Chapter Text
“Hanguang-jun!”
The cry rang through the Cloud Recesses like a blade cutting through still water. The usually tranquil air of the clan meeting hall fractured instantly, voices dying mid-sentence, the steady hum of discussion collapsing into stunned silence. Heads snapped toward the entrance, irritation already forming on some elders’ faces, until they saw who it was. Jingyi stumbled upon the clan meeting in a frenzy. His robes were soaked in blood, the white fabric so darkened it was nearly unrecognizable, clinging heavily to his limbs as if weighed down by what he had seen. His figure was trembling, shoulders shaking violently, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
“S-senior Wei h-he h-” Jingyi choked.
The words refused to form properly, each syllable catching painfully in his throat. His eyes were wide and unfocused, staring at nothing and everything all at once. Whatever he had witnessed was still playing behind them, vivid and merciless.Lan Wangji stood up hastily, nearly knocking the elders seated beside him. The sudden movement sent the tea set in front of him flying, scraping harshly against the stone floor, the sound sharp and jarring. His heart slammed violently against his ribs, dread blooming instantly, cold and absolute.
“Show the way. Now.”
His voice was flat, stripped of inflection, stripped of courtesy. It was not a request. Jingyi flinched, then nodded rapidly, spinning on his heel. Lan Xichen was on his feet immediately, followed by several elders despite their hesitation. Murmurs erupted behind them, sounds of suspicion, old resentment rising like rot disturbed from beneath the surface.
As they sprinted to Wei Wuxian, thoughts of horror ran through Lan Wangji’s head. His breathing was controlled only by years of discipline, each breath measured and deliberate. The abnormal amount of blood on Lan Jingyi’s robe was enough to scare him. Too much. Far too much for anything minor. “S-senior Wei was playing with the rabbits with us, but then an injured one was running away scared. Senior-he chased the rabbit to Lan Yi’s cave. An array appeared when he stepped in and he started screaming and bleeding Hanguang-jun! Sizhui is there with him right now!”
Jingyi’s words tumbled out in fragments, voice cracking repeatedly. The memory clawed at him, Senior Wei laughing one moment, collapsing the next, the cave lighting up with something wrong and alive. Lan Wangji said nothing. His mind caught on one word and refused to let go.
Screaming.
Wei Wuxian did not scream.
To an average person their pace would've looked like a blur in the wind. Disciples they passed barely had time to register what was happening before white robes vanished down the mountain paths. Spiritual energy churned violently the closer they came, the air growing thick and hostile, as though the land itself recoiled from whatever waited ahead.In the cave, the smell of burnt flesh and blood was overwhelming, it was as if the sunshot campaign was happening in the very cave. The stench struck them like a physical force, hot and suffocating. Several elders gagged instantly, sleeves raised to cover their mouths.
In the middle of the space occupied a bloody array, carved violently into the ice, lines jagged and uneven. Wei Wuxian’s bleeding body was right at the centre strewn across, limbs twisted unnaturally, as though the earth itself had tried to tear him apart. His robes were partly burnt into ash, the rest were charred to his skin, fabric fused directly to flesh. There was no clear boundary anymore, only destruction. Wei Wuxian’s skin however started peeling off his body, the array looked as if it was ripping his skin off, revealing the layer of bloody muscle and sebaceous tissue. His veins were mutilated off, severed by an unseen force, blood pouring freely onto the glowing array beneath him.Wei Wuxian’s screams and sobs echoed across the cave.
They were raw. Broken. Unrecognizable.
“Wei Ying!”
The name tore itself from Lan Wangji’s chest, unrestrained and desperate.
Upon arriving Lan Wangji rushed to his husband and son’s side. He barely registered the elders behind him, some if not all still letting out gagged sounds from the smell, others turning away entirely. Sizhui, his poor son, collapsed at the side with burns around his torso and hands. His robes were singed with black and stained with red, skin blistered and raw. He looked impossibly small in that moment, eyes glassy with tears he didn’t seem aware were falling.
“A-die! He’s burning! It’s like his body is burning from inside out. I-I t-tried to calm him down!”
