Chapter Text
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Prologue
TW: Death and violance
There he stood, in the middle of the Burial Mounds. His vision was blurred with unshed tears as he looked around and saw his family. The remnants of the Wen Clan, whom he had tried so hard to protect, welcomed him with open arms and gave him back a fleeting sense of happiness.
The evil demonic cultivator, the Yiling Patriarch, and former Head Disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Wei Ying—also known as Wei Wuxian—had lost everything.
He had only ever wished to stand for justice and protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Because of that, he saved the Wen remnants from the labor camp at Qiongqi Path and brought them here. But the cultivation world couldn't let him be. He was too powerful. With the ability to raise the dead and command resentful energy at will, Wei Wuxian was a threat to everyone—especially to those who wanted to harness his power.
In a final attempt to rid themselves of him, the four great sects—Lanling Jin, Yunmeng Jiang, Gusu Lan, and Qinghe Nie—led a siege against him, followed by many smaller sects. In their misguided sense of righteousness, they slaughtered elders, women, and men without hesitation. Granny, Uncle Four, and all the others were gone.
Proud and so mighty stood the four leaders before him:
Jin Guangshan, current Excellency, with his satisfied and arrogant smile;
Jiang Wanyin, also known as Sandu Shengshou, with his whip Zidian ready to strike;
Nie Mingjue, called Chifeng-zun or Red Blade Master, standing tall and ready to cut down all in his path;
Lan Qiren, his eyes filled with hatred and disapproval, as strict as ever.
Behind them stood an army of cultivators, currently battling the fierce corpses summoned by Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian himself stood in the center of the battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of his self-chosen family. His eyes were red—crimson from the resentment, and red from crying. But aside from that, there was nothing. His face showed no emotion.
Wei Ying's heart was shattered. In the end, he hadn't protected anyone. He had brought death upon the people he loved. Perhaps Madam Yu had been right—he would always cause trouble and bring ruin to others.
He had lost his parents at a young age and lived for years on the streets of Yiling until Jiang Fengmian, the former leader of the Jiang Sect, found him. For a brief time, Wei Ying believed he had found a home and a family—but Madam Yu had quickly made it clear that he was a nobody who should have died on the streets.
His Shijie, Jiang Yanli, was the only reason he had survived in the sect. If not for her, he would have ended his life long ago. Sometimes, even his Shidi Jiang Wanyin, the son of the Sect Leader, gave him a reason to stay. But after the fall of Lotus Pier, everything ultimately began to fall apart.
Lotus Pier was my fault. Because of my actions, the Jiangs had to die. Then at Qiongqi Path—if I had backed off just to see my nephew—the two Jin heirs would still be alive, and Shijie wouldn't have lost her husband. She wouldn't have come to the battlefield and gotten killed because of me. The only thing I bring is destruction and death.
The only small relief was that he couldn't see a certain person. Part of him was glad that he wasn't here. Another part of him wished for the chance to say goodbye—but maybe that would have broken his resolve. It was better that Lan Zhan wasn't here. Better that he wouldn't witness what was about to happen.
Oh Lan Zhan... Even now, I think of you. I'm sorry I can't say goodbye. But maybe it's better this way.
Suicide was considered a mortal sin.
It doesn't matter anymore. I've already sinned so many times—what's one more? There's nothing left for me but pain. My heart is shattered—my soul is about to follow.
His thoughts spiraled endlessly. But before the darkness could fully consume him, he summoned his last bit of strength. The Stygian Tiger Tally floated above him, absorbing the surrounding resentment. Wei Ying focused his energy and channeled it into the amulet to destroy it. It shattered into pieces and fell to the ground.
With nothing left, there was no way to control the dead—but it didn't matter. Before destroying the amulet, he had given one final command to the corpses, and they would obey. They would devour his body, tear him to pieces, and his soul would ultimately shatter.
While many cultivators scrambled to claim the shattered pieces of the Stygian Tiger Tally—killing each other over scraps—a few stopped to watch in horror. The corpses had surrounded the demonic cultivator, and it was clear how they tore flesh from bone, how an arm was ripped from his shoulder, how his robe fluttered in shreds among the chaos.
Some observers vomited, while others watched with stony faces.
Lan Xichen, the current leader of the Gusu Lan Sect, sighed heavily as he looked around. The danger was gone—but at what cost? Had it truly been right to kill these people? How could elderly villagers and farmers have posed a real threat?
But before long, his thoughts turned to his younger brother, Lan Zhan—courtesy name Lan Wangji. He knew how important Wei Wuxian had been to him, and he feared his brother's reaction to the news. For now, all that remained was hope—hope for a peaceful future, and the strength to support his brother.
The cultivation world celebrated the victory over the so-called purely evil demonic cultivator.
The common people were told they no longer had to fear—the Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian was gone. No longer would he kidnap or violate children and women, they were told. Horror stories spread to frighten the young into obedience and to warn what would happen if one strayed from the righteous path.
But not all were celebrating.
The people of Yiling mourned a kind man who had helped anyone in need without asking for repayment. A young man whose smile could wash away sorrow with just a glance. A man who buried his own pain deep inside, and still held onto his pure heart.
What does it matter which path you take, as long as you remain true to yourself and do what is right?
The second master of the Gusu Lan Sect, Lan Zhan, was heartbroken when he heard of Wei Ying's death. Until the very end, he had hoped for another way—for salvation. But fate had chosen a cruel ending. The moment his brother told him, he considered dying himself. But first, he needed to see the place with his own eyes.
Wounded and exhausted, he dragged himself to the Burial Mounds, searching for any sign of Wei Ying. Perhaps something could bring him back. But the small flicker of hope was soon extinguished.
Nothing remained in the ruined place. The huts were burned nearly to the ground, the furniture smashed, the ground stained with dried blood—but no body.
With heavy steps, he reached the Demonic Slaughtering Cave, Wei Wuxian's former home. It looked no better inside. Talismans and torn papers were scattered around, as if someone had ransacked the place. Nothing personal remained. No trace of Wei Ying.
There was nothing to do but return—for now. But on his way back, he heard a faint whimper. Cautiously, he searched for the source and found a young child hidden in a tree trunk.
Immediately, he recognized the boy: little A-Yuan, the only child who had survived the labor camps. Wei Ying's protégé.
Without hesitation, Lan Zhan cradled the child in his arms and carried him back to the Cloud Recesses.
Lan Zhan decided that he would care for the boy. First, because it was the right thing to do—but also because he knew how much A-Yuan had meant to Wei Ying. He would protect his legacy. It didn't matter what others would say. He swore to himself that he would no longer make the mistake of blindly following the rules. He had done that too often—and lost his soulmate because of it.
But for now, he would protect the child—and begin the long process of healing.