment!"
The goddess statue had initially started out as an average piece of rock, but having received the prayers and offerings of so many people over the centuries, it had grown into an actual, untitled deity. Eager to increase its powers, it had strayed off the right path, beginning to consume the souls of those who prayed to it. And the last one who had his wish granted by the goddess—
All of a sudden, an arrow comes flying out of the trees. Wei Wuxian turns in time to see it hit the forehead of the goddess, released with enough power to pierce through to the other side. The goddess turns her head.
Standing up on a nearby tree, Jin Ling lets loose another arrow, again with enough force that the goddess actually takes a step back. The boy is strong for his age, but still not strong enough to defeat the goddess. Finally locating her target, the goddess tilts her smiling face towards him, and then begins to advance, terrifyingly swift on her long spidery limbs. Still not wavering, not turning to run, Jin Ling draws another arrow.
Looking around him frantically, Wei Wuxian snatches Lan Jingyi's sword.
"Hey!" Lan Jingyi cries.
Ignoring him, Wei Wuxian slices a thin piece of bamboo from the thicket surrounding him, and quickly whittles it into a makeshift flute. This would usually be a method of last resort, but as a divine being, the goddess is immune to the methods of the cultivators around them, developed to combat evil beings rather than divine ones. If he can summon a strong enough creature, however, its dark energy should be enough to defeat the goddess!
He lifts the flute to his lips, and begins to play. Lan Sizhui just stares, stunned speechless, while Lan Jingyi covers his ears.
"What kind of situation are we in and you're still playing the flute?!" Lan Jingyi shrieks. "And it sounds terrible!"
The goddess is less than twenty feet away from Jin Ling now. The boy pales, but still does not turn to run. Instead, he draws his sword.
At that moment, however, an ominous clinking sound issues from the woods, filling the forest with a strange sense of threat. Around them, the cultivators pause for a moment in their haphazard attacks. Even the goddess slows in her approach, turning to face the sound of clinking metal.
A dark figure emerges from the thicket, wreathed in thick metal chains. The cultivators who had been so fearlessly attacking the goddess just a moment ago pale, taking fearful steps back.
"The Ghost General!" someone screams. "It's the Ghost General, Wen Ning!"
Wei Wuxian is just as stunned as the rest of them.
Wen Ning?!
Hadn't they turned him to dust before the siege of the Burial Mounds?!
Up above, Jin Ling's face twists as he redirects his sword in Wen Ning's direction. Sensing his distraction, however, the goddess reaches out and plucks him from his perch.
Alarmed, Wei Wuxian lifts his flute to his lips again. Wen Ning bursts forward violently at the sound, leaping up onto a nearby tree, and then flinging himself at the goddess. His fist cracks into the side of her face, cracking it around so that it faces the back, tilted at a sick angle, but still smiling creepily.
With another blow, the arm that was holding Jin Ling cracks at the elbow, and begins to fall. Wen Ning tackles the goddess, toppling her to the ground as Wei Wuxian runs forward.
"Jin Ling!" he screams. "Jin Ling, where are you?!"
A rock shifts, and Jin Ling stands from the rubble, shaking the fall off as easily as breathing.
"Uncle Xuanyu!" he calls.
Meanwhile, behind him, Wen Ning has picked up a boulder, and has begun bludgeoning the goddess with it, cracking into her face, then her chest, until she is nothing more than stone pieces.
Amidst the wreckage of her torso, an aura of snow-like light begins to shine. It’s the core of the goddess, gleaming brightly. If carefully handled, the souls of those cultivators so recently consumed could probably be restored, but now, the attention of the assembled cultivators have shifted away from that precious object, focused instead on a new prize.
"The Ghost General!" someone cries. "It's really the Ghost General!"
"Quick, grab him!" someone else shouts.
What was capturing one spirit-consuming beast compared to the prestige of capturing the Ghost General himself! But still, no one dares to make the first move, hesitating in fear.
"What are you so afraid of!" cries one cultivator to the rest. "It's not like the Yiling Patriarch is here right now!"
Nevertheless, the cultivator is hesitating himself, holding back from attacking. Wei Wuxian quickly seizes the moment, raising his flute to his lips, and playing a shrill note. At the sound, Wen Ning straightens, looking at him for a moment with eerie white eyes— before leaping up into a tree, and away, vanishing into the thicket.
"Get him!" someone yells.
Picking up their weapons, the assembled cultivators give chase. At that, Wei Wuxian lets out a sigh of relief, lowering his flute. He takes a step backward, quickly preparing a plan of escape, only for his back to meet with a firm chest. A hand grips harshly around his shoulder as he turns slowly around to meet distinctive, light-colored eyes.
Lan Wangji is standing behind him, expression sharp.
"You," he says.
This can't get any worse, Wei Wuxian thinks. Lan Wangji had seen him commanding Wen Ning with a flute! It's incriminating but— but he won't confess no matter what! There had certainly been many Yiling Patriarch imitators back in his time! He can just pass off as another one of Yiling Patriarch imitators! As far as he knows, Mo Xuanyu has done nothing evil with his powers, and so, with Gusu Lan’s dedication to justice, Lan Wangji can't do anything to him.
Then, he hears a snapping of branches from the other side of the clearing, before a familiar figure emerges from the trees.
Fuck.
Jiang Cheng's eyes are dark against his pale skin, filled with strange intensity.
“So you’ve returned,” he says. “Wei Wuxian."
Jin Ling hurries to stand in front of Wei Wuxian.
"Zidian has the power to expel any spirit possessing a body," he argues frantically. "When you whipped him previously, there was no effect! This isn’t Wei Wuxian, this is my Uncle Xuanyu! You can't kill him!"
"Who said I'm going to kill him?" Jiang Cheng asks, before he turns to his subordinates. "Bring him with us."
Jin Ling blinks, before his face cracks into open delight.
"He's coming with us?!" he asks.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no!
"Hey!" Wei Wuxian cries, taking a step back, before realising too late that Lan Wangji still has a hand gripping his shoulder. "Wait a second! Wait! What if I don't want to go with you?!"
The two Lan juniors are trading looks of concern, watching it all go down with wide eyes.
"Oh?" Jiang Cheng says coldly. "You won't come with us?"
"No!" Wei Wuxian cries.
Jiang Cheng turns to his men.
"Tie him up."