The words dissolved into a sob before Sizhui could finish the sentence. His chest heaved violently as though the air itself was too heavy to breathe, fingers curling into the scorched fabric of his sleeves as if anchoring himself was the only thing keeping him upright. The acrid scent of burnt flesh clung stubbornly to him, seeping into his hair, his robes, his lungs. The cave seemed too small to contain the agony unfolding within it. Shadows danced wildly across the walls, thrown into grotesque shapes by the flickering spiritual light of the array. Every breath Lan Wangji took tasted like blood and smoke.
“H-he pushed me aside when I did. He’s losing too much blood.”
Sizhui’s voice broke completely on the last words, his knees buckling as the weight of helplessness crashed down on him. He had tried—he really had. He had recited calming techniques, tried playing him songs, poured spiritual energy where he could, pressed his hands against wounds that refused to close. But nothing had listened to him. Nothing had worked. Lan Wangji moved Sizhui away from a safer distance and gave him a nod. It was a small gesture, but deliberate. Firm. A silent acknowledgment of effort and pain, of fear endured and duty fulfilled. Sizhui clung to it desperately, drawing in a shuddering breath as Lan Xichen guided him back further, out of immediate danger.
Lan Wangji knelt beside Wei Wuxian’s figure.
Up close, the devastation was unbearable. The spiritual pressure around the array pressed down on him like a physical weight, buzzing painfully in his ears. Wei Wuxian’s chest hitched erratically, breaths shallow and uneven, every inhale dragging a wet, broken sound from his throat. Blood continued to seep from torn flesh, running in thin rivulets along the carved lines of the array as if it were being deliberately guided.Lan Wangji brought his hand up, fingers trembling despite years of discipline, and reached to cradle his husband’s bloody face.
The moment his skin made contact, pain exploded up his arm. He jerked back sharply, breath hissing through clenched teeth. It felt like molten iron, searing, unforgiving, the kind of heat that did not simply burn but consumed. The skin of his palm reddened instantly, the pain lingering even after he withdrew.
It did not matter.
With his last remaining strength, Wei Wuxian pushed him aside as he did with Sizhui. The motion was weak, clumsy, but deliberate. His fingers brushed Lan Wangji’s sleeve, leaving streaks of blood behind, before shoving him away with a force born entirely of desperation. His eyes were unfocused, pupils blown wide, mouth trembling as though he were trying to say something—anything—but no sound came.
“Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji leaned forward again instinctively.
Before Lan Wangji could approach, Wei Wuxian’s body was engulfed in blood red flames.
They burst to life in an instant, violent and roaring, spiraling upward from his body like something alive and furious. The sudden heat forced everyone back a step, robes snapping in the rush of heated air. The bloody flames didn’t even waver at the presence of the water in the cave; instead, it became stronger, feeding on the moisture, on the spiritual energy saturating the air.The cave was bathed in crimson light, shadows dancing wildly across scorched stone.
“Wangji, step back!”
Lan Xichen’s voice rang out sharply, urgency cutting through his usual calm. He reached out as if to grab his brother, only to hesitate at the edge of the heat.
Lan Wangji didn’t move.
“What the hell happened!?” Some elders hid back in fear, sleeves raised defensively, eyes wide with disbelief. Others stepped forward, faces twisted in anger rather than terror. “His damn demonic cultivation swallowed him whole! That’s what happened!”
The words struck like a slap.
Lan Wangji’s hand went to his sword without conscious thought, fingers tightening around the hilt. Spiritual energy surged instinctively, sharp and cold, responding to his rising fury. Sizhui interjected before Lan Wangji almost swung his blade and beheaded his clan member. “No! The energy, I felt it. It was far from demonic!” His voice shook, but it carried conviction. Sizhui staggered slightly after speaking, the effort clearly costing him more than he could afford. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. They should be saving his a-niang, not standing here arguing while he burns.
