Chapter Text
It's only a coincidence that they stumbled upon the scene, coming back from a Night Hunt that had devolved into a supply run when they realized the town they had been sent to houst a particularly strong evil spirit from the shrine it had decided to haunt, managed a mine from where rare ingots grew like fruits on a branch. Now saddled with three carts full of raw metal, Wei Qingwei and his fellow disciples had been forced to return to the sect the slow way, rather than by sword like they first did. He doesn't know if he should be thankful of it when they enter a clearing, only to find the decomposing bodies of An Ding disciples, threwn around the area like dolls by a bored child.
Inspecting the place, the Wan Jiang disciples grimaced at the sight and the smell; still, it was pretty clear it had been pretty much a one-way massacre: the An Ding disciples had tried to flee from the threat, some barely able to reach the tree line before being struck in the back, most scattered around where a cart must have been. A couple had their swords out but they were so full of holes they were basically unrecognizable. Under the bodies, the ground was strangely wet despite having not been any rain for a couple of weeks.
The conclusion they were able to come with was pretty grim and puzzling at the same time: the An Ding disciples had been embushed by someone or something, either a demon or a demonic beast and had tried to flee. The few braver ones had only been able to unsheath their swords before they were struck by some sort of projectile. It had been fast, powerful and without mercy.
And yet there had been a survivor, seeing as the cart was nowhere to be seen, and there was only one set of footprint that didn't match the other disciple's boots that looked fresher then their deaths. It surprising that whomever survived didn't burn the body, or perform the ritual to avoid lingering resentful energies from poisoning the place and spawning ghosts.
Speaking of which, that was probably what had got the disciples: one powerful wind wraith that killed everyone moving and the only survivor being left alive by sheer luck. Then, as cowardly as any other An Ding cultivator, the disciple had ran away with their cargo, foregoing the bodies. Why they didn't contact the sect was up to air, maybe they got too scared and renounced cultivation altogether. Maybe they died further up the road. Maybe they didn't have a clue how to do it (it happened. It's shameful for everyone, but he knew a shixiong that was so out of it he never learned how to send an emergency signal. He died slipping on an ice patch after trying to enter Xian Shu one winter night.)
They decide to burn the bodies after collecting their tags, comforting their nervous horses while passing by the clairing and further up the road. There was a village a few hours away, which would help in gathering informations; after all, someone must have stumbled upon the massacre site and told someone, especially if cultivators were involved.
It's surprising that no one went through this path, seeing how well maintained and large it was -no doubt used for merchants and other big carriages but the lack of use was concerning. The group of Wan Jian cultivators ride in silence, unease sprouting in their stomachs. Wei Qingwei left a hand on his sword in case a demonic beast (or the wraith) appeared unexpectandly.
Nothing jumped at them from the treeline, no bodies were found the further they went up the road... They found nothing but cart tracks as they reached the small town, people bustling around as if nothing was amiss, merchants yelling from their stalls, children running around without care and the general background noise of a healthy city. They got a few curious gazes from the townfolks as they passed through the main road but no one jumped at them in fright, or demanding help from demonic activities.
"We'll go ask near the inns, see if our shidimei came here." Wei Qingwei told his fellow disciples, turning his head left and right to spot the An Ding disciple. They must have come through this town and people must have seen them - after all, a sect uniform was made specifically to be seen and recognized and only rogue (or demonic) cultivators wore more unconspicuous clothing to blend better in a crowd.
"Wait, isn't that him?" A disciple to his left said, pointing to further in the crowd where the powder yellow of an An Ding outer-disciple could be seen. The disciple seemed to be arguing with a vendor, stress evident on his face. "He looks fine."
"Maybe only physically." Wei Qingwei sagely said, going off his horse to reach the An Ding disciple faster. Maybe the disciple ran out of the situation with no wounds on his body, but his psyche could have been hurt all the same. It would be hard to say until he was handed to Cang Qiao.
"-outrageous, this is subpar silk at best, it is not worth 2 silver taels. Maybe if you include a roll of that other one that'll balance the price but-"
"Shidi." Wei Qingwei said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. The An Ding disciple shrieked in terror, curling into a ball on the ground and fat tears painting the dry street with dark splotches.
"I didn't do anything! It's not my fault, I didn't do anything! I couldn't do anything! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!"
"Shidi, hey Shidi..." Wei Qingwei tried to speak softly, to soothe the poor boy but he was already too far into his own head, getting closer and closer to a panic attack - and a qi deviation, as his roiling Qi indicated.
With a grimace, Wei Qingwei did the only sensible thing he could do: he knocked his little shidi, before he could truly spin himself into a qi deviation, and gently holled him on his shoulders. The merchant was looking worryingly at them, before he pushed two bundles of clothe to him.
"I can't take that." Wei Qingway said, taking his shidi in his arms.
"Please," the merchant insisted, "I know An Ding will pay me back what I'm owed, so it's no skin off my back to give this to you. Plus this little guy was one heck of a haggler, nearly sold my wares at a loss." Well, if the man seemed happy to nearly have been swindled by his tiny shidi, then who was Wei Qingwei to refuse? Plus, it was quite good quality silk, smooth to the touch and an excellent shade of red.
Why this shidi needed red fabric, he didn't know, but the shade complimented his brown hair well.
--
Two days later, the poor An Ding disciple woke up with a start, sitting up in the cart looking very confused. Wei Qingwei, whose turn it was to drive the cart, turned to look at him with a gentle smile.
"How is shidi doing?"
"Wh- where am I? Wait, are we going back to the sect?"
Wei Qingwei nodded, frowning a little when the disciple looked visibly more and more upset, until tears sprung out of his eyes like a faucet. "You're going back to safety, shidi." He added, gently.
"He's gonna kill me...!" His An Ding shidi started wailing, hiding his face in his knees. Awkwardly, Wei Qingwei leaned into the cart to pat on his back, trying to soothe the sobbing disciple.
"Don't worry, I'm sure your shizun will understand the situation. You did well surviving."
"I won't survive long enough to appreciate it!" The An Ding disciple cried out, louder - he really should ask for his name, it was awkward calling him "An Ding disciple" all the time. Still, he sure was a dramatic one! The An Ding peak lord will surely understand hiding and fleeing from a threat that killed a dozen disciples, a couple of them having formed their golden cores already.
There was still the mystery of the red fabric -but Wei Qinqwei chalked it up quickly as it being the disciple trying to curb his trauma with something familiar. Maybe, hopefully, he wasn't going to get into too much trouble.