Chapter Text
At first, Wen Ruohan thought it might have been just a bad dream. Albeit a very contorted and frighteningly vivid one.
But again, what he had witnessed was so unbelievably absurd that even his mind couldn't have possibly come up with it.
It started out fine. He had finally lost any qualms about being discreet in putting the other sects in their place. Elevating his seat above others in conferences, humiliating sect leaders, gaining control over small sects bordering Qishan… he could see himself doing that. Most of the cultivation world was full of hypocrites, they deserved that.
Even when he started the war, it would have gone perfectly fine, if it weren’t for that boy. He was aware of his own skills as a strategist. Wen Ruohan was finely attuned to war, just like his sword was finely attuned to his golden core. He was absolutely certain he was going to win.
And the wens would have won, really. He thought he had taken every single variable into account.
But there was one thing he could have never seen coming, for Wei Wuxian was a genius far beyond any man’s comprehension.
He had seen him rise from the ashes and reach the sun, in those foggy snippets of a future to come (of a future to possibly evade). And just as he had seen him reach the very top of the world, he had also seen him fall back into the dust he hailed from.
He certainly loathed him, at first. How could he not, when he had seen him counter his every attack, brutally murder his son and his most loyal disciple, and singlehandedly annihilate his men, ultimately leading to his own demise?
But despite that, Wen Ruohan was a man who valued talent more than anything else, even blood. He still cared about lineage, of course, given his ancestors’ teachings. But he never failed to recognize merit. One could clearly see it by how much he favoured Wen Zhuliu and Wen Qing.
Thus, he couldn’t help but admire the Yiling Laozu, even as he led an army of corpses up to Nightless City. The man had obtained power he never dreamed was possible to attain, and he wielded it with such grace and seemingly no effort, like a raven lazily gliding through the clouds.
And then, as he saw himself getting betrayed by his own advisor (clearly, his love for competent people also played a great hand in his downfall), as he thought that long dream was coming to an end, the vision continued.
He wasn’t anchored to his own body anymore, so he subconsciously gravitated towards the demonic cultivator. He saw his niece, stripped of her pride, of her prestige, of everything she deserved to have as a doctor of her talent. He saw her begging Wei Wuxian to salvage what remained of a sect fallen from grace, the same sect that destroyed his own home.
He thought the man would scoff at her, say that there were limits to generosity. It was certainly what he himself would have done, were he in his shoes.
But clearly Wei Wuxian was a kinder man, even foolishly so. He saw injustice and gave up everything to pursue his own morals.
Wen Ruohan saw him saving the remnants of his sects, doing everything he could to provide them a place to safely call home, food to fill their stomach.
When he realized the man was coreless, thanks to Wen Qing’s frequent concern over his slowly deteriorating health, Wen Ruohan fully realized the scope of what he had achieved. The kid was barely an adult, and he had managed to reach heights he himself could never hope to get to after decades of nurturing his golden core.
As he saw him tenderly holding Wen Yuan close in the darkness of the Demon Subduing cave, Wen Ruohan was surprised to feel his heart ache.
How could the cultivation world be so blind, as to not see this man’s potential? The ridiculous amount of love he easily gave away? How could they see this boy and not be utterly endeared by his mischief?
He wanted to scream at everybody’s foolishness, but instead he was forced to watch as the last members of his family were lost among flames. He was forced to watch as that boy, who once soared high up in the sky among the clouds, got his wings cruelly ripped away.
Among the flames, the bodies of both friend and foe, and the dark wisps of resentful energy, he drifted closer to the body of the dying man. As he watched him close his eyes for one last time, a fleeting smile curving his lips upwards, he wept.
And then, the world slowly faded to black.
***
The next time Wen Ruohan opened his eyes, he found himself staring at the intricately carved wood of his bed’s canopy.
He slowly rose from the bed, trying to completely process all that he had seen.
He quickly dismissed the thought of it being a dream, for it was simply too complex and realistic to have been concocted by his own mind.
There must have been something else that caused the visions.
Then, he suddenly remembered the strange, tingly feeling that accompanied him since the day before.