A figure stormed in the cave. The air shifted immediately, resentful energy curling inward as the ghost general entered. Wen Ning was far from his usual appearance. His posture was unsteady, steps uneven, as though something inside him was struggling to stay intact. His eyes glowed faintly, unfocused, hands trembling at his sides. “I felt his energy-” The words came out strained, almost pained. “What do you mean by that, Wen Ning?” Lan Xichen questioned, his voice low but sharp, eyes fixed on the flames.
“M-Master Wei’s energy, no—M-mo Xuanyu’s energy.” Wen Ning swallowed hard, throat bobbing visibly. “It’s fading.” The cave seemed to grow colder at his words. “I felt this before. Back when he died.” Wen Ning’s voice wavered, the memory haunted him. “I felt his energy being torn apart and taken away like this but from a blackflash of resentful energy. When he came back in Mo Xuanyu’s body, I felt Master Mo’s energy” He shook his head slowly, as though unwilling to accept what he was saying.
“Mo Xuanyu’s energy. I-it’s g-gone!”
The blood red flames instantly turned blue.
The shift was abrupt, violent in its stillness. The heat spiked sharply, pressing down on everyone present like an immense weight. The blue fire burned brighter, purer, devoid of the corruption everyone had feared, and yet far more terrifying for it. The shift was abrupt, violent in its stillness. The heat spiked sharply, pressing down on everyone present like an immense weight. The blue fire burned brighter, purer, devoid of the crackling chaos that had marked the red flames before. It did not rage, it condensed, drawing inward as though answering a call only it could hear. Even the elders who had shouted accusations moments earlier fell silent, instinctively retreating another step. This was not demonic. This was not resentful. This was something ancient, something cultivated to its extreme edge and then forced beyond it.
Lan Wangji could barely breathe.
The blue flames reflected in his eyes, cold and blinding. His spiritual energy screamed in response, reacting as though to a blazing sun placed far too close. His knees trembled, the strength bleeding out of him all at once.
Nobody, demonic or not, should be able to survive flames like those.
Lan Wangji’s knees gave out, stone biting sharply into them as he collapsed. A broken sob tore from his chest before he could stop it, raw and undignified, echoing harshly in the cave. “No…” The word barely made it past his lips.
Lan Wangji felt as if his heart was ripped out of his body right there and then again.
It was the same sensation as before. Years ago, on a battlefield soaked in blood and regret. The same hollowing ache, the same sudden, unbearable absence that swallowed his whole world. He had sworn then that he would endure it. He had survived it only because A-yuan was still a child. But now—He felt his uncle take a step closer. “This flame—this energy, this is pure yang energy. What did that boy do now?” Lan Qiren’s face was twisted into a grimace, confusion and disbelief warring across his features. His grip tightened on his staff, knuckles whitening as he stared into the fire. He had seen many forms of cultivation in his lifetime, many forbidden techniques, but this was something else entirely.
Watching the blue flame begin to diminish, Lan Wangji forced himself to look despite the way his vision blurred. The fire no longer roared. It shrank, folding inward upon itself in tight, spiraling patterns, heat still unbearable but visibly fading.
Then he saw it.
A small twitch inside of the flame.
It was subtle—so brief it could have been dismissed as nothing more than a trick of light, a desperate hallucination born of grief. A shift in ash. A flicker in the fire.
It lasted less than a second.
Lan Wangji rushed to the burning flame. He surged forward with a sharp, broken cry, regardless of the heat, regardless of the pain that awaited him. If there was even the slightest chance. If that movement had been real.
Hands grabbed him from both sides.Lan Xichen and Wen Ning apprehended him, as if they knew exactly what he was planning to do. Lan Xichen’s grip was firm but shaking. Wen Ning’s hold was iron-tight, fear lending him strength. “No! Let me be!” Lan Wangji struggled in their hold. His composure shattered completely. He thrashed against them, white robes streaking with ash and blood, eyes wild and shining with unshed tears. “Wei Ying-Wei Ying is still there!” The blue flame continued to shrink, indifferent to his cries. They watched as the last of the flame die out leaving a large pile of ash.
No fire. No light.
Just a mound of grey and black, still faintly warm, scattered across the stone like the remains of something long dead.
In that moment it was as if the world stopped breathing leaving only silence.
No one spoke. No one moved. Even the cave seemed to hold its breath, the oppressive heat finally beginning to recede.Lan Wangji felt like the gods were mocking him, bringing back his lover, only to take him away again. His faith in the gods died out once, the moment they took his other half again.
It died completely now.
A sharp breath was inhaled, shattering the silence.
The sound was small.
Human.
Wen Ning gasped, eyes widening as he stared at the ashes before him. For a split second, no one else seemed to understand why. The cave was still choked with heat, the air heavy and sharp in the lungs, the remnants of spiritual energy vibrating painfully against the skin. The blue flames had already vanished, leaving behind nothing but scorched stone and a mound of gray-white ash where Wei Wuxian had been.
Nothing living should have remained.
Lan Wangji’s breath hitched. He followed Wen Ning’s gaze without thinking, his body moving before his mind could catch up. His heart pounded so violently it felt as though it might tear itself free of his chest.
Something moved.
At first it was so slight it could have been mistaken for a trick of the light, like ash shifting as it settled, disturbed by the lingering heat. Several elders inhaled sharply, some stepping back in alarm, others leaning forward despite themselves.
Then the ashes parted.
Lan Wangji tore himself free from Lan Xichen and Wen Ning’s grasp, stumbling forward, his steps unsteady as though the ground beneath him had turned unreliable. His legs felt numb, disconnected, but he forced himself onward, eyes locked on the center of the ash pile.
A hand emerged.
It was pale, almost unnaturally so, fingers trembling as they pushed weakly against the floor. Ash slid from the skin in soft cascades, leaving faint gray streaks along the knuckles and wrist. The hand shook, fingers curling and uncurling as though testing whether they still belonged to a living body.
A sharp, ragged breath followed.
It was shallow, barely audible,the kind of sound that could have been mistaken for the settling of ash or the distant drip of water from the cave ceiling. But Lan Wangji heard it. He froze mid-step, breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the absence of air in his lungs. His head snapped toward the center of the cave, glowing eyes widening as he stared at the pile of ash that moments ago had been all that remained of Wei Wuxian.
Another breath followed.
Still faint. Still fragile. But unmistakably human.
Some elders gasped, the sound torn from them in disbelief. Lan Wangji felt it before he understood it. A sharp pull in his chest, sudden and violent, as if something had reached inside him and yanked hard. His heart lurched painfully, hope and terror colliding with such force it nearly stole his balance. “What?” one of the elders began, voice trembling. One moment he was restrained, the next he was on his knees in the ash, white robes staining grey and black as his hands plunged forward without hesitation.
The heat was still there, biting and sharp, but it was no longer unbearable. Ash shifted beneath his fingers.
A hand emerged.
Pale. Unburnt. Shaking.
Lan Wangji’s breath shattered, the pile stirred again, ash cascading down in soft, whispering streams as a body struggled weakly upward. A shoulder, then an arm, then the curve of a back bowed inward as if the weight of the world pressed down upon it.
Someone coughed.
It was rough and raw, like lungs unused to air, like a throat that had screamed itself empty and was now trying to remember how to function. “T-that’s-” Sizhui whispered, unable to finish the sentence. His hands flew to his mouth, eyes shining with something dangerously close to hope.Jingyi took a half-step back, staring in stunned confusion, his mind refusing to reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew. He had watched Senior Wei burn. He had smelled it. He had felt it.
People don’t sit up after that.
Ash slid from the figure’s naked shoulders as they straightened slowly, unsteadily. Long black hair spilled free, dusted grey and white, clinging to bare skin that was unmarred by burns. Lan Wangji’s hands trembled as he reached out. He stopped himself just short of touching. Fear surged through him irrational and overwhelming, that this too would hurt, that heat would sear him again, that this was another cruel illusion meant to punish him for daring to hope.The figure lifted his head.
Silver eyes blinked slowly, unfocused at first, then sharpening as they locked onto Lan Wangji’s face. Confusion flickered across familiar features, followed by something softer. Something achingly recognizable.
“L-Lan Zhan?”