He had been in Yiling, up to the Burial Mounds, to see if there was worth in sealing it further, in order to avoid the increasing sightings of fierce corpses along the perimeter of the mountainous area.
While he was wandering amidst the rotting vegetation of the desolate valley right at the base of the Mounds, he had suddenly been hit by an intense headache. It had been brief, a fleeting moment, and then he’d been fine again. But it felt like the beginning of a minor qi deviation.
He had made a detour to the healers, while going back to the Scorching Sun Palace, to get checked by Wen Qing. As she had said that he was perfectly fine after examining his meridians, he had quickly dismissed the event.
But now that he thought about it, ever since then, he did perceive this faint sensation at his nape, as if there was a feather light touch on it every once in a while.
It had completely disappeared now, after he woke up from his long, long dream.
He couldn’t help but think that the two events might be somehow related.
It might just be mere speculation, but deep down there was a part of him that was firm in believing the Burial Mounds had something to do with these visions of the future.
He didn’t dwell on that more, though, as he had more pressing matters to preoccupy himself with. For instance, the impending downfall of his family and sect.
Now that he knew how terribly wrong everything could go, he couldn’t be foolish enough not to do anything to avoid the future he had seen.
Although, in hindsight, he might have gone a different way about it, his ultimate goal had always been to leave a legacy after him. He had wanted his name to have its permanent place in history books.
He thought he might achieve that by being the first to reach immortality centuries after Baoshan Sanren. He thought he might achieve that by uniting every sect under one banner, one sun. Who cared if he’d be depriving the other clans of their ruling authority? Some of them were so corrupt and obtuse that they might have disbanded by themselves in a couple of years if left to their own devices.
But perhaps he’d been too harsh in his machinations… perhaps there was a softer, more agreeable way to go about his legacy.
The Yiling Laozu inevitably came to his mind. He had created an entire new method of cultivation, doing so while coreless and fading away in the pits of hell.
He had seen him tinkering in his cave in the Burial Mounds, with heaps of talismans scattered all across the floor. Most of them he couldn’t comprehend with his knowledge of talismans, he sheepishly had to admit. But the ones he did understand the use of, never failed to blow his mind.
Wen Ruohan was sure the boy had limitless potential, if fully supported. He found it was such a pity that all those inventions never got to see the light of the day.
He decided then and there that Wei Wuxian deserved a place among people who truly recognized his worth. After all, one had to carefully refine a gem to truly appreciate its shine.
Wei Wuxian didn’t need to live in an environment in which he’d be taught to feel ashamed of his own accomplishments instead of being proud of them. He was aware of how insecure of a woman Yu Ziyuan actually was, underneath all the layers of rage and spite. And he also knew that Jiang Fengmian, despite being a fairly capable cultivator (half decent at best, if he wanted to be particularly petty), had no backbone whatsoever.
And that little brat of an heir, how could he lead a siege against a person who was his brother in all but name, knowing deep down that nothing was actually his fault?!
Lotus Pier was not a place Wei Wuxian could thrive in. He had been living there for six years already, if he remembered correctly. He must have already developed some of the insecurities that plagued him until his last breaths, but it was never too late to show him how precious of a jewel he was. To refine him enough so that the whole world could bask in his shining light.
He thought about bringing him in as a disciple, but he quickly discarded the idea. Wei Wuxian was worth so much more that a mere disciple, it would be a grave offense towards the boy’s talent to make him so.
No, going by his potential and inventive alone, he definitely had to be higher in the rankings, right below him, even. Or perhaps his equal. The idea somehow thrilled him, to gift the boy with boundless power and see what he would make of it.
But how could he do so? He couldn’t just make him his heir, even if he very much wanted to do so. Wei Wuxian would certainly contribute to the legacy of the Wen Clan, but he couldn’t defy tradition by leaving the sect to someone with no blood relation to him whatsoever.
He had already spent two incense sticks’ time pondering about what the best course of action would be, when suddenly an idea popped into his mind. And it was so brilliant, so perfect that he couldn’t let it go even if he wanted to.
It was a way to elevate the boy above anyone else. He’d be served and revered, nobody would even dare look at him the wrong way.
I’m going to make him the next Madam Wen.